Bonzo's War (6 page)

I enclose two ‘snaps' of my Scotties in their gas kennels, which I've had very little trouble in getting them used to. One dog is particularly shy and nervous. I overcome this by always putting his favourite toy inside just out of his reach, so that he got quite used to going in and out. When I came to release him, he was quite happily curled up asleep.

The other Scottie growls at him if he tries to get into his barrel! The younger dog likes to be inside his barrel if there is a thunderstorm or if it is very hot. Yours sincerely, Miss …

The summer was passing. Just to get the message across generally, Sir John Anderson's office had issued an information sheet at the end of July 1939. Now starvation was the spectre, as well as gas attack from the air:

YOUR FOOD IN WAR-TIME: You know that our country is dependent to a very large extent on supplies of food from overseas. More than 20 million tons are brought into our ports from all parts of the world in the course of a year.

In fact a lot of people did not know just how dependent. And much of that food from overseas was used to feed
farm animals – for home-produced meat and milk. Pigs and poultry were also fed on cheap imported corn. The nations' pets came at the end of a long food queue. They were terribly vulnerable.

The first wave of refugee pets was coming out of quarantine. ‘Marko', the St Bernard from Vienna, was reunited with his ‘refugee mistress' at the Blue Cross Quarantine Kennels. She wrote gushingly: ‘I have had the joy of meeting Marko again. Words are so poor to express what we feel in our innermost selves at such a moment. Hardly had I entered the Quarantine Kennels when I heard the barking of my dog. Out of thousands I should have recognised it again. It sounded so sad, and I was overcome to think that his poor dog's soul had ceased to hope for a reunion with me.'

Meanwhile Marko's ‘knowledge of the English language is astonishing,' wrote his mistress. ‘He understands each word much better than I.'

A trial blackout was held in British cities on 10 August. On the surface it was still jolly, super summer hols. At the London Zoo in Regent's Park there were elephant rides, buns and ice cream. The Children's Zoo teemed with kiddies. ‘Twice a week the park was open late, you could dine elegantly and with courteous attention, then dance outside holding your partner deliciously close as you whirled under the coloured lights in the trees,' wrote one visitor. ‘Half London had flocked to see the newly arrived giant pandas [‘Ming' and ‘Sung', supposedly a breeding pair captured in the wild in Sichuan by the American hunter Floyd Tangier Smith] and Princess Elizabeth and her sister Margaret made frequent visits.'

The news meanwhile was all about German demands on Poland and whether Britain and France really would resist them. In a gallant spirit of intervention, Lieutenant-Colonel
Gartside of the RSPCA rushed to Cracow in a bid to see what might be done for the Polish Army's many horses – ‘but circumstances made practical action impossible,' he reported.

But the Colonel was able to make some fascinating observations about Poland's endangered pets. Because of the 20 zloty (16s.) licence, ‘only prosperous classes kept dogs in towns'. But in the country, ‘rural authorities charged nothing and every household has a dog and villages are overrun with mongrels. But they all seemed to be very happy, following workers in the fields or guarding flocks of geese.'

‘Cats are not commonly kept as pets in Poland,' he reported. ‘There are cats in many houses in the cities but they are not fed or looked after and are in a semi-wild state. They are seldom seen being very active and cunning, and live to a great age.' Polish horses, of which there were five million, were ‘thin but hardy', he noted. They would get thinner.

There was a full meeting of NARPAC on 23 August (the day the Nazi-Soviet Pact was signed in Moscow), chaired by the affable Colonel Stordy. ‘In view of the present emergency the chairman had called this meeting to discuss what immediate steps should be taken in connection with animals,' the police representative minuted. ‘A scheme to deal with the practical consideration of animals stranded, injured or in the possession of children being evacuated should be formulated within a matter of hours. A full emergency scheme could be ready by the end of the week.'

Most concern thus far was with London pets. Stordy contacted old veterinary chums to be assured that Hull, Birmingham and Manchester were in the process of organizing something. The National Veterinary Medicine Association was co-operating fully.

It was agreed that a draft notice should be prepared for the press, the BBC and animal welfare societies. Headed, ‘Measures to Meet an Immediate Emergency', it read as follows:

If at all possible, send or take your household animals into the country in advance of an emergency.

