An Unusual Experience

by Henry Brown

At last year's Belton House Volunteers Christmas Party held in the Stable Restaurant I informed some of my fellow volunteers that I sometimes in 1940/41 rode a bay hunter stabled in the third stall down behind the Main Restaurant, when I was serving in what was, I am led to believe, the only mounted Home Guard Unit in the country.

My friends were intrigued and I promised to write a brief account of my involvement with that unit, so here goes.

In March, 1940 I was serving in the Ruskington Unit of the Home Guard. At one of our training evenings our CO asked if I would stay behind after the parade as he wished to have a private word with me. This I did with some apprehension, but I was relieved to find that none of my misdeeds had come to light. To my surprise he asked me to confirm that I was a reasonably experienced horseman. Upon receiving my confirmation that this was the case, he explained that he had been contacted by Brigadier General Adlercron of Culverthorpe Hall. Apparently the Brigadier was trying to collect a group of horse riders together to form a Mounted Home Guard Unit. I was ordered to report to Culverthorpe Hall in riding kit on the following Sunday at 10am.

I was highly intrigued and reported at the appointed time. I discovered a group of about twenty men assembled in the Stable Yard. I knew some of them including the late Bill Etty and the late Albery Blanchard from Sleaford and the late Jack Mitchell from Silk Willoughby Grange. In true military tradition we had all turned up a few minutes early, all mystified as to what was going on. Promptly at 10am the Brigadier arrived and asked us to form a circle around him. He thanked us and explained what was envisaged. Apparently he had attended a dinner at the Officers' Mess of the regular Artillery Regiment in charge of defence against invasion in our area. They were preparing their defence strategy in the event of an airborne invasion and were worried that roads were few and far between in the fens and on the heath, making mobile scouting with motor vehicles very difficult.

The Brigadier listened to their discussion for a while and then enquired as to whether they had thought of employing scouts mounted on fast horses, who could seek out where the enemy had landed and after plotting their location, ride direct across the fields to report the information to the Army Headquarters, who could then dispatch troops to engage them. He explained that local men who knew the countryside like the back of their hand would be ideal for this task. At first the Officers tended to pour scorn on the idea, but then after some discussion, began to see the merit of this unorthodox suggestion. Their CO agreed to give it a try and instructed the Brigadier to recruit a troop of suitable men and form the first, and so far as I am aware, the only Mounted Home Guard Scouting Unit - we were unique!

We were asked if we were interested in becoming part of such a unit and I think all but one of us said "yes". I pointed out that at the time I did not possess a horse of my own. The Brigadier said that this was not a problem as he owned several good hunters which any of us in a similar position could use and there were more in the charge of Mr Horace Ward who ran a livery stable at Belton House.

Thus, on that memorable day, the Lincolnshire Mounted Home Guard Unit was formed. We were kitted out with khaki cavalry riding breeches, which were worn with our Home Guard tunics, army boots and puttees. The reader may not be familiar with puttees. They comprised two strips of khaki material about three inches wide and five feet long. They were wound around the legs from ankle to just below the knee. To put them on correctly at first required much patience and practice. If they were too tight the wearer was likely to suffer agonising cramp after riding for an hour or two. If they were too loose they were liable to unwind and even fall off - not only inconvenient but highly embarrassing, and guaranteed to bring down a stream of abuse from the Officer or NCO in charge. I hated puttees.

As already stated, we retained our original Home Guard tunics, belts and caps, although later we rode in steel helmets, which were heavy and uncomfortable. We were issued with old .303 rifles fitted with leather sling straps which enabled the rifle to be slung on one's back when riding. This proved to be very uncomfortable, as the trigger guard kept thumbing into your spine as you bumped up and down on the horse. We tried everything to attempt to ease this discomfort, including various forms of padding worn under the tunic, but had little real success and resigned ourselves to put up with the pain and bruises. Our backs seemed to become somewhat hardened as time progressed.

At our first few parades we practised drill routines on horseback as performed by cavalry units. This took place either on the large stretch of park land between Culverthorpe Hall and the lake or in the Park at Belton House. We also had lectures in the stable tack room on map reading and military tactics. Again outside we learned when out scouting, how to make use of any cover available when stalking the enemy, both on horseback and on foot, and how to use these skills both in approaching them as close as possible and then getting away again without being seen. After a few weeks theory we began going out on exercises. These took various forms, but I will only briefly describe a few of them.

On our first we imagined that Culverthorpe Hall was our base headquarters. We were informed that the enemy were believed to have landed by parachute near Hill Top Farm, West Willoughby. We were divided into troops of four riders each, and were to approach a mound to the west of the farm buildings from different directions as indicated on maps given to us. We were to see which troop could get the nearest to ‘the Enemy' namely the Brigadier himself, who was stationed on the top of a mound, without him spotting us. We set off and our troop arrived at the farm buildings confident that we had not been spotted so far as we had taken advantage of some high hedges which provided us with good cover. Now came the difficult part. We left one man in charge of the horses and crawled forward on our stomachs, first along a dry ditch and then dodging from bush to bush across some scrub land. We managed to get within fifty yards of the Brigadier before he spotted us, and received a word of praise from him before receiving our orders for the second part of the exercise.

