98 THE HORSE AND THE WAR 



day and the battery horses in their rough Hnes were not so far in the rear. 

 There was httle suggestive of blood and tumuh then. Only an occasional 

 thud of a shell-burst broke in on the daily routine of work and steady prepara- 

 tion. No one heeded it. The enemy was as inactive as he was invisible. A 

 sinister calm ! 



Horses and mules were familiar with their surroundings. Their lot was 

 being improved as time passed by. They stood on firmer ground and they 

 got their rations with unfailing regularity. This was peace in war behind 

 our old battle line of the winter of 1917-18. And then . . . ! 



Open warfare, an Army in retreat, a war of movement in which horses 

 and mules helped bravely to stem the torrent which threatened to rush through 

 the gap in the barrier ! There were the Cavalry troop horses which essayed 

 the role assigned to that arm of the Service and they did not come out 

 unscathed. The gun horses moved the guns from position to position or 

 brought them to the rear when our magnificent men fell slowly back, fighting 

 always grimly, heroically, defiantly. The roads were black with streams of 

 horse-drawn transport of all kinds, salving this, safeguarding that, and in 

 countless ways preserving intact the mass of equipment and belongings of 

 a still unbroken Army. 



What days and nights those were ! Many a brave gun horse and many 

 a tough old mule may never turn their heads to the West again ; for some 

 would fall by the wayside, stopped by shell or dropped from exhaustion. 

 Have you not read in the vivid stories of the war correspondents of shell- 

 riddled villages with only a few dead horses remaining to indicate the red 

 murder of the guns ? They, too, seem to tell their stirring tale of sacrifice 

 without which our heavily-pressed Forces would not have escaped the attacking 

 masses. That surely is true, and when, either now or years hence, you come 

 to read of the defeat of great German Armies in their plans to crush and batter 

 the British out of existence, you will perhaps spare a grateful thought for the 

 horses and mules which in their thousands made our salvation possible. 



They have suffered their share, as was inevitable. They suffered again 

 in our triumphant Autumn advances of 1918. The wounded, like the 

 wounded among our heroic fighting men, have been sent to fill the hospitals. 

 The exhausted and the debilitated from over-work and exposure, have been sent 

 " down the line " forest. And from hour to hour, day to day, it is still going 

 on — toil, sacrifice, and honour — and just as the men are found so also are the 

 animals to reinforce the battery and wagon lines, the Cavalry units, and the 

 thousand odds and ends of an Army that must still rely on man's best friend. 



Debility, the diagnosis of a horse's condition when his constitution fails 

 him, when he loses condition, appetite, and all interest in life, when, in fact, 

 his machinery has run so low that it is threatening to stop altogether, is the 

 great hospital-filler. If there were no war there would not be this heavy 

 percentage of debility cases among the sick horses and mules, for the trouble 

 is wholly the product of war and the making of war. Very often it is the 

 origin of other troubles that go to complicate and prolong treatment. It 



