RIDING TO HOUNDS WITH CAVALRY OFFICERS IN GERMANY

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RIDING TO HOUNDS WITH CAVALRY OFFICERS

IN GERMANY.

BY FIBST

LIEUTENANT

GORDON JOHNSTON,

THIRD

CAVALRY.

THE HUNT.

HE meet is to be at Isern-hagen at one o’clock, which is T an hour’s ride from the riding school-alternating walk and slow trot. This is always announced for the next hunt by the M. F. H. (after the kill) stating clearly,the place and the time required to reach it at an easy pace. and the next is of the weather. In the early grey your eyes seek the windows with a prayer that this may not be another of the rains such as only Hannover can produce-driving sheets of it for hours and all day without a break, far worse than the rainy season in the Islands. For you get soaked and chilled, your saddle gets slippery, but worst of all is the footing, always deep, but now miserable. As yon gallop along across fields, the narrow sheets of water may be only an inch or two deep, or may be ugly holes or ditches filled to the biim. The banks of the streams will be soggy and either mire you up at the take-off or cave in and spill horse and rider head over heels. A big fence doesn’t make your heart leap for joy when your mount’s feet are skating four ways at once. So the clear blue sky and the glow toward the east are welcome sights. Then you dress hurriedly and go to the .stables, anxious for the good report from the groom. “Did he clean up his oats last night? Did he go after them this morning like a hungry horse?” Good! Then your hand dips down over the clean, clear-cut tendons, over the joints and dong the pastern to the hoof. All smooth and cool, and The first waking thought of the morning is of your horse, . - :, , . , , - :.

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677 when he playfully drives out with a hind foot as you complete the inspection, you take it as a good omen. It is a pleasant, comfortable feeling to stay for a moment to watch his morning toilet. His ears point to you every moment or so and his expression seems to say, “What are you watching me so closely for ?” He throws his head about carefully within the limits of the grooming reins and you feel sure he has figured it all out. ’‘ Let me see; I was out on Tuesday, and my! but we did have a run. The sweat was running down my legs in nasty tickling streams, when we killed, way over by Kiebitzkriig. Then I remember the black coming in on Thursday, mud from his ears to the tip of his stumpy tail. The groom was mad, too, because he had to wash him all over and then dry him off with towels -which takes about two hours, you know. By George, it’s Saturday, and my day too! We’ll be out with the hounds sure. If he’d only let me get among those yelping little beasts I’d show them some going, but he never will. I hope that big gray horse with the red hussar wiIl try to brush by me again. He never would have done it if I hadn’t hit that fence over by Krlhenwinkel, and between the jolt I got on landing and the wind all scared out of me, too, I never could catch him again. He thinks a lot of himself, a’nyhow, just because there’s about a spoonful of Arab blood in him.” And your eyes run over the smooth curve of his loins, the deep-muscled haunches, the long shoulder and powerful forearm, with a pervading sense of satisfaction, while your mind’s eye skims ahead, seeing fences, streams, the big field of gay uniforms, the racing hounds, and at last the death in some far-away thicket. Of course you must rub his nose and pat his neck and say to him, We do have great times together, Old Man, don’t we?” But first it’s trot, trot, trot. around the riding hall on other horses, with the hands of the big clock moving eter-nally slow toward twelve. The double hurdles, without stirrups or reins, don’t even liven up the time, for you feel that the ears of all officers riding are listening for the music of the hounds; their knees are ‘feeling the long swinging hunting gallop. Every now and then you become conscious

