The Leader
F.G Baker
Response to prompt: “Undefeated, then fallen hero.”

Bill had led the team through the worst of it. He always did. Honor! Duty! It was an honor to lead the team. It was his duty. He pulled them all together up the last part of the way to the new position. Now they had the gun set up and were returning fire, even though they still had plenty of incoming rounds landing all around them. The gun crew would not stop loading and firing the howitzer at the German lines. That was their job. They just did it, come Hell or high water, or Gerry’s heavy barrage. That was what a field artillery company did in this war. Fire and reposition, fire and reposition so the German 88’s can’t get your location and let you have it with gas, shrapnel or high explosive rounds.

Bill and the other horses had been moved back to the new picket line behind the artillery battery. That helped protect the horses from shelling. But today was different and rounds began to land among the horses. Two horses were hit by shrapnel from the second round and faltered. The others screamed as the shells landed next to them and they tried to pull away. The man named Johnson who tended the picket lines was trying to cut them free so they could run out of the target zone but he was hit by a round while he did so. Even though he was badly wounded himself, Johnson dragged himself to the line and cut the rope so the horses could scatter.

The horses started to pull free and run into the woods nearby for safety from the frightening bombardment. They would not go far. The company was their home. Johnson collapsed as the last horses made it free. All except one.

Bill remained and came to Johnson’s side. He was a team member after all and Bill liked the man who scratched his ears and fed him oats when they had any. He nuzzled Johnson to let him know he was there as the shells continued to fall all around. He murmured to his friend that he was here to help.

Johnson looked up at his giant friend and patted Bill’s nose as he winced with pain. Then he had an idea and took hold of Bill’s halter. “Back up boy. That’s it. Pull me out of here to the trees.” And the big fellow did as he was asked as he nearly always did. Bill backed up and let Johnson hold onto his head, dragging along as they slowly moved out of the open ground to the protection of the trees. Johnson wriggled into a low area where he was partly protected from exploding shells as bits of metal whizzed past his head.

“It’s Ok boy. You can go now and hide from the shells. Go on! Go!” But Bill would not leave his friend even though the shells scared him. Even though he was being hit by bits of metal, now and then. Honor! Duty! He could not leave a team member in trouble. It was not in his nature.

Then a round landed right next to them and Bill’s legs went out from under him. He fell next to Johnson and writhed in pain. He twisted his body as far as he could so his nose reached Johnson to see if he was all right. Johnson reached for the soft muzzle and patted him, talking as he looked into his friend’s sincere brown eyes.

That was how the rescue team found them. Both looking at each other. Hand on muzzle. Together ‘til the end. Honor! Duty! Heroes!