The H-Team

In 2018 a crack commando unit was sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn’t commit. These men promptly escaped from a maximum security field to the Luton underground. Today, still wanted by the government, they survive as horses of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can ride: The H-TEAM.

Deep in a glade in the middle of the woods on the east side of The Old Mare’s Field, Molly stands alone waiting for her contact. She tosses her blonde mane from side to side, nervously glancing around to see if anyone was watching her. Suddenly she hears the confident stride followed by the presence of a very handsome stallion. “Molly?” he asks in a deep, slightly accented voice.

“Hi ya,” Molly replies, unsure if this is who she is supposed to be meeting.

“I understand you have problem? What’s the deal?” he asks, still not giving his name.

“It’s serious,” she tells him. “I need to see Bennibal Lee. Are you Mr Lee?”

“No, I am Charleston Peck. My friends call me Face.” He is interrupted by a sudden rustling in the bushes. Molly shies and goes to Face for protection as a large bush moves forward. “That,” Face tells her, “is Bennibal.”

“Good afternoon, Molly.” the bush says before a the faint glow of a cigar appears. “How serious is this situation?”

“There are motor bikers in the area. They are disturbing the golf course and the bridlepath. The Mares are frightened they will come back to Sunshine’s fields. They were run off a few years ago, but they are back.” Molly tells them, worry causing her voice to rise to slight neigh.

“Why would the motorbikes come back?” Bennibal asked.

“The lock down has meant that the Police are busy with other parks and places. They don’t come up here that much now,” Molly explained.

“And this is important, why?” Bennibal pressed.

“June. She’s only a kid,” Molly pleaded. “She has so much potential and is so beautiful. They could hurt her.”

“Dang, Bennibal,” Face interjected, “we have to do something. BA will loose his nut if the girl gets hurt!”

Bennibal gives Molly a long look as he rolls his cigar around in his mouth, “Tell them we will be in touch.”

Later in the H-Team’s temporary hideout in the South Field…..

“Bennibal! Get this fool away from me!” BA Baracus demanded.

“But these little yellow flowers will compliment the golden highlights of your complexion,” Stan Murdock explains.

“Don’t you touch me!” BA warns him.

“But they will look so good in your mane,” Murdock cajoles.

“Touch me,” BA warns, “and I’ll show you what looks good in a mane, Sucker!”

Although enjoying the repartee, Bennibal knows there is work to be done. “Gentlemen, we have a job.”

“Does it pay?” asks BA suspiciously.

“In love, respect and possible treat balls, yes. ” Face tells him with a touch of a charming, Gallic smile.

“But no carrots,” BA confirms.

“Sadly, no, not this time, Buddy.” Face gives a slight shrug.

“Materialism is the root of the destruction of society,” Murdock announces to no one in particular.

“Gentlemen,” Bennibal tells the group, “I have a plan.”

“What needs done, Bennibal?” Stan Murdock asks eagerly.

“Face,” Bennibal begins, “ I need you to gather up some old jump wings, and Murdock get some baling twine”

“I love baling twine!” giggles Murdock

“And BA,” Bennibal continues as if not interrupted, “I need you to do some assembly work.”

Later that evening on the golf course, Stan Murdock stands in wait, calmly grazing on the long, lush grass. He can hear the screaming engines of the motorbikes slowly coming closer as the local wildlife begin to run for cover. As the bikes approach, Murdock steps out from cover which causes one of the bikes to sharply swerve in order to miss him. As the bike swings around him, it come close onto another bike causing that biker to slightly lose control. Murdock suddenly trots in front of another which starts to cause further mayhem.

Finding the situation to be fun, Murdock begins to trot up then feign away from each of the bikes. He notices that the bikers are becoming angry with the game he is playing with them. He runs along side a blue bike who’s rider is waving his arms wildly at the crazy horse. The biker revs the engine and Murdock responds by giving the machine a slight kick. This causes the machine to go into the bushes and crash. Murdock, filled with joy that the plan worked, neighs and trots away as he leaves a trail of fresh droppings, some of which land on the bikes of the other riders.