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of the poor’instractor who’is still talking about tact and tempo, feeling the movement of each foot and the finesse of aids-also that he is blessing that section out for everything he can produce from a language superabundantly provided for just such ptuposes. At last,the welcome command, ‘‘ First trooper to the left, to the left form front. Thank you, gentlemen,” and he turns disgustedly on his heel as the grooms swing open the big doors and the officers peel off their horses. leaving the men to catch them. There’s a rush for the little canteen window where big fat sandwiches are in hot demand-also long glasses of creamy foamed beer to wash out the dust of the riding hall entirely. Similar streams of officers pour from all the halls about the big quadrangle, winds up to the window and trickle away toward the big gate by the blacksmith’s shop where the stamping of many hoofs can be heard. So there they stand-bits, buckles and stirrups gleamjng ; girths, breast-straps and brow-bands fresh and white ; with the well worn saddles-the huntersi, impatient or eager or with assumed nonchalance, each according to his character. Then it’s mount and take the road. By twos, threes and little columns tbe riders turn their horses’ heads out toward the great open plains called the “Haide.” From little side streets others join the column which straggles out as some walk and others jog along. T h e first to strike the eye is the uniform. Instead of dull. business-like olive drab you may see here not only brilliant and beautiful uniforms, but -res of different mrts, for each cavalry regiment wears a diiTmnt one, and I think there are about one hundred regiments. Of course there are no helmets or jaunty uhlan headpieces, which look something like a university mortar board cocked over on one side. All wear a cloth cap with a visor, much like ours, only a good deal lighter and softer, and therefore more comfortable. There are the dragoons, uhlans and cuirassiers, all with the long frock coat, the tails of which are turned over and buttimed to the front edge, leaving the seat clear. The colors a m light blue for the‘first. and dark tor the two last named. Bat the double rows of big metal buttons are either

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679 gold or silver, and each has a high collar of a brilliant color, red, green, pink, white, yellow, and a piping to match, and’a cap with a broad band of the same color. The boots are either patent leather or highly polished black leather, and they are adorned with spurs of many different patterns. The hussars are still more picturesque, with their short frogged jackets, gold or silver stripes on the trousers, boots topped with the same, and they have many combinations of colors for both jackets and trousers. There are crimson jackets with silver or gold frogs. dark and light blue with other combinations. some pleasing. but all striking. The black hussars are noticeable, for their uniform is entirely black, frogs and all, except the gold stripe on the trousers, and these wear a white skull and cross-bones on the front of the cap, a distinguishing mark given the regiment a few centuries ago. There is 8 curiously colored brown hussar regiment which came by its uniform in an unusual way. It Seems that Frederick the Great arrived at an old monastery during one of his campaigns with this regiment. The uniforms were in awful shape, and so the King asked for cloth to make new ones. This was refused. So he forcibly borrowed from their store rooms their supply kept there for the cowls and habits of the monks, and turned it into uniforms; and the regiment has used that color ever since. There are many interesting regimental stories going back to the time of Frederick the Great and his great captains of horse, Seid-litz and Zietben. when cavalry was cavalry, and charged regardless of theory, and then charged again, reckless of horseflesh, their own necks, and mathematical calculation which proved that it could not be done. But back to the country road and a glance at the horses. The first point to catch the eye is the undoubted evidence of blood. I don’t mean the raking, weedy sprinter, but the marks of what blood should really mean. The well formed head, large, intelligent, game eyes, the wide open space at the throat latch, the long, slanting shoulder with rather high withers, the long croup but slightly drooped, the solid, hard, clean-looking legs, with the tendons standing clear, and the

880 RiDiiVG TO HOUNDS. well proportioned hoofs. There was, not a large proportion doroughbred, bpt blood wab there in plenty. Next, one cannot help noting their condition. They looked fit, well fed, well groomed and regularly worked. All the equipment gave that same impression of good care and fitness. The steel parts were mostly of the naked staE without any patent gloss or preservative, and this means daily constant work for grooms, for steel begins to show rust spots a few minutes after use in this raw, damp climate. The leather was unmistakably of the English oak tanned, aot polished, but showing a smooth uncracked flexible surface. In the meanwhile we have jogged about six miles, passing several little villages and a number of farm houses. Some of the latter were realiy only great big brick barns which the fsmily divided up with the cattle, pigs, chickens, etc., on one side and the living rooms on the other-with the hayloft evidently a general depository. Up in the gable of every barn or house was a big wooden bullseye target, literally plugged full of holes. It seems that the peasants aze having shooting matches all the time, so for convenience sake they locate the target ranges each by his own door. I judge that they use a small caliber. low power rifle. for the holes seemed to be the same on all targets, and in many cases &e hllets had not penetrated. The villages are very pretty at a distance, with the red brick and tiles always set in a clump of fine trees. There was, however, a distinct h v o r of pig in the air, which made one hurry on to get a view. T& roads are fine, well built metal beds with always the sand bridle-path at one side, just right for cavalry in .oolarnns of twos, and always bordered with trees, in many sections of the country fruit trees. They are well drained, with a good ditch on either side. The frequent piles of troshed stone along theae roads sbow that constant attention, is given them. Each village is responsible for its section in \lr dimCtim€L j At last we tarn a bend, and in the nest village ahead we me thc road tnll of homes which are beiag led up and down by small boys. As we near it ourselves a horde of the little # ‘ ‘”-m I .. , -

