World War II

by Katrina Charman

  Francis took a deep breath, pushing down the sob that had built deep down in his chest and was trying to force its way out.

  He had made it!

  After all this time, not knowing whether he would even survive. After all of his thwarted efforts to deliver the message and complete his mission. He had done it! Whatever happened now, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride—and then fear that he might be too late. That everything he had gone through had been for nothing.

  He flew to the east, where his loft came into view. The entrance was a small open window in a redbrick building above the stables. Francis swooped inside, landing with an immense feeling of relief.

  His foot caught a wire running across the coop, tripping an alarm somewhere in the building. There was the faint tinkle of a ringing bell, and Francis set the red capsule down in front of him and waited. A few moments later, there was a rapid thud of footsteps on the wooden steps, and a soldier from the Signal Corps appeared, slightly flushed.

  “Francis!” he said, recognizing the pigeon. “We thought you were lost!”

  He stroked Francis’s head and dipped a hand into his jacket pocket, pulling out a handful of seeds and scattering them. Then he picked up the battered red capsule and examined it, his brow furrowed.

  “How did you remove this from your leg?” he muttered, examining the fastener, which was mangled and twisted from where Ming had hastily chewed on it.

  The man scratched his head, then put the red capsule in his pocket. “I’ll take this to the code breakers. Well done, Francis!”

  The man disappeared back the way he came, and Francis released a long sigh. His journey was over. His mission complete. There was only one more thing he had to do: fly to Whipsnade and find Ming. He walked over to the window, looking out over the grounds, then back at the loft, but something felt different. Like it wasn’t home any longer. Something pulled at his gut, and his wings shook as though urging Francis in another direction.

  Still, he needed to know that he had accomplished something. That his efforts had not all been in vain.

  That he wasn’t too late.

  He hopped down the wooden steps into the stable, where he passed beneath a couple of horses, avoiding their hooves and backsides. Then he went through a door, leading to the offices where some of the top intelligence officers worked. He flew through a window to where the huts stood in neat rows. Francis caught sight of the soldier who had taken his message entering one of the huts at the far end. He waited, hiding around the side of the building until the man reemerged. Then Francis hurried over, jumping onto the windowsill where the window was slightly ajar, and poked his head in.

  One of the code breakers had already opened the capsule and unrolled the message. There were four columns, each with a row of five letters or numbers. At the top of the paper the words Pigeon Service were written, and the bottom of the paper was signed with the messy scrawl of the lieutenant general’s signature. The code breaker reached over to a pile of books, carefully selected one, and then opened it, comparing the code on the message to the code in the book. Francis thought that the code breaker must be one of the very best, because it didn’t take her long to decipher the message. She wrote it down on another piece of paper, then turned to her colleague.

  “Prime Minister Churchill needs to see this at once,” she said, voice urgent.

  Francis frowned. When he’d left Bletchley to go to France, Neville Chamberlain had been prime minister. He brushed the confusion away and listened to what the woman was saying. “There’s to be an attack on London,” she said. “Imminently. They plan to target Saint Paul’s Cathedral and everything surrounding it. They plan to blitz London.”

  A deathly hush fell over the room. After a few breaths, the woman snatched up the message and ran off toward the mansion. Francis briefly wondered if the new prime minister was there, when the image of the map he’d stolen with Chiney and Jacky came to mind. Saint Paul’s Cathedral was only a few miles from Regent’s Park. If the Nazis intended to make that area their primary target, the zoo was sure to be hit.

  Francis’s mind raced. If he had been one day later, his message might have been too late. But the threat was still very real. He had promised Ming he would find her, but she was safe (or as safe as anyone could be in the middle of the war) at Whipsnade. But when the Nazis blitzed London… Francis couldn’t bear to think of the consequences. Jean and the other humans might stand a chance—they had their shelters, after all—but the animals were trapped. There was nothing they would be able to do to keep safe, nowhere they could go to wait out the battle.

  They were sitting targets.

  As much as it pained Francis to leave Ming behind when she was so close by, he had a duty to those other animals who he had come to consider friends. Jacky and Chiney and the other monkeys had saved him more than once. He couldn’t abandon them now when they needed his help.

  He eased his head from the gap in the window but suddenly found himself being bundled into a sack and plunged into darkness. He fought for a moment, but the fabric was rough and scraped against his feathers.

  Bright light appeared from the opening of the sack and two firm hands lifted him out and placed him inside a small cage, one of many stacked along the floor in rows and columns, each holding a pigeon. Beside him, he heard a pssst noise.

  “Francis, is that you?” another pigeon called. “Welcome home.”

  September 26, 1940

  Even though he was finally home, for the first time in his life Francis felt lost. He wasn’t sure what that word meant anymore: home. He’d always thought that it was the place you came from and the place you returned to, but now, inside his cramped, dusty cage, among dozens of other caged pigeons, he felt like a prisoner.

  “It’s been a while since we last saw you,” a voice came from the cage next to his.

  “Paddy, is that you?” Francis asked.

