‘A Stallion Full of Trouble’; what a glorious dive bar. With its small, cramped serving room and an equally small and cramped ‘sitting-room’ that had nowhere to sit. Little more than an upturned box for a tiny performers’ stand, and a full iron cage for the bar itself so that there could be no arguing after last call. How many scraps had she gotten into there, before or during her enlistment? How many times had the brawls spilled out into the street — or been forcibly pushed there by the establishment’s sorely put-upon and heavily-scarred bouncers? When there wasn’t a fight, there was always the riotous laughter, the singing along to a soldier’s march or sailor’s shanty, and the shameless flirting with anything clean-shaven and able to stand on all four hooves.