“The east tunnel!” Francis shouted above the roar of the planes and the explosions that seemed to be going off every second. Even when he’d been stationed at Normandy, Francis had never seen war this up close before, and it terrified him.
As scared as he was, though, the other animals were petrified. Francis tried to tell them to calm down and make their way to the tunnel in groups so that they would be smaller targets. But instead, they stampeded—hippos, camels, and zebras, all running alongside monkeys and penguins and flamingoes. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, Francis would have stopped just to take it all in—the sheer spectacle of so many different animals coming together as one.
“My foal!” a zebra cried, running over to Francis. “She’s lost. Please help me find her!”
“Head to the tunnel,” Francis told her. “I’ll find her.”
“What is going on!” a voice shrieked from behind him.
He turned to see Jean watching the escaped animals, her face smeared with black soot and her hands scratched up and bloodied.
Francis froze. Why was Jean there? She needed to be somewhere safe, away from the bombs. He flew over to her and she shook her head, unable to believe what she was seeing. “What is happening?” she screamed.
Francis hopped along the ground, trying to lead her toward the tunnel.
Jean gasped. “You’re trying to get the animals to a shelter!”
She ran alongside Francis as he flew, shaking her head the whole way and muttering that he really was an amazing pigeon.
The east tunnel led from Regent’s Park to the zoo and was long, made from concrete, with plenty of room to fit all the animals, and tall enough for the giraffes. Paddy led the way, while Francis stayed at the rear, ushering the animals inside. Jean was joined by a few other keepers who had come to find her, and together they herded the animals to safety, trying to calm them as best they could.
Francis landed beside Jean and she bent to stroke his head with shaking hands. “I’m scared,” she whispered to him.
Francis bobbed his head, then he saw the zebra watching him anxiously.
“Paddy, I’ve got to go!” he called out. “There is a zebra foal out there somewhere.”
He ignored Paddy’s protests and flew out of the tunnel, peering through the smoke for any sign of the lost foal.
A bomb exploded within the zoo grounds and a huge geyser of water burst forth from the ground as it hit the main water pipe. Francis fought against the heavy spray, but his wings were waterlogged. He ran instead, flapping his wings to dry them, when another bomb hit Monkey Hill.
Francis flew toward it, hoping that the monkeys had all evacuated. The concrete hill was a mess. A smoldering crater sizzled right in its center, and rock and debris had been flung far over the wall.
There was a slight movement from beneath one of the rocks, and a groan.
“Francis!” a small voice called.
Chiney!
Francis hurried over. His friend was trapped by the rock, his tail caught beneath it.
“What are you doing here?” Francis asked. “You should be in the tunnel.”
“I came to help you,” Chiney groaned.
“Stay still,” Francis ordered. “I’ll get you out of this.”
He leaned his weight against the rock, but it was too heavy. He looked around desperately for someone to help, but the zoo was deserted.
He tried again, pushing with every ounce of strength he had left in him. Suddenly, it shifted. Paddy appeared beside him, pushing against the other side.
“You didn’t think I’d leave you out here alone, did you, lad?” Paddy gasped as he pushed against the rock. Slowly, it scraped along the ground, until Chiney was able to pull his tail free.
“Are you all right?” Francis puffed. “I was so worried!”
Chiney gave him a shaky smile.
“Go to the tunnel,” Francis ordered. “Make sure that everyone stays inside. You included.”
Chiney didn’t wait to be told twice; he raced off, disappearing into the arc of water.
“Come on!” Francis yelled to Paddy.
Paddy shook his head. “My wing,” he said. “It’s injured.”
“Well, mine is, too,” Francis said. “But I’m not going to let that stop us.”
He wrapped his good wing around Paddy as the two hobbled along toward the tunnel. There was another explosion as the camel house was hit, blocking their path. Francis and Paddy were thrown back against a wall by the blast.
Francis gasped, trying to catch his breath and get his bearings, searching for Paddy. A small bundle of bloodied feathers lay unmoving on the ground.
