Written by Katherine A Smith for the RRR Newsletter | Edition 14, Summer 2000
It is a cool, overcast Sunday afternoon in Margaret River, Western Australia.
On days like this you would expect to find most teenagers ensconced in the nearest movie theatre or takeaway, or prowling the local shopping malls. But not 17 year old Sascha Watson, who is galloping a young, sixteen-hand Waler horse around a training yard under the watchful eye of her father, Brent.
For us, this is a typical Sunday afternoon.
Over in the next yard her mother, Debbie, is putting a World War One harness on another young Waler, with the help of Sheila Greenwell, a local vet. I’m outside the yard, reminding my donkey how to walk quietly in to a horse float. He plays Simpson’s Donkey and he’s a part of the troop too.
But which troop, you ask? Why, the Western Australian Light Horse Memorial Troop of course. There are eleven of us now – mostly local – and half of us are female. Sascha Watson (student), Debbie Watson, Tahita Lang (author), myself (Katherine Smith – I work for the local Shire), and Sheila Greenwell, the Scottish vet. There are others who ride with the troop from time to time including Shane Gould, the former Olympic swimming champion and now also an author.
We are one of only two Light Horse Memorial Troops left in Western Australia, and we are the only ones with an Artillery unit!
Brent Watson, Sascha’s father, had the inspiration to start it all, after being involved with the 1997 Perth International Military Tattoo. Brent was asked to participate in and train several horses for a Light Horse Memorial Troop display for the Tattoo. Part of this display involved one of his horses feigning death in a spotlit arena, overseen by a grief-struck trooper, whilst a poem ‘Remember The Horses’ was read out. This poem gives a stark description of the plight of both soldiers and horses at the end of the First World War.
Six hundred thousand horses were shipped overseas during this period, however due mainly to quarantine restrictions and political red tape, only one horse ever returned. The troopers, having been told that their horses could not come home, were forced to abandon or shoot their mounts, because they did not wish to leave them to an uncertain future under alternative ownership in Egypt.
The truly distressing scenes occurred when the troopers who had “freed” their horses boarded the troop ships home. The horses, bonded so closely with their riders, swam after the vessels, following them out to sea. Even firing over the animal’s heads would not stop them – so used to charging into cannon fire and hails of bullets were they. In the end, many soldiers were pushed to do what they could not do on land…shoot their horses. The rest drowned or were taken by sharks. You can imagine the scenes.
Brent and his family were struck by the story of the Light Horse, and by the outpouring of emotion that the “bringing to life” of this period of our history inevitably invokes.
Sheila Greenwell, at the time, had heard about the plight of the Waler horse – the hardy type created originally to survive the harsh Australian outback and, later, the even harsher conditions of war. Due to war time losses, and later eradication through extensive culling on outback stations, the breed is now rare. Sheila introduced the Waler to the Margaret River area, by way of a pregnant mare, purchased from a station up in the Kimberleys. She then managed to talk my partner, Kevin Waddington, in to purchasing one or two himself. Then Brent got involved. Our current troop attempts to accurately represent the Light Horse era of the First World War, (the 10th Light Horse being the only Western Australian troop ever formed).
Last year, most of our members journeyed to Clayton Station in the remote north of South Australia, and returned with ten new Waler horses, all caught wild on the station. Six have since been trained, from scratch, to pull a two-tonne captured German Field Artillery Gun – A Krupp 13 pounder – a little something Brent managed to acquire. It is currently being renovated so that it will be able to fire blank rounds on ceremonial occasions.
It is an impressive sight – a six strong team of heavy type Walers in World War One harness, each pair with it’s own rider. Sascha controls the lead pair, mother Debbie steers the middle two and the big boys – the “wheelers”, belong to Sam, Sascha’s nineteen year old brother. These two powerful horses are being trained to act as the brakes for the two tonnes of hardware soon to be behind them.
Since the troop’s inception, we have found that most of us have ancestral connections with the Light Horse. Kevin’s Uncle, as well as Sascha’s grandfather (Debbie’s father), were both in Light Horse Military Units. My great-grandfather used to train the wild horses captured and shipped to India from 1914-1918.
