Horses in Fiction: Firsthand Cavalry Experience

As I hinted awhile back, I have been hoping to line up some guests for this series who have interesting horse experiences different from my own. At Norwescon this year I was fortunate enough to sit on a panel with Jim Franklin, a retired U.S. Cavalry officer, the only person I know who has actually used horses on military maneuvers in combat. Major Franklin is a great guy with fascinating stories, and he has graciously consented to share a few with us.

In his words:

"First let me start with a little background. My experience with horses began very young, growing up on a farm and then in the mountains with a girlfriend in my teenage years who owned horses, so I spent much of my youth riding through woods both during the day and night in the Oregon Coast Range and Cascades. Also, as a Boy Scout, I had used pack animals several times in the mountains. So when the opportunity arose to participate in military operations with horses, and having joined the Army as a Cavalry Scout, who would not jump at the chance?

The two biggest periods I used horses involved a period in the mid-1980s, participating in Central America, dealing with both drug cartels and rebel groups. The second was in Bosnia in 1996-1997.

In Central America, we used horses for several important reasons. At first we were given jeeps and dirt bikes, but those require fuel and maintenance, a large support network that takes up valuable space on supply runs, don’t like many of the “roads”, and make a ton of noise, announcing to people where you are for miles. The solution was to use local wranglers to supply horses, which can eat local food, are used to the heat and humidity, make very little noise going up a “road” (read trail!), and give you an extra pair of eyes and ears, which hear much better than you do.

When volunteers were asked for, I jumped at the chance and was the platoon leader for a 25-40 man mounted “cavalry” platoon, which mostly used the horses to get where we needed to and fight dismounted. No sabers (darn it), just M-16s and M1911 Colt Pistols. It took much effort to train people who had never been on horses before and we had about a 50% washout rate, both in people and horses. It’s funny, because just as many people who cannot handle horses, horses cannot handle people. When we started it was a rude surprise to both sides in how effectively we could move and cover an area, and to the “rebel” forces, because they expected noisy Americans to just move loudly and on roads.

There were many logistical problems, from keeping the horses healthy to teaching people how to take care of equipment. Horse tack is not in the military system, so private contractors had to provide the gear, and much of it had to be returned because it was cheap stuff. We had to design and build a special saddlebag to carry the radios because U.S. Military radios don’t ride well on a person’s back.

The funniest thing that happened was that most of our horses were used to being stopped when any firearms were discharged. Most had been desensitized to the loud noise, but I made a big mistake once. While chasing a group I decided to shoot my pistol from the horse at speed. Well, she decides when the shot goes off that she is supposed to be stopped. So, she stopped. I did not. Cartwheel over her head and down the side of the slope. It was funny, much later.

Point of order, horses don’t like the sound of supersonic bullets; something about the wiz of the bullet before you hear the discharge makes them nervous.

In Bosnia--rather, in the Hungarian and Croatian areas that had to be patrolled--the Hungarians use horses to patrol the borders between them and Croatia, and given that the conflict almost brought Hungary into it, the military has a real good handle on the border. Also, the Hungarians have a history of Horse Archers so the country is covered with horse ranches and excellent riders. In my job as the National Support Element Force Protection OIC (sounds important does it not?) I had several opportunities to ride with the Hungarian border units, on both sides of the Hungarian-Croatian border.

James Franklin
Major, US Cavalry (Retired)

Thank you, Jim, for taking the time to share with us a little of the real world of horses in the military. And thank you for your service. It is much appreciated.

Sidekicks--Who Needs 'em?

I'm working on Seaborn today, trying to get the final revisions back to my editor. As I watch my heroine, Nes, trying to get through a particularly rough patch, it occurs to me why the whole kickass female thing is starting to strike me as way overdone. Yes, I believe women are as brave, as tough, and as ingenious as men in getting into and out of trouble, each in her own way. And yes, I don't want to read about wimpy females who have to be rescued all the time.

But... there is a limit to what your hero/heroine should be able to manage. What really bugs me about the overblown hero thing is when the guy/gal doesn't seem to need anyone else. The other characters are just there to make the reader feel reallllly good about the hero. The hero's flaws (if there are any) are so miniscule that they really don't matter to the outcome. Their sidekicks may be colorful and fun, but they often seem to exist just so the hero has someone to talk to. Bleh.