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681 mites race up shouting “ Onkel, Onkel, festhalten!” Instead of “ Mister” the small boy in Germany calls all strange men a‘Uncle.” They are quite happy to earn tyo and one-half cents for walking your horse. Even the little girls do a good business. It is really comical to see a little tow-headed mite of a girl, not much higher than his elbow, swinging to a great sixteen hand charger for dear life. The men from the neighboring farms add villages generally are on hand. and walk about looking the horses over with critical eyes, for the peasants of Hannover are born lovers of horses and good breeders too. Their inherited hatred of the French has its foundation chiefly in the fact that the officers quartered in Hannover took all of their best bloaded stallions and mares away. to say nothing of the fact that they forgot to pay anything-at least so these people say. The horses get a rest; the riders light up cigarettes and stroll into the “guest room” with its clean sand-scrubbed floor, and tables with solid benches, wbere the inn-keeper, his wife, and all of the daughters are busy with “jumping powder,” alias There to one side stauds the Lieutenant General, chief of the riding school, Excellenz Voa P-, a small trimly built man with fierce gray mustache. Near him, Colonel B--. the commandant, a very determined looking man with a restless, rather fierce brown eye. No one upon even first sight would question his ability to keep as many lusty lieutenants as you may choose to give hia mighty well in hand. He must have come from some place similar to a certain State in our couutry, for he had a mania for wanting to see for himseli what was going OD, and generally managed to turn up unexpectedly. The General’s two aides form the rest of the group. All are in pink hunting coats, white breeches, black boots and hunting caps. O n the right arm of each, just above the elbow. is a band of black and white, the insignia of what is called a “pikiit” officer, whose duties to the riders constituting the field (averaging I so) are quite similar to those of a whip to the pack. There are a number of these pinkcoated pik6r oScers scattered among the ’ Here in the spacious court of an old inn is the meet. schnapps,” or gin. e unifoms. .One choeen from each of the second year riding soctioq m4pe best rider asd‘ mounted 05-1.. Only these It is a moa eoviable dirrtinction. . Naturally every oae wanders averto the hounds, whostand in one ,cornem, under the huntemas and whips (who are called pik6r nosaommissio6ed officer& and also wear the pink coat @ bunting cap, with the white sergeant’s chevron on the rirftrt arm). Two of these have great brass horns in the form of a W e , which fit snugly over the right shoulder and under the left arm. . The booads afe splendid, sturdy looking fellows of typical English form,rmd marking, except that they are aotice-able fur bigness of bone and weight. which the deep going of this country demands. They are on good terms with the officets, €or they have even shared with them the big ban-quek at the club. “Why. didn’t a lieutenant general of cavahy on the eve of his retirement-foi age-mount his haotet towards the morning hours and ride at the head of our v w selves up the curved stairway to the banquet room in the second story? And didn’t the officers put us up on the long tables and feed us sugar and cheese and ice cream andall sorts of things? An$ didn’t the ‘General, who always rode hot on oar heels, make his farewell speech from the saddle? Of course we know these fellows, and never fail to jump up on them with our muddy feet !” But all that’s another story, and doesn’t belohg here unless you are really fond of hounds. Just here there is a slight commotion, as the master, Count K?inigsmarck (whom our officers with the China expedition may remember) makes his way, with a hitch in his gait, to crack his spurs and report to the chef - with another hitch io hisqeech. for he stutters quite badly at times. It would doubtleee excite your wonder to figure out how he can walk at all if you knew how many bones in his body had been broken in steeple chases-and some of them several times Wsr: Far he was one of Germany’s best steeple chase riders M neU as one of the mast daring. visiting ~aacers a& allowed to wear pink coats: H e is worthy of more than a passing notice. He has won many splen P

