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Animated Landscapes
Animated Landscapes
History, Form and Function

Edited by
Chris Pallant

Bloomsbury Academic
An imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Inc
Bloomsbury Academic
An imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Inc

1385 Broadway 50 Bedford Square


New York London
NY 10018 WC1B 3DP
USA UK

www.bloomsbury.com

BLOOMSBURY and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

First published 2015


Paperback edition first published 2017

© Chris Pallant and Contributors, 2015

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or


transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or
retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers.

No responsibility for loss caused to any individual or organization acting on or


refraining from action as a result of the material in this publication can be
accepted by Bloomsbury or the author.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data


Animated landscapes : history, form, and function / edited by Chris Pallant.
pages cm
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-1-62892-351-3 (hardback)
1. Animated films–History and criticism. 2. Landscapes in art. 3. Landscapes in motion
pictures. 4. Animation (Cinematography) I. Pallant, Chris.
NC1765.A525 2014
791.43’34--dc23
2015006537

ISBN: HB: 978-1-6289-2351-3


PB: 978-1-5013-2011-8
ePub: 978-1-6289-2350-6
ePDF: 978-1-6289-2349-0

Typeset by Integra Software Services Pvt. Ltd.


‘It is the soul that sees; the outward eyes
Present the object, but the Mind descries.’
We see nothing till we truly understand it.

—John Constable, quoting George Crabbe


Contents

List of Illustrations ix
Acknowledgements xi

Introduction Chris Pallant 1

Part 1 History: Formal Traditions 13

1 Seeing in Dreams – The Shifting Landscapes of Drawn Animation


Bryan Hawkins 15
2 The Stop-Motion Landscape Chris Pallant 33
3 Pixar, ‘The Road to Point Reyes’, and the Long History of
Landscapes in New Visual Technologies Malcolm Cook 51

Part 2 History: National Perspectives 73

4 Australian Animation – Landscape, Isolation and Connections


Steven Allen 75
5 Environmentalism and the Animated Landscape in
Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind (1984) and
Princess Mononoke (1997) Melanie Chan 93
6 Animating Shanshui: Chinese Landscapes in Animated Film,
Art and Performance Kiu-wai Chu 109
7 Latvian Animation: Landscapes of Resistance Mihaela Mihailova 125

Part 3 Form: Journeys through Animated Space 143

8 The Landscape in the Memory: Animated Travel Diaries


María Lorenzo Hernández 145
9 Off the Rails: Animating Train Journeys Birgitta Hosea 159
10 Between Setting and Character: A Taxonomy of Sentient
Spaces in Fantasy Film Fran Pheasant-Kelly 179
viii Contents

Part 4 Form: Peripheral Perspectives 197

11 The Metamorphosis of Place: Projection-Mapped


Animation Dan Torre 199
12 Plasmatic Pitches, Temporal Tracks and Conceptual Courts:
The Landscapes of Animated Sport Paul Wells 215
13 The Zombiefied Landscape: World War Z (2013),
ParaNorman (2012) and the Politics of the Animated
Corpse James Newton 233

Part 5 Function: Interactivity 249

14 Evoking the Oracle: Visual Logic of Screen Worlds Tom Klein 251
15 Beyond the Animated Landscape: Videogame Glitches and
the Sublime Alan Meades 269

Contributors 286
Bibliography 292
Animation/Filmography/Other Media 307
Index 314
List of Illustrations

Figure 1 Animated landscapes – axes of experience and perception 7


Figure 2.1 Blu at work on Big Bang Big Boom (Blu, 2010) 36
Figure 2.2 A still from Peter and the Wolf (Breakthru Films,
Se-ma-for Studios, Channel 4 Television Corporation,
Storm Studio, Archangel, TV UNAM, Polish Film Institute,
Storm Films, 2006) 44
Figure 3.1 The Road to Point Reyes, USA, 1983, courtesy of Pixar 51
Figure 5.1 The tree-dwelling kadama (Princess Mononoke,
Studio Ghibli 1999) 101
Figure 7.1 Images of flight dominate the visual landscape of
Wings and Oars (Lunohod, 2009) 131
Figure 7.2 Red hair becomes synonymous with overwhelmingly
powerful female sexuality in Island of Doctor D
(Rija Films, 2005) 134
Figure 8.1 Image from Ámár (Isabel Herguera, 2010), courtesy of the artist 148
Figure 10.1 Howl’s Moving Castle (Howl’s Moving Castle,
Studio Ghibli, 2004) 187
Figure 11.1 Still image from 555 Kubrik (Urbanscreens, 2009) 201
Figure 11.2 Images from Christ the Redeemer projection
(Fernando Salis, 2010) 207
Figure 11.3 Still image from Perspective Lyrique: An Interactive
Architectural Mapping by 1024 Architecture (2010) 210
Figure 12.1 Lewis Hamilton in the pits (Tooned 50, Framestore, 2013) 228
Figure 13.1 A mass of animated zombies (World War Z,
Paramount Pictures, 2013) 234
Figure 14.1 Portal-travel (Monsters, Inc., Pixar, 2001) 253
Figure 14.2 Weapon inventories as ‘visual logic’
(The Matrix, Warner Bros., 1999) 258
Figure 14.3 The stereoscopic ocean (Life of Pi, Fox 2000
Pictures, 2012) 266
x List of Illustrations

Figure 15.1 The intended landscape (Grand Theft Auto V,


Rockstar Games, 2013) 283
Figure 15.2 Glitched: swimming below the map (Grand Theft Auto V,
Rockstar Games, 2013) 283
Figure 15.3 Glitched: the world inverted (Grand Theft Auto V,
Rockstar Games, 2013) 284
Acknowledgements

Editors owe an enormous debt to the enthusiasm, intelligence and rigour of


their contributing authors – this project is no different and would not have
been possible without the support of the people collected within the pages
of this volume. It is a certainty that every contributor included here will also
have cause to extend thanks to an even wider supporting network of family
members (I, for one, would like to thank my wife for her support over the
course of editing this book), friends, colleagues and perhaps even professional
practitioners for sharing invaluable insights regarding their working practice.
I would like to thank Katie Gallof, for backing this project and who has
provided excellent editorial support, Mary Al-Sayed, for helping to make the
cover design process a smooth one, and the rest of the team at Bloomsbury
who worked on this project alongside me. Lastly, thanks must go to those
responsible for crafting the imaginative and immersive landscapes that provide
the focus of this collection.
Introduction
Chris Pallant

At the 2013 Society for Animation Studies International Conference, hosted by


the School of Cinematic Arts, at the University of Southern California, only a few
miles from the famous sign that once read Hollywoodland, I presented a paper
boldly entitled ‘Redefining the Animated Landscape’. Those in attendance will
testify that the ambition signalled by the title was hardly matched by the twenty
minutes of conference paper delivered; however, in the discussion that followed
my plea for greater attention to be directed towards the study of animated
landscapes, there was a sense that I had touched a nerve. Like the Hollywoodland
sign, which originally drew attention to the then newly developed and cheaply
available real estate situated in the Hollywood Hills, but which now serves, in its
cropped nine-letter form, as a symbolic backdrop, the animated landscape has
come to be viewed (in a cinematic context at least) in a similar way – evolving
over the past hundred or so years, moving from being an active, focalizing force,
to a site that is often fixed and static and which serves as a background upon
which animation is staged.
Clearly, this is a provocative statement, and it is one that I will unpack in
greater detail below and – more importantly – a proposition that is challenged
in the chapters included in this collection; yet, it serves as a useful starting
point. It immediately serves to bring the domination of character as an object of
study (and production) into sharp relief. Character has become the conceptual
core around which the production and interpretation of animation frequently
gravitates. This collection seeks to address this imbalance.
When I posted the call for contributions to this collection, I hoped a wide
range of topics would be suggested. These expectations were quickly surpassed
and the work collected here captures the rich and varied histories, ontologies,
forms, practices and functions of animating landscape. For the general or
speculative reader, however, it is worth pausing for a moment to consider what
is meant here by the multivalent phrase: ‘animated landscape’.
2 Animated Landscapes

Given the focus of this collection, it is worth revisiting the popular cliché that
animation can trace its origins back to the real-world cave paintings of the
Palaeolithic period. Although criticized in scholarly circles for obvious reasons –
cave people were not seeking to make animated images of the type we recognise
today – this analogy continues to enjoy popular purchase. This is perhaps a
consequence of Richard Williams’s passing comment in his influential book, The
Animator’s Survival Kit, that: ‘We’ve always been trying to make the pictures
move, the idea of animation is aeons older than the movies or television. Here’s
a quick history: Over 35,000 years ago, we were painting animals on cave walls,
sometimes drawing four pairs of legs to show motion.’1 This pseudo-mythical
origin story gained further momentum in recent years when Werner Herzog
returned to this refrain in his captivating documentary Cave of Forgotten Dreams
(2010).
To this speculative origin story could also be added the Mesolithic
petroglyphs, such as those found at Val Camonica in Northern Italy, which
go further than the Palaeolithic paintings to draw connections between the
landscape and its inhabitants. In the case of the petroglyphs at Val Camonica,
rather than ‘provide a balanced commentary on the events of daily life…
they stress certain aspects at the expense of others. In particular, they
emphasize the importance of crop production’.2 What is evident, beyond the
speculative myth-making, is that the landscape becomes a selective record,
a site of inscribed information that might serve to guide, if not animate,
agricultural behaviour across generations. While the animated landscape may
or may not have originated in the real world, through new digital projection
technologies it has, in recent years, returned in spectacular ways to inhabit
the lived environment once more through projection-mapped animation. The
instrumental dynamic – if not dialectic – here, between artist and real-world
environment, remains central to these forms of animated landscape, whereby
the physical landscape can both become animated and itself be an animating
space – forcing the animator to respond in unique, site-specific ways.
Given the cinematic lingua franca that binds many of us today, the phrase
‘animated landscape’ is perhaps more likely to prompt thoughts of the fantastical,
imagined and perhaps even shape-shifting worlds that proliferate in animated
film. In a more orthodox sense, referring to the long-established traditions of
Introduction 3

