By this cause and through hard work my little black mare, which I drew by lot at Camp Sussex in the autumn of 1861, has at last succumbed, and, with a grief akin to that which is felt at the loss of a dear human friend, I have performed the last rite of honor to the dead. The Indian may love his faithful dog, but his attachments cannot surpass the cavalryman's for his horse. They have learned to love one another in the most trying vicissitudes of life, and the animal manifests affection and confidence quite as evidently as a human being could.
The cavalier, it is true, is often compelled to drive at a most fearful rate, as when bearing hurried despatches, or making a charge, frequently causing almost immediate blindness to the animal. Or, may be, he continues on a march for many days and nights in succession, as on a raid, averaging at least sixty-five miles in twenty-four hours, with little water and less forage; unable to remove the saddle, which has to be tightly bound, until the animal is so badly galled that the hair comes off with the blanket at its first removal.
Sufferings like these often cause the death of a large proportion of a command; and to a careless looker-on these things would appear to be mere neglects. But these cruel military necessities only develop more perfectly the rider's sympathy for his suffering beast, and bind them in closer and more endearing bonds.
Some men had rather injure themselves than have their horses harmed, and the utmost pains are taken to heal them in case they are wounded. Each regiment has its veterinary surgeon, whose skill is taxed to the utmost in his branch of the healing art.
Among the most touching scenes we have witnessed, are those in which the mortally wounded horse has to be abandoned on the field of carnage. With tearful eyes the rider and perhaps owner turns to take a last look of the "unchronicled hero," his fellow-sufferer, that now lies weltering in his blood, and yet makes every possible effort to follow the advancing column. The parting is deeply affecting.
Often the cavalryman finds no object to which he may hitch his horse for the night save his own hand; and thus with the halter fast bound to his grasp he lies down with a stone, or perhaps his saddle, for a pillow, his faithful horse standing as a watchful guardian by his side. At times the animal will walk around him, eating the grass as far as he can reach, and frequently arousing him by trying to gain the grass on which he lies; yet it is worthy of note, that an instance can scarcely be found where the horse has been known to step upon or in anywise injure his sleeping lord. Such a scene the poet undoubtedly had in his mind when he sang:
"The murmuring wind, the moving leaves
Lull'd him at length to sleep,
With mingled lullabies of sight and sound."
Such experiences as these had taught me to love my faithful and true friend. But I found I was not the only man in the command who was bereaved of his first love. Only a few horses of the original number which we drew still remain, and several of them are either partially or totally blind, though yet serviceable. The hardships of the camp and the campaign are more destructive of animal than human flesh. Men are often sheltered from the storm when the horses are exposed, and the men are sometimes fed when the horses have to go hungry.
In battle the horse is a larger mark than the man, and hence is more frequently hit, so that more than twice the number of horses fall in every engagement than men. The cavalryman is more shielded from the deadly missile than the infantryman. The horse's head and shoulders will often receive the bullet which was intended for the rider's body. This is true also of the elevated portions of the saddle, with the rolls of blankets and coats and bag of forage. A difference has also been noticed between the casualties in cavalry and infantry regiments under equal exposure. This difference is wholly explained when we consider the jolting and swift motion of the man as his horse leaps forward in the fray, making him a very uncertain mark for the enemy.
BRIGHT DAYS.