Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

mule grew more frightful with each passing hour (Eskridge & I were sure that Pearson bought it to the barracks with him, and treated him accordingly) – One afternoon, Pearson said – he and his helper Peck, were busily working, when all at once, as one will often do, he realized that for some time someone had been calling him, but it had not completely penetrated his consciousness. – Turning he beheld this major (his name eluded me, but he was some rich man’s spoiled brat) at some distance, on his horse, gesticulating wildly with one hand, and holding his nose with the other – Pearson hurried over and saluted –; “What the ------ ----- ------ have you got over there” the major roared –; “A dead mule, sir” was Pearson reply [sic], with as much sang froid as he could muster – ; “A dead mule – You know it’s against the regulations to allow a dead animal to lie in the camp – who gave you permission to bring it here?”; “Capt. Yanow sir?”; “Where the hell is he?”; “I presume over in the woods there, sir (some of the camouflage work took place in a pine grove near at hand) –; “Well, I’ll show him whether he can bring dead mules in to the camp” – and putting spurs to this horse, he rode furiously off, only, a few minutes later, to plunge thru the artificial hill, which had been so skillfully constructed that few would know it was not real, unless they had been told. It threw him from his horse, and by the time, with the aid of whatever