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War Horse


wiggyrichard

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Considering I fast forwarded through the trailer, I can't imagine I'll be galloping out to see it.

A horse like.. :|

As my father would joke: Will the horse win an oscar?!?!?!?

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The scenes in the trailer that showed a horse GALLOPING across what appeared to be No-Man's_Land stretched my credibility so far that there is absolutely no way I would bother with this movie, even if I am somewhat of an amateur Great War buff. I mean, come on, barbed wire, artillery such as the world has never seen since, trenches and especially General Mud. C'mon, d'you think I'm a moron? That gee gee wouldn't likely last twenty minutes in that environment, and galloping? I'm thinking NOT.
Memoirs & Diaries - A Cavalry Brigade at Cambrai, November 1917

Our cavalry brigade arrived in Peronne in November 1917, after a long trek up from billets.

On the night of the 19th we moved off at a walk. It was pitch dark and approaching midnight.

"March at ease, but no smoking" was the order, and later on, "No talking".

All that could be heard was the clip-clop of horses' feet, creaking of saddlery and champing of bits. Now and again the sound of a muffled cough. Fins was the rendezvous. We got there about 3 a.m., and off-saddled. Zero hour was 6 a.m.

I was detailed for fodder fatigue. To get to the limbers we had to go through the lines of several regiments, and here I saw men with whom I had been training in 1914 in barracks in England. All our cavalry in France was concentrated at this rendezvous.

I had never seen so many horses and men together at one parade. It was an awe-inspiring sight. Dragoons, Lancers, Hussars - they were all there, as well as Indian mounted troops. The "saddle-up" went for an Indian brigade first.

By this time the bombardment was heavy. Tanks and infantry were well on their way to the Hindenburg Line, the supposed impregnable trench. Rumours had already reached us that this trench was taken. The Indian brigade disappeared over the Ridge in column of troop. Prisoners were coming towards us. A good sign. Everybody seemed in high spirits.

Saddle-up came for our brigade next. We moved off in column of troop. We crossed the Hindenburg Line fairly early in the morning. Many tanks had got across, but several had been put out of action and were lying derelict.

Seemingly we marched for hours, without a sign of the enemy, except for prisoners. We went through captured villages two abreast. In the afternoon we received a check, but no Germans were in sight. Only their artillery was in evidence. We took cover behind a battered hedge. Our troop lost a couple of horses there. They had to be destroyed after being wounded.

All the afternoon we moved about, trotting here, galloping there, scarcely knowing in what direction the enemy was by this time. Towards dusk we halted and dismounted on the borders of a village. There were many prisoners here, looking at us with fixed gaze. Some had a cynical smile upon their faces, some looked dejected, while others simply grinned.

Later, we moved off at a walk, and, coming to an open field by the roadside, we again dismounted. It was raining. A dismal rain. Real November stuff that gradually wetted us through until eventually we could feel it trickling through our puttees.

For hours we stood by our horses. Then, at midnight, we were told to off-saddle and peg down for the night. The prospect was by no means a cheerful one, but we lay down behind the horses to get what little sleep we could.

Two or three hours later I was aroused by a savage dig in the ribs. My section corporal had been told to get in some ammunition that had been dumped by the roadside, so, with several others, I was kicked into a state of somnambulism, and we trudged down the road for about half a mile in one of the blackest nights that I can remember.

We sweated, we grumbled, and we cursed. But the job had to be done. Our Hotchkiss gun team would need this ammunition tomorrow. Tomorrow came. It was still raining.

At daybreak we went on fodder fatigue, replenished nosebags, had a bully-beef and biscuit breakfast, and went forward once more. Early in the afternoon our regiment lined up in a sunken road in front of a small village. The enemy was there. We were to drive him out.

Enemy 'planes had spotted us though. Enemy shells were plentiful. Lieutenant T. galloped along the rear, at the same time shouting, "See that your swords are loose".

We sat tense in our saddles, waiting for the order to go forward. Everybody was "keyed up". Would the order ever come?

Now, after the lapse of a dozen years, I try to recall some of my thoughts and emotions during those moments. I was young then, very young indeed to be a cavalryman. Barely twenty, and there were men in my troop who had campaigned in South Africa.

There I sat astride a powerful bay, wondering whether he would keep his feet in the plunge that was to come, or whether he would fall in the morass: whether we should both come back triumphant or whether I should come back carrying my saddle. It never occurred to me that I should not come back.

At last the orders came: "Half-sections right, walk march! Form sections! Head, left wheel! Draw swords! Trot! Form troop! Form column of half squadron! Gallop!"

The village lay about three-quarters of a mile away. We galloped fiercely to the outskirts, rapidly formed sections and got on to the road, numbers 1 and 2 troops cantering into the village first.

Donelly, the Irishman, went raving mad, cutting and thrusting wildly at retreating Germans. Indescribable scenes followed.

The order came to dismount. Germans emerged from dugouts in all directions, some giving themselves up, others making a fight of it with a few bombs. No. 1 troop received the bombs in its midst. The bomb-throwers were accounted for with rifle and revolver.

We took many prisoners, but the major portion of the garrison holding the village had cleared out before we arrived. Very soon their machine guns were in action again, and shells were dropping in and behind the village. I, being No.3 of a section, was a horse-holder and had to take four horses to the rear.

Private Chris Knight, joined 6th Dragoon Guards (Carabineers) September 3rd, 1914. Sent to 3rd Reserve Cavalry Regt. at Canterbury. After training, employed in remount depot. In 1915 sent to 2nd Reserve Cavalry Regt. at Aldershot.

1916, transferred to King's Shropshire Light Infantry. Went to France. Passed through infantry training on Bull-Ring, but was transferred back to cavalry (2nd Dragoon Guards) as a specialist.

Served on several parts of Western Front until taken prisoner at the Cambrai battle, November 1917. In Germany for thirteen months: Munster, Westphalia, Parchim, Mecklenberg, Springhirsch, Schleswig-Holstein.

Returned home two months after Armistice.

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I stand corrected, at least from the point of view of horses in cavalry reg'ts galloping. I do think that hollywood may have stretched the bounds of credibility though over this one.
No, in general terms you were right. The opportunities for cavalry charges on the Western Front were extremely limited, for obvious reasons. But as that extract shows, that doesn't mean they were nonexistent.

Colossal numbers of horses were used - mainly as draft animals, admittedly - in BOTH world wars, and died in their millions. But occasionally, there were a few old-school cavalry actions.

Good article here, which among other things, reveals that the last cavalry charge of the SECOND world war was on the Russian front, undertaken (with some success) by Italians!

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well if this thread is anything to go by Senor Spielbergo will not be making much money out of this film!

i think he's a brilliant film maker and yes this does look like it could be too heavy on the emotional side of things...but as a film fan i won't let that stop me from seeing it........

spielbergs back log is full of enough quality to make me think its worth paying money for this and hopefully be pleasantly surprised......

plus the book is great

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I'm looking forward to this in all honesty. Hopefully it will be a return to his 'Empire of the Sun' form, which is one of my favourite films.

The thing is that you know what you are getting with Spielberg too. He's a top director and is very much aimed at the mainstream market. He likes to tug at emotions and to give that grand feeling to his films. To be honest when he gets it right there are few directors out there that are better than him. Certainly one of the greatest big budget directors.

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The more i've seen the trailer, the worse it gets. It really does look like a load of overly sentimental, sugary bollox. I guarantee many swooping crane shots over the shoulder of the horse and many, many stares into the distance.

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