Brian convoys to Russia.
Joan Read very short story in a blink.
Next month Things might have.
Both Pat and Ann won
Ann's
A Trooper Till The Last
I was raised on a farm in Kerry, Southern Ireland. At the end of the day when work was finished, we were left to roam in the fields that ran right down to the sea. We loved to race down and across the sand into the waves of the Atlantic Ocean where we would splash about in the surf. Our master was a kind man who cared for his animals and although we worked hard pulling the ploughs and carts, we were well looked after. The times were dark though. It was 1915 and there was a war raging in France and as well as the men and even boys enlisting, they were now recruiting more horses. I was taken from the farm along with two other of my companions and shipped to England. We were landed at Avonmouth and taken, along with horses that had arrived from as far away as America, to a place called Romsey, which is near Southampton. On arrival we were put into kraals. Each group became a squadron and had its own vets and shoeing forge. There were shelters and as many horses had travelled from overseas, there were verandas for greater protection. This also helped the men in the bad weather who oversaw us. We began training and were selected for various jobs. Some were trained to pull the gun carriages, others were chosen to pull canal barges while many more were chosen to carry the cavalry. I was one of those and at first found it quite strange, as I had never been ridden before on the farm. I was a quick learner and enjoyed the discipline and routine. Generally it was a happy place, but on one occasion there was an accident while one of the squadron was training. A new horse became restless causing the whole group to bolt. Three riders were thrown and one died of his injuries. From time to time there would also be sadness around the depot as news reached us of a ship carrying a contingent of horses that had been sunk at sea by the enemy and some of our Romsey comrades had perished. There was one occasion when there were over three hundred that had died. We tried not to think about this as we knew our time would come to be shipped overseas. After many weeks of our training we were assessed and were ready for our time to say goodbye to our friends at the Romsey Remount Depot and head for pasture new.
There were about two hundred and fifty horses in our column as we headed for the docks in Southampton. The slowest ones were placed at the front with a rider on the lead horse and about thirty-five other riders were placed at intervals all along the column until the last horse. An officer rode ahead of the column to slow the traffic and make sure the road was clear. People came out to see us and wave us on our way. I suppose we did make quite a sight as the column seemed to weave along into
the distance. On arrival at the docks we were counted onto the ship and every horse had a nosebag of feed tied around its neck and hay in front of them. We were escorted to France where we disembarked and were taken to the town. There we were met and were allocated our new master. Mine was a Captain Stanley Williams. I liked him from the start. I felt he was a good man and felt a great confidence in him. We were taken to the front line and the sights and conditions I saw were awful. Underfoot the mud was so deep that I saw horses stuck up to their bellies in it unable to free themselves. The stench of death was all around and the sounds of the wounded and dying, horses and men were heart-wrenching. My Captain and I were one now. We knew and trusted one another implicitly and I knew whatever we encountered, I would be a trooper till the last.
Pat's
A Trooper to the
last
Violet was sitting on the
minibus on her way to visit a haunted castle. These old buildings were always
thought to be haunted she thought to herself. Surveying the passengers, who all
seemed to know each other, she reflected on the last few months of her
life.
It had been turned up side
down after the unexpected departure of her 75 year old husband, who had run off
with a younger woman of 60. Good luck to her thought Violet after the initial
shock. He had not been a good husband and could be violent after a few drinks.
She thought back to when they had first met and should have spotted the signs,
but being young and naïve she fell head over heels and that was
that.
After the separation the
house was sold and she purchased a tiny bungalow with her share. It was in a
small village about 10 miles away. As her family and friends lived in the area
she didn't want to move too far away. She knew no one here, and noted that the
only active place was the church. Although she had not been particularly
religious she decided to go to the service one Sunday morning. There was tea and
biscuits in the tiny hall afterwards and a very friendly lady introduced herself
and persuaded her to sign up for the annual outing as two people had dropped
out.
There were two mini buses
full of ladies of a certain age plus a few couples. Upon alighting from the
buses they surveyed the imposing castle. It was around 800 years old, the guide
informed us, and was still in the same family, the present occupants lived in
one wing on the far side. Some of the rooms had recently been opened to the
public, hence the visit. They found the tour most interesting and gazed at the
portraits of their ancestors along the corridors. In one room a particular
painting arrested Violet's attention, and she waited until most of the visitors
had moved on and went back to study it. The painting was of the very young lads
marching, laughing and singing off to the first World War. My grandfather could
be one of them she thought. They were the real troopers till the end, and so
very few returned. Reluctantly taking her eyes off the painting she went out to
join the others. The others were nowhere in sight. Neither could she hear them
through the thick walls. Looking down the dimly lit passage she saw a grey
figure coming towards her. Violet was transfixed, and when the apparition
beckoned her to follow, off she went into a fairly large bedroom. The grey lady
had a lovely smile as she sank into the fireside chair, motioning Violet to sit
in the other one. She must have dozed off as upon opening her eyes, she was
alone. Feeling very tired she slipped off her shoes and lay down on the bed, not
noticing the skeleton lying next to her.
Downstairs, the group were
having their tea and cake. Someone said where's the new lady”? Oh I think she
is in the queue for the ladies. Afterwards they all climbed aboard. “where is
Violet” someone asked.”.Oh, she is probably on the other bus”. Off they went, it
had been such a lovely day.” Anyone see a ghost”? A lady asked, as they merrily
went on their way.