  Paddy was a veteran; he’d been working as a carrier pigeon for longer than any other pigeon Francis had ever met. He was older than most of them, too—almost twelve—which in pigeon years was ancient. He still hadn’t retired, though, not officially anyway. When the humans decided he was too old and too slow for them, they set him free. But he just kept on coming back, so they let him stay.

  “Aye,” Paddy replied. “It’s been quiet around here with so many of the lads out on the front line.”

  Although he didn’t say it outright, Francis could hear the sadness in Paddy’s voice.

  “Why do you stay here?” Francis asked. If Francis managed to make it to retirement, he knew that he wouldn’t spend his last days in a dark, musty loft. He’d see the world, or as much of it as he could.

  Paddy sighed. “I don’t know, lad. I suppose I’ve got nowhere else to go. No purpose other than this.”

  “Couldn’t you find a new purpose?”

  “The National Pigeon Service is all I’ve ever known. There’s nowhere else to go.” He paused. “I wish I could have one last mission. One last adventure before my wings give up on me and the humans ditch me for good.”

  Francis examined the edges of his cage and the metal catch that secured the door shut. An idea began to form in his head of how he could warn his friends at the zoo and grant Paddy’s wish at the same time.

  “Paddy,” Francis said, “I need your help.” He raised his voice so that all the pigeons in the loft could hear him. “I’ve just delivered a message. The Nazis are planning to blitz London. The humans are preparing to defend the city and the humans in it, but what about the dogs and cats living on the streets, the birds, the pigeons living in Regent’s Park…? What about the animals at the zoo? They don’t have shelters to hide in or weapons to protect themselves with. They’re not trained like we are. When the air-raid sirens sound and the Nazis attack, they don’t stand a chance.”

  He felt something surge through his blood, through his very core. “We can save them. Or at least give them a chance to find somewhere safe to shelter.”

/>   “It’s an honorable idea, Francis,” Paddy said, “but why do you care about the zoo so much?”

  “I was shot down,” Francis said, and the loft suddenly went silent. Every pigeon there had a friend who had been lost to the war. But for one to have been hit and made it back alive—that was unheard of.

  “What happened, lad?” Paddy asked.

  “German bombers,” Francis said. “Shot right through my wing. I thought that was it for me, but I landed in the zoo and the animals there… and the humans… they helped me. They saved my life. I owe them.”

  “What can we do?” Paddy asked, and a few others echoed the question.

  “We need to warn them. It won’t be much, but it will give them a little time, give them a fighting chance. Don’t they deserve that?”

  There was a deathly silence, apart from the odd shuffling sounds of feet scratching the floor. Francis sagged, the burden of needing to save his friends weighing heavy.

  “I’m in,” Paddy cried beside him.

  “But the humans need us here,” a voice said from above Francis. “Who will deliver their messages while we’re gone?”

  “They will be too busy with the incoming threat,” Francis said. “Besides, we will only be gone a day. You all know that we can be here for days, weeks even, before being needed.”

  “It’s too risky,” said another.

  “No riskier than what we do when we’re at war,” Francis said. “But now the war isn’t far away in some foreign land. It’s coming to us. To our home. To destroy everything and everyone.”

  A chorus of voices chattered and asked questions and argued among themselves while Francis tried to think of a better way to convince them.

  “I’m in, too!” a voice shouted from the far side of the loft. “But how do we get out of our cages?”

  A murmur rose as the others echoed this thought. Francis poked his beak through the wire mesh and gripped the metal catch with his beak. Slowly, slowly, he pulled, until with a small click, the door sprang open. He hopped out of his cage, then flew into the air so that the other pigeons could see him. Then he went to Paddy’s cage and did the same, releasing him. Paddy moved to the left, while Francis moved to the right, repeating the action until every single pigeon was free.

  “Who taught you how to do that?” Paddy asked as the pigeons assembled.

  “A monkey.” Francis grinned.

  “The plan is simple,” he told the crowd. “We fly to London and warn every animal we see. Tell them to warn everyone they know and to find somewhere safe. The humans won’t let animals inside their shelters, but there’s nothing to stop them from going into the underground train stations. They will be the safest places. If anyone doesn’t want to come, that is your choice. I am asking you, as your friend, as your kin.”

  Francis waited for the pigeons to change their minds and return to their cages, but every single one stood firm, looking to him as their leader.

  The pigeons bobbed their heads in unison, and Francis separated them into groups, assigning each group to a different area of the city.

  “Red division, you’ll take the east of the city. Frederick, you take the lead. Green division, the west, led by Bertha. Blue, north, led by Billy, and Yellow, south with Margaret.” He nodded at a group of five pigeons in front of him. “The rest come with me to the center of London.”

  “What about me?” Paddy asked, disappointed to not have been put into a group.

  “I’ve got a special job for you,” Francis told him. “You and I are going to London Zoo. We’ve got some animals to save.”

  Francis took the lead and flew from the loft with Paddy by his side. The other pigeons flew behind in a V formation, flying over Bletchley Park Mansion like they were their very own air force. Someone spotted them from below and called out to the other humans, who rushed out of the huts, staring up at the sight of the pigeons flying as one.

  “We’ll be back!” Francis cooed to them.

