“Buck” Granger, who was in the lead, informed the captain that the animal was adamant to all coaxing.
“See if you can slide by,” Captain McCallum ordered.
“Buck” tried it. He was about midships of the mule when it suddenly leaned over against him. He was caught as though in a trap.
“Oh, gosh,” he panted in misery.
“What’s the matter now?” the captain demanded.
“Nothing,” Granger answered with what breath he had left, “only it’s Maud, and she’s got me fast, paying up back debts.”
“Three or four of you huskies try to lift her out of the trench,” the officer then ordered, and as the designated number applied their strength to trying to budge the mule upward, half a dozen others clambered out of the trench to lend a helping hand from above.
But it was a useless effort. Not only were the men risking their life in futile efforts to raise the heavy beast, but the men above leaned over and whispered to the captain, “No use, there’s a high wire fence on either side.”
By this time the Germans—apparently without any knowledge of the movement beyond their lines, however—were letting go occasional shells.
“With the next blast from Fritz, shoot the beast,” Captain McCallum ordered; for not only were his own men being delayed, but all of those who followed. The entire program might fall with the failure of the required regiments to be at their appointed place when the opening of the artillery signalled the forward movement behind a curtain of shells.