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Rf..ING TO HOVNDS. 888 did races, and that on some of the most dangeroua and uncertain horses. One peculiarity of his riding at times attracted considerable comment. He took his jumps leaning forward on landing as well as at the take-off. It was against all principles and theories, but the fact remains that his mounts jumped well and willingly under him and won races. His face shows the gameness, too, for at m y first sight of him something made me think of a bull-terrier (not meaning to be uncomplimentary). There comes a whine and a yelp or so from the pack as the pik6r sergeants mount. Then two of them sound a call on the horns, and the master trots off with his precious pack. We must wait until the commandant gives us the lead, for such a large field requires a good deal of handling. Everyone is busy with his last look over bits, girths and saddles. and also trying to steady his impatient horse. At last the stream of riders crowds do&n the narrow road behind the commandant, pouis out into a field, and forms a wide semi-circle back of him. The wagon with the empty cage, from which the boar was released some twenty minutes before, has pulled off to one side. There the hounds whimper and yelp while the whiplashes play among them, for they know that the scent lies strong before them. T h e chef sits his beautiful breedy grey quite still except that the grey’s head is lifted toward the hounds every moment or so. Then in the rear the long line of the field; all horses crazy to be off, some plunging and kicking, others stamping or whirling. The riders have pulled their caps down tightly and are sitting deep in their saddles. The expression on every face says plainly. “ Let us off.” The master rides back to the field, salutes, and says, “Gentlemen, the long stretch of water which you see in our immediate front is not a shallow puddle. It is about four feet deep in the middle and I advise you to jump and not try to gallop through.” Then he rides back, salutes the chef, and at his sign to the huntsman the hounds break eagerly forward, released-and all of a sudden there is a wild triumphant burst of music as some forty hounds give tongue. They are off with a wild, rushing sweep. And yet 8 I .I I I ... I

. -,. w . 7 - % .___ - . -- .., 6a4. MDl’NG TO HOUNDS. we moat sit dill until that grey gives us the lead. He seems to have taken mot there, almost. Yet here was a moment to figure on that streak of water ahead. ..There are many such in the low country which are only an inch or Bo deep, and the horses gallop through them. I watched the hounds eagerly. for an old hunting proverb , h h e d into my mind, to the effect that wherever hounds try to jump water you may race at it, but if they just plunge in and go to swimming the rider had better take a pull and a look. So I aaw them jump for it, though mostly falling short, and made up my mind to get early to that place and avoid- the rash, for I had an idea that there would be all sorts of a mix-up at that innocent looking puddle only fifty yards or so in front of those wildly eager horses. So I told m y own that he could make his dash all right, with something from me to help him get off in a hurry too, and that at the edge of that water he must excuse me, but he‘d get the spurs sharp and hard just back of the’girth. I did not see the first move of the grey, but the plunge of those horses sounded like a great wave just before break. ing. My own hunter shot forward with a mad snort, and to my disgust bored down with the bit so that his nose was on his knees. Going so, he would not and could not jump. There was not a moment to hesitate, so I began to pound the spurs in as fast as my heels could work. With all that, his head only came up in the last stride before the water. Then I called to him and he cleared it twice over. Now be waa going like mad, but I turned in time to see a long sheet of white water shoot rip in the sunlight as the line hit. In the fleeting glance I saw horses and riders in all sorts of falling poses, and then there was something for me to do. My horse was wild and racing at a killing pace, boring again. No use tearing at his mouth only to jerk what little sense he has for the moment out of his head. and wearing oneself out. One can only let the seat slip back toward the cantle, lean back and keep the legs away from his ribs, and hope that he won’t break his fool heart before the hunt really begins. But the cry of the hounds in the distance is all that he hears ; his heart leaps to the joy of the fierce, free pace, and

