In my first formal introduction to Frank he appeared, together with his
clothing and various belongings, as an item in a list of things to be
taken over. I knew him already by reputation, and I remembered some of
the occasions when he had appeared on parade. Also I knew that two
successive Company Commanders had managed in turn to exchange him with
some unsuspecting newly appointed O.C. Company for something more
tractable. This last process, indeed, accounted for my having to take
him over instead of the mild creature with the duck-waddle action which
my predecessor had ridden or, let me say, sat.
It became then my lot to take over Frank, or, to put it more correctly,
I was issued with him. That is part of the military principle of fixing
responsibility. Things are not issued to you; you are issued with them,
and you alone are accountable. I was issued with Frank and all his
harness and appointments and, incidentally, his parlour tricks. This was
the formal introduction. I didn't meet him at close range until later.
When I was issued with him I didn't even know his name. No previous
owner had ever thought of asking it, and had they asked they would not
have believed that a horse could be called Frank. On general principles
it seems wrong, but on nearer acquaintance I found that Frank was
exactly the name for him. The great thing about him was that if he
thought a thing he said it.
For example, when I first mounted him he thought he would prefer to
remain in the stable where he had been for the best part of a week. He
said so quite candidly. I am nothing very great as a handler of wild
animals, and he gave me three minutes made up of every action in his
_repertoire_--no limited one. At the end of it I very kindly dismounted.
I didn't want him to think I was not intelligent enough to understand
what he meant, and moreover I hated the idea of marring our first
meeting by refusing so unmistakable a request. So he was led back to his
quarters and the incident closed, if not with mutual goodwill at least
with some degree of satisfaction fairly evenly distributed among the
parties.
It was, I remember, on the next morning that the Mess Sergeant noticed a
shortage of lump sugar in one of the basins. I mention this merely
because it fixes in my mind the first day on which I had a comfortable
ride. Frank started out in a good temper and came home at his best pace,
hoping to get some more sugar. That, at least, is how I read his
meaning, and I pursued my policy of not misunderstanding him. After this
he developed a parlour trick which made me quite fond of him. When I
went to the stable he would put his nose round to the side pocket whore
I kept the sugar. He always got some, and he knew there would always be
some more when he got home.
Thus it became necessary to instruct him in topography. He quickly
learned that certain turnings led to the camp, and I was reduced to
subterfuges to prove to him that they did not. It was essential to go
over every road at various times in opposite directions. That confused
him, and though I disliked the deception I had to resort to it, with the
result that Frank finally accepted me at my own fictitious valuation as
a person who did not properly know his own mind.
But it took him some time to get into my ways. Once we spent twenty
minutes on a small stretch of road leading from the parade ground to a
railway bridge. I wanted to cross the bridge and Frank did not. I took
him towards the bridge and he took me back towards the camp. This
happened thirteen times. At the fourteenth there was a variation; he
changed his mind and we crossed the bridge. During the twenty minutes, I
remember, we had a further slight disagreement about a stick. I was glad
I had brought it, and he was not. But on the other side of the bridge we
let bygones be bygones. Frank had his moods, but he was always a
gentleman.
He was also a soldier. His strong point really was that he was excellent
on parade. He would look round, grasp the formation at a glance, and
drop into his place. He was never more happy than when route-marching;
never more unhappy than when compelled to break out of the line. Indeed,
so much did he enjoy column of route that when off duty with two or
three other horses he would play at route-marching, taking up a position
in Indian file and avoiding any sort of arrangement which brought him
abreast of his companions.
At last we had to part. I don't know the right way to express this.
Possibly I was reissued without him; I am not sure what the process was.
At any rate we separated, he remaining at the camp and I proceeding on
duty to the Depôt. I said good-bye to him and he nuzzled for the last
time at my side pocket. Having munched the sugar, he turned to the more
serious business of his manger. I think this must have been his way of
concealing his emotion.
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