I got one of my ideas from the suit worn by Australian outlaw Ned Kelly and some other examples of armor I've seen dating back to the civil war.
King cavalry
Sarge was getting worried. The squad had been sent to recon a secluded valley looking for enemy activity, resistance units or O.P. sites. Problem was the temperature had dropped and it was snowing hard. Any shelter they had come came across had been burned to the ground. The Krauts had been busy here recently and the Sarge hoped they weren't still around. His maps were sketchy, it was taking longer to circle back to their lines than figured, and it was getting dark. This time out the squad consisted of Doc, Littlejohn, Caje and Kirby.
"Take ten" Sarge ordered. Their heavy equipment was making walking in the snow more of a struggle. "That tears it!" complained Kirby "I wish them Army weathermen were here right now!" His feet were blistered and starting to freeze. Kirby had been issued ill-fitting pair of boots early in his service and the blisters never got time to fully heal. He was used to Chicago winters but it was different being in the wilderness with no shelter. He had a lot more to say but noticed the Sarge deep in thought. You could see the gears turning in his mind as he considered the situation from every angle.
At these times Kirby would hold his tongue, never wanting to distract the Sarge from devising a plan to get them out of a jam. Sarge shook out his map. There was an old road back to the village where their current base was located. It ran between two ridges, he hoped they could make it undetected but someone was watching.
High above in a tree Sarah Miller scanned the valley with a telescope. Glimpsing movement in the treelike she focused in. For a moment she couldn't believe what she was seeing. They were too "irregular" to be Germans. The uniforms and equipment were all wrong. It was almost to much to hope for that they could be Americans. She said it aloud. "Americans!" "Americans!" Sarah scrambled down the loose rocks and ran to and a creature that looked like a wooly mammoth-jackrabbit. Actually it was a Dutch mammoth mule, chosen for its sure-footedness. It was wearing a white bedspread and she was wearing a white tablecloth in an attempt at camouflage. They trotted further up the ridge to a dilapidated hunting cabin. Beside it was a paddock containing nine horses of different shapes and sizes.
Sarah thought back to how she came to be here. Having traveled from Virginia to persuade her parents to leave. They were teaching at a University, they had left for England with the promise that she would pack their things and leave the next week. But the German invasion had come suddenly accompanied by bombing. She joined some refugees on the road were she met an elderly man with a herd of horses. He was fleeing with the ones left from a military riding school he ran. Sarah had decided to help him and so ended up near his home village. Brook was his name or at least how he pronounced it. Sarah knew little French to begin with so communication was difficult at first. The Boch were Brook's ancestral enemy, since the Prussian invasions, and he had fought them in the Great War so he knew all the places to hide from them.
Sarah had always been interested in horse training and Brook was one of Europe's finest trainer's especially of military horses. They had hid on this ridge occasionally sneaking out at night to visit Brook's family in the village or trading away horses for weapons and supplies. Never imagining the German occupation could last so long. Brook had been a kind grandfatherly mentor that is why it was so devastating to her when he fell ill that spring. He refused to leave the horses for the comfort of his family and died in the cabin.
The Valley hadn't caught the attention of the Germans on their end run invasion of France but since the Allied landing they had started moving into it. Most of the young people in the area had left to help the resistance. The Germans must have known this since they had of late murdered the helpless old farmers that remained and burned their houses. Sarah witnessed some of this from her observation posts. Later she would scavenge the ruins for supplies. That is where she came upon the dog that had been wounded. A black and tan collie she carried home and nursed to health, a watchdog could be useful.
Without foliage on the trees there was no way to hide from the aircraft reconnoitering with more frequency. Hiding the horses and the manure they produced was getting to be a problem. Sarah couldn't evade the Germans much longer and since she was out of supplies and places to hide, the Americans Seemed the only chance of escape. Hands shaking, She packed up the horses. They had practiced quick escapes many times. Brook kept a cavalry museum at the riding school. He'd brought along some of the more important items on his flight. Most of it he left with his relatives to hide. The rest he had brought to the cabin. Many relics from the Napoleonic era to the Great War. Sarah knew more about the American Civil war since her family had a storied history from that time. Sarah promised Brook on his deathbed to keep his treasures safe for France. Almost out of clothing she chose an unornate uniform coat out of Brooks collection If she was gonna get shot trying to escape she figured she might as well have a nice suit on.
