He was too big. Too wild. Too difficult.
At over 17 hands high, powerful and notoriously difficult to handle, Australian Light Horsemen gave him a nickname that would stick for life:
Bill the Bastard.
Few wanted to ride him. Even fewer could.
But Bill’s story was about to become entwined with some of the most famous names in Australian history.
When Bill left Australia for the Middle East, among those accompanying the horses was Andrew “Banjo” Paterson—poet, horseman and author of The Man from Snowy River. Paterson served with the Australian Remount Service, helping oversee the thousands of horses required for Australia’s war effort.
So the troublesome giant from Australia found himself on the other side of the world, part of an extraordinary generation of Australian horses and horsemen sent to war.
The Australian Light Horse fought not in the trenches of France, but across the unforgiving landscapes of Egypt and the Middle East. Men and horses endured searing heat, choking dust, relentless flies and desperate shortages of food and water.
Their survival depended upon one another.
Bill eventually found the rider who could handle him: Major Michael Shanahan.
Where others saw an impossible horse, Shanahan recognised strength, intelligence and extraordinary courage. Together, horse and rider formed a formidable partnership.
Then came Romani, August 1916.
During the fierce Battle of Romani, Australian soldiers became stranded and wounded under enemy fire. Getting them out meant going back into danger.
Shanahan and Bill went.
Bill’s enormous size and strength suddenly became his greatest asset. The horse once considered too difficult for ordinary service was able to carry loads that would have overwhelmed a smaller mount.
In the story for which he became famous, Bill carried five men at once—Shanahan and four wounded soldiers—bringing them back from the battlefield to safety.
Think about that for a moment.
Five men.
On one horse.
Under fire.
The qualities that had once made Bill troublesome—his size, strength, stubbornness and extraordinary spirit—were now precisely the qualities that made him invaluable.
The horse nobody wanted had become the horse they desperately needed.
Bill survived the war, but like so many Australian war horses, he would never return home. Australia’s strict quarantine restrictions meant the horses sent overseas could not simply be brought back when their service ended.
Bill remained in the Middle East.
Yet his story travelled home.
Today, Bill the Bastard is remembered as one of Australia’s remarkable war horses—a symbol of courage, resilience and the extraordinary partnership between horse and rider.
And perhaps there is something wonderfully Australian about his story.
A huge, difficult horse with an unrepeatable name sails overseas in the company of Banjo Paterson, finds the one horseman who understands him, and when everything is on the line, proves exactly what he is made of.
Sometimes the ones labelled “difficult” are simply waiting for the moment when their particular kind of courage is needed.
Landline produced a short program about Bill and the sculpture produced in his honour: https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=3890623051026239
