Guns and Horses

Chapter One: Life and Liberty

CHAPTER ONE

D A N N Y 

August 5' 1916

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The sea breeze ran over the water, its salty taste blew into my mouth as I stood at the docks. Hundreds maybe thousands of men walked around me, their large leather boots stomped around like a mob of giants. The sound of horns and yelling buzzed in my head as if a swarm of wasps were trying to get free. My conscription telegram was crumpled up in my sweaty palm and my travel bag lay heavy on my shoulders. I was shaking with fear, I wouldn't call myself a weak man but my father had once told me of war and the horrors witnessed on the battlefield; his friends dying around him, the small of burning flesh and the pain both mental and physical.

"MaClean! Daniel MaClean!" The officer yelled his neck swelling as he belted my name. Moving through the soldiers that swarmed in front of me I caught a glimpse of the horses, their frantic eyes darted around the noisy atmosphere, not watching where I was going I walked into Fletcher and his friends, they all turned to glare at me. I had gone through training with the lot of them and they had all taken an instant dislike to me. I wasn't very good at making friends. In fact my closest and only friend had been Rose.

"Watch we're your going Danny boy!" Fletcher’s thug spat, his dried out wart moving hideously on his upper lip.

"Sorry," I mumbled moving away from them, my arms out stretched.

I stumbled towards the officer and almost tripped over the wooden plank. "Daniel MaClean?" The officer asked, his list of names held strongly in his hand.

"Aye sir!" The man’s eyes ran over me, from my grubby trousers and up to my face where he stopped and blatantly started at my scar. I immediately felt self-conscious about the deformed left side of my face that had haunted my entire life, the red layers of skin and swollen cheek bone that sat just under my eye.

"Huh,” he muttered and turned back to his list, “you have been assigned to care for the horses, is that right."

"Aye sir!" I took an immediate dislike to this man, the way he said horses implied that they were simply machines, not living, feeling, animals.

"You are in the bunker at the base of the ship," the officer gave me back my papers and sent me off, pointing towards the steps that would lead me to hell.

The ship’s cold metal interior felt foreign and unknown, I hitched my bag further onto my shoulder feeling out of place and very insignificant. I followed the corridor as it travelled further into the ship, my eyes moving around the confined space.

The smell hit me before I reached the makeshift stables. The poor animals were cramped into small restricted spaces, stripped of their freedom and fresh pastures. The beautiful creatures were riveted with fear, missing the fields that they wished to enjoy again. It saddened me that only a few of these horses will live to see our country again.

 “Hey what’re you doin’ here?” A boy shouted his little face looking worryingly at me, in his hands he held a mob that he pointed at me with unneeded bravery.

“Hello, I’m Danny, I’m here to care for the horses,” I tried to add kindness in my voice. I put my hands up in a surrendering gesture and placed my bag onto the floor.

“That’s my job!” The boy moved forward, the light from the oil lamp lit up his dirty face with a yellow light. He only looked about seventeen, his brown hair was short but stuck up in a unintentional quiff.

“I never said it wasn’t.” The horse closest to me stopped bickering and turned to sniff me, his long neck reached out and he began to nibble on my jacket, the boy smiled and put down the mop.