“FORWARD!!” yelled the general at the top of his lungs. At once, all the horses snapped into a hard gallop, sharp, at attention, and ready for anything thrown their way. Anthony could barely hear over the pounding hooves, crashing around him like thunder. The desert wind threw them around like toys, the horses struggling valiantly to stay on course.

They met the enemy in just a few short minutes, having been rewarded by having horses that could carry them faster than any animal through the harsh desert environment. The combat began. Dirt flicked in their faces, blood splattered over their horses, sweat flew through the air. Guns clicked and fired, blasting forward and backward, between them and the enemy. Then they collided. It became almost impossible to distinguish one man from another. The smell of death started to descend on the battlefield. Bodies began to fly through the air on both sides, adding their dying shrieks to the gunfire. Horses shrilly screamed, becoming panicked as their riders were hit. Then a misfired bullet shot past its target, and plunged deep into the horse’s chest.

***

 “RETREAT!” called the lieutenant . The dusty, fatigued remaining men pulled back.  Turning their horses back towards the Australian base, the men sighed. They had been there for almost three months now. They had lost many men and horses, and missed their homes.

The horses dragged their feet back to the stalls, knowing that dinner and a cool drink was coming their way. Drover leant his weight on Anthony, both of them resting after the hard day.  “I wanna go home,” mumbled Anthony to his closest friend in all of Turkey. Drover bobbed his head, as if agreeing with him.

The general marched into the stables. All the recruits snapped to attention. “All right men, I was just contacted from home. We’re goin’ back tomorrow!” Formalities were forgotten as they broke into loud cheers, hugging one another.

“But I do have some bad news. Due to new quarantines introduced in Australia, we can’t bring back the horses. We have already organised for the Turkish people to buy the horses at a very reasonable price.” This statement brought about anguished howls from the men. Spending the last three months in the third world country had given them insight into just how badly those animals were treated. Abused, starving, those creatures were just skin and bones. The recruits felt sick just at hearing what these majestic, worthy creatures would be subjected to for the rest of their lives. “I’m sorry gentlemen, but there’s nothing I can do.” And with that he walked away, sorrow in his face.

Anthony glanced at his horse, the one person he had been able to count on for three months. He could not, would not, comprehend leaving his best friend is a foreign country without his care and protection. Anthony buried his face in Drover’s coat, letting the tears fall down his dusty, dry face. “I won’t let that happen to ya.” He declared through his tears.

***

In the dead of night, a serviceman snuck out into the stables. He carried his rifle on one shoulder, and the horse’s lead rope in the other. Clipping the lead rope to the halter, he slowly walked the horse out to the back of camp. He stood with the horse for several minutes, reminding himself of all the enjoyment the animal had provided in such a dark place. Thinking about how he had come to rely on him, and have that returned. Of how the large animal gently comforted him, nuzzling his face when Anthony’s friends disappeared, one by one. Of how they could work so well together, beating all odds on the barrel racing course. Anthony stood back.

He raised with a shaking hand the rifle, hearing the metallic click as he loaded it. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath to steady himself.  “I’m so sorry.” He whispered, dragging the moment out as long as possible, dreading the inevitable.

BANG!

The bullet pounded through the barrel, being thrust through the air towards the middle of the horse’s eyes. A piercing scream took away Drover’s last breath, before collapsing to the ground with blood streaming from the open wound. Dead. Anthony turned his back and walked back to camp, heart ache heavy on his mind.

By Alanna Dargan ©2010