Brave Bess and the ANZAC Horses Read online

  Flame’s young trooper dashed to her side. Bess’s master yelled at him: ‘I’ll cover you while you get the injured trooper out of there!’ He raised his pistol and shot at the sniper’s position. Flame’s master tugged the injured man free from the saddle and pulled him into the shelter of the doorway. Then he turned back to Flame.

  ‘You can’t go back out there!’ Bess’s master cried.

  ‘She needs me — she’s hurt,’ the young trooper said. He ran back while Bess’s master frantically tried to cover him from the sniper’s fire. He sat down and cradled Flame’s golden head in his lap. Her eyes were wide and frightened, but as he gently stroked her trembling muzzle, they closed. Ahead of them, the firing stopped and the sniper fell from the rooftop. Flame’s master hugged her still head to his chest and sobbed.

  The rest of the journey down the mountainside was heavy going. Bess now not only carried her wounded trooper, but also dragged a makeshift sledge holding Flame’s injured soldier. Her master led her; Flame’s young trooper walking beside them, his head hanging low. After dark, they reached the Jordan Valley and staggered into camp.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The Valley of Death

  The New Zealand Mounted Rifles spent a scorching summer in the Jordan Valley before finally capturing Amman in September 1918. While they helped hold up the Turks in and around the valley, the rest of the Allied army seized Damascus.

  With its armies defeated on all fronts, Turkey surrendered on 31 October 1918. The war in the Middle East was over.

  The brigade camped in the Jordan Valley throughout the long, hot sweltering summer. The valley was a harsh enough place in winter, let alone in the cauldron of summer. At 400 metres below sea level, it’s the lowest place on earth. In summer, it’s also one of the hottest. The locals warned them that no Europeans had ever dared stay there through the summer months. They called it the Valley of Death.

  The valley became a living hell for both the men and their horses. Even in the shade, the heat reached 52°C. Packets of candles melted until only their wicks remained. The horses’ metal shoes heated up until they scorched their feet and had to be removed.

  Jack’s master joked that he could have fried an egg on Jack’s back, it got so hot in the cooking sun. Every time the horses moved, they stirred up a thick, white chalky dust which choked the air and clogged their nostrils. It smothered everything, until the men and horses looked like sickly grey ghosts.

  They shared this valley with deadly animal and insect pests of every kind. The jackals that prowled the camp drove Hawker crazy with their yapping. Bess and the other horses became expert at stomping the poisonous snakes and scorpions which scampered across the scalding ground between their feet. The troopers learned to shake all their bedding before crawling into bed at night, and to check their boots before pulling them on the next morning.

  The most deadly pests for the men, however, were the mosquitoes. They swarmed through the camp, thirsty for human blood. The troopers launched a battle against the mosquitoes to prevent an outbreak of malaria. They drained the stagnant swamps and covered water supplies to stop the mosquitoes from breeding. They rigged nets over their bivvies at night. But as the summer burned on, some of the men became sick.

  Jack’s strong master was one of the first to fall ill. He spent days in his tent fighting the fever. Still, he made sure that Jack had fresh water in his canvas trough and the best rations. Every evening, he’d fill a bucket and bathe the dust from Jack’s sides, stopping occasionally to splash water on his own burning face.

  There was no rest for any of them, even in the intense heat. The men dug trenches to protect the camp, and, when it became too hot to do this by day, they dug at night. Mounted patrols were constantly on the move, skirmishing with scattered bands of Turks. The Turks fired upon them spasmodically from across the valley. Mostly the guns were out of range, but they had one long-range heavy gun which the troopers nicknamed Jericho Jane. It could hit targets from twenty kilometres away. When the big gun was in action, the troopers and their horses took cover behind the rocks.

  The men grumbled and groaned at having to stay in the stifling-hot valley, but they knew it was important. They needed to remain in order to trick the Turks into thinking that the next big attack would come from there. Secretly, most of the great desert army was preparing to gather in the coastal plains and attack the Turks from there.

  The following months saw all the troopers busily working at hoodwinking the enemy into believing that the next blow would fall in the Jordan Valley. To confuse the enemy airmen, they built dummy bridges across the Jordan River and set up dummy camps filled with empty tents. When most of the army moved out under the cover of darkness from the valley to the coastal plains, they filled the empty camps with 15,000 dummy horses to trick the enemy planes. They made the dummy horses out of wooden frames, stakes and sticks stuffed with straw, and put real horse-rugs on their dummy backs.

  When the great army pounced upon the Turks in the plains, they took them totally by surprise and broke clean through their defences. With rifles and bayonets flashing in the sunlight, the army thundered across the rolling ridges. As they advanced, the Anzacs were called into action to again attack Amman and hold up the Turks there. Once more, Bess and the others faced the dreaded mountains of Moab.

  The brigade crossed the Jordan River in fierce heat and fought off bands of Turks at the foothills. The Turks fled into the hills, abandoning their guns and wagons. The Anzacs turned with trepidation to the great mountains of Moab. Thankfully, their march up the mountainside was vastly different from that of the winter months before. The tracks were hard and dry in the summer sun, and they made quick progress.

