Warrior: The true story of the real war horse. Isabel George
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Warrior saw action on all the major battlefields of the Western Front during the First World War
They said he was ‘the horse the Germans couldn’t kill’
His owner recommended him for the Victoria Cross
He was one man’s best friend
A saviour of men
Contents
‘Three cheers for old Warrior!’
The Canadian Cavalry: ‘Seely’s Lions’
Coming soon from Isabel George …
‘Warrior, the time has come to live up to your name. We are needed over the water in France, but don’t worry; we will face this war together. We will go there, do what needs to be done and return home, please God, unscathed. So what do you say, my Warrior? What do you say?’
General Jack Seely spoke softly to his beloved horse who leant in to rest his warm cheek against his master’s. Seely knew what Warrior’s answer would be. The horse was made of the same fibres as his owner: nothing scared him. Already a war hero having seen conflict in the Boer War, Seely had carved a name for himself as an able horseman. Galloping across the South African veldt, he had tested the spirit of man and horse against an unforgiving environment and a merciless enemy – and won. ‘Galloper Jack’, as he was affectionately known, was ready to take up arms for his country once more.
It was August 1914 and Britain was at war with Germany. Seely was preparing to join a troop ship to the Western Front and this time his adventure would include his horse, Warrior, an unusually short-legged, 15.2 hands bay thoroughbred with a bright white star on his forehead. A horse whose iron will and brave heart would protect one man and inspire a nation.
Warrior was born in the spring of 1908 and raised on the family estate on the Isle of Wight, where he enjoyed all the love and privilege any horse could ever need for a healthy and happy start in life. Seely was working at the Colonial Office in London when he received a telegram announcing the new arrival: ‘Fine child for Cinderella born at Yafford this morning. Both doing well.’ Seely was overjoyed and excitedly shared the news with colleagues, although not all of them understood why the birth of a foal warranted the sending of a telegram. To Seely, this was family news; he was pleased to hear that the foal had delivered safely and relieved that his beloved charger, Cinderella, was doing well after the birth.
The fields of the Mottistone Downs that pitched and dipped their way to the sea were Warrior’s playground. Feeling at home there, and seldom more than a few feet away from his mother, he grew into a calm and affectionate youngster. As he galloped and frolicked across the rolling countryside, Warrior also began to show that he was every bit his father’s son. His sire – a handsome chestnut stallion called Straybit – had speed in his bloodline. His ancestors included horses such as Voltigeur, who won the Derby and the St Leger in 1850. The year after Warrior was born, Straybit romped home to win the Isle of Wight Lightweight race, leaving his competitors tasting the earth he kicked up in his wake.
So Warrior developed into a reflection of all that was good in his parents’ characters, but there was something inside Warrior that shone beyond the good looks, gentle nature and his speed, which his master soon discovered. When Seely first rode Warrior, it was unfortunate that he chose entirely different clothes to those he had been wearing when he’d made his many visits to Cinderella and her son in the fields. Taking one look at the new outfit, Warrior wasn’t sure if he wanted this man on his back! He pulled his ears back, snorted and pawed the air with his front legs. After the third time of being pitched onto the ground, Seely decided to have a quiet word with his horse and explain that they could carry on like this forever, but he would really rather they became friends. He even suggested they might be ‘friends together for all our lives’. Warrior, comforted by Seely’s gentle tones, dipped his head and rubbed his warm, dewy nose against his master’s cheek. From that moment the two were inseparable.
There were moments at home on the Isle of Wight, as Seely rode his young horse over the chalky Downs to the water’s edge, when Warrior showed his master that he had a gift for harnessing and for denying fear its power. At first Warrior wasn’t sure if he liked the sea and certainly not the breaking water, but his master encouraged him closer to the point where he could feel it ripple over his feet. He liked it. He didn’t allow it to frighten him. Little by little, with patience and understanding on his side, Seely was eventually able to walk his horse into the waves. There and then he realised the courage of this horse. He might have been trembling a little at first, but then Warrior absorbed his own fear. It was Warrior’s steadfast bravery as he faced the wall of tumbling water that made Seely realise his horse was not only fearless, but even radiated a sense of calm.
As a veteran of the Boer War, General Jack Seely had