Give me a hero (or kickass heroine) with some real flaws, some fears, some character traits that won't win any prizes for congeniality or tact or best team player. Then give them sidekicks who challenge them as well as support them. In Seaborn, Nes, a daughter of the Water Clans, has one paralyzing fear that humiliates her, crops up whenever she least needs distraction, and affects even her relationships with people around her. It's terribly hard to be impressive when you're puking your guts out, and she knows it, which only makes her angrier. She so wants to prove what she can do, but there’s this phobia getting in her way. Haven't we all been there, wanting badly to impress, only to have some stupid fear or flaw or mistake crop up to kneecap us?

This is why I love supporting characters. Friendship is one of the most interesting and basic bonds between people. Watching strangers bond in a story is always satisfying; the hero’s journey, when well done, is built on trust and friendship and achievement by all the members of the party. I really want the hero to fail now and again to give everyone else a chance to shine. I want the lesser characters to contribute to the story and be important in their own right. Having just re-read Stephen King’s homage to friendship, “It,” I realize how strongly I am drawn to stories like that one that depend on a disparate cast of people with real strengths and weaknesses, who are challenged to pull their own weight and step up when it counts. Some will manage it; some will fail. This is the essential story, the one that goes way beyond fulfilling the quest. How boring Frodo would have been without Sam.

This melding of talents and strengths (and weaknesses), I think, is one of the things that makes the Harry Potter series so popular. Harry is not the brightest, most talented kid at Hogwarts, nor even the bravest (that honor goes to Neville). He depends on his friends to help him get through, as they depend on him to lead, to keep fighting, to give them heart in their worst moments. That is his strength, the hero’s strength, that I think many writers of heroic fiction forget. The current popular meme of the kickass loner who doesn’t really need anyone else to accomplish the mission, while fun to write and explore, is less interesting to me than the hero who both inspires and needs other people.

Hmm. Perhaps this is why the cast of the Masters of the Elements series keeps growing! I like watching what everyone else can contribute. Seaborn uses the skills of all four of the talented clans to get where it’s going. My heroes will have been “up the creek and over the mountain” before it’s done. And so will Nes, phobia and all--with a little help from her friends.

You can check out the first two books of the Masters of the Elements, Firedancer and Windrider to see what I'm talking about and to catch up on the series thus far. Firedancer was a finalist for the 2013 EPIC Award for Fantasy.  

Horses in Fiction: Ignorant vs. Cruel

You know, it's easy to get incensed about people with horses who clearly don't know anything about how to take care of them, especially in this era of instant information. The horse rescue outfits are dreadfully busy and some people should be horsewhipped (pun intended). But our modern standards of horse care have very little to do with historical norms or the awfulness recorded so well by Anna Sewell in "Black Beauty." The difference doesn't all come from willful neglect, mindless cruelty, or indifference. Bear in mind that simply loving animals does not bestow knowledge. It is possible to do harm with the best of intentions, and no one person anywhere is born knowing anything about anything except how to breathe, eat, and excrete. Our knowledge as horse people comes from hands-on working with horses, learning from others (both the good and the bad), and hopefully, being exposed to mentors who can teach us what we don't know.

My great-grandfather's team at plowing time.

My father's immediate family didn't own horses when he was a child (his grandfather did), though my mother's father farmed with horses throughout her childhood. Funnily enough, it was Dad who wanted horses and Mom who didn't care much for them, though she made an effort (sometimes painful) in order to keep up with her horse-oriented family. Dad bought our first mare, Lady, basically to pack out game when he went hunting every fall. Then a neighbor gave him a champion Saddlebred stallion the neighbor couldn't control, and we happily bred both half-bred and purebred Saddlebreds for years, all of whom grew up to be exceptional horses that would go anywhere and try anything.

Dad became a good farrier, and our horses were well-fed and saw a vet when required, but initially, things like annual worming of our beasts went by the wayside simply because nobody in his horse-owning circle of hunters and farmers knew about such things. The horses seemed healthy enough, so what else was there to know, eh?

