Black - The Lathom Remount Depot of World War One

TheLathom Remount Depot of World War One

Softly Fall The Feet Of Them Along TheEnglish Lanes

by

RonBlack

Copyright 2014 RonBlack

SmashwordsEdition
License Notes

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Contents

This is the wish as he told it tome,
Of Gunner McPherson of Battery B.
I want no ribbon nor medals to wear,
Ive done my bit, and Ive had my share
Of filth and fighting, blood and tears,
And doubt and death in the last four years.

My team and I were among thefirst
Contemptible few, when the war-clouds burst.

We sweated our gun through dustand heat,
We hauled her back in the big retreat,
With weary horses and short of shell,
Turning our backs on them, that was Hell!

That was at Mons, but we came backthere,
With shining horses and shells to spare,
And much Ive suffered and much Ive seen,
From Mons to Mons on the miles between.
But I want no medals nor ribbons to wear,
All I ask for my fighting share
Is this, that England should give to me,
The offside leader of Battery B.

She was a round-ribbed,blaze-faced brown,
Shy as a country girl in town,
Scared at the gangway, scared at the quay,
Lathered in sweat at the sight of the sea.

But brave as a lion and strong asa bull,
With the mud at the hub in an uphill pull.
She learned her job, as the best ones do,
And we hadnt been more than a week or two,
Before she would stand like a rooted oak,
While bullets whined and the shrapnel broke,
And a mile of the ridges rocked in glee,
As the shells went over from Battery B.

We swayed with the battle back andforth,
Lugging the limbers south and north,
Round us the world was red with flame,
As we gained or gave in the changing game.

But forwards or backwards, lossesor gains,
There were empty saddles and idle chains,
For death took some on the galloping track,
And beckoned some from the bivouac,
Till at last were left but my mare and me,
Of all who went over with Battery B.

My mates have gone and left mealone,
Their horses are heaps of ash and bone.

Of all who went out in courage andspeed,
Was left but the little brown mare in the lead.
The little brown mare with a blaze on her face,
Who would die of shame at a slack in her trace,

Who would swing the team at theleast command,
Who would charge a house at the clap of a hand,
Who would turn from a shell to nuzzle my knee,
The offside leader of Battery B.

But I want no medals nor ribbonsto wear,
If Ive done my bit, it was only my share,
If a man has his pride and the good of his cause,
And the love of his home, they are unwritten laws.

But what of thehorses who worked by our side?
Who in faith as of children fought with us and died?
If I through it all have been true to my task,
I ask for one honour , this only I ask.
The gift of one gunner, I know of a place,
Where Id leave a brown mare with a blaze on her face,
Neath low leafy lime trees, mid cocksfoot and clover,
To dream, with the dragon-flies glistening over.

Will Ogilvie, December 8th1918

Introduction

A century ago theworld went to war, perhaps the greatest war ever fought, with deathand casualties on an industrial scale. The horse and mule were usedin vast quantities by the combatants for tasks the newly developedmotor vehicle could not do, and these animals suffered the sameappalling casualties as the men they fought alongside. In the earlydays of the war animals from the UK were used but, as the homegrown stock was used up, many of the horses and mules came fromoverseas, America, Canada, Australia.

In 2012 the LathomPark Trust produced a well researched little booklet about theRemount Depot situated within the park. For me it fell short,however, because after reading it I came away wanting to know moreabout how the horses were purchased abroad, transported to thiscountry and when trained transported to the battlefields of France,etc. and, for those who survived the carnage, what happened tothem. I am given to understand no horse or mule can be traced frompurchase to shipping to remount depot to active service; with thatin mind but wishing to try to give some idea of what happened, Iwas lucky after much research to find a book entitled The Horseand the War written in 1918 by Captain Sidney Galtrey. I havequoted extensively from this book and to be perfectly honest I makeno apology for doing so, holding the view that the views andrecollections of a man who was there are infinitely better thanthose of a man who is rewriting his original words.

Ron Black
June 2014
http://www.lakelandhuntingmemories.com/

The Halcyon Days

Life for theBritish Army Officer before the war had a number of advantages tocivilian life. Below is an account of the summer of 1914 by Lt.Rory Macleod of the Royal Horse Artillery.

If we had enoughhorses we could hunt 6 days a week, 4 days with the fox-hounds& 2 with the harriers. Even the subaltern doing sectiontraining could hunt occasionally.

He would put on hishunting kit with a military Great coat on top and a forage cap,and, on hunting days, took his section in the gun sheds by electriclight on such things as gun drill at 6 am, and the other drills,until it was time for him to leave and, on his return from huntinghis poor men were subjected to lectures in the barrack room to makeup time.

The country housepeople were extraordinarily kind. We were often asked out formeals, or to tennis or dances, & sometimes invite us to staythe night and hunt the next day.

Once I drove to aplace, danced all night, hunted the next day, then on to anotherhouse for dinner and more dancing.

I got back to barracksin the early morning with only enough time to change my clothes& go straight onto parade.

A Highland flingperformed on the Officers Mess dining table while wearing spurshad not improved its glossy finish and cost Lt. Macleod 20.

TheLathom Remount Depot of WWI

On 4th August 1914Britain entered the war.

When the British Expeditionary Force (BEF) went to France on the 9 th August 1914 they took theirhorses with them.

Sea ports had never seen anything like it; as the populationwatched reluctant horses were urged up gangways and persuaded intorailed enclosures that had been knocked up on deck.

The whinnying, shouting and bustle was a scene unusual evenat the busiest ports. Some of the unboxed horses died of heartattacks.

The arrival in France was no better. They then had toovercome vertigo and terror as cranes grappled the slings aroundtheir bellies, hoisted them up from deep holds, then swung themhigh above the deck. Finally lowering them quivering to the cobbledquayside.

One groom from the 1 st Battalion Ox and Bucks,known only as Allan, reported that he did not approve of wartimeconditions, his horses, his pride and joy, stowed in crampedaccommodation deep below the water line.