scape the modern weaponry -- starvation, disease and exposure were always waiting in the wings.
At the beginning of The Great War horses were used primarily in cavalry units, but it wasn't long before they were phased out of that task, as they were ineffective when matched against the weapons of the day.
And it wasn't just the danger of the bombs. The craters left by the explosions were deathtraps. The shell holes filled with mud and water and turned into murky would-be graves, where horse and rider could slip mercilessly to their death.
As the war progressed, horses were used for logistical support. Their ability to traverse deep mud and rough terrain made them a valuable commodity when it came to tasks such as reconnaissance, carrying messengers, transporting artillery, ambulances, ammunition and supplies to the front lines.
The loyalty developed between man and horse made for inspirational prose and paintings, none more touching than Fortunino Matania's "Goodbye Old Man" which depicts a soldier comforting his fallen comrade on the roadside.
Susan Leyland's poem The War Horse Who Returned paints a vivid picture of the unspeakable horrors as seen through the eyes of a horse who had returned from The Great War.
The War Horse Who Returned
From this peaceful land
To hellfire we were sent.
Bomb blasts, shellfire and barbed wire,
Explosions, fearful gas and groans,
Lay man and beast wrenched and maimed.
On foreign soil last breaths exhaled.
Through horror, fear and pain
Knee-deep mud, cold and rain
We heaved and pulled
With little to sustain.
We don't feel like heroes,
Though heroic tasks were done.
We knew it was our duty
To get the battle won.
I am home again at last.
My legs are swollen and my body weak,
My skin and cuts are healing,
But I will not forget.
So here in silence with lowered head,
Over the bones of fallen friend
I stand forever to honour
All those who came not home.
And so it is, on the 11th hour, of the 11th day, of the 11th month, we remember those who unselfishly met their fate in the storm of war.
Among the graves of the fallen, the spirits of our four-legged friends roam peacefully amid the tear-soaked poppies of Flanders Fields. Our equine heroes gave so much, in return for so little.
Lest We Forget!