IN the USA, there was an organization of WWI vets called "The 40 and 8". What this referred to was the markings on the sides of French Railroad boxcars: "40 Hommes, 8 Chevaux" (40 men or 8 horses). French railroad boxcars at the time were the 4 wheel variety, apparently not too large a car. The capacity each boxcar could haul of men or horses was painted on each boxcar used to haul them to and from the front. When I was a kid, on Armistice Day, there'd be parades, and the "40 and 8" always had a mocked-up steam locomotive (usually built on an old truck chassis) and a mocked up boxcar. A bunch of WWI vets in either their old uniforms or other service organization uniforms rode in the boxcar. All gone now, and probably not too many people even know or remember the significance of the "40 and 8".
I find it hard to imagine dealing with horses in wartime. Horses spook easily enough, and trying to load a reluctant or spooked horse into a trailer was once too often for me. How they handled those horses in WWI and how the horses got acclimated to the environment at the front is something this thread has caused me to think about.
I worked for a construction manager a few years back who was a WWII vet. He told me he had attended University of Wisconsin, at Madison just before WWII. At the time, he was a member of the ROTC. One of the things this fellow told me was that they had an artillery company in ROTC. Manuevers often consisted of going to somewhere in the Wis Dells area like Camp Douglas, and going out with teams of draft horses and artillery pieces, caissons and supply wagons. In those days, draft horses were common, even in cities, so a lot of the cadets knew something of handling and working them. Sounds like quite a college experience, going out with a detachment of ROTC cadets, some "retread" sergeants and officers who were held over following WWI, and learning to work with horses.
A bit closer to home was the example of a relative of mine. I'll keep the details vague to protect his memory. Suffice it to say that when his family lost their farm to the bank during the depression, he wound up in NYC as a teenager. He fell in with bad company, and participated in an armed robbery (driving the getaway car at age 16). He was sentenced as an adult, getting 5-10 years in Sing Sing while his older accomplices, with previous records got lesser sentences. Anyhow, this relative of mine started to serve his time, and was transferred to a medium security pen. There, he learned the machinist's and welder's trades, and was a model prisoner. He was allowed to work outside the walls on the honor farm. When WWII broke out, this relative volunteered for service in the US Army. He went into the artillery, and made a career lasting 38 years out of it. During WWII, he spent his time repairing artillery pieces in Europe. He spent some time at White Sands, NM following the war as a machinist, then served in Korea, various other rotations, and two tours in Vietnam. Ill health was the reason my relative was mustered out. He was aloof from most of our family as he did not want his own family (wife and kids) to know of his early days, and he refused appointments to OCS as it meant his past would have to come to light. He made it to first sergeant and stayed there for most of his life. I got to talk to this relative by phone a couple of times right before he died. He was an artilleryman and machinist, and he was proud of it. He was a decorated soldier, that was for sure.
I look at the men in the old movie and think of this relative, regardless of what side the soldiers in this movie were on. Most soldiers are ordinary men, and truth be known, they are mostly anxious to get home and resume their normal lives. I suppose the guys in that old movie probably had the same thoughts, wanting to get it over with and get home. The officers in the old movie are the ones who probably had no other calling in life, and as long as WWI was going on, they were in their glory. Spit shined riding boots, fancy uniforms, probably hoping the war lasted a good long while so they could all rise in the ranks. Meanwhile, the men fixing the artillery pieces were probably just glad to be in a rear echelon outfit, and hoping to get home soon.
