The Mule that Sounded the Charge.
He was a Colonel with enough dignity to rule the universe, but he knew no more about music than a pig does of navigation. With his regiment he was slipping up on a Filipino town at night. It was purely a clandestine movement—orders were given in whispered tones by tiptoeing orderlies. The men were holding their bayonet scabbards against their legs to obviate screeching and rattling, and every effort was made to minimize the sounds of a marching body of men.
The Colonel with the battalion on the right had arrived within charging distance of the insurgent trenches. It was the pre-arranged plan for all the companies to arrive on this line before the general advance would be made. When all were ready, the charge would be sounded by the Colonel’s bugler.
The battalion with the Colonel was all ready for the bloody charge. Not knowing if the companies of the other battalions had arrived, the impatient commander sent his adjutant, mounted on a native charger, and his bugler, mounted on a Missouri mule, down the line to investigate.
When all was in readiness, the adjutant was to have the bugler sound the charge, when the whole khaki-clad line, like a thousand demons, would set up that awful, “gu gu” terrorizing “Yankee yell,” and wade into the unwary Tagalos with cold steel.
The adjutant and his bugler found that the companies on the left were yet some distance to the rear. The former, while waiting for the companies to come up, dismounted to tighten his saddle-girth, while the latter busied himself looking for some signs of life in the enemy’s trenches not two hundred yards ahead. His mule dropped his head in a dozing attitude. He suddenly appeared inspired, raised his head high in the air, looking toward the insurgent lines. Then, with a grunt, as if of satisfaction, elevated his chin, began working his huge ears backward and forward in a pumping motion, and set up a long-drawn “A-w-e ye! a-w-e ye! a-w-e ye! a-w-e ye!” in threatening tones, which sounded through the midnight air for miles around.
“He elevated his chin, began working his huge ears backward and forward in a pumping motion, and set up a long-drawn ‘A-w-e ye! a-w-e ye!’ in threatening tones.”
The faithful animal had not finished his challenge when the deep voice of the Colonel rang out completely drowning it, giving commands for the charge. He flashed his saber, and gallantly led the only battalion on the line into the midst of thousands of dusky soldiers—he had heard the mule sound the charge.
It was a brilliant victory. The town fell with but a single American casualty—that casualty left the bugler without a mount.