hand-drawn and stop-motion animation, readers might think of the verisimilar


animated landscapes of the Disney-Formalist mode,3 the provocatively limited
landscapes of United Productions of America (UPA)’s short-form animation,
the obsessively detailed landscapes of Aardman’s stop-motion oeuvre, the
frequently metamorphic landscapes designed by animator Steve Cutts or
the often unpredictable and antagonistic landscapes found in early Fleischer
and Disney short-form animation, and more recently in Cartoon Network’s
Adventure Time (2010–present). Animated landscapes have become truly
pervasive in recent years as a consequence of the fully and partially computer-
generated environments that have become a common feature of the Pixar and
DreamWorks studios’ house styles, or as seen in films such as Avatar (2009), The
Avengers (2012) and Gravity (2013).
Over the past decade, digital animation – whether visibly rendered or
otherwise – has become the core ingredient of contemporary moving-image
production, prompting much to be written on the perceived passing of a
cinematic epoch: from the photochemical filmstrip to digital image processing
and consumption.4 Suzanne Buchan’s edited collection, Pervasive Animation
(2012), has recently tackled this subject head-on, and Buchan writes in the
introduction to her volume:
In the past 30 years, digital technologies have increasingly encroached upon
traditional forms of non-representational moving image-making and the
introduction of (animated) digital cinema has engendered significant debates,
some about the potential of this technology, others raising concerns about the
dissolution of celluloid. Because much of digital cinema’s technology and styles
originates in animation practice, in my view, animation belongs at the heart of
these debates.5

While few would argue with this proposition, the ability to make popular – and
critical – distinctions between ‘animated’ and ‘live action’ ‘film’ remains useful.
Much like we continue to use ‘silent cinema’ as a descriptor to refer to a period of
cinema exhibition that was anything but silent (while sound was not synchronized
with image via the celluloid strip, this did not stop exhibitors making their ‘silent’
films noisy spectacles with frequent piano-based accompaniment), it is unlikely
that shorthand distinctions between animated and live-action film will cease to
make sense any time soon.
Clearly, though, as the animated and live-action traditions are folding in
on each other, we need to be able to make critical distinctions that cut across
4 Animated Landscapes

these moving image production modes. Here, the continuum of photo-reality


provides a good option. By considering the photo-reality of an image, its
believability, rather than questioning any implied or simulated connection
to the real, pro-filmic world, we might elide the Schrödinger-like thought
experiment that is conjured with the mention of indexicality within the digital
domain. The animated landscapes of Pandora – and the aptly named reserves
of unobtanium – offer no indexical link to the real world, they are pure fantasy,
yet their photo-real representation in Avatar offers the viewer a believable entry
point into this alien landscape.
Photo-real animated landscapes have become increasingly commonplace in
recent years – so much so that the green screen technique, which was originally
a trick up cinema’s sleeve, has become a feature frequently commented on in
popular discourse, much in the same way that non-specialist discussions of
cinematic practice might include a comment on the ‘quick cutting’ of the shower
scene in Psycho (1960), the ‘hand-held camerawork’ of Green Zone (2010), or
the ‘black and white aesthetic’ of The Artist (2011). Furthermore, thanks to
the technological advances prompted by James Cameron, computer-generated
animated landscapes have also recently become an instrumental part of the
pro-filmic event. During the production of Avatar, Cameron’s production team
perfected a system that would generate rough, real-time pre-visualizations of
the animated landscape to be – therefore affording the production team greater
scope to respond in the moment to potential compositional opportunities that
might otherwise have been missed if the landscape were to be animated in post-
production.
Despite the pervasion of animated landscapes throughout the seemingly live-
action cinema of the present, the mainstream cinematic tradition frequently
imposes a photo-real logic upon the creation of these landscapes. The release of
The Hunger Games: Mockingjay – Part 1 (2014), shortly before the publication
of this collection, serves as a timely indication of the standing of animated
landscapes within so-called live-action cinema. Approximately halfway through
the film, Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) is tasked with the delivery of a
call to arms, which is to be staged in front of a rousing, flag-waving, computer-
generated backdrop. The dislocating artificiality of this environment, which
is exaggerated through the isolated positioning of Katniss on the holodeck’s
podium, separated by a wall of glass from Plutrach Heavensbee (Philip Seymour
Hoffman), who offers direction, results in an unconvincing performance.
Shortly after, Katniss is taken to visit the burnt ruins of her home District
Introduction 5

(twelve) in a bid to prompt in her the emotion required to deliver the call to
arms. During this excursion, Capitol military aircraft attack the rebel party and
the makeshift hospital that they had visited. Seeing this massacre, Katniss makes
use of her new explosive arrows to bring down the two aircraft, resulting in a
spectacular, explosive crash-landing. Instinctively, the documentary crew that
are accompanying Katniss quickly act to channel her obviously emotional state,
directing her to deliver the call to arms, while tracking around her so as to fill the
shot’s background with burning wreckage. In this instance, the landscape works
with Katniss, providing the basis of a powerful call to arms.
Some viewers may find comfort in the film’s return to a photo-real world,
where the real landscape provides Katniss with all the emotional motivation
needed to deliver her call to arms; yet, other viewers may delight in the
irony that this seemingly photo-real environment remains one dependent
on animation – from the digitally enhanced flames that engulf the partially
computer-generated destroyed architecture, to the digitally composited
reflections in Kitniss’s pupils and the cameraman’s visor. With the release of
The Hunger Games: Mockingjay – Part 1, it is tempting to see the culmination
of a computer-generated (CG) cinematic trajectory, where the discourse
of landscape animation has moved from a backstage trick to a centre stage
attraction.
Inhabiting a periphery domain between the classically cinematic, animated
modes discussed above and the computer-based, interactive animated landscapes
discussed below are the abstract works of animators such as Oskar Fischinger,
Norman McLaren, Len Lye, and John and James Whitney. Working across a
range of animation process, including hand-drawn, stop-motion, computer-
based and many hybrid variations in between, and often in an abstract mode,
these animators produced works that effectively call into question – if not
problematize entirely – the basis upon which distinctions such as landscape and
character might be made in the animated form. Fischinger’s Kreise/Circles (1933),
for example, produced to match the advertising agency Tolirag’s slogan ‘Tolirag
reaches all circles of society’, synchronizes the movement and metamorphosis of
multi-coloured circles with musical excerpts from Richard Wagner and Edvard
Grieg.6 By refusing to reduce the hermeneutic potential of Circles through the
imposition of recognizable characters and landscapes, Fischinger creates a
universal space within which each viewer can read their own meaning, while
extending a powerful, and unmistakable, visual metaphor that sees the circle
become the unifying force throughout the abstract animation. McLaren’s direct
6 Animated Landscapes

‘cameraless’ animation also offers an interesting redefinition of how we might


interpret the animated landscape. Working in this manner, McLaren took
to ‘scratching the film emulsion or painting directly onto the film to generate
his images’; furthermore, ‘his synchronized soundtracks, which accompanied
his animation were scratched, painted or printed onto the film stock creating
a new form of animated music’.7 By working directly on the celluloid without
the intermediary camera processes, McLaren’s ‘cameraless’ work extends
the animated landscape beyond the image frame, effectively enveloping the
soundscape within the same abstract space, in both a figurative and a material
sense.
To complete this brief survey, we must also consider the rise of the video
game and the animated landscapes contained therein. Just as in the more passive
domain of cinema, there are a great variety of animated landscapes found
across the more interactive realm of the video game. There are games that are
only animated landscapes, resembling in some ways the abstract works just
discussed, including the likes of Pong (1972), Candy Crush (2012) and the best-
selling game of all time, Tetris (1984). Games such as Flower (2009), PixelJunk
Eden (2008) and Minecraft (2011) are also directly dependent on their animated
landscapes for meaning, and are equally concerned with the (re)animation of
this landscape itself, but share a more stylized graphical approach. By virtue of
the processing powers of modern games consoles and personal computers, many
of the animated landscapes now found in fantasy games actively encourage the
same kind of spectatorial wonderment offered by the likes of Avatar, with the
digital environment constructed in such a way as to channel players through
the open world so that they reach a certain location in a visually spectacular
fashion. Examples of this manipulation occur throughout games such as Shadow
of the Colossus (2005), Journey (2012), The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim (2011), Dragon
Age: Inquisition (2014) and Destiny (2014). Then there are games with animated
landscapes that ape our real, lived world (both past and present), and therefore
serve to present some form of social critique or comment through the medium
of play. In this regard, Rockstar Games have led the way with their Grand
Theft Auto games (1997–present), Red Dead Redemption (2010) and LA Noire
(2011), but game series such as Far Cry (2004–present) and Call of Duty (2003–
present), and the recent, post-apocalyptic masterpiece The Last of Us (2013),
also encourage moments of self-reflection. Finally, it is also important to note
that the player’s ability to create his or her own animated landscape within a
given game has become an increasingly popular design feature, with games such
Introduction 7

as SimCity (1989–2013), Theme Park (1994), Tony Hawks (1999–present), Little


Big Planet (2008–present) and Minecraft providing the player with considerable
scope to create imaginative environments of their own.
Having mapped these competing interpretations of the phrase ‘animated
landscape’, it strikes me that rather than trying to develop a multitude of parallel
taxonomies to account for this textual variety, it might well be possible to situate
all of the aforementioned, in relation to the intersecting axes of interactivity and
mimesis (Figure 1). Here we are building upon an earlier continuum proposed
by Maureen Furniss to address the difficulties of photo-realism when thinking
about animation in relation to live action, with the extremes of ‘mimesis’ and
‘abstraction’ serving to suggest ‘opposing tendencies under which live action and
animation imagery can be juxtaposed’.8
Such an all-encompassing mapping, as presented in Figure 1, reveals how it is
the common characteristic of being animated that unifies all of the many varied
landscapes discussed earlier. It is this quality that our collection seeks to directly
address, and, in the process, offer analyses that have remained beyond the remit
of previous, cinematic and conventionally live-action-minded collections that
have engaged with the subject of moving-image landscapes, such as Deborah
A. Carmichael’s The Landscape of Hollywood Westerns (2006), Martin Lefebvre’s
Landscape and Film (2006) and the two collections edited by Graeme Harper
and Jonathan Rayner, Cinema and Landscape (2010) and Film Landscapes:
Cinema, Environment, and Visual Culture (2013). These collections provide an

