Read No Easy Ride: Reflections on My Life in the RCMP for Free Online Page A

exceptions in colour, weight and height were forgiven for training purposes. These haughty creatures were the stars of the show, and they were acutely aware of it. Much like people, they possessed distinctive personalities, some engaging, some wary, some cranky and some downright vicious. When the list was posted on the day previous to a ride, we were keen to find out which horses we had been assigned to. If you were unfortunate enough to draw Waco, a red-haired biter, you knew she would put a welt on you before the day was out. Those assigned Wasp and Rogue were assured a relatively easy ride, as both reflected their docile Clydesdale heritage. Still, they presented their own challenges; they were large in girth and stood 18 hands high, making a graceful mount almost impossible. Imp and Epic were small, dainty, responsive animals that were a pleasure to ride. Gorse the horse was slow-witted and slow-moving.
    One of the most interesting characters in the entire stable was a gelding named Rob Roy. He was a beautiful animal, and it was easy to see why he used to be a stud. After being replaced by two younger stallions, he was gelded and put into the riding pool. He developed a most interesting, albeit annoying habit that may have illustrated his disgust at losing his stallion status. When lined up for any kind of inspection, Rob Roy let his very sizable tongue hang out of his mouth, protruding some six to eight inches. Instructors delighted in taunting new riders who were unaware of the unusual habit. A recruit who had drawn Rob Roy would stand at attention beside his mount, awaiting inspection. An instructor would bellow at the neophyte, commanding him to get his mount’s tongue back into its mouth. The terrified recruit would desperately attempt to reinstall Rob Roy’s tongue, to no avail. He would be upbraided for having no control over the horse, with additional observations on the unlikelihood of him ever becoming a policeman.
    Our riding instructor was Corporal Landers, a lithe young man born to the saddle and barely older than his charges. Our first mounted foray took us onto the bald prairie in troop formation. After an hour on the trail, we halted for a break and enjoyed an informal chat. Terry Mulligan, who hailed from mountainous British Columbia, gestured gleefully to a small mound where the revolver range was located. He jokingly asked the corporal if it was the largest mountain in Saskatchewan. Corporal Landers, who was a Saskatchewan native, glared at Mulligan, commanding him to dismount. Dressing him down as a smart ass, he ordered him to start running. Mulligan immediately obeyed, loping across the prairie. The corporal spurred his horse, Laura, into action. Ears laid back and teeth bared, she pursued the recruit, running him to the ground. Landers commanded Mulligan to get up and run, then repeated the process. This continued for the duration of the return trip to the stables, by which time Constable Mulligan was a mass of torn clothing and cuts. It became glaringly obvious that flippancy with a riding instructor invited disaster. We were beginning to understand that the objective of equitation was not to transform us into accomplished horsemen, but to further test our mettle. The riding program was an opportunity to assess the courage of individual recruits by placing them in sometimes terrifying situations, limited only by the instructor’s imagination.
    Recruits were responsible for all menial daily stable duties. Each morning, selected troops would appear at reveille to scour stalls, followed by feeding and grooming. Many of the horses made sport with recruits, kicking and biting them. The more timid members were sent into box stalls to groom the stallions. Unfettered, the powerful beasts challenged anyone who entered, baring their teeth and striking out with their hooves. It was a daunting experience for someone who was city-bred and had never encountered such an intimidating animal. During morning