When I was six, new neighbors moved in next door with a bevy of Tennessee Walking Horses that they showed at a very high level. Our two families quickly bonded, in some cases becoming inseparable. And, naturally, knowledge filtered both ways. Dad broke out several of their young horses and taught them useful, non-show ring lessons, and some tactful observations from the neighbors' direction led to higher awareness on our part. One result was an annual battle with horses reluctant to choke down the old-fashioned, yucky-tasting powders that used to be the norm for worming (thank GOD for paste wormers). We learned how to bathe and clip our horses for 4-H shows and keep them looking smart. Though all of us kids were natural little centaurs, we learned to be kinder in our control and appreciate that there was a thinking creature at the other end of the reins. And as we grew up, we became conscious horsemen, actively seeking to learn more. I adore organizations like 4-H and Pony Club that teach youngsters not just how to ride, but how to care for and train their horses appropriately.

This evolution of knowledge is natural, desirable, and echoes the long, slow accumulation of horse lore through the ages. The culmination in the 21st century is a vast body of knowledge but also a certain amount of craziness. The oft-times silly coddling of horses kept in stable environments was a revelation to the adult me the first time I was forced to board my horses somewhere besides the pasture. The hairy, hardy beasts of my childhood were a far cry from the shaved, blanketed, wrapped, and neurotic critters in those expensive paddocks.

The majority of horse owners of yore were not likely much more savvy than we were back then, and their treatment of their beasts may have been unintentionally cruel. When the peasant lives in a hovel, do you really think his animals are going to live in the Ritz? Windows in barns and byres just weren't the norm because putting them in involves construction techniques that are not necessarily easy to master for the average do-it-yourselfer. Enclosed stables were safer from predators as well, so the door was the only opening, carefully barred at night. Fresh air and light were therefore not part of a stabled animal's existence for centuries.

While much fiction speaks of grooms mucking out the stable, how often are they shown doing it? And how many readers understand why you need to do it? Do you have any idea how much poop the average 1000-pound horse produces? About nine tons per year. Each. Multiply that by the number of beasts in the stable, and "groom" must have always been an easy job to get. Now add in the billions of flies hatched in horse manure (they settle all over fresh horse manure within a few minutes of deposit). Direct observation of this phenomenon should have encouraged any horse owner to try and stay ahead of the problem. But did they?

Yes and no. They tried. They had to. Think about the enclosed spaces of popular fantasy and historical fiction: castles, walled towns, mews, etc. There is no room for a huge "skip" of used hay and straw. It has to be disposed of before the poop gets too deep to get through the door. In London, lordly stables convenient to the Thames tossed it all in the river. Others carted it out to fertilize the local fields.  For lesser folk, mucking the byre may have depended on the availability of time and hands to do it. You would think that with horses standing in a foul-smelling slime of dirt, urine, ground-in manure, and straw, it would not take long for reasonably intelligent folk to make the connection between sick horses, rotting hooves, and dirty stables. Yet horses were still dying in droves of fly-borne and other communicable equine diseases all the way to the 1920s and the end of the horse era. Enlightened observers may have figured it out--faster, I think, among horsemen who really needed their animals every day than among medical practitioners trying to control "humors" of the body. How long did it take for human medicine to make the connection between typhus and poor sanitation? (Here's a clue: More soldiers died of typhus and dysentery than of bullets in the American Civil War. Yet cavalry manuals called for strict stable management and clean straw.) So go figure. Our ancestors were ignorant, not evil.

There is no excuse for poor stable management in this day and age, and no excuse at all for brutality, but when writing about less enlightened times, try to remember the general level of knowledge, the constraints on the human owner, and the attitude of the times that considered horses interchangeable machines, not beloved (if expensive) pets. Compassion toward animals did not become a concern or a trend until the mid-19th century, which leaves an uncomfortably long stretch of history in which the number of people who thought twice about beating a horse to death was vastly outweighed by the number who didn't. The casual cruelty of the horse owner who was himself one step away from starvation shouts aloud of the age he lived in--and should be reflected in your worldbuilding.

For a pretty good article discussing the problems of horses in urban environments, try this one.