Figure 1 Animated landscapes – axes of experience and perception


8 Animated Landscapes

excellent entry point vis-à-vis contemporary debates concerning the cinematic


landscape; yet, their attention is understandably focused upon questions
related to the politics, the psychology and the ecocritical significance of place –
questions which are framed in relation to debates surrounding the perceived
photo indexicality of the cinematic landscape. For the animated landscape, such
concerns represent only part of the equation.
Moving beyond the live-action cinematic tradition, and by adopting a
more inclusive approach to animated landscapes, paves the way for previously
unconsidered readings and relationships. For example, adopting the framework
proposed in Figure 1, the aforementioned Palaeolithic cave paintings could
be seen to occupy the same quadrant (along the axes of high interactivity and
low mimesis) as the cubic juggernaut that is Minecraft. Not only does such a
coupling suggest an interest in the animated landscape as a malleable space
that cuts across millennia, but also that the manipulation of light – firelight
(either kindled upon the floor or conveyed by wooden torches) – has been a
central feature of our (re)construction of both the painted cave and the pixelated
mine. Once the focus is re-framed in this way, patterns emerge more readily:
the colossi of Shadow of the Colossus and the mountainous protagonist from
LAIKA’s short A Tale of Momentum & Inertia (2014), a pairing that bridges the
axis of interactivity; between Trolley Troubles (1927) and Get a Horse (2013), two
shorts separated by more than eighty years of animation history and differing
aesthetic procedures, but which display an interest in the mechanical navigation
of an unruly animated landscape; or via the animated map, which provides the
overarching game mechanic of the Total War series (2000–present), viewed
from a bird’s-eye and allowing the player to reshape the landscape through
geographical domination, and which provides the platform for a non-interactive
short animation that went viral in spring 2014, depicting the evolution – and
devolution – of nation states across 1,000 years of European history,9 coinciding
with Russia’s annexation of Crimea in March of that year.
From this brief survey, it is hopefully apparent that the phrase ‘animated
landscape’ can conjure any one of a multitude of meanings and interpretations. The
animated landscape can be simultaneously everything and yet virtually nothing,
visible and yet invisible. As Paul Wells notes in Chapter 12 of this collection,
our understanding of what might constitute the animated landscape should not
be conceptually straightjacketed, and simply ‘be understood as something that
apes the landscape in the traditional filmic or painterly sense – a “background”,
for example, or the consequence of layout, or even an obvious depiction of the
Introduction 9

countryside or a city skyline’, rather it is: ‘ultimately a specifically imagined and


constructed environment dramatized through its plasmatic motion in the moment,
and revealed by the cognate disciplines it relates to or represents’.10 Ultimately, our
active cognitive negotiation and visual exploration of the animated landscape –
whether literal or figurative – foregrounds it as an object of meaning within the
realm of moving images. In response, the chapters collected here seek to advance
our understanding of the animated landscape through discussions of history,
form and function.

II

This collection, therefore, seeks to consider the animated landscape from a


number of perspectives ranging across the historical, formal and functional. In
the first section, chapters from Bryan Hawkins, myself, and Malcolm Cook seek
to sketch out formal histories relating to the creation of animated landscapes in
the hand-drawn, stop-motion and computer-generated traditions, respectively.
This historical agenda is developed further in the second section, which
shifts the focus to national cinemas. While not intended to offer an exhaustive
survey of every national cinema, this second section seeks to contribute to the
de-Westernizing initiative that has had success of late in the fields of film and
media studies, and thereby serve as a partial corrective to the predominantly
Western focus of this collection as a whole. This section comprises four
chapters: Steven Allen’s discussion of the communication of ‘Australian-ness’
through landscape animation; Melanie Chan’s consideration of a particularly
Japanese environmentalist dynamic in selected Studio Ghibli works; Kiu-wai
Chu’s interrogation of the concept of ‘shanshui’ in relation to Chinese
landscape animation; and Mihaela Mihailova’s mapping of aesthetic resistance,
against computer-generated imagery and the often connected obsession with
photorealism, in Latvian animation.
A more formal focus is adopted in the chapters constituting sections three
and four. In section three, María Lorenzo Hernández, Birgitta Hosea and Fran
Pheasant-Kelly offer chapters that consider the significance of animated space
as site through which we might travel and as a site carrying newfound digital
agency. Hernández draws attention to the developing animated travelogue
genre, in which the landscape becomes central to the revival of the animator’s
experiences of a now distant country. Hernández focuses on three films: Bastien
10 Animated Landscapes

Dubois’s Madagascar, carnet de voyage (2009), Isabel Herguera’s Ámár (2010)


and José Miguel Ribeiro’s Viagem a Cabo Verde (2010). Hosea’s chapter considers
animations that move between locations and are concerned with trajectory
and locomotion rather than landscape as a static entity. Establishing the train
journey as her critical framework, Hosea covers substantial ground, bringing
together analyses of Ivor the Engine, Thomas the Tank Engine, Madame Tutli-
Putli, transport information films, post-filmic subway zoetropes and railway
simulation games. Pheasant-Kelly’s chapter builds upon Aylish Wood’s notion
of ‘timespaces’ – convergences between time and space – to argue that settings
have become credible sentient entities, with digital technologies prompting a
diminishing/absent margin between character and setting.11
Section four brings together three chapters that share an interest in subjects
relating to animated landscapes that have remained relatively peripheral to date.
Dan Torre’s chapter focuses on the growing trend for large-scale, projection-
mapped animation, paying particular attention to the precise production
processes required in terms of both construction and presentation. To illustrate the
significance of the real-world landscape to such projects, which plays an integral
role in both of these phases (construction and presentation), Torre offers a range
of international case studies, including the projection-mapping of Rio de Janeiro’s
Christ the Redeemer statue, the Prague Clock Tower and Hamburg’s Galerie
Der Gegenwart. Paul Wells tackles another under-developed subject within
animation studies: sport. Highlighting the fact that both sport and animation
are defined by their material codes and their conventions of practice, relating to
complex and highly specific preparatory and developmental processes that give
rise to pre-choreographed movements that support pre-determined outcomes,
Wells observes how such choreography, ‘also functions as the visualization of
temporal and spatial flow within the formal parameters yet fluid landscapes of
the places in which sport is played’.12 In James Newton’s chapter, while the subject
matter may appear familiar, being concerned with the socio-politically charged
quality of zombie cinema, the reader’s attention is drawn to the symbolic shift
that has occurred in recent years as a consequence of how computer animation
has radically altered the formal characteristics of this genre of filmmaking, and
thereby blurring the distinction between character and landscape – the binary on
which much of the earlier socio-political commentary was predicated.
Interactivity provides the focus in the final section, with chapters from Tom
Klein and Alan Meades exploring ways that animated landscapes might be
understood differently through a consideration of the video game form. Klein
Introduction 11

makes a convincing case for a reconsideration of the perceived hierarchies of


influence that exist between cinema and the video game, proposing that the
mechanics of an invented space are most apparent in games because rules
exist for players to interact meaningfully with this animated landscape. Klein,
therefore, takes the visual logic of gamespaces found in games such as Portal
(2007) and Monument Valley (2014) as the foundation upon which to base a
larger discussion of the role-animated space in cinema. Meades draws the
collection to a fitting close, reflecting on our attitudes more broadly to the
concept of landscape/nature as one half of a culturally constructed equation,
and highlighting how the animated landscape of the video game can provide a
useful vehicle through which to problematize this understanding. Meades does
not approach animated landscape from a passive stance, exploring landscapes
simply as designed, but focuses on the complexities of player action, specifically
the exotic mode of play termed glitching – where players seek to subvert and
exploit the game code. Meades argues that glitching presents an interesting
context against which to reconsider the animated landscape, as players, who
explore these subverted, remediated animated landscapes, begin to interrogate
their own constructed understanding of landscape – prompting the question:
what might exist beyond the animated landscape?

