大象传媒

If any creature deserves credit for their assistance to the British army in jungle warfare in the Far East, it is the mule. That obstinate pig-headed offspring of Satan without which, in the impossible country between Dimapur and Kohima, and again on the way to Imphal, many men would have died of hunger, ammunition would have run out, and fresh young lives would have been wasted.

Their antics have been the cause of much strong language but, in spite of their temperamental ways, I had a strong affection for my 鈥渃horus-girls鈥�. No matter how hard the going was and how heavy the load they carried, they never let me down. Scrambling up steep rocky mountain paths during the worst monsoon rains, their sure- footed climbing was nothing less than miraculous. Along narrow ledges just wide enough for a man to walk, with a thousand foot drop if you missed your foothold, these wiry little animals would pick their way never faltering or stumbling. I鈥檝e watched them stepping daintily over telephone cables stretched across the path and I鈥檓 convinced their intelligence is underrated.

Another reason why I have a soft spot for them is because they shared several 鈥榮ticky鈥� incidents with me during operations against the Japanese. One of these was on the morning of the 14th April 1944 when I was taking food to 鈥楥鈥� Company, 7th Battalion Worcestershire Regiment at an isolated position outside Zubza, near Kohima. Sgt. Bull was in charge of the escorting armed guard. I was leading the mules up a steep trail cut through the thick jungle undergrowth. The mules were laden with hay boxes full of boiling hot stew for the lads of 鈥楥鈥� Company鈥檚 meal. But I happened to look ahead on the path and saw a Japanese soldier with what looked like a sack on his back.

We saw each other at the same time for he disappeared as I lobbed the grenade I was carrying roughly at the spot where I had seen him. I then hugged the ground. There was a squeal - it was from a wounded Japanese soldier that the other man had been carrying on his back. We were by no means out of trouble for after gathering the mules back together, we moved on a few yards to be met by a burst of inaccurate Japanese machine gun fire.

This was the moment when 鈥淕ladys鈥� put on her heroic act! The lead mule Gladys after kicking up her heels, dashed straight towards where the enemy were situated with her 鈥渉ay boxes鈥� full of scorching hot stew bouncing about on her flanks. The insulated lids fell off and hot stew was sprayed far and wide. This spectacle must have un-nerved the Japanese for all went quiet and we were able to finish our journey. 鈥淕ladys鈥� came back two days later minus her insulated boxes and looking very sorry for herself, but I had good cause to forgive her.

The muddy steep mountain tracks during the monsoon rains, involved taking two steps forward and slipping one step backwards. Without complaining 鈥淟izzie鈥� would let me hang on to her tail and pull me up the steepest of slopes. It is surprising how calm the mules remained during the noise of battle. I have seen mules standing only a few yards away from big 105cm guns firing a barrage, but they were nibbling the grass most unconcerned.

The mules were stubborn creatures, especially when we were trying to load them with insulated food containers and ammunition boxes. Gladys and Betty, Sally and Mary, Lizzie and the others. But they can be forgiven for their stubbornness when one considers the tremendous amount of assistance they gave to us all.

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