Sarah gave the horses the last handfuls of grain she had salvaged from the burnt farms. She had been bringing the herd to the fields at the bottom of the mountain to graze at night but that had become to dangerous. Being winter there wasn't any grass anyway, so the horses, especially the big ones had fallen off in weight considerably. It was dark now and she was ready. Checking her weapons she mounted the head mare, a big bay. The horses recognized her as their leader and would stay with her. They had also been trained to walk in formation for parades which made it easy to stay together.
So they were off, the dog leading the way jumping thru the drifts. It had started snowing again and they got to where she could see the men's bootprints. At least they weren't German boots. Sarah prayed they would be decent men and well fed. Horses were on the menu for solder and civilian alike. Although she couldn't hold a horses life above a humans, Brook had collected rare breeds from all over Europe and she wished that some of them could make it thru the war.
On another ten minute break Doc was examining Kirby's feet with a flashlight. Kirby was getting real scared now, he'd heard stores of men loosing they're toes and even feet from frostbite. Doc gave him a pair of dry socks, he frowned up at Sarge. "Getting a little frostbite Sarge." Sarge knew they were a long way from the village, behind German lines. A fire was out of the question. At that moment Cage, who had been watching behind them came running up the road. "Something is coming Sarge." Everyone ducked behind the trees.
They could hear something large approaching. The crunch of snow and muffled creaking of leather. The dog stopped, its hair standing up, whimpering, it ran behind the horses. Simultaneously stopping the herd, Sarah cocked her gun and leaped down to hide behind a large tree. Heart pounding she waited. A call of "hand hooch" came. That was not what she wanted to hear. Finger tightening on the trigger She was ready to start shooting. She had seen and heard what happened to those unfortunate enough to fall into German hands. Same command this time in French. A moment passed, the horses stamped nervously. They were dangerously exposed. " Aren't you Americans?" she whispered loudly.
"Come out with your hands up" came a reply. Sounded enough like an American to her so she slowly stood and walked ahead. Shaking with terror, after all these were armed men. Suddenly there was flashlights in her face. The gun was grabbed off her shoulder almost jerking her off the ground. She wasn't worried about a frisking since she had on heavily quilted clothing. They found a luger and very old telescope on her "Alright who are you and why are you following us?" Definitely an accent from some northern American city. Sarah thought. These looked like some angry rough customers. " My name is Tom" she stammered (Sarah chose that name because her brothers always called her tomboy) "Were trying to escape the Germans. There is nowhere to hide anymor. I swear it's just me, these horses and a dog!" "Check it out" Sarge ordered. The men looked over the horses and their packs.
"Sarge look at this!" giggled Littlejohn. His light trained on the big fluffy mule. The creature peered back with a look of concern. A smile almost flit across the Sarges face. Sarah saw Doc and Littlejohn patting the horses necks. She sighed with relief. These men obviously liked horses.
The squad had seen many horses in the war. Most of them putrefying carcasses strewn across the countryside. Caught in bombings, minefields or refugee's horses driven to exhaustion and abandoned by the side of the road. Littlejohn would often shake his head at the awful sights. "This is no war for horses" he would say. His family raised horses on their farm and he had great reverence for them. Doc's family farmed with horses so he was very fond of them. His first experiences doctoring were with horses.
"What is all this stuff?" Sarge demanded, motioning toward the packs. Sarah explained they were French military artifacts and asked for help in getting to American lines. He looked the bizarre circumstances, The desperate "Tom," the age of the equipment and decided to believe her.
