I know, I know... I promised to blog more and have so far failed *smacks back of wrist*. A hectic few weeks seems to have turned into a hectic few months following what seems to be a hectic few years!
Now a fitting blog topic... I was having a stroll through the fields thinking about what to write about next and really there was only one option. It's not cheerful, but it's important and I just couldn't bypass the subject. I've pushed other things back to focus on the events 100 years ago.
Fear, rippled through the ranks.
Through men's limbs. Into our flanks.
But, steady, courageous, facing battle again.
An awesome silence enveloped them then.
We stamped our hooves. We felt it too.
We spoke as only horses do.
With chinking harness, snort and wicker,
With frightened eyes, and ears a-flicker.
Then "Forward! Forward!" Into battle,
To canon boom and machine gun rattle.
With thundering hooves and shouts and screams
Through blinding smoke to nightmare scenes.
And still we galloped on and on
And still the battle wasn't won.
Through shrapnel, shell holes, rifle fire,
In mindless panic to barbed wire.
Now riderless, I mustered strength
And stretched my jump to its full length
To clear the wire of no-man's lands
And reach the woods in enemy hands.
Stricken with terror, I blundered on
Till the noise of the shelling was long gone.
Past ruined homes and fields of mud.
Past trenches with the stench of blood.
Now alone, I reach a river
And halt beside it, all a-shiver.
I drink its coolness, shake my mane.
Will anything ever be the same?
Where are the bundles of fresh sweet hay?
Where is the straw where I once lay?
Where is the farm where I lived and grew?
Where are the people I loved and knew?
© to Brenda Williams
Through men's limbs. Into our flanks.
But, steady, courageous, facing battle again.
An awesome silence enveloped them then.
We stamped our hooves. We felt it too.
We spoke as only horses do.
With chinking harness, snort and wicker,
With frightened eyes, and ears a-flicker.
Then "Forward! Forward!" Into battle,
To canon boom and machine gun rattle.
With thundering hooves and shouts and screams
Through blinding smoke to nightmare scenes.
And still we galloped on and on
And still the battle wasn't won.
Through shrapnel, shell holes, rifle fire,
In mindless panic to barbed wire.
Now riderless, I mustered strength
And stretched my jump to its full length
To clear the wire of no-man's lands
And reach the woods in enemy hands.
Stricken with terror, I blundered on
Till the noise of the shelling was long gone.
Past ruined homes and fields of mud.
Past trenches with the stench of blood.
Now alone, I reach a river
And halt beside it, all a-shiver.
I drink its coolness, shake my mane.
Will anything ever be the same?
Where are the bundles of fresh sweet hay?
Where is the straw where I once lay?
Where is the farm where I lived and grew?
Where are the people I loved and knew?
© to Brenda Williams
This poem struck a cord with me as I'm sure it did with any other equestrian or come to mention it, human being. Two days ago, we plunged our farm into darkness with only two candles burning. That night we remembered them, one candle inside for those who gave their lives and one in front of Milo's stable, for the horses and animals that were so pivotal to the war effort.
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| Learning how to mount before battle |
WW1 saw aviation, tanks and poison gas used in combat for the first time, but our true and most vital weapon was the humble horse. More than a million horses were taken with thousands more being shipped every week, it's scary isn't it? If so many horses were needed to replace those that had perished, think about the men needed to replace those that had fallen, over 15% of the equine army perished every year. The men were brave, but the horses even more so, they had one man to trust, one man telling them to fight their natural instincts and run and one man to comfort them when they fell.
I'm proud of my family and their part in the war. My Great Great Uncle was the vet to 'the' War Horse whilst my Great Grandfather fought. Every one should be proud. Our pride means we can never forget what people and animals did for us and in order for our lives to continue as they do today. It's easy to say Lest We Forget, but take a moment to think what your lives would be like if you lived 100 years ago. My Milo would be an enlisted equine, my partner would be fighting and I'd be working on the land helping feed the nation.
We remember those who toiled in the Battlefields 100 years ago to Save a nation.
So do we remember those who toiled in the Fields 100 years ago to Feed a nation.
So do we remember those who toiled in the Fields 100 years ago to Feed a nation.
Once you've thought what you'd or your relatives have been doing 100 years ago, think what you're doing now. Let it allow you to be grateful, to be proud and to remember, remember them always.
