Twenty men and horses had followed Seely to hear him issue the final orders for the advance. His advice was to gallop fast to increase the chance of success. Warrior was ready and rising to the charge. Seely later wrote: ‘All sensation of fear had vanished from him as he galloped on at racing speed.’
The charge drew a hail of bullets from the enemy as Seely and his signal troop galloped on towards the point of the wood. Pockets of enemy fire thrust out at the Canadians who were at full stretch, with Corporal King making ready to jab the lance carrying the red flag into the ground. Warrior had free rein and instinctively began swerving from side to side in reaction to the swell of the guns. It was an inspired and thundering dash, especially for the rest of the 1,000 horses and men of the Canadian Cavalry Brigade who had the Hussars and the Lancers at full gallop behind them.
Warrior was still wrestling with his bit and spoiling for a fight as squadron after squadron thundered up the hill, the men’s steel helmets in place to face the enemy. They covered six furlongs in seventy seconds, losing five of the signal troop along the way. The hillside shook as the charge moved towards Moreuil Wood, scattering the enemy in its path in ‘paratrooper’ fashion. Once it had begun there was no stopping the full force of the charge. The massive movement of horses and men streamed on, unaffected by the horses cut down by enemy fire or the men thrown from their saddles to meet their deaths. The rush of adrenalin transferred to the horse – nothing was going to stop Warrior from going on, galloping towards bullets and shells.
Communications were muddled and in short supply. Only the few gallopers who managed to dodge the gun fire made it back from Seely’s initial charge to relay the extent of the damage being inflicted on the horses and men in the thick of the engagement. But no one had planned for the combined attack of machine and field guns. They opened fire and only a few men and horses escaped. The men who did were immediately plunged into close combat, with bayonets fixed against the enemy. The exchange was brutal and bloody and there was no turning back.
Warrior and Jack Seely rode through it all unscathed, as if they existed in their own charmed bubble. But it was not the same for the others, no matter how brave they were.
Captain Gordon Flowerdew, who had recently been promoted from lieutenant, won the Victoria Cross for the gallantry he displayed at Moreuil Wood, but like many of his countrymen he did not survive to accept it in person. Flowerdew was leading ‘C’ Squadron – a 75-strong unit of Strathcona’s Horse – round the northern tip of the Ridge. He had already decided that he was not going to make the mistake of taking the route the others had done before him and leave his men exposed to gun fire. He decided to go northeast to connect with a narrow cutting that would give his men protection as they approached their target. He asked bugler Reg Longley to call the squadron together and suddenly he found that Seely, on Warrior, had cantered up alongside him.
The General reminded his new captain that it was an important moment for all of them. As Seely’s grandson Brough Scott attests in his book Galloper Jack, Flowerdew responded: ‘I know it is a splendid moment. I will try not to fail.’
The Strathcona’s had seen enough that morning to know that if they were to have any chance at all they would need to go in hard. Swords drawn, they prepared for the off, little knowing what lay in store for them at the top of the slope. Flowerdew half turned in his saddle to ask the boy trumpeter to sound the charge, but as the lad lifted his trumpet to his lips he was cheated of the chance to call the charge. He was shot dead in the saddle. Flowerdew shouted, ‘It’s a charge boys, it’s a charge!’ As the 75 horses rose up out of the mist, they faced not victory but a six-gun artillery battery and the combined rifle and machine-gun strength of five infantry companies. The Germans had been expecting tanks. The horses were cut down in just a few furious seconds.
It was basic and brutal. Faced with machine guns, the horses could not turn back or lie down. And challenging machine guns with bayonets had already proved futile many times over. Of the 75 men, 24 died on the battlefield and 15 more died later from their injuries. Flowerdew was caught in the open and badly wounded. Several of the men tried to rescue him from where he lay but they were immediately attacked by snipers – one was shot in the foot. Flowerdew was later carried to the clearing station for treatment, but it was too late. The brave man did not last the night.