Notes

1 Richard Williams, The Animator’s Survival Kit: A Manual of Methods, Principles


and Formulas for Classical, Computer, Games, Stop Motion and Internet Animators
(London: Faber and Faber, 2001), 11.
2 Richard Bradley, Ritual and Domestic Life in Prehistoric Europe (London: Routledge,
2005), 98.
3 For a speculative discussion of the Disney-Formalist tradition, which refers to a
historically specific model of animation practice that results in a particular aesthetic
quality, see: Chris Pallant, ‘Disney-Formalism – Beyond Classic Disney’, Animation:
An Interdisciplinary Journal 4.4 (2011): passim.
4 This subject provides key discussion point in the following: Thomas Elsaesser’s and
Kay Hoffman’s edited collections Cinema Futures: Cain, Abel or Cable? The Screen
in the Digital Age (1998), Lev Manovich’s The Language of New Media (2001),
Laura Mulvey’s Death 24× a Second: Stillness and the Moving Image (2006), Dudley
Andrew’s What Cinema Is! (2010) and J. P. Telotte’s Animating Space: From Mickey to
WALL-E (2010).
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are then manned and the carriage pulled over, two men being required to steady
the trail. If necessary, the ends of the rope may be fastened to the limber, and
horses used to assist in righting the carriage.
Light carriages may be righted by hand without using a rope.
To Remove a Gun and Carriage; Carriage Disabled.—Dismount the gun;
remove the horses and run the limber over the gun, so that the breech may be
towards the pole and the trunnions under the pintle-hook; place a handspike in the
bore and raise it; sling gun with prolonge; carry prolonge in rear of one trunnion,
and in front of the other, round the pintle-hook, and pass the end forward; take a
half-hitch round the breech and secure firmly around the fork, bearing down on the
muzzle until the breech is secured. Replace cap-squares; remove wheels; turn over
carriage and place it on the limber-chest. This is done by having trail, pointing
towards the limber, lifted up from the front. Place wheels, dish down, on top of
carriage, and lash all firmly together, the trail being lashed to a handspike in the
bore of the gun.
If the caisson be present, place the carriage on it, removing the spare wheel and
raising the carriage, trail first, from the rear.
To Disable a Field-gun.—Open the breech-block and then break it with a heavy
hammer; or load the piece, close the breech without locking it, and fire the piece; or
place two or three blank cartridges in the gun, close and lock the breech-block, ram
in from the muzzle a ball of clay or sod; then unlock the breech-block and fire; or
fire a shotted gun with its muzzle against the chase of another.
Guns of the Krupp system may be temporarily disabled by carrying off the
breech-block, or breaking off its handle.

ASCENTS.

After pulling up a short, steep hill the horses should be halted to recover their
wind. When this cannot be done, they will move very slowly.
In going up a difficult hill the carriages may be halted to rest the horses by
bringing them across the declivity and locking the limbers or chocking the wheels, or
by putting on the brake to the rear; for this purpose it may be expedient to start the
sections or platoons from the bottom in succession, leaving a distance of 20 or 30
yards between the different portions of the column.
If the draught be so difficult that the teams are liable to stall, the carriages in
rear are halted, and the lead-and swing-horses of the rear half of the carriages can
be taken out and hitched to the leading half; when these have been taken through,
all the horses, except the wheel, will be taken back, and the rear carriages brought
up. As it is very hard to make the horses pull together, not more than five pairs can
be hitched with effect to a single carriage.
DESCENTS.

The drivers never dismount going down hill; the wheel-driver holds his near horse
well in hand, and his off horse very short. Two cannoneers may be mounted on
each gun-carriage and caisson to apply the brakes. In the absence of instructions
from higher authority the chief of carriage directs whether the brakes are to be
applied to a particular wheel or to both. The brakes are easily applied and removed,
and a judicious use of them will save the horse much fatigue and prevent sore necks
and shoulders. If the descent be very steep, the sectional picket-line may be used
by the cannoneers to hold back; in this case the wheel-horses only remain hitched
to the carriage, the others being led in rear.

MOVING ALONG DECLIVITIES.

If a carriage have to move along a declivity so steep that a slight jolt may
overturn it, the wheels are locked, the sectional picket-line fastened to the top of
the upper wheel and held by two or three cannoneers, who march on the upper side
of the slope.

DITCHES.

If the ditch be wide and deep, the prolonge is fixed and the handspike turned
over on the flask and secured, the team is halted on the edge, and the piece run by
hand close to the limber, which then moves slowly until the piece reaches the
bottom of the ditch, when it moves quickly until the piece is out. If the ditch be
deep and narrow, it may be necessary to cut down the edges and hold back with
the sectional picket-line; should the trail sink into the ground in passing over, it is
disengaged with a handspike or by fastening a prolonge to it.
In passing shallow ditches, drains, or deep furrows the carriages must cross them
obliquely.

MOVING OVER MARSHY GROUND.

Each carriage moves at a distance of 10 to 12 yards from the one preceding it to


avoid having to halt; officers or non-commissioned officers are posted at the worst
places to instruct the drivers how to conduct their teams. The horses must pull
freely and quicken the gait; if the ground be very miry, it may be necessary to assist
with sectional picket-lines, or even to use them alone, the teams crossing
separately.

CROSSING FORDS AND STREAMS.

If the ford be not well known, it must be examined and the dangerous places
marked before the carriages attempt to cross.
If the water be deep and the current strong, great care is necessary. The men are
instructed to keep their eyes fixed on some object on the opposite bank which
marks the place of exit; they must not look at the stream, and they move rather
against the current, so as to better resist its power.
If the ford have a bad bottom and the banks be difficult, the teams are
strengthened by adding pairs; an officer or non-commissioned officer is posted at
the entrance to regulate the distance between carriages and to instruct the drivers
how to proceed; a second officer or non-commissioned officer is posted at the exit
to direct the drivers how to leave the ford.
The management of the team is the same as in crossing marshy ground; the
horses must not be allowed to halt or trot either in passing the ford or leaving it,
unless the stream be neither deep nor very rapid; in this case the carriages may be
halted to let the horses drink, or at least to give them a mouthful of water.
Upon reaching the opposite bank the leading carriages are halted after they have
moved far enough forward to leave room for the carriages in rear.
If the chests be not water-tight and are at the usual height of two feet and ten
inches above the ground, a ford deeper than two feet four inches cannot be crossed
without danger of wetting the ammunition.
If the chests be water-tight or means have been taken to raise them high
enough, a depth of 3⅓ feet may be safely attempted.
When the ford is deeper than this, the cannoneers must carry over the cartridges,
fuzes, and primers in the pouches, which they hold above the water. The chests are
sometimes removed and taken over in boats. In crossing streams that cannot be
forded, when there are no bridges, the horses are swum, and the carriages and
harness crossed on rafts, etc.

PASSAGE OF MILITARY BRIDGES.

At the entrance of the bridge the lead-and swing-drivers dismount and lead their
pairs. A distance of 12 yards is taken between the carriages, and the gait is free and
decided; the drivers keep the carriages as near the middle of the floor as possible. If
the flooring be wet, battens should be nailed across it to keep the horses from
falling. If the bridge begins to rock, the passage of the column is suspended.
In passing over a flying bridge all the drivers dismount and hold their horses; the
lead-and swing-horses should be taken out and led onto the bridge or boat; the
brakes should be applied to the rear, so that the carriage cannot be run back.

PASSAGE ON ICE.

Ice 3 or 4 inches thick will bear infantry.


Ice 4½ inches thick will bear light guns or cavalry.
Ice 6 inches thick will bear heavy field-guns.

FACING A BATTERY TO THE REAR ON A NARROW ROAD.

All the carriages are moved close to one side of the road, and the pieces and
caissons unlimbered and brought about; the limbers then take their places in front
of their carriages by an about, and the carriages are limbered up; if there be not
room for the limbers to execute an about, the horses are taken out.
If the road be so narrow that the limbers cannot pass the carriages, the trails of
the pieces and the stocks of the caissons are carried around until perpendicular to
the road, and are then placed against the bank, the wheels being run close to it; on
an embankment, or a road with ditches on each side, the carriages are run as close
to the edge as possible, the wheels chocked or locked, and the trails and stocks held
up while the limbers pass.

THE ODOMETER.

The odometer registers the number of revolutions of the wheel to which it is


attached. The distance measured by the odometer is not exact, owing to the slip of
the wheel.
To Read the Odometer.—Lift the reading-circle from its box and note the
number on the inner wheel to the left of the zero; this will be the first two figures of
the reading, and the number on the outer wheel to the left of the pointer will be the
next two.
To Measure a Distance with the Odometer.—Tie the case by its straps to a
spoke close to the hub of a hind wheel of any vehicle attached to the command.
Upon starting read the odometer and record the reading. At the end of the course
again record the odometer-reading. The difference between the two readings
multiplied by the circumference of the wheel will give the distance passed over. And
in general, the difference between any two readings, multiplied by the
circumference of the wheel which bears it will give the development of the path
traversed by the wheel between the points at which the readings were taken.

CAMPS AND CAMPING

SELECTION OF CAMPS.

Avoid camping or bivouacking in graveyards. Get as far to windward of them as


possible.
Avoid ground that has been encamped on before, and if obliged to camp near it
go to windward of old site. Avoid all rivers with marshy banks, and marshes of every
description. If obliged to camp with a small force for a day or two near a marsh, if
possible place yourself so as to have a hill or even some rising ground or woods
between you and it. In camping near a stream cross it before making camp if
possible and select a rise of ground near by. Low ground is unhealthy. All brushwood
should be avoided, as also forests lately cut down.
A grass country with a sandy or gravelly subsoil is best; land with a clayey subsoil
is damp.
There should be good natural drainage, and the location should be near fuel,
water, and the road.

LAYING OUT THE CAMP.

Having fixed on the general plan of a camp, lay out the lines the tents are to
occupy, and drive pegs to mark the position of the tent-poles or the centre of each
tent. For wall-tents the distance between tent-poles of adjacent tents should be at
least 20 feet.

CAMPING.

