1914. To War With A Lance.
In military folklore, a cavalry charge is something glorious. In reality, it was a filthy, harrowing business for horse and rider alike. Jack Laiste of Birmingham was a 17-year-old lancer, proudly riding off to war on his charger, Queenie. It was November 1914 in a country lane in Northern France. All was quiet. The sun was shining. He recalls:
"'Remount your horses', was the order. There were twenty of us. Then we saw the tips of lances coming round the bend in the lane. It was a German cavalryman, an advance patrol. He faced us then pulled his horse on to its haunches and turned, then all was quiet again. The Squadron Leader put his fingers to his mouth. Suddenly the lane widened and on a ploughed field was lined up a squadron of German cavalry with the skull and crossbones shining on their short busbies. The Squadron Leader shouted 'this is it!' drew his sword and twirled it around his head. I hadn't the strength to pull my sword out of its scabbard, so I fixed my lance which was on my arm and fixed it level with Queenie's head.
"Not too soon. A German was making straight for me. I pulled Queenie aside as he came, and the lance went straight through him. I hadn't the strength to twist the lance and let the air into his body to withdraw the lance. The Squadron Leader galloping by shouted 'pull the strap off your arm and leave the bastard with the lance in him!' Queenie was galloping along like a mad thing. I pulled on the bit but it had no effect.