“Paddy?” Francis called, hurrying over to his friend.
Paddy groaned. “Pigeon down,” he whispered.
Francis inspected his injuries. They were bad.
“It will be all right,” Francis said. “Jean will help you. We’ll shelter with the humans, and maybe they will let you stay here like I did. That would be a nice retirement for you, Paddy, wouldn’t it? You’ll like it here with all the animals. The visitors drop so much food, you’ll be eating like a king. Paddy…?”
But Paddy could no longer hear him. Francis sagged beside his fallen friend, unable to move, unable to think.
“I’m sorry,” Francis cried. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Francis didn’t know how long he stayed beside his friend, but he suddenly became aware of fire licking the trees around him. It scorched his feathers, and smoke filled his lungs. A little way ahead, he saw the outline of the restaurant. As much as he wanted to stay by Paddy’s side, Francis had made Ming a promise. He wasn’t going to break it.
He flew low toward the restaurant, trying to find somewhere to shelter. He hoped that there would be a door or window ajar to squeeze through, but a shower of fireballs whizzed through the air, landing on the restaurant’s roof. He flew on, up and over the restaurant, swerving this way and that to avoid the incoming missiles. Finally, he saw the tunnel up ahead.
Chiney and Jacky peered out from the entrance, anxiously searching the sky.
“I’m here,” Francis puffed as he landed. The zebra came rushing forward, but Francis shook his head. “I couldn’t find her,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“We thought we’d never see you again,” Jacky said, hugging Francis.
“Thank you for saving my life,” Chiney said quietly.
Francis sobbed. “That was all Paddy’s doing.”
“Where is he?” Chiney looked past Francis, but when Francis lowered his head, Chiney knew that Paddy wouldn’t be joining them.
Deep in the tunnel, the animals waited in silence. They listened as the bombs exploded around the city and sirens wailed. Gunfire echoed through the tunnel, the sound amplified so that it was even louder inside than out.
Francis rested against the wall, and Jean took him in her arms and hugged him close. There was nothing more to do but hope that the other pigeons were safe and that the tunnel wouldn’t be hit.
September 26, 1940
The wolves knew something was wrong before the humans did. Their desperate howls were loud and urgent and incessant. The sirens started, and the two sounds intertwined into one long, mournful wail.
The other animals in the zoo began crying out, the elephants trumpeting in fear. They weren’t as used to the air raids as Ming and Tang had become—the half-a-breath pause before the blast, the bright flashes of light, the heat from the fire warming the night air, and the smoke that brought with it a lingering smell that sometimes lasted for days.
Ming looked in the direction of the wolves’ howls. Waiting to see what was coming. Suddenly, she had her answer as planes flew overhead, not from the direction that Ming had expected, but from behind, startling her so much that she jumped higher than a baby kangaroo.
“Is it an attack?” Sung asked, her voice wobbling.
Ming surveyed the bombers as they flew by. “I don’t think so,” she answered. “Do you see the marking
s on the planes?”
Sung narrowed her eyes, then nodded.
“The planes with circles beneath their wings and on the tail are British,” she explained. “That means they are on our side.”
“What about the enemy?” Sung asked. “What do their planes look like?”
“They have black crosses,” Tang piped up.
“I didn’t think you paid much attention to Francis!” Ming exclaimed, surprised.
Tang shrugged. “Francis is my friend, too.”
Another squadron of Spitfires flew over, but one lagged behind the others. Black smoke trailed from the engine, and it sputtered through the air, the propellers stalling before restarting again. It roared back to life, speeding ahead to catch up with the others, but something fell from its undercarriage.
Before Ming could shout out a warning, the bomb landed just beyond the giraffes’ paddock. She threw herself at Tang and Sung and knocked them to the ground, sacrificing her own safety to shield them with her body. Ming felt as though she were caught inside a firestorm. The explosion sent a fierce blast sweeping over them in scorching waves. She held her paws over her head as she heard the giraffes’ screams and the wolves howls far in the distance.
