The horses were never just horses. They were part of a living, breathing connection to American military heritage, bridges to a time when thundering hooves marked both ceremony and strategy. With the U.S. Army’s recent announcement to transition away from most of its ceremonial cavalry units, including the famed Commanding General’s Mounted Color Guard (CGMCG) of the 1st Infantry Division, this living connection is drawing to a bittersweet close.
For many soldiers, particularly those stationed at Fort Riley, Fort Hood (formerly Fort Cavazos) and Fort Carson, the mounted units were more than symbolic. They were a tangible representation of pride, precision and the Army’s long and storied lineage from frontier outposts to modern-day garrisons. Their presence at community events, parades and reenactments stirred a deep sense of patriotism in civilians and Soldiers alike. Now, as the Army seeks to streamline its resources and refocus on future warfare, these traditions must either adapt or come to an end.
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For soldiers who served in cavalry units at these installations and beyond, the announcement feels like the end of an era, one measured not in battles but in bonds — bonds with animals, tradition and a piece of Army culture that stood defiantly in contrast to the digital age. Many soldiers who served with these units learned leadership through horsemanship; they found calm in the routine of morning feedings. These soldiers, many of whom volunteered for the job out of love rather than obligation, now face a different kind of farewell.
And for communities near these bases, the loss will be tangible. Mounted appearances in parades, schools and veteran events weren’t just routine; they were beloved. For small towns surrounding Fort Riley or Fort Cavazos, seeing a live cavalry demonstration meant history had come alive right on their main street.
For me, this news landed with a mix of understanding and personal grief. As a former Fort Riley soldier, I had the honor of working side by side with the CGMCG as part of the 19th Public Affairs Detachment, where I spent countless hours documenting the CGMCG’s mission. My soldiers wrote many of their stories. I also captured many of their moments through my lens. I watched children’s eyes light up at the sight of the regalia and well-disciplined steeds. And I saw the pride those troopers took in brushing down their horses after every ride.
Yes, times are changing. And no, warfighting in 2025 doesn’t call for horse-mounted formations. However, value isn’t always measured in terms of utility. The Army’s reorganization reflects changing priorities, and that’s necessary. Resources are finite. Mission requirements evolve. But the question lingers: How do we bid farewell to the aspects of the military that nourished the soul more than the strategy?
The Army’s decision to retain the Old Guard’s caisson operations at Arlington National Cemetery and Joint Base San Antonio isn’t just a ceremonial loophole. It’s a quiet acknowledgment that some traditions do more than honor; they anchor. In a force constantly modernizing, where drones replace scouts and algorithms predict enemy movement, the steady clop of a caisson team remains one of the Army’s most solemn, undisturbed rituals. These horses don’t perform for parades; they escort the dead.
The decision to maintain the caisson units while disbanding other cavalry operations speaks to a deeper truth: Ritual still has a place in military identity. It’s not always practical. It’s rarely efficient. But it is vital.
As a soldier, I covered those ceremonies, interviewed grieving families, photographed those final salutes and watched caisson horses stand stone-still for over an hour as taps echoed through the hills. There was no audience, there was no applause, just service. Unseen, but unforgettable.
That’s why the Old Guard’s horses must remain not as relics but as quiet guardians of remembrance.
Capt. Lydia Laga is a U.S. Army public affairs officer currently serving as the public affairs officer for the 3rd Combat Aviation Brigade, 3rd Infantry Division, at Hunter Army Airfield. She began her military journey in November 2010 as an enlisted soldier and later commissioned as an officer. A winner of the International Impact Book Award, she has been writing since middle school and continues to tell stories in and out of uniform.
The views expressed in this piece are those of the author and do not reflect the official policy or position of the U.S. Army, Department of Defense or any U.S. government entity.
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