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685 his whole being thrills in the use of the one talent intrusted to him by his Creator. Soon he will miss the hand on the rein that speaks to him, the snug feel of the legs that guide and support him, and the seat that gives smoothly to his motion. Then his head bobs a time or two, the stiff jaw relaxes, I lift him, and he’s mine again. There may be riders who take in the view as they gallop, and see what other riders and their horses are doing, but for me there are only the hounds and hardly more than the narrow vista between the horse’s ears. Just now the thought of the Weser River flashes in my mind, and as I think of the steep banks and uncertain bottom of that deep little stream it occurs to me that we shall probably take it more like a submarine than anything else, which thought was not very comforting. As luck would have it. however, there was a long stretch of clear, open going, nearly two miles I should judge, and then he was well in hand, though I had dearly ridden the chef down, and his glances were not hospitable, to say the least. Here there came a check, thank heaven, and what was left of the field, including some empty saddles, came up. How wide and flaming red the nostrils showed! And how clearly the faces showed which rider loved it and . which did not. One wonders where that tough old boar, who had freedom until yesterday, is rushing to find it again; over what sort of country he will lead these horses, whose heaving flanks plead for Let him go. A two mile race and the hunt hasn’t begun. fair going. But a sharp yelp followed by the whole chorus is heard, _ _ - and we’re off again, scrambling into and plunging out of a stream which flows between high steep banks, on to a bit of level fine grass. An irrigation ditch lined with small brush gives us an exhilarating, flying leap, and then all settle down to business. There’s many a “donnerwetter” heard as we gallop into a pine forest with those nasty low straight-out branches. It begins to get swampy, and all veer off along a dim wagon road. Then you hear horses plunging in the water and nasty black mud. Soon your own horse is plunging also, with others before and behind, clean up to your c188

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athrtaps. It is quite a dWeremt looking outfit when we strike the open again. Many caps are gone, faces are unrecognizable behind big daubs of mud, and uniforms as well as horses have changed color. , In a moment I held up a bit. for the old beast had taken to heavy going, as I feared, and it was telling on my horse. About a third of the field @d passed me as we swept around a comer of the wood, and saw a long, open stretch ahead, seamed with fences. My horse's feet were slipping at every stride, bat his eae pointed forward at the first fence, as he measured his jump and began to tu& his haunches under, with shortened stride. A n officer of uhlans. Count G-, was riding just abreast, only a horse length away. He rose to the jump first, and I heard the timber crash. At the same moment my horse hit the top rail hard, and I felt him dropping away from under me, but he caught himself quickly and scrarn- &led to his feet. As he rose, I looked over to Count G-. His horn had gone cleam down. but he had flung himself clear, still holding the reins. His horse plunged to his feet, a d began to drag him. Count G-'s head was just about level with the horse's hind feet, on the right side. I was paralyzed for the moment, feeling that something ugly would happen. My own horse was for the instant nlmost out of control with excitement over his own close call, and had I dashed at the other horse it would only have driven him across the rider he was dragging. Then Count G-'s horse deliberately kicked him on the top of his bare head. It wag a most sickening sound. One of the man's hands quivered for a moment in the air, and then fell limply by his still M y . Riders were leaping or crashing through the fence to both sides, but no one seemed to care. When I had finally hauled m y horse around, the trusty surgeon was there, dismounting. He sent an officer for the ambulance, and stopped a couple of others. .There was nothing for me to do, so I followed the broad ttaclts of the field. As we neared the other fences I was never so tempted to be unsportsmanlike and take the broken ones. But we galloped on, and as the old fellow rose gamely I .

