Bonzo's War (29 page)

Went over to Brixton early for the puss cat's rations. But there were terrible long queues after the Bank Holiday. I suppose I had to stand for 1½ hours.

So, what was the Junior Minister of Food going to do about it? When questioned in Parliament he replied wearily that, ‘it would be rather difficult to make a census of cats'.

And as for dogs, each one was different. How could you set a ration for a Toy Poodle as opposed to a Great Dane? It was beyond the subtlest of Civil Service intellects.

‘Are any steps being taken to reduce the dog population?' he was asked. ‘The dog population has fallen considerably since the outbreak of war,' he replied. ‘The question of food consumption by dogs is being kept under constant review.' And indeed it was.

29
  The Government's wartime approach to rats was urgent and practical. With the experience of 1940–41, when large numbers took over swathes of Coventry and Swansea after raids, regulations followed including promotion of a public force of ‘rat watchers'. The Ministry of Food took over in March 1942, with a £20,000 grant to pay bounties on rats' tails. Food protection was the priority rather than public health. Professor H. R. Hewer of Imperial College, otherwise a leading expert on seals and otters, was appointed rodent control supremo.

30
  There were more reindeer gifts. The submarine HMS
Tigris
brought back ‘Minsk' in 1941. HMS
Kent
brought one back from Murmansk, as did HMS
Belfast
, aboard which the unusual pet ‘went crazy' during the action against the German battlecruiser
Scharnhorst
on 26 December 1943, and had to be shot. Its antlers reportedly adorned the cruiser's wardroom. ‘Whisky', the tabby cat mascot of HMS
Duke of York
, was present (reportedly peacefully asleep) at the same action.

31
  There were multiple Timoshenkos – cats, ponies and bears. Lots of dogs were still called ‘Adolf' and ‘Hitler' and there was a rash of ‘Winston' Bulldogs, but there seem to have been very few pet ‘Stalins'.

32
  They invented the suitably non-Teutonic name between them. In 1936, the ‘Wolf Dog' tag would be dropped by the Kennel Club.

Hunting wild animals with dogs, even in its reduced state, was hanging on by a thread. How could this be justified? In May 1942 the New Forest Buckhounds had an appeal for ration coupons turned down. ‘The keepers of the forest are shooting hard,' the Lands Commissioner reported. ‘Control [of deer] is better done now than for years past. In my opinion the hunt is purely maintained for sporting purposes.' Unfortunate Harriers, Beagles and Otterhounds would also have their rations cut off altogether on 1 June.

On 22 May came news that the Sanderstead and Coulsdon Home Guard had been out with 30 guns following an invitation by the chairman of the local ‘Food Production Club' to exterminate foxes that had been molesting poultry. Two cubs were claimed. The Ministry of Agriculture got excited that the Home Guard's firepower generally might be turned on foxes and hunting shut down altogether.

Next, a report arrived in the Ministry from Derbyshire that fox numbers were being kept up by the local Barlow Hunt, by means of rabbits being encouraged to breed in a special warren. They were hunting for pleasure, not to
keep poultry raiders down. Local farmers were already feuding with the MFH, a Major Williams Wilson, after several similar incidents. This could be a major embarrassment.

But a much bigger hunt-related scandal was about to break. It reached the Cabinet. For months there had been rumours about a big black market operation in animal feedstuff running between the London docks, a number of barge skippers and a corrupt grain company.

Wheat, maize and barley, rationed since February 1941, had been skimmed off on a massive scale. An animal feedstuff company in Rye, in Kent had sold it on to their customers, mainly dairy farmers, without ration documents for large sums of money. Thus did black market grain turn into milk, attracting a Government subsidy via the Milk Marketing Board.

Four of the farmers were ‘eminent persons': Sir William Jowitt, the Paymaster-General, Sir George Courthorpe, MP for Rye, the elderly Admiral Sir Aubrey Smith and Lord Burghley, gold medal Olympic hurdler, heir to the Marquess of Exeter, MP, guards officer, landowner and master of the East Sussex Hounds.

An anonymous letter reached Winston Churchill. ‘Jowitt, your minister, is receiving stolen black market wheat. Act quickly. No patriot wants the Government to crash in scandal!' said ‘a friend'.

