The second attack came next morning, as we closed in on Dunkirk. I was tending to my mules, having slept only fitfully and rising before dawn. Weariness infected the men, and each of us wore haunted expressions, as though we might already have died. I heard the droning long before the Stukas arrived, but that was all the warning I required.
“ENEMY!” I yelled, trying to rouse my sleeping comrades.
Captain Ashdown had not slept at all. He was some thirty yards away, drinking tea and reading a letter.
“Khan!” he screamed. “Get the animals and men into the woods!”
It felt like a recurring nightmare. Marching, hearing the bombers, finding shelter on the roadside amongst the trees and bushes, emerging to find destruction and death. An endless cycle of terror and despair. Once again, I led Baba and the others off the road, but this time, cover was sporadic and light, and we were easy targets. Hundreds of my comrades leapt to their feet and did the same, stumbling and falling and as panicked as stampeding water buffalo.
It was a terrible scene, with soldiers and civilians scattering once more, desperate to stay alive in the Germans’ onslaught. From my position, I watched my fellow humans fall under machine-gun fire, and then three thumps, one after the other, and explosions and then ringing ears and temporary silence. I shook my head and ran to help, but Captain Ashdown ordered me to halt.
“Don’t be a fool!” he hollered. “Wait!”
When it became clear that the bombers had moved on to new targets, the captain led the way, but there was little to be done. Another officer joined him, and they began to discuss something, as the rest of my company emerged. Captain Ashdown was angry and animated, but his fellow officer remained calm, merely shaking his head. He produced a slip of paper for Ashdown to read.
“Can you hear them?” Mush asked, appearing at my side. His face was streaked with dirt and his breath was as stale as my own.
“No,” I replied. “Have we lost any men?”
Mush shrugged.
“It does not seem so,” he told me.
In the distance, I heard more thuds, followed by explosions. I wondered how many troops were on the road to Dunkirk, and how many casualties we had sustained.
“They are closing in,” said Mush. “From all directions.”
“No,” I replied. “Not from the north. That is where our troops are. The Germans are only bombing the road to Dunkirk. They have not reached the town. Yet.”
Captain Ashdown removed his cap and lowered his head. He appeared saddened and dismayed, and when he returned to us, he did not look us in the eye.
“We’ve been ordered to cut them loose,” he said softly.
“Whom?” I asked.
He seemed to regain his composure in an instant, standing tall and replacing his peaked cap.
“The animals,” he said, his tone gaining confidence.
“But…” said Mush.
“They are too burdensome,” said Captain Ashdown. “And we cannot take them with us.”
“But, that is not right,” I said.
“I’m sorry, Khan,” the Captain replied, too saddened to notice my insolence. “I cannot disobey direct orders.”
“How can we just leave them behind?” I asked. “Where will they go?”
Captain Ashdown lowered his head again.
“I’m sure the locals will have them,” he replied. “We have no choice, Khan. Our orders are clear.
Sergeant Buckingham approached, and could not have been less sympathetic. He was drunk again, and grinning.
“About time, if you ask me,” he said. “I don’t know why we came this far with the darned things. Sheer luck that we haven’t lost men whilst herding the useless things.”
I almost snapped but thought better of it. There was no use in getting myself court-martialled for insulting a sergeant. Yet, that is exactly what I wished to do. How could Buckingham think the mules useless? They had been our faithful servants, enduring as much hardship as any of us. We had mutilated them, and taken away their voices, and for what? To turn them loose when they became a burden? It was cold-hearted and wicked, and I hated the very idea.
“We should have eaten them,” Buckingham added, before winking at me. “Or is mule stew against your religion, Private Khan?”
Captain Ashdown cleared his throat.
“Perhaps you’d be best served organising the men, Sergeant?” he suggested.
“Yes, sir,” said Buckingham, with barely disguised insolence.
Captain Ashdown ignored his reaction and took me aside once he’d gone.