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to jump after jump, I felt like throwing my arms round his neck, if only it were not such a foolish thing to do. € did remember and 'apologize for many mean things I had done to I him. The sickening sound of that skull-crushing blow was evidently working on me. % But we were making time, and soon we heard the hounds. They had the boar in a thick body of woods, where he was evidently picking out a good position for his last stand. The hounds gave a different tongue. They were evidently worrying him through the thicket, though not yet ready to deliver a determined attack. We pushed in behind them to get a glimpse, and could see for a moment every now and then the big black hulk of the boar, with the lighter forms of white and black and tan leaping about. He would w-hit1 and make determined rushes, scattering them right and left. But the gap he made quickly closed up again. His beady eyes were dimmed with red. the lips were drawn back over the ugly tusks, and the white foam flecked his neck and sides. The curtain is soon to drop on the last scene of the boar's life. but I doubt that his angry, blood-shot eyes take in the setting. The gloom of a dense thicket in the midst of the pines, its stillness broken by the baying hounds, now far from musical in tone; the steaming horses stampin'g and plunging through the brush, as eager to see as their riders ; the brilliant colors of the uniforms all splashed with mud. The master rides close on the heels of his hounds, hovering over them, and ordering riders back with language that admits of no misunderstanding. At that the wave of black and white and tan breaks over the boar. Some brave hound has fastened on a jaw, and then he is literally smothered. T h e master raises his hand to his visor, and the nearest officers drop from their horses and rush into the mglke -for the one to throw the boar by his left hind leg wins the head. One dives into the mass, heaves him over, and the master's foot is on the throat, and the long hunting knife drawn. Each.rider has bared his right hand, and now holding it high above his head shouts, Halali ! Halali ! " -

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a d tbe knife does its work, the piWr sergeants beating off the bounds. The o b r who throws the boet gets his head for a trophy, so they tumble from their horses and pile in with the hounds until one gets tbe regalati00 grip. Somehow, I never felt the desire to take part in this. We had had the sport for which we.carne out, a splendid run BCTOSS all sorts of cotlatry. and now h was facing his enemies gamely. Let him die by them, for surely it would ham been a good death, with his back to a thorn bush and the bag tusks ripping at the throats which had bayed so long on his track. After all, h0had only a hog’s life behind him. and the same proposition to face if he lived. The boa; is dragged out to some little clearing and the hounds are coflected a few yards in froat of him. The liver is cut oat and sliced up into little pieces and e t t e r e d on the ground before him. In the meanwhile, the general commanding distributes a sprig of oak leaves to all riders in at the death. At a given moment all assemble in a circle about the hounds and the boar, which is posed to look as lifelike as possible. The piker sergeants standing before the hounds now sound a certain call, and at the last note the houads dash at the boar and growl over the scraps of liver, while the field all raise the angloved right hand and shout “Halali.” It means a fine of five marks to keep the right glove on from the first Halali,” and ten to moss a line between the hounds and the boar. Then the master standing h t h ooe foot on the boar, salutes and announces the place and time for the next .meet. After this, the senior officer present steps out aad wishes alf a‘Weidrnann’s Heil,” and all reply Wetidmann’s Glitck.” There is now a hurried monnting of horses, and we take the homeward tra& always witb the hounds leading, and BOme fifteen kilometers to’make. In that long ride your blood a d s 08 from the excitement of the chase, the sweeping gallop with the wind in your face, agd the manes tossing, the music of the hounds, the swing into the air over fences Now come the formal-ceremoaies of the “death.” * mp Of OeCUlM 0m0ePS charger imported by Flmt Lleutauant Gordon John-eton.Thlrd Oavalry. Now rued at the mounted wwlae Bchool at Fort Rlley. of Adeptw. out of half bred mere by Landstrelaher. aon of Nobleman. Registerud In Prueatan stud book in class to whlah red aertlflaates (for those horse8 e shade 1eM than thoroughbred) are ieaued. From a snap shot taken by Bergwnt HuRhee. Hoapltal Gorp%. at Fort Rlley, February lo, loQL Cbanoc geldlog. nve years old. helphe 16 hands and 0% inahea BY Alnak. eon . ! 689

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I I and water, and the kill-but there's a warm feeling in your heart for the horse that has carried you from start to finish. As the dusk begins to fall my eye sweeps along the long column of twos. The bright colors are toned down by the mud of many fields and streams, and the scene is not near as gay or picturesque as it was before; but one thing is clear to me-these brother officers of a foreign service ride hard and true to the line of the hands. 1 I i I I