Ministry of Food enforcement officers discreetly investigated. Jowitt claimed he had left it all to his bailiff, Mr Gough, and had ‘never seen a cattle coupon in my life'. Nevertheless he had signed the cheques himself. Lord Burghley claimed innocence, telling Lord Woolton personally that it was ‘unfair that every officer who is serving overseas should be prosecuted if his land agent inadvertently received too much feeding stuff'. He relied
on the hunt servants to purchase quantities authorized by law, he insisted.

Sir Henry French, Permanent Under Secretary at the Ministry of Food, could see the extreme political sensitivity. He was keen to prosecute however and did ‘not want a long delay between submitting the case to the Prime Minister' and criminal proceedings.

‘I understand that in the case of Lord Burghley he fed it to his hounds,' he wrote, ‘which makes the position
far worse.'
The others at least had turned the stolen grain into milk.

The matter was turned over to the Director of Public Prosecutions. On 20 July the Cabinet discussed it under a dummy agenda heading, ‘Post War Relief'. Churchill was warned by his private secretary, Anthony Bevir: ‘If there was no prosecution there might be a snarling campaign in the left wing press, who cannot like the mud being thrown at the Jews for being the arch racketeers.'

So the eminent persons did come to trial on 29 August 1942 before a special court at Canterbury on charges of ‘contravening the Feeding Stuffs (Rationing) Order'. All except one pleaded guilty while claiming ignorance of their servants' actions. Lord Burghley said he had no knowledge of the matter.

‘The customers of Albion Thorpe [the grain dealer] before the Court were all of the highest respectability,'
The Times
reported, ‘and the prosecution had come to the conclusion that in no case did they really know or realize they were receiving excess over their coupons. They were the victims of the distributing dealers, who acted very badly.' Fines were nominal. That Lord Burghley was feeding stolen grain to his Foxhounds was not mentioned. Nor would it be. Within six months he was appointed Governor of Bermuda.

Publicising Lord Burghley's offence was just a little too sensitive in the circumstances of summer 1942. Biscuits (for humans) were put on points rationing at the beginning of August. ‘Dog policy' became a renewed priority for the Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries and Food's (MAFF) Food Utilisation Committee. An anguished political balance sheet was drafted. Cat and dog lovers might claim their pets make a valuable contribution to wartime morale but on the other hand: ‘Goods have to be imported at great risk to our sailors and every ton of freight space must be freed to make room for essential supplies food and munitions.' And it was noted that the waste of food order was still untested in the matter of feeding milk to cats, but it could be. Cats might act as deterrents to mice, but if the infestation is a heavy one ‘they are no longer of real use'.

The Ministry faced a conundrum – should it stir up anti-canine sentiment by revealing how much dogs were actually eating? The Minister pointed out the political perils of setting non-dog owners against dog owners. Would it really help the war effort? Educative propaganda should be considered, one dog per household be urged, maybe an increase in dog licence from 7
s
. 6
d
. to £1.

A proposal to prohibit dog shows was considered. It was pointed out that the only shows permitted were local ones, ‘harmless amusement for war workers'. A conclusion was reached – ‘It is not the intention of the Government to take any of the drastic repressive measures, beloved of the enemy, they prefer to leave the matter to the good sense of each man and woman who owns a cat or dog.'

But good sense could be manipulated. ‘We might cause it to be known
unofficially
how much dogs do eat with a view to preparing the public mind for restriction,' minuted
the Ministry's public relations expert, Howard Marshall, on 3 March 1942.

Mr Arthur Croxton Smith, chairman of the Kennel Club, told the Ministry on 6 August that they would co-operate fully in reducing of the number of dogs, but he was opposed to any policy that involved the destruction of dogs,
‘other than strays'
.

The Club was fully aware, he said, ‘of the political implications of interfering with existing companion dogs'. They formed ‘ by far the largest part of the existing canine population and no doubt consume much larger quantities of biscuit food than the show kennels do'. He was right about that.

Croxton Smith suggested a meeting of Masters of Fox Hounds, greyhound breeders and national coursing clubs to discuss the issue but it was ‘not desirable that NARPAC or the animal welfare charities' should be involved. There were anti-dog plots everywhere.

