Animals in War

The news, yesterday, of the death of Dame Jilly Cooper had me searching my bookshelves for the only book of her’s that I own. No, not one of the infamous ‘bonkbusters’, but “Animals in War”, first published in 1983. My copy is the 2000 Corgi reprint, published as part of the campaign for a memorial to ‘Animals in War’. More of that in a moment.

It’s years since I last read it and a quick flick through shows there is nothing specifically about the BSF, although I did find this quote:

Mules also coped stoically with the heat at Gallipoli and with the bitter cold of the Balkans, where they were often found with frost silvering their ears, and a rug of snow on their backs.

Of course, it could be just as hot in the Balkans, but we get the idea. This is from an interesting chapter on mules in the two World Wars, which has these words of wisdom (pp129-133):

The problem in both World Wars was that many men met mules for the first time, and many mules had their first encounter with partially trained drivers, with disastrous consequences. Mules respond to amateurs with their teeth and their heels. But with an expert and kindly driver, and liberal supplies of sugar, the most difficult mule becomes biddable.

Like many husbands [!], in fact, you cannot coerce the mule, but he will do anything if he thinks it is his idea in the first place. This is probably why he is most successful as a mountain pack animal … The mule was in his element in such situations. He never slipped on those steep winding tracks; he never panicked; and as long as he was able to select his own route up a hill, he didn’t mind pulling the driver up hanging on his tail.

Mules also had a gift for getting themselves out of trouble. Brigadier A.H. Munn wrote in the ‘British Mule Society Magazine’ of marching in the Simla hills when a mule was pushed over the edge of a precipice and rolled some fifty feet, landing with a thump in the road. Fortunately he tucked his legs in, didn’t struggle, and suffered only a few grazes, which didn’t stop him marching with his load next day. Any horse to whom the same thing had happened would have panicked and broken his legs.

If you didn’t give him the time to be cussed, the mule could occasionally be outsmarted. Punjabi Muleteers for example were very skilful at loading mules into railway trucks. At the first sign of baulking, the men linked hands together under the mule’s hindquarters, as many as possible, like a lacrosse stick, then threw him in.

I don’t know how influential the book was in the campaign for a memorial, but it just four years later – in November 2004 – that the ‘Animals in War’ memorial was unveiled in London, on the edge of Hyde Park.

Two views of the front of the memorial, showing, in bronze, a laden battery mule and, behind that, the wall, with (above) the dedication to animals that died alongside British and Allied forces and (below) some of the animals commemorated, from elephants to pigeons (photos by the author, taken on a visit many years ago!).

There are many fine memorials in London and I recommend this one. So there was more to Jilly Cooper than saucy novels!

In the Snow. Horses and mules in a snowy Balkan scene. From the collection of Sapper Harry Smith of 28th Divisional Signals (with thanks to his great-nephew, Roger Smith).