Bonzo's War Read online

  The Home Office animals-at-war advice pamphlet was progressing. It was a well-meaning mix of technical information about the effects of high explosive and various gases – ‘that might be employed in a future war’ – and the mechanics of despatching creatures who might be ‘incurably injured’.

  Its basis was Colonel Stordy’s memorandum of January, with a dash of Professor Richter’s Luftschutz manual, with amendments made by interested parties – including this inserted at a meeting of the ‘drafting sub-committee’ in April at the suggestion of Mr Pulling:1

  Dogs and cats and other pets must be considered the personal responsibility of their owners. These animals will be prohibited from entering the shelters provided for public use. Owners should make up their minds whether they can take away their dog or cat themselves. If this is impossible, they should decide whether the animal is best destroyed or evacuated to the care of friends in the country.

  The destruction imperative was repeated at the end – just before the appendix on how to use a captive-bolt pistol. It said:

  When an owner has been unable to send his dog or cat to a safe area, he should consider the advisability of having it painlessly destroyed. During an emergency there might be large numbers of animals wounded, gassed or driven frantic with fear, and destruction would then have to be enforced [author’s italics] by the responsible authority for the protection of the public.

  This was the primary fear that would now drive policy, the prospect of frenzied hordes of gas-contaminated cats and dogs swarming through burning cities. And what about those school pets? Instead of being cosily tended by caretakers such as Mr Stordy proposed, all those guinea-pigs, rabbits, etc. were not to be ‘destroyed unless they can be evacuated in advance,’ stated the manual published in early July as ARP Handbook No. 12 – ‘Air Raid Precautions for Animals’, available from His Majesty’s Stationery Office, price 3d.

  Meanwhile, a grand conference of what were described as ‘the first class animal societies’ was held in London on 22 June (the exclusion of the ‘lesser’ ones caused outrage) under Sir John Anderson’s political patronage. Would ‘an extension of their peace time activities’ be enough to cope with pets in war? Could they ‘pool their resources’ under some new organization? A highly revealing discussion resulted, reported to the Commissioner by Christopher Pulling.

  The West Ham vet, H. E. Bywater, suggested ‘evacuation would only be the fringe of the problem’. In his borough alone there were ’20,000 dogs and 60,000 cats’.

  ‘The main problem would be the disposal of these pets,’ he said, ‘by industrial concerns [which] should make use of all by-products possible.’

  Mr Edward Bridges Webb, secretary of the PDSA, agreed with this starkly utilitarian approach, suggesting that ‘carcasses, once collected, be turned to profitable use’, adding that his remarks referred to ‘small animals only’, as the minutes of the meeting recorded.

  Meanwhile Mrs Beauchamp Tufnell of Our Dumb Friends’ League ‘thought the outbreak of war would be so sudden, evacuation would not be possible’.

  There was general agreement that the outbreak of war would mean the mass killing of pets, even if not yet by Government compulsion. Were the means adequate? Both Our Dumb Friends’ League and the Dogs’ Home, Battersea were contractors to the Metropolitan Police in the matter of stray dogs, it was noted, with humane destruction as their main task. Indeed Battersea did so on an industrial scale.

  The League used electricity, as did Battersea, which was capable of killing 100 dogs an hour with their very modern ‘electrothanaters’ on two sites (the second was in Bow, in the East End). Their vans could carry twenty dogs each. Each Canine Defence League clinic could deal with fifty dogs and thirty cats an hour by electrocution, chloroform or hydrocyanic acid injection. The RSPCA had fifty-two ‘cat and dog lethalling centres’ in London alone and more in provincial cities. The PDSA were proposing an evacuation and registration scheme with ‘two kinds of [identity] disc, one to say the animal may be destroyed. They disposed of fifty ‘Temple Cox Captive Bolt Humane Killers’ with 150 staff trained to use them, the ministry was told.

  The death chambers and captive-bolt pistols were ready. Mr Arthur Moss of the RPSCA gloomily pronounced that the ‘primary task’ for them all would be the destruction of animals and proposed that his inspectors be granted three months’ exemption from call-up so that ‘they could train persons in the use of the humane killer’. Lorries and lifting gear would be needed for the collection of carcasses and ‘four-pronged forks for small animals’.

  To dispose of the corpses, the firm of Harrison, Barber & Co., slaughterers and fat renderers of Sugar House Lane, Stratford E15, was ready to do its bit. Already there had been preliminary discussions with the company chairman, Captain E. Upton. A schedule was drafted of economically useful by-products – soap, fats, glues, fertilizer, fur. It was noted that the ‘voluntary societies carried out [destruction] work without charge, the profit lying in the disposal of the carcass’.

  It was looking grim for pets.

  Thus it was by early August 1939 the Home Office contingency animals committee had become transmuted into part of the nation’s defences. It would have a grand title, the ‘National Air Raid Precautions Animals Committee’ (NARPAC) and bring together, it was to be hoped, the veterinary profession, the animal welfare charities and the Government in working harmony.

