MILITARY HISTORY Jan./Feb. 2006, Vol. 22, No. 10, Pp. 22-28

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MILITARY HISTORY Jan./Feb. 2006, Vol. 22, No. 10, pp. 22-28

Faceless Warriors of the Sahara (Abridged Version)

For centuries the Tuareg tribesmen were unchallenged rulers of their desert lair. Then the French arrived on the scene.

By Edward L. Bimberg

Even by desert standards it was a strange caravan that set out from the Sahara Desert town of Ouargla in December 1880. More than 300 camels carried the supplies of 10 Frenchmen and 78 natives, including provisions for four months and lavish gifts for the chieftains of southern desert tribes.

The country through which the caravan would travel for the next few hundred miles was mostly unfamiliar to Europeans. Romans and Carthaginians had explored it to some extent, and during the 18th and 19th centuries adventurous individuals and small parties of Europeans had crossed its barren wastes. It was virtually waterless and trackless. Only the natives knew the location of its few wells, and they weren't telling. Commercial caravans had been crossing the desert for centuries using a few well-known tracks, but these were always dangerous journeys. Heat, exhaustion and disease inevitably took their toll, as did the depredations of brigand bands--particularly the Tuaregs.

Far to the South was a band of desert warriors cheerfully waiting to fulfill that wish. They were members of the Kel Ahaggar Tuaregs, one of the northernmost tribes of the great confederation that roamed the desert from In Salah in the central Sahara, east to Libya, as far south as Chad and as far west as Timbuktu. The Tuaregs were camel breeders and herdsmen who also organized and managed some of the caravans that conducted trade across the desert. They were also brigands, who for centuries had raided oases, plundered caravans that refused to pay them tribute and terrorized travelers in general.

Exceptionally tall for desert dwellers, they were lean, tough men of Berber origin armed with unique Crusader-type broadswords, long lances, antelope-skin shields and, more recently, rifles. Fierce, treacherous, swaggering lords of all they surveyed, they wore long indigo robes that reached their ankles, accentuating their height. Most striking, their entire heads were concealed behind a veil, the traditional Tuareg litham, a 5-foot length of blue or white cotton wound around so that only their eyes were uncovered. Designed to protect their faces from the sun and sand, the litham also gave them a mysterious, menacing look that added to their terrifying reputation.

The Hoggar Mountains are among the most unusual geologic formations in the world. Rising to 9,000 feet in places, they are mostly extinct volcanoes that thrust skyward in fantastically shaped peaks and cones, with huge boulders strewn about. Throughout this desolate landscape are patches of scrub grass and weeds on which Hoggar Tuareg camels and goats fed. This was their land, the almost impenetrable lair from which they deployed to carry out their depredations in the less forbidding parts of the Sahara.

All seemed well, but then it was noticed that the guides, including the one who was holding Flatters' horse, were edging away. Flatters called out, but by that time the guides had disappeared among the rocks.

At the same time, a group of camel-mounted Tuaregs led by Attici, the chief’s son himself came charging out of the ravine straight for the colonel and his men. Flatters and the other French officer barely had time to draw their pistols and fire an effective volley before the Tuaregs were upon them. Lance thrusts and rifle fire dispatched all the Frenchmen. The attackers savagely hacked their bodies to pieces with their swords. The tirailleurs put up a spirited defense but were soon overwhelmed. A few managed to slip away in the confusion and make it back to alert the main body.

It was a long, hard march. For days the column struggled on, the veiled warriors riding silently, patiently on their flanks. Although the French mission was still armed, the men were now truly fugitives. Their strictly rationed water had all but run out. They were starving, living on whatever they could find. Somewhere along the march they had rounded up a few stray camels, used them as baggage animals and then slaughtered them for food. They were also able to occasionally snare some small desert lizards, which, while not gourmet fare, kept them alive.

When the column was still two days from Amguid they were surprised to see a small party of Tuaregs ride up to their encampment making friendly signs. Communications with the Tuaregs was always difficult because they had their own language and knew little Arabic, but these men seemed to have sympathy for the column's plight and offered to bring them food. The starving men were grateful. Hunger had stilled their suspicions. The next day the same Tuaregs rode up and dropped off some bundles of dates. As they rode off, the tirailleurs fell ravenously on the unexpected gift.

It was typical Tuareg treachery. The dates were poisoned. Among the desert tribes the drug was called ifalezlez; it resulted in hallucinations and disorientation, not unlike LSD. Within a short time the men ran screaming into the desert. Others raved around the encampment, and some tried to kill themselves. The last of the civilians died as a result of the drug.

Why the Tuaregs didn't attack then is a mystery. Eventually the effects of the poison wore off, and the pitiful column moved on, although many of the men were suffering great pain and some were still half crazy.

At last they reached Amguid. There they were not surprised to see a line of camel-mounted Tuaregs stretched across their path, silently watching, lances and swords at the ready. The tirailleurs halted, and the antagonists simply stared at each other. Then suddenly the Tuaregs charged.

Amazingly, the tirailleurs found the courage and discipline to meet the onslaught with a volley of well-aimed rifle fire. A dozen Tuaregs fell and the rest turned back, but they were not long discouraged. They charged and charged again, each time taking severe casualties. Finally they gave up on mounted attacks and settled down to sharpshooting from behind the rocks of the surrounding hilly terrain.

Now the Tuaregs practiced some of their primitive and savage psychological warfare. They had taken a number of prisoners in the original fight at Tadjemout, and at this point, in full view of the tirailleurs, these were executed. Some they simply threw off the surrounding cliffs, others they beheaded. If they hadn't fully realized it before, the horrified spectators now knew what would happen to them if they were captured.

The sniping continued until dark, with heavy casualties on both sides. The remaining French officer was killed, and the last French noncom, a Sergeant Pobeguin, was now in charge. As the sniping died down, Pobeguin took advantage of the darkness to lead his tattered band around Amguid and continue north. Perhaps the Tuaregs simply let them escape. If any of the tirailleurs made it back to Ouargla, their sad tale could serve as a warning to the French to stay out of Tuareg territory. At any rate, apparently satisfied that they had taught the intruders a sufficient lesson, the veiled men turned back toward the Hoggar.

The remaining part of the tirailleurs' desert odyssey was a nightmare. They were still 450 miles from Ouargla, and they were still starving. They found some water along the way, but little food. They were reduced to eating lizards and chewing on their leather belts. At first the bodies were left where they lay, but eventually famished tirailleurs turned to cannibalism. To stay alive, they ate the flesh of their fallen companions.

On March 28, 1881, a dozen ragged scarecrows stumbled into Ouargla. Sergeant Pobeguin, the last of the Frenchmen, was not among them--he had died on the terrible trail. Over the following weeks a few more survivors, some of whom had escaped Tuareg captivity, wandered into other desert outposts, and the whole sad tale of the disaster came to light.

Paris was horrified, and the French public demanded some sort of action to punish the Tuaregs. Gradually, however, the conquest of the Sahara, while not actually forgotten, was put on the back burner. It was not until 17 years later that another attempt was made to cross the Sahara to the Sudan.