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

stable duty, the horses were led to water troughs located at the centre of the barns. Recruits were detailed two horses each, leading them by the halter. Enjoying their bit of freedom, the horses took the opportunity to kick and bite the recruits and each other. Trying to maintain control of two horses while they watered and kibitzed was a daunting challenge. The instructors waited until the horses were lined up to drink, then fired a rifle containing a blank cartridge, startling the horses and creating additional havoc. The unfortunate recruits caught in the melee were tossed to and fro as they clung to the animals, occasionally incurring injuries.
    During one afternoon session, the troop was riding in single-file formation in the indoor riding ménage. Several instructors sat on their horses in the centre. Suddenly, Corporal Landers spurred his horse into action, hurtling straight for me with Laura’s ears back and teeth bared. My horse and I were almost bowled over when they collided with us. As he hurled several obscenities my way, it was clear that Landers had just learned I was the son of a commissioned officer. Landers assured me that my life would be a misery henceforth, and he fulfilled that promise for the rest of our time in the stables.
    As equitation training progressed, we began to grasp rudimentary musical ride movements. The troop would move four abreast, trotting and cantering under the tutelage of the instructor. The constant, repetitive commands from those days will resonate in my memory forever: “Ride, trot!” “Get your lower legs back!” “You there on Rob Roy, take the rear of the ride!” “Four feet, nose to croup!” One curious city-bred pupil innocently asked an instructor what a “croup” was. The instructor escorted him over to the hindquarters of a mare standing in her stall. He lifted the horse’s tail and urged the young member to peer closely. When the recruit got into position, the instructor placed his hand at the back of his student’s head and rammed his face into the rear portion of the horse. “That, young constable, is a croup,” explained the corporal.
    Frequently, the horses became spirited at the canter, bucking and making it difficult to hold one’s seat. Tex Burris, a tough, wiry young man from Ontario, tried to control his steed while it bucked and sidestepped. As the troop moved at the canter, Burris lost his balance, tumbling over the flanks of the horse. As he went down, the horse kicked, striking him. The ride was immediately halted. Unable to stand, Burris tried to pull himself along with his arms. Corporal Landers, astride his horse, stood over Burris, commanding him to stand. When it became obvious Burris was injured, the corporal delegated two of the troop to “remove the rabble from the riding school.” More concerned about the horse than the recruit, he then called for someone to examine it for injuries. Later, Burris was found to have a broken pelvis.
    In the jargon of recruits, a “perfect day” consisted of PT, foot drill and swimming in the first half of the training day, followed by equitation for the latter half. These activities were physically demanding, and we had to go through hours of kit preparation before we rode. Prior to a morning or afternoon ride, recruits were expected to attend the stables and scour their tack. Our work was closely inspected at the start of the class. Any recruit whose saddle and bridle were not properly presented would be paraded to the sergeant major and punished with extra duties in the form of guard mount or fatigue duty, which encompassed all hard labour such as rubbing, cleaning, mopping and polishing.
    As our training continued, a Saskatchewan winter descended. Daily temperatures in December were often lower than 30 below. On weekends, two troops were assigned to the stables for a morning exercise ride. Prior to going out into the cracking cold, the horses were fed hot bran. The aroma of breakfast cooking