The humans arrived quickly, dunking buckets into the pond to douse the flames. The bomb hadn’t destroyed any buildings, but half of the strawberry patch in the field was now a smoldering black crater. In the paddock, zookeepers were trying to keep the giraffes calm, but the baby seemed especially agitated. There was another small blast far in the distance, and the baby giraffe set off at an incredible pace, almost trampling the men fighting the fire.
Some of the humans, still wearing their bathrobes, raced after the giraffe as she ran through the wooden fence, knocking it down, and continued on until Ming could no longer see her. Ming tried to move, but her limbs were weak and trembling.
“We… have… to help!” Ming managed, coughing up dust and soot.
Tang murmured in reply, but Ming, her ears ringing, couldn’t hear him.
“Get off!” Tang shouted, elbowing Ming so that she would get the message.
Ming groaned and forced herself up while Tang did the same, checking himself and Ming over for any injuries. They both seemed in good shape, surprisingly. Sung, however, sat in silence, staring off into space. The dancing glow of the fire reflected in her eyes.
“We have to help,” Ming repeated.
The blast had created a hole in one side of the wire-mesh fence surrounding their enclosure. Ming tentatively stepped closer to examine it. The edges were twisted and jagged. Sharp pieces jutted out at different angles, but it was big enough, Ming thought, for a giant panda to fit through if she wanted to escape. She turned to Sung, who sat looking up at the sky. Tang sat beside her, trying to break her out of it. The planes had long since disappeared. The sky seemed clear again, and Ming could no longer hear the drone of propellers or plane engines.
“Are you coming?” Ming asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
Tang glanced up at her and shook his head vigorously, gesturing to Sung, but Ming persisted.
“Sung?” she asked.
“What are you doing?” Tang asked. “You can’t go out there.”
“Francis would have helped the other animals,” Ming said. “I think we should, too.”
She eased her way through the hole in the wire mesh and glanced around. The humans were preoccupied with the giraffes. Farther along the path, a storage shed had been knocked down by the blast.
“Do you hear that?” Tang asked from beside her.
“You came!” Ming smiled.
“Well, why should you and Francis be the only heroic ones?” Tang shrugged.
A small squealing noise came from the dilapidated shed. It is little more than a wooden shack, Ming thought. No wonder it had been destroyed.
They ventured slowly toward the wreckage, picking their way carefully across the debris and shattered wooden boards. There was a slight movement from beneath the pile of lumber.
“Look!” Ming gasped. A small hand reached out from beneath the pile. “It’s a human child.”
She used her paws to carefully pull the timber boards aside. “Help me, Tang!”
Tang joined her, using his jaws to pick up smaller pieces.
“Be careful,” Ming warned. “We don’t want to hurt her.”
“Mama!” the small voice called.
“We’ll have you out of there soon, little human,” Ming shushed. “Try to stay calm.”
Tang stared at Ming for a moment. “Who are you and what have you done with Ming?” he asked.
Ming pulled away another large plank of wood. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“You wouldn’t even leave the shadows to see the humans,” he replied, “and now…”
Ming sighed. “Things change,” she said. “This war… it changes you. But I am glad it has brought us closer. That we are friends.”
Tang smiled, and the two increased their efforts to free the little girl.
Finally, she escaped. Her face was filthy, covered in scratches and scrapes, and her white nightdress was torn, but she seemed to be able to move easily now that she was no longer trapped beneath the rubble.
The little girl brushed down her dress, then looked at the pandas in awe. “Thank you!” she whispered before running off toward the humans.
“We’d better check on Sung,” Ming said, hurrying back to their ruined enclosure.
Sung was much the same as when they’d left her. “She’s shell-shocked,” Tang said. “It’s what the humans say when someone has had a traumatic experience.”
“Well, we’ll have to snap her out if it,” Ming said. “Sung, I thought I might head up to the pavilion, take a look at that wonderful view you told me about. Wouldn’t you like to see it?”
