Fritz started shelling again soon after our return from exercising. I am satisfied that mules are omnivorous. My chap who ate the snow balls, today partook of army biscuit, bread, a large lump of paper greased with bacon and about half of a small willow tree. He has also taken to smoodging me in a manner quite embarrassing. Today they all had their necks scrubbed with vile-smelling anti-mange mixture, which my fussier donk resented, nearly knocking me and the vet’s assistant out.
The peace talk in the papers is to us an enthralling subject. A number of us are to have our mules dipped. My mules have gone back on me as far as jumping is concerned; with true mulishness they now refuse to jump even the narrowest gutter and I am ignominiously compelled to make all sorts of detours.
Walk March 