Our orders were to head north-east into the desert, up towards Palestine, and engage the enemy. Us and some British cavalry. We mustered by moonlight. Formed up and rode out at dawn in mounted columns. Big mob of us. We were hungry for it. Long ride. Sixteen hours. Sand shifting under Daisy’s feet the whole time, but she was rock solid. Even when German planes machine-gunned us, she hardly flinched. First air attack was early arvo. We learned quick smart what to do and what not to do. Watched a British cavalry troop gallop in clever patterns across the sand, making themselves moving targets. Harder to hit was the idea. Not so clever. In five minutes they were history, blood-stained riding boots and scraps of thoroughbred scattered everywhere. I held on tight to Daisy, so the other blokes wouldn’t see me trembling.
