Page 405 - The History of the Royal Army Veterinary Corps 1962–2021

THE HISTORY OF THE ROYAL ARMY VETERINARY CORPS 1962 – 2021
Cyprus Defence Animal Support Unit RAVC, Episkopi, where they are more accustomed to handling a Doberman than a Dobbin, answered the request for assistance made to the Army School of Equitation, Melton Mowbray. Spurred on by this request, a senior Equitation Instructor, WO2 Pete Breeze RAVC, and Farrier Cpl Ivan Bell RAVC galloped to the rescue.
After the first week of training, which is directed at ensuring Saddle Club horses accepted the work, four members of 58 Squadron RCT arrived to undergo five days of consolidated driver training.
The courses included stable and equine management, signs of health, basic veterinary first aid, fitting of equipment and, especially, correct loading and leading procedures. Knowledge of the history of animal transport was also deemed important so as to allow the trained muleteer to see the possible advantages over their usual, more horse-powered vehicles.
In the ever-changing world, military skills should not be lost, but updated and improved upon. The British Army in Cyprus may not now have seven RASC Animal Transport Companies as it did in May 1945, but the transport animal has by no means become a museum piece.49
Providing an insider’s view on working with Pack animals, when you’re a confirmed Dog Handler, Sgt Dave Franklin RAVC, gave a personal account of his time in Cyprus in 1990 when he penned the following article Chiron Calling:
On the Trail of the Lonesome Pine
I wonder how many dog trainers there are in the RAVC who feel safe in the knowledge that they will never have to come across horses again, having left their recruit ride far back in their misty past. My message to those men would be...don’t you believe it!
Upon posting to Cyprus DASU in April, I was surprised to find myself taking over the responsibility for the western SBAs Pack horse training. Shocks like that could be potentially lethal for a confirmed ‘dog man’ but I gritted my teeth and gave it a try.
After a lightning familiarisation course, Cpl ‘Davy’ Kay (my partner in crime in this venture) and I were ready for almost anything – well, almost anything! The next shock came when we were introduced to the new Pack Horses. Most people who have been through the depot in the last few years will have met Maggie and JC. They were the darlings of the Remount Depot until it was decided that it was time they earned their oats and were subsequently shipped to Cyprus.
Our task in hand was clear: to take two somewhat pampered pets and turn them into reliable workhorses. We spent many a joyful hour introducing the horses to the strange and frightening noises, shapes and weights
49 Chiron Calling, dated November 1989.
50 Chiron Calling, Issue No 6 dated December 1990.
involved in carrying a pack. Most of this involved being dragged or kicked around various parts of Happy Valley by Maggie. Eventually, both horses were confident enough for us to introduce them to the final test in their education.
The Saddle Club had planned a ‘pleasant stroll’ through the countryside of Cyprus taking two days to reach Platres on Mt Troodos and return. It sounded idyllic and what better way to test our horses’ abilities?
Our horses, we decided, would carry only two jerry cans as there was ample back-up providing water stops. The water we carried would be for emergency use only. One horse would wear the saddle and the other the pack, this way we could ride and lead and change the pack between horses if needed.
The fateful Saturday arrived and off we set. It was, as usual, a beautiful clear day and all were in good spirits. After an hour, the horses had settled into an even pace. After four hours we realised we were going to die! The temperature was soaring, the horses were tiring and we were only half way to Platres. After a lifetime of trampling the spongy pastures of Melton Mowbray, the Cypriot terrain (which resembles the surface of Mars) was causing problems for the horses.
At 1800 hrs and after nine hours of steady ‘yomping’ we reached Platres. The horses were relieved, we were not. We knew we had to walk back the next day. The plan for the night was for a barbecue and a few drinks amidst pleasant company. In reality we managed to down a few burgers in silence before we fell asleep in our first beer.
We woke feeling slightly more alive the next day and saddled up ready for the return journey. At this stage our only consolation was that most of the riders (there were fifteen) were sitting on huge pieces of foam rubber to protect their saddle sores and they were paying good money for the privilege of coming along! On the return journey the temperature was even hotter but as most of the going was downhill, we made better time. At 1700 hrs on Sunday we descended the last hill into Happy Valley; it wasn’t until the horses had been hosed down, watered, and fed that I allowed myself to collapse into a footsore heap.
Of the many lessons learned during those two days, the one most firmly fixed in my mind is: No matter how jolly an outing appears if it involves 60 Kilometres of walking – forget it! And for all you ‘dog men’ out there, you may have a giggle at this story but remember horses are OK! It’s the things you do with them that are painful.50
A perennial problem regarding the under- standing of the value of this mode of supply is re-iterated in a report by Corporal John A Birch RAVC, when on a training exercise with the 1st
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