Accommodations for 3300 pigeons, March 1943

Description of photo by the Imperial War Museum

The British Army in the Middle East, 1939-45

Sergeant Sidney Patey tending a slightly injured carrier pigeon, held by Corporal J. Bent of the Royal Air Force, at the Centre, 9 July 1943. Sergeant Patey was one of the three survivors of seven veteran pigeon fanciers sent out of England to establish the centre. He was a native of High Wycombe, Buckinghamshire. Corporal Bent was a native of Royton, Lancashire.

During the Second World War the use of pigeons in warfare was by no means outdated and even in the age of mechanised combat they could and did perform vital work, as sometimes they could get a message through when all else failed. Only certain breeds of pigeons are suitable as carriers and casualties occurred as with their human masters. It was the job of the Middle East Pigeon Service, Breeding Centre to maintain a supply of birds to replace casualties or wastage for reasons of health etc. Only properly trained men could adequately care for the birds and select pigeons which would breed well, so the authorities have made sure that only men well versed in the habits of these birds were allowed to join the centre. Though breeding was the main task of the Centre, initial training was also given to the birds before despatch to operational lofts all over the Middle East. In addition, the Centre evolved a technique of inoculation of the pigeons as a protection against para-typhoid and other diseases to which the birds are subject, especially when their resistance is lowered as a result of a long and strenuous flight. Extremely valuable help was given by the South African Pigeon Service in sending up drafts of pigeons, nearly 3000 of them, when the Centre was in its infancy. Finally, the success of the Centre depended almost entirely on the devotion to their charges which was shown by the small band of pigeon fanciers, some of whose pictures are given.  Photo by Sergeant Wolfe, Photographer, No. 1 Army Film & Photographic Unit.  Imperial War Museum © IWM (E 25657)

(c) Crown copyright images reproduced by courtesy of The National Archives, Kew, UK

Catalog numbers:  AIR23/6546  #49, #50, #24, #25

Remembering a brave pigeon

On September 11 I walked through a parking lot and saw the American flag at half-mast in front of the post office.  I wondered which had more impact on the United States, World War II, a war affecting millions of Americans, fought on foreign soil, or the planes crashing into the World Trade Center in the heart of New York City?  It was a dumb question.  How could the impact of each be quantified, and how could they be compared?  Probably the question roamed into my mind because recently I had been in a small house built in 1945.  Termites had gotten the floor and parts of some of the walls, yet the house felt inhabited.  I don’t believe in ghosts and I wasn’t thinking about World War II before going into the house, but after a few minutes inside it felt as if someone watched us, protective of the house, not quite ready to share the house.  We decided too much work needed to be done to make the house livable and hit the road, regretful that a historical treasure like that had been neglected. 

Hours later, a sudden conviction came over me that the presence in the house had been that of someone who had fought in the war and had sat there many a night remembering the screams, remembering the artillery shells, remembering the arms and legs shot off, the look on men’s faces when they knew they would never see home again.  Somehow it felt as if the owner of the house after the war had spent months of days and nights waiting to hear the sound of Stukas and JU88s diving towards him, mistakenly thinking that this small house was a small bombed out building on a farm where he and members of his unit were taking cover from the enemy, and wishing like hell that the whole thing had never happened.

So the days we experienced after September 11, 2001 and the overpowering presence of this man’s memories were jumbled together as I walked through the parking lot.  Then I saw a pigeon walking separately from the other pigeons.   She looked confused and sick.  As I got closer I saw that her beak was a little open and the feathers on the right side of her face were a sick discolored brown.  I started to cry because I knew she had the canker.  This disease can be cured if caught early enough, but she looked so sick.  I knew it was probably too late.  I tried to catch her and even though she couldn’t fly she could still get away from me.  I told her, “I’m not going to try to catch you anymore.  When I get into my car if you want me to bring you to the doctor, walk to the car and I will open the door and let you in.  You are so sick.  If you stay here, you will die.  If you go to the doctor, maybe they can help.  I don’t want to promise anything because you pretty sick, but I will bring you if you want to go.”  She had stopped and looked up at me while I was talking.

When I finished walking, I started the engine.  She was ten feet away to the left of the car.  She walked under the car.  I got out and came around to the right side.  By then she was standing about six feet away.  I told her again I would bring her and opened the door.  She walked over and hopped onto the back seat floor.  We made the drive.