Should you decide to keep your animals with you, find out at once the nearest veterinary surgeon or local centre of an animal welfare society. The local police officer will tell you.

If you have animals with you during a raid take them into the household shelter. Put dogs on a lead. Put cats in a basket or box.

If you and your family have to leave home at very short notice (you will not be allowed to take animals with you under the official scheme), on no account leave them in the house or turn them into the street.

If you cannot place them in the care of neighbours, it really is kindest to have them destroyed.

Officials from the newly established Ministry of Home Security approved the draft – ‘The advice is in conformity with [our own] Handbook No. 12 and may be taken as sound.' On 25 August a certain Mr F. M. Hillier brightly noted that he had sent out a press notice – ‘exactly conforming to the file note'. It was now headlined: ‘Advice to Animal Owners'.

On that same day the agreement with Poland was signed offering British military aid in the event of an attack. It was meant to be a deterrent (German armies were massing on the border); it bought a couple of days.

This must be it, absolutely, irrevocably, or would there be another compromise? Evacuation of London's school-children
was imminent. Maybe pets would be made safe too. The existence of NARPAC and what was now called ‘Official Advice to Animal Owners' was announced in virtually every national and local newspaper and on the BBC News the next morning. And there it was, that caring-seeming line about it really being ‘kindest to have them destroyed'.

Amid grave announcements of military mobilization and diplomatic deadlines, it seemed a small piece of housekeeping, a way of doing one's bit. Put up the blackout curtains. Kill your domestic animals.

A national tragedy was in the making.

1
  Pulling told the Commissioner, ‘I attended a meeting of the HO (ARP) Animals Committee on 5 April [1939] and was able to secure the inclusion of a paragraph advising owners to make up their minds in advance whether they wanted their pets evacuated, and if not, whether they wanted them destroyed.'

2
  The first candidate approached, former assistant commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, Sir Trevor Bigham, ruled himself out as he already felt ‘appalled' by the number of cats and dogs in the capital and was of the view, ‘the least the pet-lover can do is put them to sleep before the trouble begins'.

A nation of animal lovers stirred. The redoubtable Nina, Duchess of Hamilton, rushed from Scotland to London with a statement to be broadcast on the BBC. It went out on the morning of 28 August 1939: ‘The Animal Defence Society is anxious to have the names and addresses of people who can offer free accommodation for other people's animals. There must be large numbers among those who are likely to leave London and provincial centres in an emergency who cannot afford to have their animals boarded out. It is emphasised that accommodation offered must be free of charge.' A statement appeared in
The Times
personal columns the next day:

Homes in the country urgently required for those dogs and cats which must otherwise be left behind to starve to death or be shot. Remember that these are the pets of poor people who love them dearly and who will have sufficient worries without those caused by the knowledge that their pets are suffering.

‘The result of the broadcast was startling,' Louise Lind-af-Hageby of the Animal Defence Society wrote: ‘Within five
minutes, the offer of a home was made by telephone and accepted.' But the offers were soon outnumbered by the animals which were brought to Animal Defence House [the Society's HQ in St James's Place, Mayfair] by their anxious and distressed owners – soldiers and sailors called up, families about to be evacuated:

And so the house was filled day by day with ever increasing numbers of dogs and cats and other animals. There were monkeys, parrots and canaries. And owners did not only bring their animals to the Society. The private house of the Duchess of Hamilton was also besieged by people who clamoured for assistance in finding homes, who wanted to save their animals from air raids and destruction.

‘If you can't take my poor Bob now, I must have him destroyed tomorrow morning,' said one. It was heartbreaking.

The Ministry of Home Security hated this freelance initiative. A NARPAC ‘representative' evidently turned up at Animal Defence House the next day and insisted that all such appeals ‘go out in its name'. The Duchess of Hamilton pointed out huffily that she had not even been asked to be represented on the Committee. Relations would not improve.