On arriving in camp park the battery with sufficient intervals to allow each horse
at least a yard and a half on the picket-line, and have the wagons take positions
most favorable for unloading.
The sections of picket-rope are usually stretched along the spare wheels of the
caissons by cannoneers under supervision of the gunners.
Then the cannoneers, while drivers are unharnessing, etc., are told off into
detachments, each under a non-com. officer when necessary, for unloading wagons,
pitching tents, obtaining wood and water, and preparing latrines.
The drivers as soon as dismounted are directed to unhitch, and if the animals are
sufficiently cool they should be watered and fed.
Examine feet, sponge eyes and nostrils, remove harness, and tie to picket-line. As
soon as the harness has been removed pass the hand carefully over the horse's
shoulders and back, and if there be any indication of a hard lump it should be at
once hand-rubbed. Horses should be permitted to roll if backs be dry, as it is very
restful to them. Leave blanket, secured by surcingle, on horse's back until dry if
necessary. After two hours sound stables, at which the battery and platoon
commanders should be present, and let the men get to work on their horses; a
good rubbing-down is all that is necessary, without the elaborate grooming required
in garrison.
Collar-galls and girth-galls should be kept wet with salt and water, and saddle-
galls have a cloth wetted in the same manner kept on them. Or wash the galled
spot and then cover it with a powder formed of 1 part iodoform and 3 parts sulphur.
When the animal has to be used, cover it after dressing with a piece of old-
fashioned sticking-plaster.
Should a riding-or draught-horse get a sore back, he may be used as an off
leader or swing-horse. The saddle should be removed and the crupper connected to
the collar by a back-strap. Breast-harness may be used on a horse with a collar-gall.
As a rule, horses should not be unharnessed at night in the presence of an active
enemy; they should be tied closely together, tails to the wind, and should be shifted
day or night to prevent their being head to the wind.
To Unharness in the Field.—If harness-racks be not used, the pole-prop is
placed under the end of the pole; the single-trees are left attached to the double-
trees; the wheel-traces are unhitched from the collars only, and laid over the chest
from front to rear, or on the foot-board; the collars of the wheel-team on top of the
limber-chest (paulins having been removed) next to the rail on the near side, the
swing-collars in the middle, and the lead-collars next to the off-side rail; the collar of
the off horse is placed on top of that of the near horse of the same team; the
remainder of the harness is placed on the pole, that of the near wheel-horse next to
the double-tree and as close to it as possible, next that of the off wheel-horse, and
then the swing-and after that the lead-harness, both in the order laid down for the
wheel-harness; the traces of the lead-and swing-harness (folded once) are laid over
the pole; then on top of them the saddles with the attachments over them, so as
not to rest on the ground. The neck-yoke is placed on the foot-board.
Figs. 77 and 78 represent the ordinary methods of encampment. These methods
are modified to suit the circumstances and nature of the ground.
First Method.—The battery is parked with 15 yards interval between carriages.
The extra caissons, the battery-wagon and forge, and the artillery-wagon are in a
third line behind the caissons.
The harness of each team is arranged on the carriage.
The picket-line is 15 yards in rear of the caissons; it is either stretched between
posts about 6 feet high or between caissons, or laid on the ground and secured by
pins. When the ground picket-line is used, the end pins should be at least 1 inch in
diameter and 3 feet long, and to lessen the danger of their being pulled up no horse
should be tied nearer than 12 feet from them; a sufficient number of smaller pins,
about ¾ of an inch in diameter and 2 feet long, are used between the end pins to
keep the line straight and prevent it from swaying. The pins should be of iron with
steel heads and points. The horses are secured to the ground-line by hobbles, or by
hitching-straps if long enough to prevent constraint to the horses. The ground
picket-line should not be used unless the earth is sufficiently firm to hold the pins
securely.
Fig. 77.
The men's tents are pitched in line, about 30 yards in rear of the picket-line; the
first sergeant's tent covers the carriages of the right section; the left guard-tent
covers the carriages of the left section; the tents of each section are in the order of
their pieces in park, and are closed to the centre, or to the right, so as to have a
vacant space between the guard-tents and the tents of the left section. The men's
kitchens are in line, 10 yards in rear of the guard-tents, which may be faced to the
right, so that No. 1 can overlook the kitchen.
The officers' tents are in line, 30 yards in rear of the battery tents; the captain's
tent on the right, covering that of the first sergeant. The officers' kitchens are 10
yards in rear of their tents. The baggage-wagons are in line 30 yards in rear of the
officers' tents. The sinks are 50 yards in rear of the wagons; the officers' sink on the
right, the men's sink on the left.
When time permits, the rows of tents are ditched, and a shallow ditch 8 inches in
depth made around each tent; and these should lead into other and deeper drains
or gutters by which the water will be conducted away from the tents. No refuse,
slops, or excrement should be allowed to be deposited in the trenches for drainage
around tents.
On arriving in camp sinks should be dug at once, unless the march is to be
resumed on the following morning; the sinks are concealed by tents or brush when
practicable, and must be covered daily with fresh earth. A small sink should be dug
near the kitchen as a receptacle for all cooking refuse; the old kitchen sink should
be filled up and the earth well rammed down over it, and a new sink opened every
two or three days.
Paulins are used to protect the guns, carriages, and harness, and also to serve as
cover for the men when necessary. The paulin is 12 feet square, is provided with
double cords at each corner and at the middle of each side. Each carriage has two
paulins, which are carried on the limber-chests. For protection of material the
paulins are placed over the carriage as follows: Tie a corner of one of the paulins
over the muzzle, pull the canvas over the gun-wheels and tie diagonal corner to the
flask, tie a corner of the second paulin to the flask, pull the canvas over the wheels
of the limber and tie the diagonal corner to the pole in front of the harness. The
caisson is covered in a similar manner by its two paulins.
Second Method.—The baggage-wagons may be in line with the pieces, the
interval between the left baggage-wagon and nearest piece being about 50 yards;
the guard-tents half-way between the pieces and the baggage-wagons, facing to the
rear; the forage-pile between the guard-tents and baggage-wagons; the men's
kitchens in line with the third line of caissons, and covering the left baggage-wagon;
the officers' tents on a line perpendicular to the men's tents, facing them, and on
the prolongation of one of the baggage-wagons; the officers' kitchen in rear of the
officers' tents, and on the prolongation of the right baggage-wagon.
Fig. 78.
If the forge-fire is to be lighted, a special place is assigned the battery-wagon and
forge, sufficiently removed from the ammunition-chests for safety.
In a horse-battery two picket-lines may be used instead of one, the second line
being 15 yards in rear of the first.

ENCAMPMENT OF A BATTALION OF LIGHT ARTILLERY.

On approaching the site previously selected for the encampment of the battalion
the adjutant assembles the guidons, and conducts them to the camping-ground,
and establishes each one at the point where the lead-team on the interior flank of
his battery is to rest. After all are established he returns to the column, and
indicates to each battery commander how and where his battery shall be parked.
The guidons are established with a distance between them of 94 yards (when
there are two lines of carriages with 6 horses each, and the picket-line is in rear of
the park), the guidon of the second battery in the column of march that day being
placed at the head of the line, and so on, the guidon of the leading battery being
last. The tent of the battalion commander is at a point 60 yards from the line of
guidons, and on a perpendicular line passing 17 yards in rear of the second guidon,
for an encampment of 2 or 3 batteries; and in a corresponding position in rear of
the third guidon for an encampment of 4 batteries.
When the captain commands "Front!" after parking his battery, the guidon moves
75 yards to the rear and 30 yards to the flank, and plants his flag. This point
establishes the position of the captain's tent.
The battery-officers' tents are on a line, at intervals of 5 yards, facing the interior
flank, the captain's tent being nearest the guidon.
The officers' mess-tent, of the batteries to the right of the battalion commander,
is 10 yards in rear of the tent of the lieutenant on the flank. For batteries to the left
of the battalion commander it is 10 yards in rear of the tent of the captain.
Officers' kitchens are five yards in rear of mess-tents.
In each battery:
The picket-line is 15 yards in rear of the line of carriages.
The tents for the enlisted men are 30 yards in rear of the picket-line, that of the
first sergeant being on the interior and the guard-tent on the exterior flank.
The cooks' tent is next to the guard-tent, the other tents being equally distributed
along the line.
The forage is 15 yards from the exterior flank, on the prolongation of the picket-
line.
The sinks are 90 yards from the forage, on the prolongation of the picket-line.
The kitchens are on the line of the tents and 30 yards from the guard-tent.
The tents of the battalion commander and staff are arranged, at intervals of 5
yards, on a line facing the interior flank.
The mess-tent is on the flank nearest the front of the park, and the tents of the
adjutant, quartermaster, and surgeon are on the other flank of the tent of the
battalion commander.
Non-commissioned staff-officers' and orderlies' tents are on a line 15 yards in rear
of the staff-tents.
The cook-tent is 5 yards to the rear of the outer flank of the mess-tent.
The staff-wagons are on a line 15 yards in rear of the non-commissioned staff
tents, the forage-and guard-tents being near either flank.
Officers' sinks are on a line 60 yards in rear of the staff tents.
The position of the kitchens may be varied, depending on the direction of the
wind and lay of the ground.
If the camp be established for more than a few days, the batteries will be parked
in positions corresponding to the ones they occupy at battalion formation.

BIVOUACS.
The men bivouac at a convenient distance in rear of the park, each detachment
opposite its section; the guard is on one flank and to the leeward; the cook-fires are
near the guard. If necessary, the picket-line may be stretched through the hind
wheels of the carriages of the third line, but whenever practicable the picket-line
should be stretched along the ground or between trees or posts.
A simple shelter may be formed by driving two forked sticks into the ground, with
a pole resting in the forks, and branches laid resting on the pole, thick ends
uppermost, at an angle of 45 degrees, and the screen completed with smaller
branches; or a shelter of canvas or a blanket may be similarly made.
Each man should strew his sleeping-place with dried leaves, etc., and place over
it any articles such as bags, saddle-cloths, etc. A small hollow should be scraped in
the ground just where the hip would rest.

TENTS.