Terry, the Operations Manger at Liberty Wildlife, told me he would leave me a voicemail about the pigeon.  The next day I heard that the vet did a visual acuity test.  The canker had made its way into the pigeon’s brain.  They gave her some food and let her pass away on her own time. She was safe from hawks but away from her friends.  Such a hard choice to make.  She bravely tried to get help, but it was too late.

Report on pigeons in East Africa, April 29, 1943

(c) Crown copyright images reproduced by courtesy of The National Archives, Kew, UK

Catalog numbers:  AIR23/6546  #02, #41, #42

Royal Air Force Operations in the Middle East and North Africa, 1939-1943

Supermarine Spitfire Mark Vs of No. 322 Wing RAF, parked in their dispersals at Tingley, Algeria. In the foreground Mark VBs ES187 'C' and ES191 'T' of No. 154 Squadron RAF are being brought to readiness for a patrol. Note the extensive use of pierced steel planking (PSP) to surface the dispersals and taxiways.  Photo by Official RAF photographer Flight Lieutenant Bertrand John Henry Daventry.  Imperial War Museum  © IWM (CNA 278)

2500 pigeons needed from South Africa, May 1943

Commonwealth Joint Air Training Plan, No 23 Air School at Waterkloof, Pretoria, South Africa, January 1943

Training air machine gunners at No 23 Air School. Pupils waiting to take a turn in the power turret rig. The target is a motorized rail buggy which orbited the track at around 40 mph. The Askari native orderlies replenished the ammunition and collected the cases from fired rounds.

Photo by Lt. L. Chetwyn, War Office official photographer.  Imperial War Museum  © IWM (TR 1260)

(c) Crown copyright images reproduced by courtesy of The National Archives, Kew, UK

AIR23/6546  #24, #25, #35, #36

Commonwealth Joint Air Training Plan, No 23 Air School at Waterkloof, Pretoria, South Africa, January 1943

An RAF pipe band formed by Group Captain Dalzell marches towards the entrance of a camp at Kumalo, near Bulawayo.  Photo by Lt. L. Chetwyn, War Office official photographer.  Imperial War Museum         © IWM (TR 1257)

Commonwealth Joint Air Training Plan, No 23 Air School at Waterkloof, Pretoria, South Africa, January 1943

An Askari native guards an aircraft with an assegai.  Photo by Lt. L. Chetwyn, War Office official photographer.  Imperial War Museum © IWM (TR 1262)

NOMAD pigeons, April 1943

Nomad | Definition of Nomad by Merriam-Webster

www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/nomad

Nomad definition is - a member of a people who have no fixed residence but move from place to place usually seasonally and within a well-defined territory.

(c) Crown copyright images reproduced by courtesy of The National Archives, Kew, UK

Catalog numbers: AIR23/6546  #28, #29, #30, #31, #32,

Plot of 2019 novel centers around Britain's National Pigeon Service

From John Scognamiglio Books, Kensington Publishing

Inspired by fascinating, true, yet little-known events during World War II, The Long Flight Home is a testament to the power of courage in our darkest hours—a moving, masterfully written story of love and sacrifice.

It is September 1940—a year into the war—and as German bombs fall on Britain, fears grow of an impending invasion. Enemy fighter planes blacken the sky around the Epping Forest home of Susan Shepherd and her grandfather, Bertie. After losing her parents to influenza as a child, Susan found comfort in raising homing pigeons with Bertie. All her birds are extraordinary to Susan—loyal, intelligent, beautiful—but none more so than Duchess. Hatched from an egg that Susan incubated in a bowl under her grandfather’s desk lamp, Duchess shares a special bond with Susan and an unusual curiosity about the human world. 

Thousands of miles away in Buxton, Maine, a young crop-duster pilot named Ollie Evans has decided to travel to Britain to join the Royal Air Force. His quest brings him to Epping and to the National Pigeon Service, where Susan is involved in a new, covert assignment. Codenamed Source Columba, the mission aims to air-drop hundreds of homing pigeons in German-occupied France. Many will not survive. Those that do make the journey home to England can convey crucial information on German troop movements—and help reclaim the skies from the Luftwaffe.

The friendship between Ollie and Susan deepens as the mission date draws near. When Ollie’s plane is downed behind enemy lines, both know how remote the chances of reunion must be. Yet Duchess’s devotion and her singular sense of duty will become an unexpected lifeline, relaying messages between Susan and Ollie as war rages on—and proving, at last, that hope is never truly lost.

568 pigeons sent on service, Cyprus, November 1943

(c) Crown copyright images reproduced by courtesy of The National Archives, Kew, UK

Catalog numbers:  AIR23/1002  #01, #17, #20, #23