  Gradually, they reached the outer edges of the city. The sun was setting on the horizon, leaving nothing but a faint pink line. The sky was cloudless, and already stars dotted the indigo background.

  Regent’s Park was a few miles ahead and Francis’s gut began to twist. He hadn’t really thought much further than to escape and warn as many animals as he could. With the dogs and cats, it would be relatively simple. They could move about the city unseen. The zoo animals would be different. Their enclosures were not hardy enough to withstand any type of bomb, so there was no choice but to evacuate. But where could they go? Some of the smaller animals might be able to force their way into the zoo’s basement shelter, but that was no option for the giraffes or zebras.

  One thing at a time, Francis told himself. First, they would warn the animals and help them escape their enclosures, then after that, well, they would just have to cross that bridge when they came to it.

  “Incoming!” Paddy shouted.

  “Red division, dive!” Frederick ordered. He looked back at Francis and gave a quick nod before diving toward the ground.

  “Yellow division, to the right,” Francis yelled.

  The pigeons peeled away from the main group, heading south.

  The final groups quickly followed, each heading in a different direction, leaving Francis, Paddy, and his group on course as they headed to the center of the city.

  “Nazi bombers,” Francis replied as Messerschmitts appeared on the horizon. “We’re too late!”

  The air-raid sirens sounded below. Soon the streets were clear and eerily silent except for the echoing wail. Francis pushed harder, keeping the enemy within his sight. Something was different. The planes weren’t in their usual formation of ten or twenty Messerschmitts.

  Hundreds, maybe thousands of bomber planes peppered the sky like a swarm of locusts set to devour everything in their path.

  It was the entire Luftwaffe.

  September 26, 1940

  They landed at the edge of the zoo. Francis directed the pigeons to spread out, then he moved from cage to cage, enclosure to enclosure.

  “Something bad is coming!” he shouted as he went. “Get ready, we need to evacuate the zoo!”

  The animals became increasingly distressed as the message traveled throughout the zoo. Questions were shouted at Francis as he went, until they merged into a jumble inside his head:

  What is coming? What can we do? How do we get out of our cages?

  “I’ll be back,” Francis reassured them as he ran past. “I’m breaking you out.”

  “Prepare to leave!” Francis shouted at the storks and ostriches.

  They glared at him wide-eyed, then literally stuck their heads in the sand and refused to listen no matter how many times Francis shouted at them.

  “We’re ready!” the prairie dogs called, seemingly unperturbed by this new revelation. They lined up obediently at their cage door, nodding when Francis told them he’d be back.

  There was a faint whistling sound as something fell from the sky, landing on the path ahead. It fizzed, then emitted a small flame. Francis stepped forward to take a closer look, but Paddy held him back.

  “Incendiaries,” he told Francis. “Watch out.”

  All around them, more and more incendiaries fell from the sky, raining down like droplets of fire. Some did nothing but fizz and hiss where they landed, but as one landed on the roof of a wooden shed nearby, Francis could see why they were so deadly. In an instant the roof ignited, and within minutes it was completely ablaze. The fire quickly spread to an overhanging tree branch and then to another tree, until the entire row was on fire.

  The incendiaries continued to land on buildings and roofs, until it seemed like all of London was on fire. Francis left Paddy to continue preparing the animals, while he flew to Monkey Hill. As soon as the monkeys saw Francis, they crowded around, many of the younger monkeys clinging to their mothers’ backs, their eyes wider than ever.

  “Jacky, Chiney!” Francis called.

  His friends appe
ared, giving Francis their usual grins, despite everything that was going on.

  “I need your help.” Francis coughed as smoke filled the air. “One last time.”

  “Anything,” Chiney said.

  “Just say the word,” Jacky added.

  “We’re evacuating the zoo,” Francis shouted so that the monkeys could hear. “As many animals as possible. I need you to unlock as many enclosures as you can, then we will find a safe place to shelter.”

  Paddy joined Francis and leaned over to whisper in his ear, “Are you sure you want to release all the animals?” He gestured to the lion enclosure, where two hungry-looking beasts stared back.

  Francis looked at the lions. He didn’t want to sentence them to death, but he couldn’t risk the safety of the other animals and humans. The fires continued to rage all around them, and now, along with the incendiaries, bombs were being dropped. There were screams as humans ran for shelter. Their cries were drowned out by the echoing explosions and drones of planes—both enemies and allies—flying above. But worse than all of that was the sounds of the animals. Their terrified shrieks and screams rose above the noise as they realized there was danger of being bombed or trapped by fire.

  “The humans made the zoo as secure as possible in case of a situation like this,” Francis said finally as the air filled with black smoke. “They have reinforced shelters for the more dangerous animals, like the polar bears. The lions will be all right.”

  They have to be, he thought. He hoped he had made the right decision as the monkeys raced to unlock as many cages and enclosures as possible.

  But now Francis had another problem. As animals gathered around him, he still had no idea where they could go. He strutted back and forth, desperately trying to find an answer when he walked smack bang into a wooden post. He shook his bruised head and looked up: It was the giant map of the zoo. He scanned it quickly, then his gaze fell upon the one place where they might all fit and have a chance of surviving the night.