The Hospital Tent, complete, weighs 215 lbs., and consists of one tent, 100
lbs.; one fly, 32 lbs.; one set tent-poles, 60 lbs.; 18 large and 28 small tent-pins, 23
lbs.
Its dimensions are: length of ridge, 14 feet; height, 11 feet; width, 14½ feet;
height of wall, 4½ feet.
Authorized allowance, 1 for battery sick.
The Conical Wall-tent, complete, weighs 128 lbs., and consists of one tent, 76
lbs.; one tent-pole and tripod, 32 lbs.; 48 tent-pins, 20 lbs.
Its dimensions are: height, 10 feet; diameter, 16½ feet; height of wall, 3 feet.
Authorized allowance, 1 to 20 foot or 17 mounted men.
The Wall-tent, complete, weighs 97 lbs., and consists of one tent, 43 lbs.; one
fly, 15 lbs.; one set of poles, 25 lbs.; 10 large and 18 small tent-pins, 14 lbs.
Its dimensions are: length of ridge, 9 feet; height, 8½ feet; width, 8 feet 11
inches; height of wall, 3 feet 9 inches.
Authorized allowance, 1 to captain, 1 to 2 subalterns.
The Common Tent, complete, weighs 51 lbs., and consists of one tent, 26 lbs.;
one set of poles, 15 lbs.; 24 pins, 10 lbs.
Its dimensions are: length of ridge, 6 feet 11 inches; height, 6 feet 10 inches;
width, 8 feet 4 inches; height of wall, 2 feet.
Authorized allowance, 1 to 6 foot or 4 mounted men.
The Shelter-tent (2 halves) weighs a little over 5 lbs., and the 8 pins 1½ lbs.;
total, 6.5 lbs.
Each half is 67 inches by 65 inches.
Authorized allowance, 1 to each officer, 1 to 2 enlisted men.
The Hospital Tent will accommodate comfortably six patients. It is pitched by
eight men, after the manner described for pitching the wall-tent.
The Conical Wall-tent is provided with a hood, and will comfortably
accommodate ten men, and may be made to hold twice that number. To pitch the
tent, four men are required. No. 1 procures tent; No. 4 tripod and pole, which he
opens; Nos. 2 and 3 each 24 pins and a maul, which they place near front and rear
of tent respectively. Nos. 2, 3, and 4 unroll the tent and spread it out upon the
ground near where it is to be pitched, top of tent at its centre. No. 1 drives a pin to
mark the door of the tent, and then measures with the tent-pole directly backward,
and drives a pin at that end of the pole; No. 4 places the tripod opened out flat,
with ring over the last pin driven (the centre pin), and lays the pole on the ground,
pin-end at centre pin. All bring the canvas over the tripod until its centre comes to
the centre pin and door at the front pin, when No. 2 slips the wall-loop at one end
of the door over front pin, and fastens the rope of the flap to the same pin. Nos. 1
and 4, commencing at rear and front of tent respectively, and working to the right
and left, scatter the pins and pull out the guy-ropes. Nos. 2 and 3 take each a maul,
and, commencing front and rear respectively, work right and left of the tent, driving
the guy-pins, placing them about one yard from the edge of the tent, each on a line
with a seam. As the pins are driven Nos. 1 and 4 place the ends of the guy-ropes
over them, working on their respective sides. When the pins are set, No. 2 crawls
under the canvas, slightly raises the tent, and places the pin of the pole through the
plate attached to the chains at the top of the tent, and, raising the pole, sets it in
the ring of the tripod; No. 3, having from the outside placed the hood over the pole-
pin, enters the tent by crawling under, and assists No. 2 in raising the tripod, which
being done Nos. 1 and 4 tighten the guys; they then scatter the wall-pins. The tent
having been secured, Nos. 2 and 3 now take their posts outside and drive the wall-
pins, working as before, No. 2 toward the right rear and No. 3 toward the left front;
Nos. 1 and 4 straighten the tent and fasten the hood-guys.
A Wall-tent will accommodate four men; preferably three if there be sufficient
canvas. The rectangle marked by the pins for guy-ropes has a front of 18 feet and a
depth of 14 feet. It is pitched by four men. Nos. 1 and 2 bring ridge and upright
poles, unfasten them, and place ridge-poles as directed by the non-commissioned
officer. They then place the upright poles in position on the ground, usually on the
side opposite that from which the wind is blowing. Nos. 3 and 4 bring tent, unroll it,
and all now open canvas and place it in position for pitching; No. 1 working in rear,
No. 2 in front, fix the ridge-pole and tent, tapping with a maul, if necessary, to drive
the uprights home. The fly, if used, is now placed in position over tent, and the
centre loops are secured over front and rear pole-pins, which have been previously
driven by Nos. 3 and 4. All draw bottom of tent taut and square, the front and rear
at right angles to the ridge, and fasten it with pins through the corner loops; then,
stepping outward two paces from the corner pins and one pace to the front (or
rear), each securely sets a long pin, over which is passed the extended corner guy-
rope. The tent is now raised and the poles set in position. The other pins are then
driven and the guy-ropes properly secured.
A Common Tent should not be made to hold more than three men. It is
similarly pitched.
In pitching common or wall tents care must be taken that the door is tied up, and
that it is properly squared and pinned to the ground at the door and four corners
before being raised.
A Shelter-tent merely affords cover for two men.
In assigning men to tents bear in mind that the crowding of men in tents for
sleeping purposes is highly injurious to health.
In pitching the tents disturb the ground inside and around as little as possible. Do
not allow absurd notions of order and regularity to cause tents to be pitched in
hollows, which are frequently met with in the best sites, when, by moving the tent
perhaps a few feet one way or another, a good position for it might be found.
In camps of position, when tents are used, it is advisable to supply planking for
the men to lie on, these planks to be removed and aired every fine day. If boards
cannot be had, use any sort of tarpaulin or waterproof sheet that can be obtained.
If straw be plentiful, issue enough to make good thick mats for the men to lie on.
They are easily made and most comfortable. They should be hung up to dry every
day. They should be 3 inches to 4 inches thick, 6 feet long, and about 2¼ feet wide.
Fig. 79.
Every morning, except when it rains, have the sides of tents rolled up all around,
and in fine weather strike tents frequently; it is good practice for the men; they
should regularly pack them up as if for a march. This is also advisable as a sanitary
measure, so that the ground where the tent usually stands can be well dried by the
sun. Blankets and bedding should be frequently aired and exposed to the sun. Do
not permit grass or green leaves to be used for beds in tents, but use straw when it
can be obtained. Each tent should be thoroughly swept out daily, and at night
properly ventilated, the walls being raised if the weather permits.

TO STRIKE A TENT.

The men take their posts and first remove the wall-pins and then all the guy-pins
on their respective sides, except the four corner pins of the square tents, or the
quadrant-pins of the conical tents.
Standing at their respective posts, they remove the corner, or quadrant, guys
from the pins and hold the tent until the signal for striking is given, when the tent is
lowered to the side indicated.
The canvas is then rolled up and tied by Nos. 1 and 4, while Nos. 2 and 3 fasten
the poles, or tripod and pole, together, and collect the pins.

HEATING TENTS.

The Sibley stove, for conical and wall tents, weighing about 19 pounds, is issued
by the Q. M. Dept., and is very necessary in cold weather. It is easily put up and
requires very little fuel.
For ordinary weather an officer can make himself very comfortable by means of a
small oil-stove, one or two wicks. Have a box in which it fits exactly made for
transporting it, and take along a tin of oil.

CAMP COOKING.

A field-kitchen is easily made by digging a long trench for the fire, its width not
being sufficient for the kettles, which are placed on it, to drop into it, and covering
up between them with stones and clay, that the fire, fed from the windward end,
may draw right through. A chimney, formed with the sods cut off the top of the
trench, can be built at the other end to increase the draught.
Three such trenches meeting under one chimney form a broad-arrow kitchen.
The centre trench is traced in the direction from which the wind is blowing, the
other two making angles of 40 to 45 degrees with it. The width of the trenches is 9
inches, reduced to 6 inches when they pass under the base of the chimney, and
widened at their mouths to produce a draught. The depth is one foot at the base of
chimney and 14 inches at the other end, or one foot throughout if the ground falls
at the mouth of the trench. A field-kitchen is easily made of two logs rolled nearly
together in the direction of the wind, and the fire kindled between them.
The Buzzacott field-oven is excellent, as is also the ordinary Dutch oven. They are
furnished on requisition by the Quartermaster's Department.
To Make Field-ovens.—Take any barrel (the more iron hoops on it the better),
the head being out; lay it on its side, having scraped away the ground a little in the
centre to make a bed for it; or if there is a bank near excavate a place for it, taking
care that the front end of the barrel is at least 6 inches back from the foot of the
bank. Cover it with a coating of about 6 or 8 inches of wet earth or thick mud,
except at the open end, which is to be the mouth of the oven. Pile up some sand or
earth to the thickness of about 6 inches over the mud, arranging for an opening 3
inches in diameter being left as a flue (to increase the draught) to lead from the
upper side of the barrel, at the far end, through the mud and earth. This flue is only
left open when the fire for heating is burning; when bread is put in, it should be
covered over. Form an even surface of well-kneaded mud at the bottom within the
barrel to form a flooring to place the bread on. Light a fire within the barrel and
keep it up until the staves are burnt, and the oven is then completed. When
required for use, heat it as if it were an ordinary oven; draw out ashes; put in bread,
and close the mouth with pieces of board, tin, or iron.
The Subsistence Department issues an excellent pamphlet on army cooking.

DRINKING-WATER.

The water should be well tested, and persons living near by questioned about it.

Fig. 80.
Filters.—Two barrels (Fig. 80), one inside the other, having a space of from 4 to
6 inches clear all round between them filled with layers of gravel, sand, and
charcoal, form an excellent filter. The inside one, without a bottom, rests on three
stones placed in layers of sand, charcoal, and coarse gravel. The water flows into
the space between the barrels and forces its way through the gravel, charcoal, and
sand into the inner barrel. Or they may be placed as in Fig. 81 and connected by a
pipe.
Fig. 81.
If the water is from a small spring gushing up out of the earth, perforate the
bottom of the outer barrel with a number of holes, and leave the bottom to the
inner barrel, which should be pierced with holes round its sides near the top.
In both these filters draw off the water by a pipe running through the outer into
the inner barrel.
Allow eight pints per man in hot and six in temperate climates for cooking and
drinking, and a similar amount for washing. In stationary camps allow 5 gallons per
man for all purposes.

LOG HUTS.

