A/N: This story does not use the exact characters in 'War Horse', however the characters in this are very much based on various characters in both the novel and film. The main character, Captain Parker, is based on Captain Nicholls (as played by the sublime Tom Hiddleston), Major Carter is based on the equally awesome Benedict Cumberbatch's Major Jamie Stuart, Lieutenant George Richards is based on Patrick Kennedy's Lieutenant Charlie Weaver and Molly is based on Joey.

I was completely inspired by the movie's fragile depiction of traditional British fighting methods meeting the advanced technological developments of Germany, and this was a theme that I wanted to explore further in this piece.

I hope you enjoy it, and please comment with any suggestions on how I may be able to improve my writing. I am grateful for any support. Thank you and enjoy!


PROLOGUE

~ London, England, Sept. 1954 ~

"They called it the Great War. But, in truth, there was nothing great about it. All it did was cause indescribable pain and fear, even though it was made perfectly clear that no one was allowed to be afraid. When we heard those victory bells ring throughout France, marking the end of conflict, there were no cheers, no cries of joy…not even sighs of relief and talk of home. There was total silence. Spontaneous silence. Silence which swelled, filling every corner of every empire involved. Silence louder than all the exploding shells which had forever damaged our ears. Shoulder to shoulder, arm wrapped around comrades for fear of some unforeseen rogue bullet, and silence.

"There was no victory. We had known that some time ago. Because no victory was worth the human cost which accompanied one such as this. Instead of thoughts of the future, our minds turned to the comrades, friends, brothers…loved ones…which we had lost these past few years. We couldn't look to the future, because for some time now we had convinced ourselves that we wouldn't have one. As I observed the troubled and wearied faces of my friends that day, I knew that the same thought was imprinting itself on all of our minds; there would be no progression from this point. It was incompatible with our convincing belief of our total annihilation after The Somme, it has been an inconceivably mad idea that we would ever survive this war for so many months…And now we had been presented with the promise of a 'new generation', the golden age of the 20s to come.

"The only problem was that we all knew that we would never escape the 'Great' War. The horrors that we had endured would haunt us for a lifetime, so vividly alive in our memories that we would be forced to relive them every time we close our eyes. So I ask you: where is the victory in this? What deluded soul could possibly derive victory from such a mindless bloodbath?

"It was not only us soldiers, however, that suffered. Innocent civilians paid with their lives, truck drivers paid with their lives, and the nurses. Nurses were a soldier's salvation; they always knew exactly what to say to give you hope when you were ready to submit to death's open arms. I was severely injured after a cavalry charge, and…and a…a nurse, she…she saved my life. The most skilled of her kind, she saved me when everyone else would have pronounced me a dead man. I owe her my life…a lot of others owe her theirs too.

"What was her name? Her name was Emily. Her name was Emily.

"Now to you, each death is only a statistic which goes on to form a substantial total, but to my generation each death signifies a hell of a lot more. Deaths cannot be thought of as collective; it belittles them. To me, each death entails severe pain to that soldier's family, despair of his comrades, and rage of disappointed generals. I saw countless numbers of men die, their bodies strewn so far across the ground that we trampled them; they formed the floor beneath our feet…totally stripped of their dignity.

"No, there was no possible victory to be had. Any fool who'd fought could see that. And, as you can probably deduce from my current occupation in speaking to you today, my comrades and I had been right – there is no escaping the horrors of warfare. My bitter regrets, my nightmares, my infinitely excruciating memories, my dead friends and those that I killed, have followed me all these years. And though I may have found a way to mould some kind of future for myself, they will never cease or be easier to cope with, because my head and heart belong to the past.