To date, we have advertised by word of mouth for original saddles, bridles and harness gear. We have fossicked through endless antique and old uniform stores for original uniforms, buttons and weaponry. We have sought the original breed of horse used, from the stations that historically supplied Walers for war. All of this has been done at considerable financial cost to ourselves, and it takes up most of our spare time, but we believe it’s a project worth pursuing.
It’s about giving something back to the larger community. It’s about keeping alive a slice of history. It’s about the bonds that were – and can be – forged between man and beast. We are helped enormously in this respect by our collective interest in Parelli Natural Horsemanship – a method of training (or rather “educating”) horses that is based on the natural way horses educate each other. The results are extraordinary. One feature of our display is when Sascha lays her troop horse down and “fires” over the top of him, in the same way the soldiers used to lie their mounts down, to use as live shields when under fire.
Tentpegging is another of our specialities. This comes under “Skill at Arms”. One soldier stands in the middle of the parade ground holding a “peg” (foam card) in each hand, with a third stuck into the ground between his legs. Sascha gallops past on one side and stakes one peg with her sword. At the same time, Kevin or Sheila gallop past on the other side and attempt to skewer the other peg. Then, Sam, Sascha’s nineteen year old brother, approaches at full gallop with his lance…and neatly secures the peg between the (understandably) very steady soldier’s legs. During this spectacular display, the horses must not change pace or direction, at all, as it could well spell disaster.
Some people call these things neat tricks, however they are not tricks. They are trusts – the testing of strong bonds created between horse and rider. Of course the soldiers didn’t have the luxury that we have – time – to form this relationship with their mounts. Often their horses were captured straight from the wild, roughly broken in, and shipped overseas, in their hundreds, within weeks. The bonds the soldiers created were formed on the battlefield, where tentpegging meant ripping the pegs out of the enemy’s tents – whilst galloping through enemy camps – and trapping them inside, at night. Our boys earned quite a reputation with their skill at arms.
Of course we’ve seen our fair share of “action” too. In fact we call ourselves “the soft tissue brigade”. It’s a joke about the soft tissue damage most of the members have endured at some point from falls or similar incidents. The standing joke at the moment is that I’m the only trooper who hasn’t earned her strips because I’m the only one who hasn’t had a CAT scan, yet. Wait for it…
Over the past couple of years we have performed in the 1997 International Military Tattoo, the Boer War Commemorative Parade, at the 1999 Perth Royal Show, Agricultural Shows in different parts of the state, expos, ANZAC Day parades in our home town of Margaret River.
It is a tremendous honour – and tremendous fun! We are a real “living museum.” I am constantly surprised at the number of old soldiers – and relatives of old soldiers – who come up and ask about the horses, or the gear, or proceed to tell us stories about their father or grandfather who was a Lighthorseman. We attract history. Indeed, we collect it.
The real old diggers – some Lighthorseman themselves – never hesitate to tell us where our uniforms are out. A scabbard carried too high…a nine pouch bandolier around the wrong way…a button on a uniform from the wrong era…they don’t miss a trick. And it helps us “perfect” our look. We don’t pretend to be the real thing. In the end, we are only a Memorial Troop. But we want to be an authentic one!
Our current problem, believe it or not, is our popularity. We are getting requests to perform from all over the State, and it’s become so expensive we’ve been forced to ask for a fee to cover costs. Horses, saddlery, harness, uniforms, weaponry, transport, feed, public liability insurance – although this is covered because we are all members of the Australian Light Horse Association – time off work (because we’re all mad enough to have full-time jobs as well)…it’s a difficult balance to keep. So the time has come for us to seek a Marketing Partner/Sponsor. Naming rights, corporate packages, private displays…it’s a tempting business opportunity if anyone’s interested.
Next year, we’ve been invited to go to Albany to join in the Centenary of Federation celebrations being held there over the ANZAC period. Attending will be military personnel and representatives from all over the country, for a week of memorial camps and displays. We’ll be taking ten troop members, and a minimum of fourteen horses – all with full kits. That’s a lot of spit and polish!
There are a lot of legends out there, but this is the one we’ve chosen to tell. The story of the Light Horse troops and their mounts is one which should be remembered and passed on, because it’s Australian. It’s our story. The story of what these men and their horses went through during a time of war, in the hope that we could secure peace, for all time. It should never be overlooked.
Lest we forget.