"Now we just can't" Sarge begun. Sarah cut him off "Look on these horses we can move a lot faster in the snow, I know the way." Sarge thought about it. On a horse you were a sitting duck. They left a trail a mile wide, to visible, to noisy. Sarah continued, "These are French military horses, you can shoot off them, they will lie down on command." "Please Sarge!" pled Littlejohn. He hated to walk anywhere he could ride.
Sarge thought back to when he was a kid and his family would visit an aunt's farm outside the city they lived. He had camped, swam, fished and hunted with his cousins. Saunders learned many skills that would serve him well in the war. Their transportation to these activities were the farm horses so he did know how to ride somewhat.
As it turned out most of the men had some experience on a horse. Accept Kirby. "N…nothing doing Sarge! "The only horse I've seen is the one that pulled a milk wagon in my neighborhood" Kirby stuttered slightly when worked up. Being cold wasn't helping. His fear of the huge animals outweighed his aching feet. "Get on the horse" insisted Sarge. Sarah had equipped five of the horses ahead of time for the men to ride. They adjusted stirrups tightened girths and got Kirby seated on the quietest horse. "It's a long way down from up here" he shivered. "At least if you fall it will be on snow" teased Caje. "Ha, ha, is that supposed to make me feel better" retorted Kirby. Actually when he thought about it did.
So the column moved out, Littlejohn rode the biggest horse, a dapple grey draft. He instructed Kirby on how to steer. "Hey, maybe this isn't so bad" Kirby said as they forded an icy stream, his feet staying high and dry. They had reached a lower elevation and the snow wasn't as deep. It was getting light out and Sarge figured they might be nearing German lines. He ordered a dismount and they walked leading the horses. It was at this time Sarah approached the Sarge, pretty sure she could trust him. " I took notes on everything I saw in the valley, the markings on the uniforms and vehicles of the Germans that came and murdered the farmers. I hope they will pay for what they did. I sewed the notes into the saddle blanket on my horse." Sarge knew this could be valuable information. "I'll make sure it get's to the right people" he promised.
When the dog stopped and slunk behind the horses Sarge motioned them off the road. "Can I have my gun back now?" Sarah asked, Sarge nodded. She stayed with Doc and the horses while the rest of the squad moved foreword probing for German activity. It didn't take long for them to run into a German roadblock in a very strategic position where the road ran between bluffs.
Sarge guessed maybe a dozen Germans manned it with a heavy machine gun. He thought the squad wouldn't be noticed since they were coming from behind the German lines but they must have been very alert that morning. Suddenly gunfire erupted. Hearing this Sarah gave the command for the horses to lie down. The dog coward beside Doc.
Sarge and Littlejohn tried to keep the Germans busy while Kirby and Caje worked around the sides. Sarge contemplated having to leave the horses behind to save the squad. They might be able to climb the steep ridges and get around the Germans but it would be dangerous. Sarah crawled foreword cocking her scmesser. She had shot a lot of different guns before but these machine guns you kinda just point and then manage in short bursts. Reaching Sarge and Littlejohn she assessed the situation while firing. "What we need is a tank!" yelled Littlejohn. " I have one of those" She yelled then "cover me!" she screamed at Sarge.
He couldn't get what she said especially since She was crawling back to where the horses were. When She got there she pulled off several of the horses packs and commenced to armor the horse Littlejohn had been riding. Amongst the artifacts Brook had kept was a set of prototype Great War horse armor. Many types of human armor had been made at that time in attempts to gain government contracts. None of them worked, they were all to heavy and all failed to protect the legs. Brook considered the horse armor a curiosity and used it in exhibitions. Sarah hoped it would distract the Germans enough so they could escape before reinforcements could arrive.
Doc stared incredulous as Sarah struggled to lift the plates, buckling them on then put armor on herself topped off by a bizarre helmet face mask. She asked the horse to lie down as mounting in the normal fashion would be impossible. The big horse was historically bred a knights charger, the only one amongst the herd capable of carrying the armor's weight. The mule probably could but they were known to be to stubborn (or prudent ) to go into gunfire. Still the big horse couldn't run more than a couple hundred yards with it on. The horse struggled up to it's feet and Sarah checked her weapons. She readied a couple German grenades. She had been instructed on their use when they had traded horses for them but practicing with them would have attracted to much attention so she would just have to take a chance.