Good huts to last for years are quickly made of logs placed one over the other,
being notched half their respective thicknesses at the angles so as to fit one into the
other. Moss is driven into the interstices. A roof is put on of split logs, gouged out in
the centre, so that each is like a long curved gutter. A layer of these is placed side
by side, with the hollow side uppermost, one end resting on the ridge-pole, the
other on the walls. A second layer is put over them with the hollow side down. A
large split log, well hollowed out, is used as a ridge-piece. Cowdung mixed with
water and well plastered over mud walls or floors renders them hard, tough, and
less subject to injury from weather. A thin coating of this applied every day to the
earthen floors of huts adds much to the appearance of cleanliness.
In planning huts give sufficient width for two rows of beds and a passage down
the centre. A width of at least 6 feet should be allowed for each row of beds, and
the passage may be from 2 to 4 feet wide.

BREAKING CAMP.
Ordinarily camp should not be broken before daybreak, as horses rest better from
midnight until dawn than at any other hour.
Ample time should be left after a seasonable reveille for the men to breakfast,
horses fed and the wagons to be packed.
Do not permit packing, pulling tent-pegs, or any noise before reveille. Men should
be permitted to rest until the last moment.
Immediately after reveille have drivers and such other men as may be required
feed and groom under supervision of the battery officer.
The grooming should consist in merely rubbing off the horses, and seeing that
shoulders, backs, and parts under harness are in good condition and perfectly free
from dirt. It is a mistake to groom too much in the field. It is distasteful to men, and
does not improve the horses.
The other men should pack up, remove tent-pegs, and fold tents. Then breakfast.
After breakfast let the men complete their packing and attend to personal
requirements. Or tents may be left standing until after breakfast, depending on
weather or other conditions. Drivers water and harness; cannoneers pack wagons
and fill in sinks. Part of the cannoneers should be detailed to assist the drivers if
required.
In packing the wagons it is well to have one or two men in the wagon who
understand the work. Articles least required should be packed first. Those required
by the cooks should be packed so that they can be easily gotten at immediately on
reaching camp. When the camp has been cleared, an officer should ride over it
carefully, and see that all tent-pins have been removed and no articles forgotten.
Signals for the performance of the various duties should be sounded by the
trumpeter at prescribed hours.

WAGONS.

On field marches two six-mule teams will readily carry the baggage and ten days'
rations of a battery (enlisted strength as now authorized, viz., 75).
If grain is to be transported, two more six-mule teams will be required.
Battalion commander and staff, one four-mule team.
Medical department, one ambulance and possibly one four-mule team.
A good six-mule team in the best part of the season will haul a load of 4000
pounds, marching with troops. It will haul 1400 short rations of provisions—bread,
coffee, sugar, salt, and soap—and eight days' rations of forage for the six mules.

REMARKS ON PACKING WAGONS.


The reserve rations should be placed in first, as they are not required to be taken
out unless specially ordered. Then should come the tools and any heavy packages,
and on top the men's and officers' baggage. The blankets should be rolled up
together by tent-loads or section-bundles. All grease, oil, and dubbing should be
slung under the wagons.
The packing of the supply-wagons depends upon the nature of the supplies. Care
must be taken that bags containing grain or biscuits are properly secured, and that,
if fresh meat is carried, it is not exposed to the sun on the march. Tents are kept in
separate wagons if possible, in order that they may be left behind when ordered
without disarranging the other stores. In packing tools care must be taken to
prevent their rattling on the march.
The following information obtained from orders of Army Commanders during the
Civil War may prove useful:
General McClellan, August 10, 1862, allowed three wagons to each battery, and
they carried nothing but forage for teams, cooking utensils for the men, hospital
stores, small rations, and officers' baggage. At least one half of the wagons carried
grain. Captains and lieutenants were allowed a shelter-tent each, and to every two
enlisted men a shelter-tent. Men carried no baggage except blankets and shelter-
tents, and officers' baggage was limited to blankets, a small valise or carpet-bag,
and a reasonable mess-kit.
General Rosecrans, November 20, 1862, allowed each battery as many wagons as
there were guns in a battery.
General Sherman while marching from Atlanta to Savannah allowed each battery
one wagon.
General Grant, February 23, 1865, for each battery: for personal baggage, mess-
chests, cooking utensils, desks, papers, etc., one wagon; two wall-tents for officers;
shelter-tents, one for every two enlisted men. The allowance of forage was: horses,
6 lbs. hay, 14 lbs. grain; mules, 6 lbs. hay, 12 lbs. grain. On a march the grain ration
was 10 lbs.
The following extract gives the minimum allowance with which the commands in
the Department of the Missouri were equipped and supplied in 1885 for 20 days'
field service:
Transportation for field-and staff-officers' baggage and supplies, medical supplies,
engineer and signal equipments and appliances to be according to strength of
command or nature and importance of service.
To a battalion of two companies, 1 four-mule ambulance.
The allowance of transportation per company is as follows:
To one troop of cavalry, with an average field strength of 2 officers, 50 men, 3
teamsters, and 2 packers, 3 six-mule teams, 10 pack-and 2 riding-mules.
To one company of infantry with an average field strength of 2 officers, 40 men,
1 teamster, and 2 packers, 1 six-mule team, 8 pack-and 2 riding-animals.
Included in above allowance is: 1 pack-mule per company for officers' supplies,
and 1 pack-mule per company or per one hundred men for medical supplies.
Supplies to be carried in wagons per company are 20 days' field rations per man
(55 and 43 with companies).
100 rounds of ammunition per soldier (50 cavalry and 40 infantry).
250 lbs. officers' baggage and supplies.
1 wall and 1 common tent.
10 days' grain (6 lbs. per day per animal).
Utensils for each company mess not to exceed 130 lbs. for cavalry and 100 lbs.
for infantry.
Horseshoes, nails, tools, and medicine for cavalry-horses not to exceed 150 lbs.
To each soldier or civilian employé, 2 blankets and 1 extra suit of undergarments,
compactly rolled in one piece of shelter-tent.
Whenever the amount of rations or grain varies from the above, the weight to be
carried per wagon may be increased or diminished, but should never exceed 4000
lbs., and if possible should be less than 3500 lbs., per wagon.
When obtainable on line of march, full forage will be allowed all animals, the cost
to be regulated by the contract rates at the nearest military post.
To be carried on the person or horse: 1 overcoat, 1 piece of shelter-tent, 50
rounds rifle or carbine and 24 rounds of revolver ammunition.
Supplies to be carried on pack-mules for one company will be:
10 days' field rations (three-tenths bacon) per man (55 and 43 with companies);
100 rounds of ammunition per soldier.
The utensils for each company must not exceed 75 lbs. for the cavalry and 50 lbs.
for the infantry.
The weight per load per aparejo must never exceed 250 lbs., and should, if
possible, be less than 200 lbs.
When marching with pack-train, to be carried on person or horse: 1 blanket, 1
piece shelter-tent, 50 rounds of rifle or carbine ammunition, and 24 rounds of
revolver ammunition.
On leaving a military post when service is anticipated where it is impossible to
use wagons, the loads for pack-trains, as a rule, will consist of only grain sufficient
to keep the mules in full strength until required to make forced marches.
CHAPTER VIII.
Transportation. By Rail. By Sea. Embarkation. Care of Animals. Food for
Animals. Diseases of Animals on Shipboard. Disembarkation.

TRANSPORTATION OF ARTILLERY.

TO EMBARK AND DISEMBARK ARTILLERY AND ARTILLERY STORES—GENERAL


RULES.

When artillery and its stores are to be shipped for an expedition,


prepare first a list of all the articles, stating their number, weight of
each, and the total weight of each kind.
Furnish the quartermaster with an exact return of the command,
showing number of officers, enlisted men, and animals and weight
of baggage; also a copy of the order directing the movement.
In estimating the weights allow double for that of bulky articles
which occupy much space without weighing much.
Divide the total quantity to be transported among the vessels, and
make statements in duplicate of the articles on board each vessel,
one of which lists should go with the vessel and the other with the
officer shipping the stores.
The articles must be divided among the vessels according to the
circumstances of the case; but as a general rule everything
necessary for the service required at the moment of disembarkation
should be placed in each vessel, so that there will be no
inconvenience should other vessels be delayed.
If a particular kind of a gun is necessary for any operation, do not
place all of one kind in one vessel, to avoid being deprived of them
by any accident to it.
The pieces and caissons are brought to the wharf or shore and
unlimbered, and the chests and wheels taken off; each set of
implements is strapped together, the washers and linch-pins being
put in a box; the harness is tied and labelled in sets; if the voyage is
to be short, the harness for each horse may be tied up in its blanket.
The battery-wagon and forge is unlimbered, and the limber-chest
taken off, as well as the spare parts outside of the wagon. All the
chests are distinctly marked, so that it can immediately be seen
where they belong.
The pieces are first lowered to their places between-decks, the
place for dismounting them depending upon the manner of
embarking; then the carriages, limbers, implements, and wheels; the
harness is placed (regard being had to its preservation) where it may
be of easy access. The box of washers and linch-pins is under the
special charge of a non-commissioned officer.
The battery-wagon and forge, with its limber and limber-chest, is
stowed separate from the battery, but where it will be accessible.
Sponges, rammers, and intrenching-tools should be united in
bundles or boxes.
The contents of each box, barrel, or bundle should be distinctly
marked upon it. The boxes should be made small so that they can
be easily handled.
The position of the different articles in each vessel is noted in a
column in the list on board.
Place the heaviest articles below, beginning with the guns, then
the carriages, limbers, ammunition-boxes, etc. Boxes of ammunition
should be in the driest and least exposed part of the vessel.
Articles required to be disembarked first should be put in last, or
so placed that they can be easily got at.
If the disembarkation is to be performed in front of the enemy,
some of the pieces should be so placed that they can be
disembarked immediately with their carriages, implements, and
ammunition; also the tools and materials for throwing up temporary
intrenchments on landing.
When there are several vessels laden with artillery and stores for
the expedition, each vessel should have on each quarter and on a
single masthead a number that can be easily distinguished at a
distance. The same number should be entered on the list of supplies
shipped in each vessel. The commander can then know exactly what
resources he has with him. Some vessels, distinguished by particular
signal, should be laden solely with such powder and ammunition as
may not be required for immediate service of the pieces.
If it is necessary to reship or leave any articles on board the
vessels, care should be taken to note them on the list.
Boats of proper capacity must be provided for the disembarkation,
according to the circumstances in each case.
It may be necessary to establish temporary wharves on trestles,
or to erect shears, cranes, or derricks.