‘Is there a pet in the house?' so the
Daily Mirror
's Susan Day asked brightly on 28 August. She advised readers to ‘make your plans for their comfort and safety now', but rather than follow the Government's soothingly lethal guidance, her humane feature article argued strongly against doing anything with immediate fatal intent. She recognized the acute dilemma faced by pet owners, asking perceptively: ‘Is it that perhaps we feel a little guilty about
our dumb friends that they should have to suffer for the horrors made by man?'

Yes, it was true that ‘you cannot take them into public shelters,' she said. But there was plenty to think about first. ‘If you live in an evacuable area, send them at once to friends who are outside the danger area,' she advised. ‘The ODFL and NCDL have lists of people who are willing to accept pets and motor car owners who can assist.' If only it were that straightforward.

‘Putting your pets to sleep is a very tragic decision. Only do not take it before it is absolutely necessary,' insisted Miss Day. ‘If there should be no war you would feel terribly upset afterwards to think that you had parted with your little friend for no purpose.'

In London, newsmen watched the frantic comings and goings in Whitehall. A Chow dog was seen wandering unattended on the Duke of York Steps near the German Embassy. ‘A passer-by gave him a facetious Heil Hitler! salute,' so it was reported. ‘The dog wheezed and went to sleep.'

It was recognized as the pet of the recently departed ambassador, Joachim von Ribbentrop, who at one stage had had three Chows plus a Pembrokeshire Corgi (one Chow had been killed by a flying golf ball in Scotland in 1937). Ribbentrop was recalled to Berlin, leaving the remaining dogs in London, and was replaced by Herbert von Dirksen, the former ambassador to China, who was seemingly indifferent to pets.

That afternoon a ‘mystery black cat'
³
was seen in Downing Street. ‘When it reached the door of No. 10,
onlookers cheered,' a newspaper reported. ‘When photographers rushed forward, the cat fled.'

It was going to be war, surely, and better to follow Government advice. Many thousands of pet owners were doing just that. A nation of animal lovers stirred.

On Tuesday, 29 August, Mrs G. Blandford, a schoolmistress from Highbury, north London, noted in her diary: ‘I seem to see such a lot of people taking cats about in baskets – evidently to be destroyed, as the people are obviously not going on a journey.'

A newly-wed couple in Kingston recalled the neighbours coming round and suggesting firmly that their dogs – an Alsatian and a Cocker Spaniel – be destroyed ‘in case they ran amok in an air raid and bit them'. During this genteel-enough discussion, the dogs inconveniently did a lot of barking. Perhaps they sensed the gnawing tension building in the London suburbs. Their pets had to go; it was the kindest thing to do.

The next day at NARPAC's new Bloomsbury headquarters there was a frantic effort to get firearms licences distributed, organize cars, armbands, badges and identity cards. Actual anti-gas and rescue equipment was meant to come from local authority stores. No one seemed to know much about it but twenty-two designated veterinary posts – based in existing surgeries – were now on alert across London.

Evacuation of children from London was officially announced on the 31st – it would begin the next morning, 1 September, the day the German attack on Poland began. The British Armed Forces were mobilized.

‘Whatever happens don't let us doggy people get the jitters,' Mrs Phyllis Dobson, editor of
The Dog World
, commented in the issue published that day. She complained meanwhile about a ghastly say-no-to-this-capitalist-war
pamphlet she had just been handed on Westminster Bridge by, so she presumed, the ‘Communists'.

‘What [the possible outbreak of war] will mean to canine affairs is not yet known,' said
The Kennel Gazette
. While the Kennel Club journal observed: ‘A German Dog Show is planned for October under the patronage of the Army High Command, although by then they may find they have other, more pressing, matters to attend to.' How prescient they were.

BBC Television at Alexandra Palace shut down at 12.35 p.m. on Friday, 1 September 1939 (a Disney cartoon, ‘Mickey's Gala Premier' was the last item to be screened). All that week the BBC had been making live outside broadcasts featuring Freddie Grisewood – from London Zoo at Regent's Park. The plans made at the time of Munich were being put in place, sandbags filled and war-veteran keepers, Overseer MacDonald and Keeper Austin, were reacquainted with the workings of the .303 Lee-Enfield rifle for fear of a great animal escape. Once again the heat in the reptile house was turned off. Sluggish snakes awaited their fate.