On command the horse shot foreword, angled to the side of Littlejohn and the Sarge clearing the logs they were sheltered behind. They momentarily paused as the horse flew over them looking like a giant segmented insect, and for an instance blocking out the sun. "Pour it on!" Sarge screamed, directing his men to cover the mounted attack. The other squad members always on the alert for Sarge's directives opened up at once. It was usually impossible to hear him above the battle so they learned to read his signal's and after a while with him could guess his intentions.
The mounted attack was a surprise to the Germans. Caught in an enfilade there was suddenly to many targets to shoot at so they aimed at the biggest one. Bullets struck the armor almost knocking her from the horse. The saddle had a high pommel and cantle that held her body in. In a couple more seconds she had the grenade ready and threw. The armor restricted movement but Sarah had played baseball with her brothers and routinely struck them out. Besides cleaning up after that many horses built stamina.
As Sarah let fly she commanded the horse to lie down, jumping away to avoid being caught under it's crushing weight. The following explosion buffeted them with debris. The squad ran forward to take care of any remaining Germans. When the dust cleared they could see horse and rider sprawled out on the ground.
Doc ran up when the shooting stopped, Sarge always ordered him to stay in a place of relative safety when things got hot. Occasionally he would dash out to drag a wounded man to cover, never forgetting Sarge's advice "If you get hurt you can't help anyone." He was usually the first to reach and deal with terrible situations in the aftermath of battle. Often he was the only one who could accurately report what happened in a battle from his observations.
Doc and Sarge arrived just as the horse struggled to its feet, armor off kilter. It shook like a big dog, clattering. It sniffed at and nudged the figure on the ground then jerked up its head when the men approached. Holding it's head low and shaking it he took a couple of aggressive steps toward the Sarge. Doc recognizing a frightened, angry horse stopped dead in his tracks. "Look out Sarge!" he warned but it was to late and Sarge was way to close.
The horse pawed and snapped it's teeth threateningly. Littlejohn ran up, his rifle ready, he knew what damage a horse could do to a human. He also wasn't sure if he could even stop the horse by shooting at it. Sarge held up his hand "Don't shoot, we're all getting out of here" he said with an extra twist of his head he gave when extra emphatic about something. Not wanting any harm to come to this brave horse he slowly held out his hand like he learned to give a horse an apple or carrot on his aunt's farm. He had nothing to offer, He usually kept a cookie or biscuit wrapped in his pocket for emergencies but he had given it to the dog earlier.
He hoped the gesture would be interpreted as friendly or at least non-theatening. The horses teeth snapped inches from his fingers. He could feel it's breath, it sniffed his hand then gave a plaintive nicker. Just then "Tom" coughed and attempted to sit up, having been hit several times and slammed when falling from a horse had knocked the wind out of her. Littlejohn comforted the frightened horse. One of the few instances he could say to someone larger than himself "It's gonna be all right big fella."
It was full daylight now. Doc and Sarge helped "Tom" to sit up and removed the helmet face mask. At that moment they both realized it was a women. They looked at each other in surprise, "Sarge!" Doc exclaimed. Before the Sarge could respond Sarah said, "Get me outta this stuff before more Germans come!" They helped unbuckle the plating from her and the horse leaving it on the ground. Assisting her they ran back to the horses."Check the road ahead for mines!" Sarge yelled back at Caje. Caje was the fastest runner amongst them, Kirby was a close second but his choice of weaponry impeded him. If anything was amiss Caje could get back to notify Sarge quick!
The Horses lie still where they had been left. One would look around now and then. A few of them shivered from cold or fear. Sarge looked at them and wished some of the men under his command in the past could have followed orders and been as loyal as these horse "solders." They helped the Sarah on her prone horse. Kirby also needed help. He had ceased to feel his feet at all as he ran during the battle. He held his rising panic down, knowing there was nothing to do but get to shelter quickly. The horses all rose on command just as Cage hustled back "All clear Sarge!"