An official war report by the Germans recorded: ‘Moreuil Wood is hell.’ And it was, especially for the horses. It was said that each man kept the last bullet in his pistol for himself, to avoid being taken prisoner, but many cavalry soldiers would keep the bullet for their horse to relieve it of pain and misery. The horses that managed to escape being mown down by enemy machine guns stood in the open ground in a state of shock and bewilderment, often dripping with their own or their rider’s blood. Without mercy, they were targeted and finished off by German shells.
Warrior and Seely made it to the wood where the battle raged throughout a rainy afternoon and on until nightfall. The Germans had not advanced, which was a kind of victory for Seely and his cavalry, but the losses had been huge: a quarter of the men and half the horses (500) were dead. It was a strange time to have visitors, but the arrival of the French Prime Minister, Georges Clemenceau, accompanied by Winston Churchill, provided a surreal interlude.
Shells continued to burst overhead as the French premier surveyed the destruction. The lost and wounded from Seely’s brigade wandered into view, and the wounded horses, too. Just a few hours before the visit, two soldiers were resting in the area with their horses when a shell dropped, killing one horse instantly and blowing a leg off the other. In blind panic, or maybe in search of a place of safety, the three-legged horse, named Spider, struggled down hill and found himself standing in front of the VIPs in a pool of blood. And still the shells fell all around.
‘All my life had led to this’
The next morning was Easter Sunday and Seely invited the army chaplain to conduct a service to honour the dead and bring encouragement to the battle weary. He took Warrior with him to the barn that had become the new makeshift HQ and officer accommodation. The Germans had their own service on the hill to pray to God for victory.
Seely and his Canadians were counting their huge losses. The Cavalry Brigade was greatly depleted but they still had Warrior, their greatest symbol of endurance and hope. ‘Here comes old Warrior!’ the cry went out. The men crowded around him and stroked his neck and flanks in thankfulness that this horse, at least, had been spared death. As long as Warrior’s luck never ran out then there was hope for everyone else.
Soon the terrible news arrived that the Germans had re-taken Moreuil Wood and gone as far as pushing north to take Rifle Wood (Bois de Hourges), too. This meant the enemy was now only seven miles from Amiens. The orders were that Rifle Wood needed to be taken, and this time the surviving troops would have to march there on foot. It was back to basics for the General and a blessing that Warrior did not have to go.
At 8.55 a.m. on 1 April 1918 Seely’s men walked towards the German machine guns with devastating consequences. A group of Fort Garry’s were hit by a shell, blowing the men to pieces. Seely was made to stay back at HQ, three-quarters of a mile away, but several times he had to leave the ruined barn to check on the men. On the one occasion he decided to go on horseback, the horse he rode was shot from under him. And as he walked back to HQ he was caught in a gas attack. It was a blessing on two counts that Warrior happened to be lame that day.
Rifle Wood was another slaughter and Seely was exhausted from the ordeal. He suffered after the gas attack, too. His men were fatigued, and out of all the horses on site two more had gone lame and three had been hit by a shell, so only a mule remained, which Seely rode back to HQ, slumped and coughing on its back. There was some good news: the position had been retained by the Allies, and Warrior had survived to tell another war-horse tale. Rifle Wood was considered a success (although at great cost), and it saved Seely’s reputation with the Canadians. He was
allowed to retain command and see them collect their honours; 20 medals were awarded to the Strathcona’s alone, including the Victoria Cross to Captain Flowerdew.
Seely had his own idea on medals. He nominated Warrior for a VC and when asked why, he said: ‘Because he went everywhere I did.’ There was only one place they didn’t go together and that was back to the Isle of Wight when the Armistice was declared. Warrior was left behind for a while to aid General Patterson through the period of demobbing and trying to return life to as near normal as possible for the French people.
There was plenty of emotion leaving Warrior behind, but Seely had been reassured that he would be back with the family for Christmas and he had faith in the arrangements. Few horses had such security. The majority of those that served in and survived the war were left in France for use on farms or, if past being useful, they were sold to the local butcher. Not the best ending to the life of a war hero. Others, like Warrior, made it home eventually thanks to their owners or sometimes the determination of the soldiers, who refused to see the horse that had been their companion for four years of war left to suffer a fate worse than death on the battlefield.