Sung slowly slid her gaze from the sky to Ming, then gave the slightest of nods.
“Ming, I don’t think this is a good idea,” Tang hissed. “She’s trembling all over. Look at her!”
“I can see that!” Ming hissed back. “Which is why she needs something to distract her from what just happened. You should come, too,” she told him. “A bit of exercise will do you good. You look much rounder than when we first arrived.”
The challenge worked; Tang forgot all about changing Ming’s mind and instead followed after her and Sung, grumbling as they carefully eased their way through the torn wire mesh, sneaked past the humans, and plodded up the hill. It was steeper than Ming had thought and the summit farther away than it seemed. They eventually reached the top, huffing and puffing as they tried to catch their breath.
The view was stunning. The full moon cast a light over the vast countryside that spread out before them, like a spotlight illuminating a stage. There was a forest of tall, dark trees to the west, and fields and hills as far as the eye could see to the very horizon. Ming narrowed her eyes, focusing on a blurred orange glow at the center of the horizon.
“What’s over there?” she asked Sung, who sat beside her.
Sung followed Ming’s gaze, then stood so suddenly that Ming’s stomach lurched.
“What is it?” Ming whispered. Sung’s eyes had grown wide, and her fur trembled again.
“I told you this was a bad idea,” Tang said. He patted Sung’s shoulder gently with a paw, but she flinched.
“I’m so sorry,” Sung whispered.
“Sorry?” Ming asked, confused. “About what?”
Sung gestured at the glowing blur, which seemed to have grown bigger and brighter in the fleeting moments that Ming had looked away.
Ming’s heart pounded in her chest, spreading a sickening feeling of unease through her body. “What is it, Sung?” she cried, unable to take the tension any longer.
“London,” Sung told her.
Tang’s jaw grew slack as he stared at the glow lighting up the sky so many, many miles away. “It looks like the sky is on fire,” he whispered.
Ming couldn’t understand what
was happening. She heard the words, but they made no sense. When they had left the zoo, London, everything had been fine. The nightly air raids were terrifying but they got through them. They survived. But now… now her world was slowly unraveling around her. Everything she had ever known… the zoo… her friends… her home. Could it really all be gone? Had Francis been too late delivering his message?
Sung gripped Ming tightly with her paw. “London is burning.”
September 27, 1940
The restaurant was still burning. The burst pipe continued to spurt out water, creating a meandering river that wound its way through the zoo. The firefighters had been forced to use the only other supply of water at the zoo, which was the sea lion pool. The sea lions stood around, watching the humans with varying degrees of emotion on their faces, ranging from mild annoyance to pure rage that their pool was being drained.
Francis heard them complaining as he wandered past, being careful to avoid the humans. At least water was the only thing they had lost, he thought bitterly. The water main could be fixed, the pool refilled. But nothing could bring back Paddy.
When the air raid had subsided and the humans began emerging from their shelters to inspect the damage, Francis had told the animals to return to their enclosures—those who had enclosures to return to. A few animals still wandered the zoo, looking as dazed and exhausted as Francis felt.
The camel house had been badly damaged, so they stood aimlessly in a nearby paddock, staring at one another as though wondering what to do next. As Francis headed toward Monkey Hill, there were many more disoriented animals. Francis had seen humans with the same lost expressions at Normandy—those who had returned from the front line, some injured, some worse, with their eyes glazed over. It was as though the war and what they had been through had erased some part of them, destroyed all sense of what was right and what was wrong. Their minds filled with the horrors they had seen, the images replaying over and over while they wondered what they should have done differently. Why their comrades and friends didn’t make it.
Francis knew all this because he felt the same way now. It was an aching pain that he didn’t think would ever go away. He’d wanted to give Paddy one last adventure, one final mission so that he could retire with a sense of peace. But now he would never have that. All that Francis had given his old friend was pain. He hoped that the other pigeons had made their way back to Bletchley. He couldn’t bear to think that more of them might have been hurt because of him.
World War II Page 10