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The Ashantee Campaign

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The Ashantee Campaign
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Author(s): Winwood Reade
Date Published: 2012/09
Page Count: 212
Softcover ISBN-13: 978-0-85706-969-6
Hardcover ISBN-13: 978-0-85706-968-9

Colonial warfare on the Dark Continent

The British Empire rapidly spread it’s influence throughout the globe during the nineteenth century. Predictably these intrusions rarely found favour with the indigenous populations and so, inevitably, the imperial interests of power and commerce were reinforced by the imposition of military and naval might courtesy of the British Army and the Royal Navy. British interests in West Africa proved to be no exception to the rule and the so called ‘Ashanti Wars’ were fought with varying degrees of savagery and through eight campaigns from 1806 until 1900. This book is about the Third Anglo-Ashanti War which was fought during 1873-74. Garnet Wolseley, commanding a force of British, West Indian and local forces marched against the Ashanti who had invaded British territory. The campaign gained particular notoriety because it occurred during the golden age of newspaper correspondents and was covered by both G. A. Henty and Henry Morton Stanley. It made Wolseley’s reputation and he became a household name. The conflict was made singular by the nature of the terrain—often thick jungle—across which it was fought and by it’s exotic protagonists and this makes it a subject of particular interest for students of the colonial wars in the Victorian era. The outcome of the war was, perhaps, predictable and the British both occupied the enemy capital Kumasi and then burnt it down as an object lesson. This book is particularly useful because the author was an eyewitness to the storming of Amoaful by the Black Watch, the storming of Ordahsu by the Rifle Brigade and the fall of the capital.
Leonaur editions are newly typeset and are not facsimiles; each title is available in softcover and hardback with dustjacket.

Never had a regular regiment engaged the Ashantees, and now at length the great question was about to be put to the test. I wished to observe for myself the procedure and issue of the combat. I knew that the Ashantees on their own ground, never invaded before, would be at their best; and every Englishman knows that the British Army is well represented by the 42nd regiment. Its history is glorious; on its banners are inscribed proud and imperishable names. Raised from loyal clans in 1739, it was at first composed of independent companies under their own officers, and employed to watch the borders of the Highlands. The uniform consisted of dark-green coats, kilts, and hose: hence the regiment was called the Freacadan Dubh, or ‘Black Watch,’ to distinguish it from the red-coated soldiers of the king. On the Gold Coast they wore a grey uniform in common with the other troops, but their pith helmets were adorned with the red hackle which was given to the regiment in honour of its having retaken in Flanders some British guns captured from another regiment by the French.<br>
About half-past seven on the morning of the 31st I was at breakfast at Quarman when Lake, who was on the lookout, rushed in and said, ‘White soldier come!’ I gave him a knapsack and water-bottle, and snatched up my Snider. The 42nd did not halt in the village, but marched along at a pace which, after four months of West Africa, and an attack of dysentery, made me pant and perspire. Presently we heard a few shots—the scouts clearing Egginassie. The faces of the men brightened, and one of them said ‘That’s good.’ Two Assins ran past us towards the rear, blood streaming down their bodies. We marched through the village, then for half a mile through the forest, and as we were descending a hill the battle began.<br>
The soldiers extended to the right and the left of the path in line, and we found that we were in the Ashantee camp. On all sides were little huts with low sloping roofs, thatched with the green broad leaves of the plantain. Each hut or lean-to had a couple of bamboo bedsteads raised on posts. Among these huts were fires with cooking pots upon them, and inside the pots boiled plantains, or messes of Indian corn. They had also taken the pains to make comfortable settees with backs. A vast number of carriers’ bundles containing provisions and other property lay scattered about.<br>
A hundred yards ahead the forest was filled with smoke, and seemed to roar: tongues of flame shot forth, and these alone served as a mark, for not a man was to be seen. The slugs hummed and danced in among us, rattling against the trees, and against the pots on the fires. I was hit three times in about five minutes; but these hits were so innocuous that I thought it was all going to be mere child’s play. However I was soon undeceived. In that part the forest was tolerably open; but as the Highlanders slowly advanced, moving from tree to tree as directed by their officers, and lying down to shoot, we came to a thicker part of the bush, and the enemy fired at close range.<br>
Finally we came to a swampy bit at the bottom of the hill, with a dark sluggish stream flowing through its midst; beyond this was another hill, covered, not with forest, but jungle. Then the business began to be severe. The air was filled with that music which Charles XII. said he preferred to every other. I am not exaggerating when I say that for more than an hour the leaves fell just as they do on an English autumn day when there is a strong wind. At one time, whichever way I looked I saw wounded men. One poor fellow ran past me with a strange staggering gait, his eyes fixed and his hand upon his heart, and then suddenly fell and rolled over stone dead.<br>
This went on for some time: the Highlanders advanced but very slowly; the bagpipes were playing, but even when close to could scarcely be heard for the din. Presently a big ,gun boomed on the right; I went in that direction and found Captain Rait and Lieutenant Saunders proceeding along the main road or path with their Haussas and a seven-pounder gun, and a train of naked Fantees bearing ammunition. The Haussas had been indefatigably drilled by these two officers, and the pains bestowed upon them had not been in vain. We were now at the foot of the jungle-covered hill on the summit of which was Amoaful. Up went the gun; every five minutes there was a halt; the gun was fired two or three times; the Highlanders crept into the bush on the right and on the left.<br>
Then I heard a clear cheery voice cry out ‘Advance!’ and then the 42nd gave a cheer, and the Haussas cheered, and the Fantees cheered, and the gun was wheeled along for fifteen or twenty yards. The jungle was now so thick that the men were formed again in column; it was too thick even for the Ashantees, who had not cut war-paths, and so were obliged to occupy the road, where they suffered severely. Soon we had to lie down among dead bodies marked with great red wounds: yet still the slugs sang over us, and savagely slashed the boughs above our heads. ‘Rough work this for a civilian!’ said one of the soldiers; and I saw them all eyeing me with an air of puzzled curiosity.<br>
I now observed that the officer who always cried out ‘Advance!’ was limping in evident pain. It was Major Macpherson. He had been shot through the leg, and had tied it round with a handkerchief, but still bright-faced and smiling urged on the men. And they, when the order was given to advance, looked at one another and smiled. Just at this time another officer came up to the extreme front He had only one arm, so I knew that it was Brigadier-General Sir Archibald Alison, the son of the historian.<br>
Light! light! light! I saw clear sky on ahead and knew that it was the town. The gloomy forest was behind us; soon we saw houses and an open street. The fire of the enemy’ slackened. Rait fired a shell down the street, and it killed a group of men running out at the farther end of the town. This was the finale; the day’s work was done so far as the 42nd was concerned. 105 men were wounded and 2 killed; 9 officers were wounded, and one of them, Major Baird, afterwards died.