"Let's go" Sarge said and with a wave of his hand the column cantered ahead, Kirby barely hanging on.
A few miles down the road Doc noticing a lot of blood on the snow trotted ahead to where Sarge was. " Can we stop a minute?" he asked. Sarge glanced back to see the women's arm dripping. A bullet had penetrated the armor there. Sarah's breath was coming in ragged gasps. "Take ten" he said. Doc assisted the women off her horse, helped her sit. Then he cut the sleeve past the wound on her arm. It was bleeding and swelling but didn't seem broken. He sulfad and wrapped it. She also had a lot of bad bruises and possible broken ribs.
When Doc stood up Littlejohn and the big horse were waiting patiently for him to finish. The horse had been hit several times. None of the wounds seemed serious. Doc and Littlejohn agreed it looked worse than it was. Horses could loose a lot of blood before they were really in trouble. Doc sulfad the wounds. The horse showed no outward sign of pain, draft horses could be stoic that way. Doc checked Kirby but there was nothing he could do but assure him the town was close.
Meanwhile Sarge got on the radio. Giving the familiar call signals he finally reaching Handly. Who had been concerned, since he sent the squad out the weather had changed and they were long overdue. " We are coming in from the west. Is the road mined? over." came Sarges voice. "No the road is clear, I'll notify the roadblock, over." reported Hanley. "Another thing," came back Sarge. " We will be on horses, over." Handy's eyebrows shot up "Horses!" "Roger that out" he said trying to imagine the squad on horses.
They Mounted up again, Sarah with difficulty. Riding with broken ribs was painfully jarring. "Were almost there" Sarge assured her and Kirby. They made it thru the roadblock where the sentries pointed and laughed at the sight of them. They came to the village square where the horses automatically gathered around an ornate fountain. As they drank deeply the men dismounted stiffly. They had been on the march for 24 hours and were unused to riding horses. Doc helped Sarah and Caje helped Kirby to the aid station.
Hearing a commotion outside Hanley went to the headquarters doorway and stood agape. Being a horseman himself he could immediately see the fine breeding of these horses and the age of the tack they wore. When the Sarge came toward him he asked "What is this King cavalry?" Sarge was to tired to react. He quickly briefed Hanley on what happened then they went outside to retrieve the notes from the saddle blanket. Hanley arranged for a local vet to pasture the horses and treat the big horse's wounds. The military artifacts were taken charge of by the mayor of the village.
The next day at the aid station Sarah lie on a cot screened off in the corner, slightly nauseous from the morphine they gave her. She had been visited by Brook's relatives. They begged her to come stay with them when she was better. She had brought Brook's body home to them at great risk when he had died. They brought her bottles of wine, cheese and bread.
After they left Sarah shared some with Kirby who was a few cots away, feet propped up reading a comic. He took a big swig from the bottle of wine she gave him then promptly stashed it to avoid possible confiscation. He was in a cheerful mood. He'd been sure his feet were ruined but the doctor said he had gotten there in time before permanent damage had occurred.
Later the squad visited, looking much different all clean and smiling. They brought the dog with them and assured her the horses were being cared for. "What will you do now?" asked Handly. "I guess my parent's and boyfriend have been looking for me, I was only supposed to be in France a couple weeks" She smiled. The squad couldn't stay long as they were getting ready to move out again. They gave her some chocolate, cigarettes, rations and Stars and Stripes magazines. All valuable commodities at the time. Sarah in return gave them some of the stuff Brook's family had left.
They each gave her a careful hug mindful of her injuries. "You all be careful out there" she said, knowing they faced some real hardened killers. The dog stayed behind lying next to her cot. They stopped to visit with Kirby who would be joining them when his feet were better. Then they filed outside joking and laughing, headed for their next mission.
The End