Warrior the conquering hero
On Christmas Day 1918 Warrior came home to the Isle of Wight. The Channel crossing had been rough but he hadn’t complained. He left the complaining to others. The few horses that had made the journey home were all suffering from the same thing – they were terribly hungry. The cruel winter and impossible transport situation made food a rarity for man and horse.
The last time Warrior made the journey over the Channel, General Seely had been with him offering handfuls of corn every time the boat made an unsettling lurch. A handful of corn would have been very welcome and something Warrior had not tasted for a while. Weeks of meagre rations had reduced to almost nothing, and no one could do a thing about it. When Seely had sailed for home ahead of Warrior, his parting gift to his beloved war horse had been a biscuit. It was all he’d had with him, all he’d had to share with his starving horse. It was at that moment the man made a promise to the horse that he would never be hungry again.
When they docked at Southampton, Thomson, Warrior’s groom from home, was there to take care of everything. He had one sole mission: to get Warrior home safe and sound for the General. The war horse knew he was in safe hands and nuzzled up to Thomson looking for anything he might have in his pockets. As the two of them disembarked they walked into a scene of chaos, just like Warrior and Seely had four years earlier when they had sailed to war together. And once again, feeling a friendly hand on his bridle, Warrior took the noise and confusion with placid acceptance. He had known Thomson since the day he was born and had always felt his protection. He knew that wherever they were going and however long it took, it was safe to relax – at last.
The untouched rolls and swells of the Mottistone Downs lay ahead, and just a mile away from his green and pleasant destination Warrior started to paw and stamp in anticipation. The fresh, clean air had worked its way through the mud and stench of the battlefield that had been clogging the horse’s nostrils. Suddenly free of the smell of war, Warrior had the urge to gallop free. Thomson managed to speak to him softly enough and for long enough to reach Mottistone, where Seely was waiting patiently to see his Warrior again.
Warrior set a hoof on the grass and immediately looked down to see what he had trodden on. It must have seemed strange after the inches of all-enveloping mud and the pitted and stony roads that he had experienced in France. This was not punishment, this was kindness, and as he danced in the cold wet grass he bathed in its sweetness. He lifted his magnificent bay head and took in a deep snort of the crisp air and blew it right back out again. He turned sharply and there was Seely, standing, watching. ‘My Warrior. You beautiful horse. You amazing friend and companion. You’re home now, home where nothing can harm you again. It seems we kept our promise to protect each other, and now here we are.’
As Seely stepped closer to his horse, Warrior moved forwards to put his cheek against his master’s. It was a moment they had shared before but not after such a heartfelt parting. Without wasting any more time, Seely took Warrior’s reins and climbed on his back for a ride that took them the length and breadth of the Downs, galloping as if their lives depended on it.
Warrior’s mother, Cinderella, had died while he was away at war but from the second he was released into the huge field around Sidling Paul he seemed to be looking for her. Over the days and weeks that followed he wandered the fields around Mottistone with one eye on something, and then he would run as if to catch it, only to find that it wasn’t there any more. Perhaps he was expecting his mother to canter up to him and brush noses again or meet him as he slipped through the kissing gate, as had happened so many times before. But this time he stood alone in the shadow of the sprawling oak trees and just stared ahead.
Just as he had done when he was younger, and just as Cinderella used to do before him when she was Seely’s charger, Warrior began to follow his master around like a dog, never letting the man out of his sight. Seely wanted everyone to meet his famous Warrior, and so the rest of the Seely family – his wife Evie, and their children – had to get used to entertaining more than the usual number of weekend visitors. Winston Churchill had been a frequent guest before the war, but this time he wanted a formal introduction to the now-legendary Warrior. During Cowes Week in 1934 Her Royal Highness Queen Mary enjoyed giving Warrior sugar lumps, which he took very gently from the royal hand.