“I don’t like this any more than you,” he admitted. “It sticks in my throat. These animals have served us since India, and I’m saddened to see them discarded in such a pitiless manner. But we must follow orders, Khan. No matter what our personal feelings.”
“And if they discard us next, sir?” I asked.
For, were we not as voiceless and burdensome as our animals? And, in the eyes of men like Buckingham, just as lowly and dispensable?
“That will not happen,” Captain Ashdown insisted. “I can assure you of that.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”
Captain Ashdown nodded.
“This order angers me and makes me despair,” I admitted.
“Duly noted, Khan,” Captain Ashdown replied. “Thank you for your candour. Now, please carry on.”
“Yes, sir!” I said.
I trudged back to Baba and the others and stood beside them for a long while. I rubbed their snouts and brushed their coats, and whispered sorry, over and over again. Baba stamped his front legs and pushed into my midriff with his head, and I grew even gloomier. Many people thought mules ugly and awkward, but to me they had proved their magnificence. They had been loyal and hardworking since our departure from India, despite their obstinate natures. Never failing us, never causing us problems, never ceasing to carry all that we laid upon their shoulders. They were as much our comrades as any man, and yet we were to betray them.
“This is awful,” said Mush as he joined me. “Such a cruel waste.”
“They will die,” I replied. “I am certain of it. Who will care for them and feed them once we are gone?”
“Perhaps the civilians will have use for them?” Mush suggested.
“No, brother,” I told him. “We are leaving the civilians behind too. They will be busy trying to escape the Germans. What use will they have for additional hungry mouths?”
“I can’t bear to think of it,” said Mush.
“Nor me,” I told him. “It feels immoral.”
“Remember when we first began to train with them?” asked Mush.
“Yes,” I nodded. “They seemed so smelly and pointless. I wanted to be a soldier, not a muleteer. I had expected a gun and instead I got…”
“A dumb animal!” Mush said with a smile.
“Not so dumb,” I replied. “Well, not until they were mutilated.”
“I wonder if we will answer for this?” said Mush. “On the Day of Judgement. I wonder if their fate will determine ours?”
I shrugged.
“We are not doing this,” I pointed out. “We did not give the order.”
Mush stroked Baba and gave a wry smile.
“We are not so different to these beasts,” he said. “We are but dumb animals, forced to follow orders and with no right of reply.”
“At least we will get a chance to survive,” I told him. “And we are not being abandoned to this war and all of its brutality.”
Only, that was not entirely true. And I would learn as much once we finally reached Dunkirk itself.
I left Baba and the others untethered by a thick oak tree. They stood still for a moment, and then began to walk towards me.
“No, no,” I told them. “This is where your journey ends, brothers. Stay.”
But they were mules, not dogs, and they did not listen to my command. Instead, they formed a line, with Baba at its head, and did what they always did.
“Please!” I said, placing my forehead against Baba’s warm and prickly snout. “We cannot take you, my friends. I am sorry.”
A civilian family happened to trudge past. A father, a mother and two young sons, each of them weighed down with all that was left of their possessions. I gestured to the mules.
“Take them!” I said.
The father, short and strong, and with a red face, gave me a quizzical look.
“Je ne comprends pas,” he said, and again, I understood without knowing the words.
“They are yours,” I said, gesturing to the mules.
“What is?” asked the mother in heavily accented English. She stood three inches taller than her husband, her face worn by stress and fear. One of her boys held onto her dress and eyed me with fascination.
I took Baba’s rope and led my friend to her.
“Please,” I said, handing her the rope. “He is yours.”
I pointed to Baba, and then to the women.
“Yours, madam…”
Suddenly she understood, and her features exploded with gratitude.
“Oh, merci, monsieur!” she said to me. “Merci!”
I shrugged and patted Baba on his snout.
“Goodbye friend,” I whispered, and in my head I was addressing my grandfather too. “Perhaps we will meet again, down the road somewhere?”
As I left them there, Baba stood and brayed silently, and my heart broke. I wiped away tears and plodded back to the main road.