Horses and Mules

Excerpts from _Hard Tack and Coffee_ by John D Billings, 1887
Edited by Greg Utrecht, 2001

The Army Mule - from Chapter 15

Two teamsters have paused in the shade of the pool,
Rehearsing the tricks of the old army mule.
They have little to say of the blue and gray
Which they wore when the garments meant shedding of blood-
They're discussing the mule and 'Virginia mud'

It has often been said that the south could not have been worsted in the rebellion had it not been for the steady re-enforcement to the Union side by the mule. To just what extent his services hastened the desired end, it would be impossible to compute, but it is admitted by both parties to the war that they were invaluable.

For certain kinds of work horses _must_ be had, mules would not do. The horse was good for any kind of service, as a beast of burden, up to the limits of his endurance. Not so his half brother the mule. The latter was more particular as to the kind of service he performed. Like a great many bipeds that entered the army, he preferred to do work in the safe rear. As a consequence if he found himself under fire at the front, he was wont to make a stir in his neighborhood until he got out of such inhospitable surroundings.

This nervousness totally unfitted him for artillery or cavalry service, he must therefore be made available for draft in the trains, the ammunition and forage trains, the supply and bridge trains. So, as rapidly as could be conveniently done, mules took the place of horses in all the trains, six mules replacing four horses.

The driver carried in his right hand his black snake, that is, a leather whip, which was used with much effect on occasion. Sometimes his mule would be kind and tractable and sometimes not. Too often he has a mind of his own. He may go along all right, or if he is tricky, he may suddenly pause, bracing his forefeet and settling down on his hind ones, as if he had suddenly happened to think of the girl he left behind him, and was debating whether to go go back after her. It is when the mules strikes such an attitude that some call him a "stubborn fact."

At that moment, a rider of such a mule would get off without previous preparation, like a man sitting down on ice, and look at the mule. If the rider was alert and well prepared the mule would generally come off second best. The black snake was the badge of authority with which the mule driver enforced his orders. I have seen a six mule team left to itself get into an entanglement seeming inextricably mixed, unless it was unharnessed. But the appearance of the driver with his black wand would change the scene as if by magic. One or two cracks of the whip on or near a mule's ears, accompanied by the driver's very expressive ejaculation in the mule tongue, had the effect to disentangle them unaided, and make them stand as "present" to their master.

The propulsive power of the mule-driver was increased many fold by the almost unlimited stock of profanity with which he greeted the ears of his mules when they were stubborn. I have seen mules jump into their collars with the utmost determination to do their duty when one of these Gatling guns of curses opened fire upon them. Some may judge the black snake to be the reason for this good behavior, I prefer to assign the mule's motive to be the advancement of good morals.

The theory has been advanced that if all the MD (muledrivers) in the Army of the Potomac could have been put into the trenches and safely advanced to within ear-shot of the enemy, and then set to swearing at their level worst, the Rebels would have either surrendered or fled. There may have been devout mule drivers in Sherman's army, but I never saw one in the east. General Grant has given them credit for being able to swear a mule team out of the mud when it could not be moved by any other process.

The mule cannot be trusted even when appearing honest and affectionate. His reputation as a kicker is worldwide. He was the Mugwump of the service. The mule that will not kick is a curiosity. After the battle of Antietam a veteran saw a mule driver approach his unhitched mules when one of them knocked him to the ground with one of those unexpected instantaneous kicks, for which the mule is peerless. Slowly picking himself up the driver walked deliberately to his wagon, took out a long stake, returned with the same moderate pace to his muleship, dealt him a stunning blow which felled him to the ground. The stake was then returned with the same deliberation. The mule lay quiet for a moment, then arose, shook his head. A truce was declared. The driver and the mule were at peace and understood each other.

For some unexpected reason a mule crossing Harper's Ferry on the pontoon bridge lifted up his voice in one of those soul-harrowing brays and tossed his entire burden of cook and cookhouse into the water. Perhaps because he looked into the water and saw himself as others saw him. The cook remounted and all was well until the Shenandoah was reached, after which the cook lost all confidence in mules and abandoned him.

They say that if a mule will neither kick nor bite he should be watched close till you find out where his malice did lay.

"to break a mule, begin at his head"
"the man who won't believe anything he can't see ain't so wise as a mule, for they will kick anything in the dark"
"the only thing which makes a mule so highly respectable is the great accuracy of his kicking"

The Army Horse - from Chapter 17

I have already stated that the horse was the sole reliance of the artillery and cavalry, and have given the reasons why the mule was a failure in either branch. I have also stated that the mule replaced him, for the most part, in the wagon trains. I did not state that in the ambulance train the horses were the steadier. 

The horse was a hero in action. Horses under fire behaved far better than men did under similar exposure, for men knew what and who to fear, but a horse hit by a bullet was as likely to run toward the enemy as from him. Not every horse would run or make a fuss when wounded. The best illustration of the fortitude of horse flesh that I have seen occurred on August 25, 1864 at Ream's Station. In this battle the fifty-seven horses belonging to my artillery company stood out in bold relief fot the Rebel sharpshooters. Their object was to kill off our horses and then charge and take the guns if possible.

They stood in teams of six. A peculiar dull thud indicated the a bullet had penetrated the flesh of some animal, sounding as a pebble does when thrown into mud. The horse would start for a moment, but finally settle down as if it was something to be endured without making a fuss. Some of the horses would go down when hit and after lying quiet awhile would stuggle to their feet again, only to be hit again. During this battle General Hancock was riding along when his horse received a bullet in the neck. He fell forward, dismounting the General, and appeared as if dead. Hancock mounted another horse, but within five minutes the fallen brute arose, shook himself, and was at once remounted by the General. He survived the was many years.

I have seen a horse encumbered by harness and limber scramble up and stand on three legs if the fourth leg had been shot. It seemed sad to see a single horse left standing, with his five companions all lying dead or dying around him. Himself the object of concentrated fire until a fatal shot layed him low. It was thought by many that they would average five shots apiece.

Aside from their wonderful heroism, for I can find no better name for it, they exhibited their sagacity in many ways. I have already referred to the readiness with which they responded to many of the bugle-calls on drill. In the cavalry service they knew their places as well as did the their riders. It was a frequent occurrence to see a horse, when his rider had been dismounted by some means, to resume his place in line or column without him.