A butt for dreary jests, a homely beast to look upon, the U.S. mule—4,500,000 strong—is again coming into his own. Farmers, threatened with a tractor shortage, are buying mules. The U.S. Army is getting set to bargain for more than 15,000. Dealers in such mule marts as Memphis and East St. Louis, Ill. think a mule boom is in the making.

Though the Army today has only about 7,000 mules—about half the number it had ten years ago—it has never discovered anything on wheels that could replace the mule. As careless of heat and cold as of man’s advice, the mule has no substitute as troop or cargo carrier in jungle, desert, or mountain pass. In Panama the mule has proved far better than trucks in climbing steep trails, working through lush forests.

The U.S. mule has served on both sides during World War II. The Italians, who used to buy 1,000 U.S. mules a year, used the beast constantly in Ethiopia, honored it afterward with a monument in a park in Rome. The Germans also favor the U.S. mule, and wherever their 800,000 horses go, the pack mule goes too. The British Army in India adds hundreds of U.S. mules every year to its thousands already in service.

Though you would never guess it from its expression, a mule, whether pack, draft or riding animal, costs more than a horse. A riding horse for the Army costs around $162, a pack or riding mule around $184. From its hybrid ancestry, the mule inherits some sturdily pig-tailed virtues. It is as tough, wise and sure-footed as the ass, as strong and willing as the horse. Under fire, when horses go mad with fear, mules wait philosophically until led to safety.

The Army, though it cusses them freely, usually does right by its mules. In 1938 President Roosevelt signed a bill prohibiting the sale of old Army mules to private citizens. Since then veterans have been retired with elaborate ceremonies, and shot when necessary with due decorum.

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