Warrior was a celebrated war hero and Seely could not have been more proud of the horse he had bred and raised. Proud because he had survived all four years of the war, despite being in the thick of the action in all the major battles on the Western Front, from the Marne to Ypres, the Somme and Passchendaele, through to the horrors of Cambrai and finally experiencing a series of miraculous escapes during the recapture of Moreuil Wood in the final throes of the war in March 1918. He was proud for another reason, too: Warrior had inspired all members of the Canadian Cavalry Brigade, the Tommies in the trenches and the officers, too – and, of course, his master, General ‘Galloper Jack’ Seely. Even now, in retirement, everyone was coming up to say, ‘Here comes old Warrior! Is Warrior all right?’ just as they had when he’d led from the front in every battle they ever fought.
In July 1919 Warrior proudly turned out for the Victory Parade in Hyde Park and took his place beside his fellow war heroes, animal and human – much to Seely’s joy. When they all met in Hyde Park, Warrior cantered over to see his friends the Canadians and rub noses with Casey, General Archie Macdonnell’s horse. Macdonnell, Commander of Lord Strathcona’s Horse, had taught Casey a range of tricks, such as lying down, playing dead and then jumping up when his master whispered ‘The Kaiser’ in his ear. Warrior had tried to mimic all of this when they’d first met in 1915, but in the year they spent together he never mastered the moves. None of that mattered that day in Hyde Park, though, as the two horses saw each other again and spent some time snorting and whinnying in conversation.
As soon as Seely’s Canadians saw the old war horse they shouted out, ‘Here’s old Warrior!’ and the men crowded around him, patting him on the shoulder and making a fuss of him. Warrior marched proudly through the streets of London, his head held high, where he received loud applause from the crowds. Warrior looked every inch a cavalry horse, and Seely had battled long and hard, particularly towards the end of the war, to prove the value of the cavalry – the paratroopers of their day, sweeping and driving the enemy from their position. Despite what his detractors said, there was Warrior: a horse who had survived it all and inspired thousands to fight with all their might for King and Country.
Seely and Warrior shared a charmed and heroic life that gave everyone around them hope. It was also a life of coincidences. On 30 March, four years after Warrior had fought and survived the Battle of Moreuil Wood, he won the Isle of Wight point-to-point. The same race his father, Straybit, had won in 1909. If it hadn’t been
for the war it’s possible that Warrior would have been trained as a racehorse not a charger, but maybe the years on the battlefield had stolen a little of his youthful confidence, or maybe it was something to do with Seely’s secret ‘whistles’ that encouraged Warrior to run faster, but it took a great deal of whispering in his ear and plenty of gentle words of persuasion to secure a pounding victory with his old trainer in the saddle.
A picture paints …
Warrior and Jack Seely first met war artist A. J. Munnings (later Sir Alfred Munnings) in February 1918. Warrior was already a legend of the Western Front and Munnings, sent by the Canadian authorities to record the Canadian Cavalry in action, was captivated by the General and his inspirational horse.
The artist could not have arrived at a better time for Seely, whose position at the head of the Canadian Cavalry Brigade was being questioned by the War Office. They wanted a Canadian in charge, and although the Cavalry adored their General and his horse, the argument had gone beyond the men. Munnings’s desire to focus on Seely and Warrior was ideal and the result of his work was astonishing. No one could deny that General Jack Seely and Warrior were every inch the heroic pair, and Munnings’s portrayal of man and horse captured the essence of that heroism to perfection. His studies of the Canadian Cavalry on the march and in battle were stunningly real.
The friendship between Munnings and Seely extended into peacetime. Out of admiration and respect for the General, Sir Alfred travelled to Mottistone in 1934 to paint Warrior at home, a world away from the battlefields of Flanders. His collection of drawings encapsulated the relationship between the old soldier and his war horse perfectly. Four years later they celebrated their combined age of 100 years – the man being 70 years old, and the horse 30 – and still they rode every day on the Mottistone Downs, sweeping up and over the hills and dipping down to the water’s edge.
Warrior Page 4