RAILROAD TRANSPORTATION.

The most suitable car for carrying horses, especially in warm


weather, is the "slat stock-car," built of slats and open all around, but
tight in roof. Another kind, known as the "combination car," is made
with five doors on each side and one at each end, which may be
closed tight for stores, or with iron grates when carrying horses.
These are suitable for either warm or cold weather.
Both kinds are usually from 28 to 30 feet long, 7 feet 9 inches
wide, and 6 feet 8 inches high, inside measurement. Each car will
carry 16 artillery or 18 common horses or mules. Be careful to have
floors sanded to keep horses from slipping down.
Loading cars with horses at night should be avoided. The battery
should be drawn up in the most convenient position for loading; and
during the operation of loading quiet and order must be maintained.
Dismount; let the men fall out of ranks if necessary and then reform,
and have personal equipment, etc., placed on the ground; unhitch;
unharness and tell off the horses to the cars, cannoneers assisting
drivers. Station a non-commissioned officer and one private at the
door; the former to superintend the work and the latter to count in a
loud tone the horses as they enter. Two more privates should be
present to assist in putting horses in position, etc.
After horses are loaded all assist in loading the material. The
battery is then reformed, retake equipments, etc., and the men are
told off to cars.
The horses should be driven or led in, following one another as
closely as possible, but should not be tied. They should be
alternately led to either end so as to fill up the middle of the car last,
and should stand alternately head and tail. If the journey is to be
continued beyond 18 or 20 hours, the horses will require to be
watered and fed. Nose-bags are generally used for the grain. If the
drivers are attentive, they, by taking advantage of the short halts
made by the train, can feed grain and hay quite easily by hand. Half-
rations will be sufficient under any circumstances. Before placing the
horses on the cars they should be thoroughly groomed and cooled;
they should have nothing more on them than their halter head-stalls.
They should be fed before being loaded, as it tends to keep them
quiet.
If the journey is to continue for more than 36 hours, the horses
should be unloaded every 24 hours, and should be watered, fed,
groomed, and exercised before being loaded on the cars again. If
there are stockyards near by, the horses should be turned loose in
them for exercise. On long journeys, run all night and until about 10
A.M., then unload at a convenient place, and water, feed, and
groom; give the horses gentle exercise, and water and feed again so
that the horses can be reloaded about 4 or 5 P.M. to resume the
journey.
Horses are best loaded and unloaded from a stock-chute, but
where this convenience is not available and there is no platform a
ramp or chute may be improvised, using for it planks about 12 feet
long and from 2 to 3 inches thick, depending on the strength of the
wood.
A ramp should be about 4 feet wide, with the planks firmly
fastened together with transverse battens. These battens
furthermore prevent the horses from slipping. A strong trestle or crib
of logs supports the end of the ramp next the car, while the other
rests on the ground and is secured from slipping by strong stakes.
An intermediate trestle or a support of logs should be placed to
prevent the planks from springing with the weight of the horses.
Three or four posts of suitable height are set in the ground on each
side, to which side-rails are lashed or spiked for the purpose of
keeping the horses from stepping off. A board should be placed on
each side to prevent the horses' feet from slipping over the edges of
the plank. When planks are not procurable, a ramp of earth,
supported by means of logs or stones on the end next the track,
may be constructed. The cars are brought up in succession to the
ramp to be loaded or unloaded.
In the field, where no chute or ramp is to be found at the place of
unloading, material ready prepared for constructing one should be
carried with the train. After loading the horses enclose the harness
in sacks, each marked with the designation of the horse, team, and
carriage to which it belongs.
Artillery-carriages are carried on platform or flat cars. These cars
are generally from 28 to 32 feet long by 8 feet wide. When properly
loaded, cars of 30 feet will carry two field-guns and two caissons
complete. To load them, the carriages are unlimbered and the spare
wheels removed from the caisson; the body of a caisson, its stock to
the rear, is run to the front end of the car and its stock rested on the
floor; another rear train is run forward in like manner until its wheels
strike or overlap those of the first, when its stock is rested on the
floor. A limber is then placed on the car with its pole to the front,
resting on the rear train; the second limber is backed on and its pole
held up until a gun, trail foremost, is run under it; the trail of the
gun is rested on the floor and the pole of the limber on the gun-
carriage. The other gun is run on in the same manner, and its trail
rested on the floor under the first gun; a limber is next run on and
its pole rested on the last gun; the remaining limber is run on with
its pole under the preceding limber. All of the carriages are pushed
together as closely as possible and firmly lashed to each other and
to the sides of the car; the wheels are chocked by pieces of wood
nailed to the floor. When the carriages are liable to chafe each other,
they are bound with gunny-sacking or other stuff.
A side-platform, such as is found in depots, is the best for
loading. The carriages are first run on to a spare car; from this they
are crossed over on planks to the one upon which they are to be
carried, and arranged on it as already described. When there is no
side-platform, the carriages are run up at the end of the car by
means of way-planks. Twenty-four thousand pounds is considered a
safe load for one car on a good track. Baggage, harness, forage,
etc., are usually carried in box-cars. These cars have the same
dimensions as heretofore given for those carrying horses.
The passenger-car of average size will seat 60 men, but a small
car will seat only 50. Allowance must be made for men's
equipments, and if the journey is of any distance each man should
have a full seat. Then by arranging the seats the men can extend
themselves for resting or sleeping. The men must be provided with
cooked rations for the whole trip. Each car must be liberally supplied
with drinking-water, lights at night, and all other conveniences, to
make it unnecessary for the men to leave them during stoppages of
the train. The "tourist sleeper" carries 48 men. It is provided with
bunks (and some cars with cooking-stoves) and should be used for
long journeys when obtainable.
Guards should be detailed and so stationed on the train to
preserve order both when in motion and during stoppages. The
arrangement of the ordinary artillery-train will be:
1. Cars with material necessary for disembarking.
2. Horse-cars.
3. Baggage-cars, loaded with forage, harness, etc.
4. Cars for material.
5. Cars for officers and men.
The size of the train will vary, depending on grade, curvature, and
speed.

TRANSPORTATION OF ARTILLERY-HORSES BY SEA.

Transports for horses should be especially prepared for the


purpose; as a rule, the larger the vessel the better is she adapted for
the conveyance of horses. Ventilation is of primary importance, the
safety and condition of the horses mainly depending upon their
having plenty of fresh air; large air-ports or scuttles are
indispensable, and wind-sails down every hatch to each deck should
be insisted upon. If time permits, fixed air-shafts should be provided
for each deck. The ventilation of steamers may be assisted by using
the donkey-engines for this purpose.
The stalls are preferably between-decks, never, if it can be
avoided, in the hold; should horses be put on the spar-deck, nothing
will be stowed on the stall-sheds. Stalls should be about 6½ feet
long, 28 inches wide; tail-boards fastened to the rear posts, and
padded as low as the hock; breast-boards and side-boards fitted in
grooves about 4 feet from the floor, the first padded on the inner
side and upper edge, the latter on both sides; the floors of the stalls
set on blocks that the water may pass under them; four slats across
each floor to give the horses foothold. Troughs should be made to
hang with hooks, so as to be easily removed.
Before embarkation the side-boards are removed, and replaced as
each horse is placed in his stall.
Horses, in all cases, should stand athwart-ship; in this position
they better accommodate themselves to the motion of the vessel.
When on the upper deck, they should face inward; this for the
reason that the spray will not strike them in their faces, and,
besides, when facing each other in this manner they will suffer less
from fright and nervous excitement.
All stalls, hitching-bars, or whatever other arrangement for
securing horses, must be strong beyond any possibility of giving
way. The living force exerted by a row of horses, as they swing with
the motion of a ship in a heavy sea, is very great, and it is better to
have no securing arrangements whatever than to have those that,
by giving way, will wound and injure the animals in the wreck.
If the transport is to be used in very inclement weather, the spar-
deck, over the horses, should be covered. Canvas stretched over a
secure frame is better than boards, as the latter in a severe storm
might be carried away, and its wreck would cause disaster among
the horses.
During heavy weather horses sometimes become exhausted and
fall. The best thing that can be done in such cases is to back out the
horse on each side, so as to give the fallen horse plenty of room.
The fallen horse should be protected from rain and spray by a
paulin, and great care and tenderness exercised toward him;
otherwise he is very liable to perish. The horses may be fed from
nose-bags, but it is better to have for each one a small trough,
suspended to the hitching-bar by means of two iron hooks passing
over the bar. The troughs are moved out of the way when not in
use. Hay can be fed by tying it up tightly in bundles with rope-yarn
and fastening the bundles to the hitching-bar. It may also be fed in
small quantities by hand, and the more attention the horses receive
in this way from the men the less fretful and uneasy they become.
When the embarkation takes place from a wharf, and the vessel is
not too high, it is best to use gang-planks and lead the horses on
board. The gang-plank leading up from the wharf to the gunwale
should be about 20 feet long by 10 wide, and be made very strong.
This width admits of its being used for gun-carriages. It should be
provided with ropes at the corners, rollers, side-rails, and boards
upon the sides to prevent the horses from getting their feet over the
edges. Another similar gang-plank, but not so long, leads from the

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