Enraged, the bikers begin to circle Murdock, each throwing sticks and small branches at him. Murdock tries to kick another biker but misses before he canters towards a break in the hedge. The bikers follow, and Murdock leads them down a small road before he turns into another break in the hedge. They are planning on showing Murdock who is the real boss and what respect looks like.

As Murdock leads the group into the field, the scene is one of idyllic peacefulness – three horses quietly grazing in the early evening sun. With evil intent, the bikers begin to race their engines and spin their back wheels, yet the horses still eat. The bikers begin to circle the horses, each trying to stop quickly to throw dirt in the horses’ faces. Unperturbed, the horses trot away. The bikers, desiring to maliciously up the game, start to cut in front of the horses. BA looks at Bennibal, only to be told, “Wait for the signal.”

The bikers line up in a row across the field, and starting slowly but quickly speeding up, racing towards the 4 horses who oppose them. As the bikes close in on them, Bennibal neighs the signal. The horses divide into pairs and begin to flank the bikes. As they pass the screaming machines, BA and Murdock lash out with the hooves, but unsuccessfully.

A red bike breaks off from the pack and chases BA. As the pair do a dance across the fields, the rider is unaware of where he is being led. Before he can swing his bike out of the way, the bike and biker are thrown high in the sky by the muck heap. The red motorbike crashing to Earth, never to be ridden again.

Murdock races along side of a yellow bike covered with strange orange detailing. The biker keeps trying to drive into Murdock’s front legs, but the agile horse skips away each time only to leave the biker even more irritated. As they come close to Murdock’s trap, Murdock give the bike a quick tap with his right hind foot which causes the bike to swerve and fishtail out of control into the blockade of jumps, ultimately crashing and sliding on its side from a pile of new, fresh droppings.

Another bike, blue in colour, cuts BA off from rejoining the group of horses. BA races down the field, jumping the mud wall that divides the field into smaller part. The bike follows, going through the gap the field equipment use, but hitting a small log. The biker is tossed from his machine, which lies helplessly on its side. BA approaches the rider who runs, but is not allowed to get away as he is now trapped by an old stable. In desperation the biker turns and faces his adversary. He delivers the hardest punch he can. BA doesn’t move. BA doesn’t flinch.

BA grabs the biker by his leather jacket and throws him through the side wall of the old stable, leaving a human sized hole in the ship-lap wood.

Meanwhile, Face and Bennibal chase the remaining trespassers into the confined corner at the bottom end of the South Field. Infuriated and helpless, the bikers realise their mistake as they are pinned by a large green fence to their right and an old metal shed to their left.

They rev their engines and spin their wheels in defiance of the powerful steeds. Face slowly turns to Bennibal with a sly smile, and the Colonel nods. Spinning around with both shocking grace and speed, Charleston Face Peck unleashes a double barrel hind kick to the dilapidated building. The shed is lifted from its moorings and flies in the air before exploding. As the metal walls fall to the earth, they trap the bikers.

“I love it when a plan comes together,” declares Bennibal as he chews on his cigar.

As they turn to join their fellow H-Team members, Face sees the unmistakable grey shape of his enemy. “Bennibal, we have to go. I see Christopher Decker with the cops.” The Police had arrived in several cars, lights flashing and sirens blaring.

“You won’t get away this time,” Colonel Decker yells, his green eyes filled with malevolence, and his green MP uniform spotless. “I have brought reinforcements!” he gloats as four grooms step out from behind the yellow vested police who were arresting the various bikers. Each groom held a lead rope with determination.

“Maybe someday,” Bennibal replies, “but this is not the day!”

The H-Team circle quickly, their canter becoming a gallop. As they pound past Colonel Decker, he hisses at them in frustration. The magnificent herd easily jump the cross-country hedge fence, bolting to freedom on the Warden & Galley Hills.

I love The H-Team!
I love The H-Team!

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This post would not have been possible without the creative genius of my “Director of Photography”, Chris Cole. You deserve an award for some of these images and putting up with my crazy ideas!

Please note that this post was done with the highest respect to the late Steven J. Cannell, creator of The A-Team. I guess you could call this my attempt at fan fiction, but I did try to stay true to his vision. KM