  Its chairman would be a retired Ministry of Agriculture undersecretary, Mr E. H. Dale. The existing committee was disbanded, its only transferee being H. E. Bywater, who would serve as honorary treasurer. The chief executive officer (appointed on 19 July) would be Colonel Robert Stordy himself.2

  The National Veterinary Medical Association’s liaison officer would be its own newly appointed president, the flamboyant, monocle-wearing (he had lost an eye as a young vet when a horse kicked him) Henry Steele-Bodger. Also on the committee was Keith Robinson of Our Dumb Friends’ League and the thrusting Edward Bridges Webb of the PDSA, both of them enthusiastic populists, eager to reach out to the public through whatever means. Both agreed (the other charities did not) that they were already well-funded enough not to need a Government grant although ‘an appeal to the public should be made’. After all, that is what they were good at.

  But should this organization be swift to save or eager to destroy? Mr Robinson suggested in early August that voluntary ‘Animal ARP Wardens’, as he called them, should register animals in their area. And he told the Ministry this:

  There must be no suggestion of the immediate destruction of small animals. If the public has learned that the Wardens are there and should war break out, their animals will be immediately looked after, there will be no need for wholesale destruction at every crisis.

  Mr Bridges Webb designed a striking badge to be used on armbands and posters – and immediately copyrighted it in his own name.

  Who was going to pay for all this? Vets were expected not to charge fees but what about their expenses? Who should pay the rent and for the establishment of an air raid shelter in the basement of Gordon Square? What about protective clothing, helmets, gas decontamination equipment, vehicles? Would local authorities provide them? Colonel Stordy’s expenses were considered. It was agreed he could charge the services of his existing chauffeur, a certain Mr Badger, and be granted a petrol allowance of 4d. per mile. From what fund had yet to be agreed.

  With the war crisis deepening, it seemed better just to plunge on with ‘a short term scheme’ and worry about the details later. On 14 August NARPAC’s headquarters were established alongside the existing NVMA’s headquarters at No. 36 Gordon Square in leafy Bloomsbury, where everything was beaming goodwill, for the first few days at least.

  Meanwhile those Home County kennels were back, cheerfully offering ‘safe accommodation for refugee dogs’ – but hurry, only a few places left. A lady in Headington, Oxford, advertised: ‘Gas proof kennels for dogs. Cats extremely happy in special cottage.’

  I feel sure the
y were. A Worcestershire aviary offered sanctuary for parrots too.

  Some enterprising pet owners decided to create their own domestic shelters. Gas was still the biggest fear for humans and animals alike but most of the advice to pet owners in the event of chemical attack seemed absurd. ‘The contaminated hair on cats should be cut out and carefully destroyed,’ recommended ARP News, while ‘goldfish mildly off colour may revive after a raid of a pinch or two of Epsom salts dropped in new water. Liver is a good pick me up for dogs gone off their meals.’

  The PDSA’s advice for bird-keepers was simple enough: ‘Hang caged birds off the floor in a gas-proof room below the level of any gas light-jets. If no gas-proof room is available, completely wrap the cage in a wet blanket. (This method should only be used as a last resource.)’

  Gas masks for dogs were considered. The Veterinary Record pointed out the difficulties: ‘In the first place, to get the animal to tolerate the mask. Secondly, there are the various shapes and sizes of dogs’ heads which would necessitate a large number of different sized masks, e.g., Pekingese, Terrier, Chow and Mastiff.’

  ‘It is obviously impossible to fit a gas mask to a cat or dog,’ it was noted. ‘For if a dog is fitted with a mask he loses his sense of smell and with it his sense of direction and as a dog perspires through the mouth he cannot perspire freely. Even if a satisfactory mask could be devised the animal’s body and feet would still be vulnerable.’

  But humans must carry gas masks. This too brought pet-based dilemmas. The Veterinary Record again:

  As a last general hint, owners should not only practise wearing their gas masks themselves for their own sakes, but by so doing they will accustom their pets to their changed appearance and muffled voice.

  A striking example of the necessity for this precaution is afforded by the unfortunate experience of a lady – the possessor of a terrier – who put on her mask and went down on all fours to play with her pet. The dog promptly bolted and has not been seen since.

  To protect small animals from gas, it had to be some sort of container. Mr C. H. Gaunt of the PDSA devised a ‘gas-proof safety kennel’ with a hinged and sprung floor so that ‘every movement of the animal works a bellows that passes filtered air’. It was totally impractical.

  Mr Frank Heaton, a Midlands inventor, advertised his patent gas-proof small animal shelter, its air refreshed by a bicycle pump – twenty to thirty strokes per hour. If you died so too presumably would your pet. It appeared in The Tatler magazine and in July 1939 attracted this letter of appreciation:

  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’.

  Chapter 3

  Killed by Order