We were now instructed to return to base, i.e. Culverthorpe Hall, by the quickest route. The idea being that we would then inform the army unit to whom they were attached of the presence and location of the enemy. We plotted the shortest route on our map and set off at full gallop, we really enjoyed this part of the exercise. I had never done much jumping before, but quickly learned. It was rather like a good day's hunting, but carried out as quietly as possible. We were not supposed to take any unnecessary risks. Our object as scouts was to arrive safe and sound. A rider who fell was not able to deliver his information and was no use to anyone. The safety of our horse was paramount, so very difficult jumps were forbidden. The instructions were to use gaps in hedges where possible, and gates when available. "Go quickly, quietly and safely," were our orders.

On another exercise this rule was waived for once. I think that it was the Brigadier's intention to give us a break from more serious matters and, at the same time, enable him to stretch us so that he could personally assess our capabilities and limitations. I cannot remember our exact route, it was nearly seventy years ago, but we were ordered to follow him wherever he went, to keep up and not lag behind. Off we went in single file. There were about twenty of us that day and I was riding somewhere in the middle. At one stage we were galloping along a narrow path through a wood. The tree branches were so low that we had to lie flat on the horses necks to avoid being brushed out of the saddle. All of a sudden, as we were approaching the edge of the wood, I saw the horse in front of me rise up. There was a post and rail fence at the boundary of the wood which was not visible until the last moment as we charged along in our prone position.

Before I realised what was happening my horse had risen up and over the fence with me hopelessly off balance. As he landed I was shot forward out of the saddle and found myself under my mount's neck with my arms and legs clamped tightly around it. Luckily he stopped. I was determined not to touch the ground; that would have been a ‘fall'. Luckily I was a fit and agile young man in those days and managed to heave myself back into the saddle. "Well done, Brown," called the Brigadier and my comrades added various comments, mostly uncomplimentary, as I sat there very red faced. However I felt much better when I looked back and saw that two of my companions had been thrown off completely and were covered in mud and embarrassment.

However the worst trial was yet to come. We arrived in a grass field adjoining Dunsby House next to the A15. Our gallant commander galloped across the field obviously intending to exit on the far side. I looked for another gap in the hedge ahead but could not see one. Then I realised to my consternation that he was heading for a five-bar gate; not only a gate, but one which had a tree trunk tied across to discourage the ponies in the field from getting out. Now I had never in my life jumped a five-bar gate before, let alone with a gigantic piece of timber on top. Those riders in front of me all went over successfully and my turn came. I thought, "Here goes. This is where I break something; I hope it is not my neck." I let my horse have its head and I freely admit that he took me over the obstacle rather than the other way round. As I said earlier we were always supplied with good experienced hunters as mounts and mine was a beauty. I kept my seat solely due to the smooth way that he jumped and I only lost one stirrup momentarily as we landed safely on the other side. I shall never forget that experience. The one and only time I jumped a five-bar gate.

Another first which I recall was the only time that I was ever saddle-sore. We were on a map reading exercise one Sunday morning and finished at about 1pm at the bridge over the South Forty Foot drain near to The Sloop Inn on the A52 from Grantham to Donington, about three miles West of the latter. We had been riding since 10am. The Brigadier had thoughtfully arranged for his car to meet him there, and his chauffeur had brought an ample supply of beer and sandwiches which we gratefully consumed. When we had finished our picnic the Brigadier explained that he and one of his friends were travelling home by car - he was no fool - and he ordered Bill Etty and myself to each take one of their horses beside us and hack them back to Culverthorpe, a distance of about fourteen miles.

Riding back along roads with two horses each, which were as tired as we were, meant trotting most of the way with very few opportunities to canter. In some desperation towards the end we did try a short cut across the fields, but quickly discovered that jumping even over open ditches, let alone low hedges, with a second horse in tow was difficult if not downright impossible. We arrived back at the stables at about 4pm and I found that I was very sore in the seating area and drove the car home in some discomfort. When I changed out of uniform I discovered that I had developed a large blister on each cheek of my bottom. I literally ate my tea off the mantelpiece in a standing position. I found sitting down very uncomfortable for several days.

A final tale of "the Mounties". It was decided that an assembly point for each troop, in the event of an invasion, should be arranged in several villages in the area. At this point a stock of ammunition and other equipment would be stored together with a stout wooden box containing ‘iron rations' for four men for a week. I asked my father if the Ruskington Troop could use the loft above his garage in Chestnut Lane. He duly agreed and the stores were safely stowed away. When I joined the RAF in March 1941 the equipment was collected, but they overlooked the ration box. It was still there when I was demobbed in late 1945. The war was over and nobody was interested in this box, so father and I opened it. All of the stores were contained in sealed tins. There was tea, sugar, chocolate, meat, biscuits and various other items. All were still in perfectly edible condition even after five years. They made a welcome addition to our supplies at The Gables for a short while, as food was still rationed.

I wonder whether any other members of the Mounted Home Guard are still alive. All of those whom I remember have, alas, passed on.