38 THE HORSE AND THE WAR 



look undignified where no dignity attaches to an animal ? The greatest 

 admirer of mules — and who that has worked them in the Army does not 

 admire them ? — will not concede dignity to them. They are just mules. 

 They would not be mules did they not show extraordinary shyness and distrust 

 of the water troughs at which they are invited to drink before being led on 

 board. They are thirsty and really want water, but they must think in their 

 queer thinking machines that some one has poisoned the water, and so they 

 will not yield to cajolery to drink. They believe all the world is against 

 them, and they especially do so when they are reminded that they must 

 not spend the rest of their lives looking at the gangway or " brow " before 

 venturing along it from dock to ship. They do not snort or get excited as a 

 horse does when he makes up his mind to " jib " and be unpleasant ; they 

 just push hard on their toes in the ground, and refuse to be led any further. 

 Of course, they have to surrender, because there are ways and means, and 

 the war has lasted long enough to convince our English muleteers that the 

 obstreperous mule is not invincible and that a long rope with a breeching to 

 haul on is the " high explosive " with which to gain victory. 



In that way our long-eared friends are dragged across the threshold, and 

 thereafter they go without more ado to their quarters below — stumbling, 

 slipping, and sliding, but always avoiding falling. Thus to their quarters and 

 close companionship for twenty-four hours or more. Next come the horses, 

 with the heavy horses as near the top deck as possible, for they want fresh 

 air ; and, moreover, the shorter the time they occupy in getting on and off 

 the ship the better. From now until they are landed at a port overseas and 

 handed over to the care of base remount officers it is the duty of the conducting 

 officer and his men to look after their welfare. That officer obviously has 

 responsibility, but it is certainly hghtcned by the easy way his animals travel, 

 even though the waters of the English Channel are often troubled and unruly. 



He also takes certain wise precautions to lessen risks. He is not sparing 

 of water, and he does not feed on hard corn, because he knows that a diet of 

 oats could soon induce colic and other ills of a horse's digestive system. He 

 wisely feeds on hay, and knows, too, that if horses are kept picking and eating 

 slowly they will not get into mischief and be inclined to worry, kick, and 

 bite each other. Then, when the day is drawing in and night comes on 

 to cloak the wonders of the Naval Service and Admiralty transport across 

 those perilous waters, he has the animals tied up short. In that way he 

 reduces the chances of trouble should the crossing be bad. 



All night long a strict vigil is kept by the conducting party. True, 

 the horses arc not resting, but they are not giving trouble. They are fidgety 

 and nonplussed as if wondering what new, strange destiny awaits them. They 

 do not settle as resignedly as do the perverse and illogical mules. The latter 

 may have rebelled at embarking, but, once on board, they become the acme 

 of good manners and immaculate behaviour. A ship's hold might have been 

 their home from foalhood. They ne\-er heed the steady pulsating throb of 

 the ship's engines. They could not know of the anxious vigil high up on 

 the bridge, in the look-out on the foremast or on the gun platform, or of the 

 sleeping troops covering all the space of the mess decks. 