  Flame’s young master now rode a stocky bay whose own trooper had been killed in the first battle for Amman. They both had scores to settle and waited eagerly for the order to attack. Jack’s master was still weak from malaria, and Jack trod carefully. ‘Come on, you ole mule,’ his master teased. ‘There’s life in our old bones yet.’ Bess’s master was keen for action, too. She felt his tense grip on her reins. Now the ground was firm, the troopers could move swiftly forward on horseback.

  When the order to attack finally sounded, they cantered to within a few miles of the town. Heavy fire from the enemy’s machine-gun nests hidden high in the hills held them up at first. But the troopers gave the horses their heads, galloping high above the machine-gun positions. Meanwhile, unmounted troopers stormed the Roman citadel’s stone tower with their bayonets and seized the enemy guns.

  While the Anzacs smashed the remains of the Turkish army around the Jordan Valley, the rest of the army closed in on Damascus. They soon defeated the tired Turks. The war was finally over.

  Sadly for the New Zealand troopers, the joy of victory was short-lived. Although Jack’s master recovered from his bout of malaria, the disease struck down many of the other troopers. Many collapsed from their saddles as they marched out of the Jordan Valley for the very last time. There were hardly enough men to lead out all the riderless horses. Bess and her master alone led seven horses. Their masters lay beneath crosses in the sun-sodden valley.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A Sad Goodbye

  At war’s end, the New Zealanders and Australians faced a heartbreaking decision: what to do with their horses. Animal quarantine laws and the cost and shortage of shipping meant that the horses could not return home with the men.

  Most of the young and fit horses were passed on to the British armies. But rather than leave the rest behind to a life of misery in the Middle East, some of the men felt it was kinder to shoot them.

  It was a sad goodbye for the troopers and their brave horses who had shared so much through the hard years of war. Only Bess and three others returned home. Bess’s master knew a British general, who shipped her to Europe. After marching in a victory parade, Bess finally returned home to New Zealand in 1920.

  With the fighting over, the battle-scarred New Zealand Brigade retraced their war-w
eary steps across Palestine until they reached Rafah. They camped near the scene of their great victory over two years before. It seemed like a lifetime ago to the jaded men and their horses. The men waited impatiently for their orders to return home. They filled in time playing rugby, tug-of-war on horseback, and racing their horses bareback across the desert sands. In the cool of the evenings, they gathered around the campfires, reading letters from home and chatting excitedly about seeing their homes and families again.

  Bess enjoyed the fast and furious races across the desert now that the dreadful guns were finally silent. Her thoroughbred spirit took over, and she won many races for her master. Even better, she loved the evenings standing peacefully on the horse lines next to her old mate Jack, the gentle breeze blowing through their tails. The troopers hung out with their four-legged friends, grooming them until they glistened and talking to them about the sweet green fields they’d soon be grazing in back home.

  When the order reached the men that their horses would not be returning home with them, the mood in camp changed. ‘We couldn’t have won this war without them,’ Flame’s young master muttered angrily. ‘Flame saved my life more than once — at the cost of her own, in the end.’ The other men complained that it was a sin to leave their faithful friends behind to a life of cruelty pulling overloaded carts through the streets of Cairo or, worse still, down some hot mine, after everything they’d been through together. Jack’s master fell quiet and said very little over the following days.

  Early one morning before anyone else was up, Jack’s master quietly walked over to the line-up of horses. He stroked Jack’s grey muzzle and undid his halter. He slipped on his bridle, hopped on his broad back, and rode him out into the desert one last time. Hawker trotted along behind them. Bess watched them go. A heaviness hung over the horses like a dark, damp cloud. Jack’s master returned alone, the bridle hanging useless in his hands, his eyelids swollen and red-rimmed.

  When the men sailed for home without their faithful horses, Bess headed in the opposite direction. Again she found herself in the dank, cramped holds of a transport ship. She missed Jack’s steady and calm figure by her side. But this journey was not a long one. She soon arrived to the chill of an English winter. In the cosy stables, her nightmares of guns and bombs and heat and dust began to fade. Her master, too, seemed more content, his hands upon her no longer tense.

  Bess still had one last war duty to perform. She pranced proudly through the city streets, her master astride her glistening black back, her tack sparkling, his medals shining. Crowds lined the streets, waving and cheering as the victory parade passed by. When a victory cannon suddenly exploded nearby, Bess leapt sideways in terror. In that second, all her nightmares came flooding back. She felt her master’s legs tense around her at first, too. ‘It’s OK, my girl,’ he said gently. ‘We’re safe now.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Green Grass of Home

  On their return to New Zealand, Bess’s master became principal of Flock House Agricultural College near Bulls. He kept Bess nearby him on a farm. He was out riding her one day in October 1934 when she suddenly collapsed, never to get up again. She was twenty-four years old.

  Her proud master buried her where she lay, placing a memorial stone on the hilltop overlooking the green grass of her home. The stone over her grave reads:

  BESS

  (Zelma)

  Saracen — Miss Jury

  Born 1910 Main Body 1914

  Egypt 1915 Sinai 1916

  Palestine 1917–1918 France 1918

  Germany 1919 England 1920

  Returned N.Z. July 1920

  Died whilst on duty Oct. 1934

  Erected to her memory

  by

  Colonel C.G. Powles C.M.G. D.S.O. N.Z.S.C.