Pets could not even look for spiritual comfort. That summer, Mr Leonard Noble, vice chairman of the RSPCA, wrote to William Temple, the Archbishop of Canterbury, to ask that Anglican clergy consider including a prayer for animals in their services. ‘We hear of a trainload of Russian horses sent crashing into a ravine rather than let them fall into German hands,' he wrote. ‘Also, we hear of thousands of lost strays and injured dogs and cats in the bombed areas.'

The Archbishop however was concerned that such a prayer might be over-sentimental and provoke ridicule. After a story appeared in
The Animal World
, the wife of a Society Inspector in Leeds sent in something suitable with a patriotic twist.

And for those also, O Lord, the humble beasts, who with us bear the burden and heat of the day, and whose guileless lives are offered for the well-being of their countries we supplicate,

Thy great tenderness of heart for Thou, Lord, shalt save both man and beast and great is Thy loving kindness, O Master, Saviour of the world.

But the Archbishop of York intervened to say it was theologically inaccurate to pray for animals, although it might be correct to pray that their treatment by humans be merciful. This particular prayer had surfaced before in 1917, supposedly from a Russian litany, but was really invented by some animal welfare society as the only way in which they could induce the clergy to pray for animals. The view prevailed. Once again wartime animals would go un-prayed for.

The Ministry of Food's clandestine anti-pet propaganda campaign began to pay off. A rash of letters to newspapers appeared. The Ministry carefully monitored them. Councillor A. R. Edwards of Moss Side, Manchester, complained about ‘millions of useless cats and dogs'. London dogs alone gobbled down 180 tons of food a week, so readers of
The Times
letters page were informed on 18 June. ‘Humanely exterminate all puppies and kittens at birth,' Mr A. M. Cardell of Newquay unkindly suggested on 18 July.

Mr J. Hunt Croxley, a compliant
Daily Herald
columnist, urged: ‘One Dog per family! Where a husband has gone into the services, no one would begrudge the waiting woman a dog for protection and solace, but too many dog owners have too many dogs.

‘And cats! No more than one cat per household should be allowed,' he continued. ‘Too many cats are in the wrong
places, and too many are overfed.They get milk and portions of meat and fish which to a man would be the equivalent of a three-pound joint of meat every lunchtime.'

The announcement that summer that the number of domestic backyard fowls would be restricted to one per member of the family brought a rash of letters to the Ministry about ‘dogs getting biscuits that would keep my hens alive'. Canines were ‘all consuming parasites'.

‘Nero', a dog ‘the size of a horse' – an attraction advertised at the Endcliffe Park Fair in Sheffield – caused apoplexy. ‘I bet he has an appetite like one,' said a local poultry keeper, who sent a cutting about the otherwise harmless St Bernard to the Ministry. ‘People are disgusted with a government that permits such abuses.' Poor Nero had no say in the matter. He was probably feeling quite hungry.

Meanwhile the RSPCA reported that they had expected to see a rise in ‘deficiency diseases' in domestic animals from poor diet. In fact the opposite turned out to be the case: the variation in diet for both dogs and cats was proving healthier all round. Busy war-workers, however, had insufficient time to exercise dogs – a general concern.

In a pro-dog propaganda counterblast, the NCDL chairman, Mr Charles R. Johns, publicised the results of a rat-catching competition won by a dog living in a large town that ‘scored 960 authentic kills'. The price of working Terriers had doubled, it was reported, because of the rural plague of rats – ‘while sporting dogs were sought by harassed gamekeepers for estates overrun with foxes and badgers'.

The redoubtable duo of the Duchess of Hamilton and Louise Lind-af-Hageby weighed in against the ‘silly attacks in the press on dogs as luxury pets'. They proclaimed:

The value of dogs cannot be measured merely in terms of utility. They are friends of the soldiers, they are protectors of the lonely, comfort for the weary, joy to the children, often the only remaining link with past days of family happiness.

The dog lover versus dog hater scrap rumbled on; played out in saloon-bar arguments and newspaper letters columns. ‘The numbers of special dogs which are doing something useful are negligible,' wrote ‘Night Worker', styling himself ‘a lover of clean pavements and disliker of persistent, discordant barking'.