The Loss of Tigray
With the Army of the Emperor of Ethiopia bogged down fighting a war of attrition against the defenders of Massaua, and the Home Guard retreating from Gondar, the Egyptian leadership found it a perfect opportunity to strike the Ethiopians hard, and they did so. In the space of a few months, the Ethiopians lost Axum, Dese, and Magdala to the advancing Egyptian Army...
Excerpt - The Military Campaigns of the Three-Corner War
A year. Had it been a year already?
Well, not quite. It had been about ten days short of a year since he had first seen combat during the end of the first Gondar campaign. Since then, he had become just as ragged and dirty as the militiamen that had ridiculed him all those months ago.
He had fought in Bahir Dar, as the Egyptians tried to gain control over Lake Tana.
He had watched a young man die slowly of a stomach wound near Debre Tabor. The hapless soldier never lived to hear the news. That Gondar had been re-captured by the Egyptians.
He had fought in the Simen Mountains, near the Ras Dashen Terara as the Home Guard began to run out of food, ammunition, and everything else.
He had tried to hold the Tekeze Wenz, and like the rest of the riflemen in the Home Guard, to hold it without any bullets. They had to charge the Egyptian lines with nothing but bayonets. Mzuli still didn’t know how he had managed to survive that.
He had taken part in the desperate fighting to hold Axum, but the Home Guard just could not fight anymore. They retreated south after only two days of battle.
That is how he had found himself, and much of what was left of the Home Guard here, at Magdala. Magdala was very important to the Ethiopians and therefore to the Home Guard. Ever since Emperor Tewodros first captured the fort nearly thirty years ago, he had made it his own treasure hoard, and the treasures from his campaigns against the Oromos, the Tigreans, and rebellious nobles all went there. Not to mention gifts from various monarchs and chiefs, as well as tribute from his vassals. All were kept safely locked away in Magdala. Even important prisoners or hostages had been kept in Magdala, though currently the fortress held none. Neither Makonnen nor Menilek decided to move this magnificent pile of treasure during their reigns, but in fact added to it the spoils of their own campaigns.
This was because Magdala was supposed to be an impregnable fortress. And it was, to feudal armies armed with spears and swords, and perhaps a few hundred flintlock muskets if they were lucky. It was not nearly so to an army of professionally trained Egyptian regulars armed with breech-loading rifles, like the one that was heading for Magdala now.
Therefore, Magdala and her vast stores of treasure were being not-so-methodically emptied and sent south, east, anywhere, as long as it was out of the hands of the Egyptians. Even now, with the Egyptian army closing in, there was a long line of mules coming out of Magdala and down the hill carrying all sorts of treasure on their backs. Mzuli, like many in the Home Guard units around Magdala, had nothing to do but sit at the top of the
ambaand watch the procession.
“Mubanda,” called the now-familiar voice of
Hamsaleqa Iyoas from behind him. Due to the disorganized type of fighting that was the fighting to protect the heartland of Ethiopia, he and Mzuli were the only ones still left together from the original company of Chewa riflemen. The others were either dead or now in other units, with the chances of both being even. Mzuli turned around to face him.
“Yes, sir?” Though Mzuli was actually a year older than the
Hamsaleqa, he still had rank over him. In fact, he still had the same rank that he had worn a year ago. Thanks again to the disorganized nature of the Home Guard, you had to be lucky and be noticed by a significant higher-up to get a promotion of any sort. Otherwise, the Home Guard would be bogged down in keeping records of who deserved promotions or not.
“Here, Mubanda. These are for you.” With that, he tossed a pouch of some sort at Mzuli. He caught it, and found it unusually heavy for its size. He opened it, and found more silver than he had expected to see in his entire life.
“I cannot take this, sir!” he protested. There was no doubt where it came from. In a situation such as this, many would take the chance and pocket a Magdala treasure or two. Of course, understandably, being found in the possession of a Magdala treasure was punishable by death. The higher-ups made sure that every soldier within ten miles of Magdala knew that.
“Don’t worry, Mubanda. I am not an idiot. I did not take a tapestry or a golden vessel that a lowly
Hamsaleqa or a
Gwandari would be suspect for owning. These are Maria Theresa
thalers, found in the hands of every grubby merchant between Axum and Zimbabwe. Though not many merchants would have so many of them.”
Mzuli counted them out, and found that there were seventy-five of those
thalers. No wonder it was so heavy!
“Seventy-five for you, and seventy-five for me. Besides, if I did not take the silver, the Egyptians would have taken them. And call me Iyoas. You‘ve been with me long enough for that.”
“Thank you, Iyoas.” He still couldn’t believe it. He was only a lowly maize farmer back home. With this silver, in addition to his soldier’s pay, (A pay that he now doubted would ever be paid considering that the Home Guard was substantially less organized than he thought), he would be a rich man! His son’s future would be assured.
As he was still in amazement over his gain, news came that the Egyptian Army was closing in, and that contrary to what many thought, the Home Guard would not be making a heroic last stand in Magdala. They were moving out.
“Where are we supposed to go now?” Mzuli asked. That was a very important question. Dese, which was south of Magdala, had fallen to the Egyptian forces, and they had just been retreating south from a defeat in Axum, so they could not march north and join Emperor Menilek’s army. They were cut off from the north, the south, and the west. The only way was...
“East. Into the Denakil. It is that or surrender to the damn Egyptians.” Iyoas sounded pained, and for good reason.
The Denakil. He had heard some veterans of the Cape War talk about it, except that they did not fight in the Cape, but in the Denakil and in Tigray against the British and then the Tigreans, Afars, and Somalis twenty-five years back. They talked about the harshness of the desert, the stories of men dying of dehydration, and the Afars and Somalis that seemed to know every single perfect spot to ambush you. They were much more friendly to Ethiopian rule now, they said, but still you could not trust them.
Against the odds, Mzuli had survived battle after battle with the Egyptians. Every time he found himself alive at the end of a bayonet charge or a volley of Egyptian rifle fire, it re-affirmed his belief that he would make it back home alive, and that he would see his family again. Now, staring east, unable to see the desert sands of the Denakil but knowing that they were there, he was not so sure.
There was simply nowhere else to retreat, and so the Home Guard would be forced to head into the harsh Denakil...
Excerpt - The Military Campaigns of the Three-Corner War