  On the other side of the stone is a piece of pure white marble with an inscription in Arabic which reads:

  In the Name of the Most High God

  This humble memorial to Bess is the only recognition of the contribution made by the New Zealand horses to the war effort. In recent years on early Anzac Day mornings, soldiers gather beside the memorial, some on horseback, to honour the life of Bess and the brave horses of World War One.

  Bess could hardly believe it the first time she stepped onto the green grass of home again. Her master let her run free without saddle or bridle across the rolling fields. With her tail held high and her hooves hammering over the sweeping ground, she galloped for sheer joy. She kicked out her hind legs and tossed her fine head, then rolled in the long, sweet green grass. Her master watched her from the gate, smiling.

  Bess spent the rest of her days grazing peacefully in the lush, green fields. On some fine mornings, her master joined her and they rode out together. They’d race across the rolling land, the rushing of the wind and the beating of their hearts the only sound. Sometimes, her master’s young son hopped on her jet-black back. Bess walked slowly and steadily then, just like her old mate Jack would have done.

  On some dark and lonely nights, when storm clouds gathered and thunder split the air, she’d gallop wildly across the ground to escape the nightmares of exploding guns. Eventually, though, she’d sense her friends beside her; the steady grey on one side, the fiery red on the other. The memory calmed her. She’d stop and sniff the breeze and feel the gentle, cool rains of home.

  TIMELINE OF THE MIDDLE EAST CAMPAIGN

  1914

  28 June Archduke Ferdinand of Austria assassinated

  28 July Austria-Hungary declares war on Serbia

  3 August Germany declares war on Russia and invades Belgium

  4 August Britain declares war on Germany

  15 October New Zealand troop ships leave Wellington

  3 December New Zealand and Australian troop ships arrive in Egypt

  1915

  9 April New Zealand and Australian forces leave Egypt for Gallipoli

  25 April Anzac and British forces land on Gallipoli

  12 May New Zealand Mounted Rifles and Australian Light Horse arrive at Anzac Cove, Gallipoli

  19 December All troops evacuated from Gallipoli

  1916

  15 March The formation of the Anzac Mounted Division

  4–5 August Defeat of Turks at Battle of Romani

  9 August Battle of Bir el Abd

  23 December Capture of Magdhaba

  1917

  9 January Capture of Rafah

  26 March Failure of first attempt to capture Gaza

  17–19 April Failure of second attempt to capture Gaza

  30–31 October Gaza–Beersheba Line broken in third battle of Gaza

  14 November Defeat of Turkish counter-attack at Ayun Kara

  16 November Occupation of Jaffa

  24 November Failure of attack at River Auja

  1918

  21 February Capture of Jericho

  27–30 March Failure of first attempt to capture Amman

  25 September Capture of Amman

  31 October Turkey surrenders

  11 November World War One ends

  GLOSSARY

  amphitheatre an open-air, circular building made up of tiers of seats surrounding a central space for performing plays or sporting events

  aqueduct a bridge or viaduct carrying a waterway over a valley or other gap

  artillery heavy guns worked by a crew and pulled by a team of draught horses

  battery two or more big guns controlled as a unit

  bayonet a long blade fixed to a rifle for use in hand-to-hand fighting

  bivouac a temporary camp without huts or cover

  bivvy a small tent or temporary shelter

  brackish water that is slightly salty

  breeches short trousers fastened below the knee and worn for riding

  bully beef corned beef in a tin

  cacolet a stretcher or chair fitted to the sides of a camel to carry wounded from the battlefield

  caravan a group of people travelling together by camel across a desert
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  citadel a fortress protecting a city

  dixie a small, light cooking pot used by soldiers

  draught an animal used for pulling heavy loads

  eighteen-pounder a type of heavy gun used in the Middle East campaign

  farrier a blacksmith who makes and fits horses’ shoes

  forge a furnace for melting and shaping metal

  fray a battle or fight

  gourd a water container made from the hollowed skin of a fleshy fruit

  grenade a small bomb thrown by hand

  gulch a narrow steep-sided gorge cut out by the course of a fast-flowing river

  hawker somebody who moves about trying to sell things

  heliograph a device used for signalling by reflecting sunlight in flashes from a moveable mirror

  infantry soldiers who fight on foot with rifles and machine guns

  listening post several men positioned ahead of the main army to listen for enemy activity

  malaria an infectious disease spread by mosquitoes, which causes fever and possible death

  mascot a person, animal or thing that is supposed to bring good luck

  mirage an optical illusion caused by conditions in the atmosphere; often seen in deserts

  occupy take control of a place by military conquest or settlement

  outpost a small military camp at a distance from the main army

  padre a chaplain in the armed services

  pommel the upward-curving front part of a saddle

  puttee a strip of cloth wound around the lower leg for protection and support

  reconnoitre make a military observation of an area

  redoubt a small defensive position