Doveland (7 page)

As the night went on, the soldiers fell asleep one by one. Clovis and Homer decided to have some fun. They took two cards each, mimicking the soldiers.

“Ante up, Homer.”

Clovis pushed a comb toward Homer, and Homer flipped over one of his cards. Homer pushed a shiny coin toward Clovis, and Clovis turned over one of his cards. As the bets continued, Clovis declared a win with one ace and a six. But, Homer said he won with the king and queen.

“You're a sore loser, my friend.”

“I don't know, Clovis, these look like important people to me!”

Homer became distracted by the liquid left in the bottom of a mug clutched in the hand of a sleeping soldier. He slowly sipped the bitter liquid.

“Yuck! But it sure feels warm.” he said as he sipped a little more.

Then Clovis sipped some of the liquid in another cup which made his feathers ruffle.

“Bitter,” he said, pausing between sips.

“You're right, it feels warm.” Homer looked around the tent at the sleeping soldiers.

“Do you think they will be okay?”

The last candle burned out, and Clovis and Homer, feeling a bit more confident about the inclement weather, set out into the cold night to find some carefree adventure. The small irrigation furrow was frozen all the way across the battlefield, and they took advantage of the holiday. The trail seemed endless as they skated down its narrow path, occasionally playing leapfrog. Then, with wings entwined, they skated joyfully into the snowy night. They
were so drunk, they did not know where they were, and did not feel the cold brisk air. Around midnight, they became separated.

The next morning, Clovis was awakened by a barking dog. Each bark was followed by a faint call for help. Clovis found himself in an abandoned squirrel's nest with his wings hanging over the side. Clovis recognized Homer's voice. He flew closer to investigate. Homer had landed in a thicket upside down, and was being held at bay by a stray Belgian sheepdog.

“Get me out of here!” he yelled.

Clovis distracted the dog by flying close to the ground until he led him far enough away; then returned to rescue his friend.

“Did you get rid of that loud yapper?”

“Don't worry about him anymore, Homer. How am I going to get you out of here?”

Homer slipped further down as Clovis loosened the twigs.

“Ouch!”

Clovis pulled twigs from one area until there was an opening. Homer finally began to slide out. The ground began to rumble.

“What's that noise?” asked Homer.

Clovis turned to see enemy tanks out on maneuver rolling toward them. Homer felt doomed.

“It's the mashers, isn't it?”

“Well. . .”

“Get me out of here, hurry!”

The ground began to shake as the tanks rolled closer, and Homer finally broke free. As they leaped away, the tank crushed the underbrush. They perched in a tree overlooking the near disaster.

“Where have you been all night, Clovis?”

“How long have you been stuck in the thicket, Homer?”

“I don't know”

“Same answer.”

Homer began to preen his plumage.

“Why are your eyes bulging?”

“Your eyes would be bulging too if you were upside down all night.”

“What happened last night anyway?”

“Don't know,” shrugged Homer. “But we'll never win the war if the allies keep drinking that skunk water!”

Aware that they were in enemy territory, Clovis and Homer returned to their perch on the sidelines for the remainder of Christmas day, and watched the troops play football.

The next morning, Clovis and Homer returned to the sidelines to find total silence in no man's land. Homer looked back and forth between the trench lines.

“Do you think the war is over?”

“Don't know.”

They waited and watched until the middle of the morning when a German field marshal stood on the parapet of the enemy's trench line and waved a white flag. Across the battlefield, the allies
responded by raising a white flag. Then, the German field marshal fired three gunshots into the air, thus ending the holiday cease-fire. Ground warfare resumed once again in no man's land.

The French army had offered the British army several carrier pigeons for use in the field with the onset of the war. However, the British army preferred to rely on modern technology. There would be many reports of interception by the enemy with the use of telegraph and wireless transmitters. Telephone equipment proved too heavy to carry through the muddy terrain. By the Spring of 1915, the British Royal Engineers Signal Service supplied their units with truck lofts of carrier pigeons. When all else failed, pigeon post would become indispensable.

One day, Homer alerted Clovis that he saw an allied carrier pigeon go down on the battlefield. They flew to the rescue. The carrier was spinning on the ground, sort of disoriented. There was blood on her neck.

“Are you okay?” asked Homer.

The carrier rose to her feet.

“I'm okay, the missile just grazed me.”

“What's your name?” asked Clovis.

“BEF206,” she replied as she proudly raised her left wing to show off the tiny numbers embedded into her feathers. “You can call me Somerset.”

“Where are you going?” they inquired.

“Field headquarters,” she replied. “Who are you?”

Clovis and Homer identified themselves as birds living in the wild who saw her go down.

“Thanks for coming to my rescue, but if I don't get back to work, they will send another carrier.”

“Good luck, Somerset!”

They watched until she disappeared over the tree line.

“It's good to see an allied carrier for a change.” said Clovis.

Because of previous breakdown in communication, the central powers began to employ other means of delivering messages, which included motor bikes. Eventually, they proved unsuccessful, not only because of the bumpy terrain, but there were reports that wild
birds had been seen pecking at the riders' helmets, causing vehicles to overturn. For Clovis and Homer, it was business as usual.

One afternoon, they were returning to the sidelines when they spotted a bird lying in the mud on the forest floor. Taking a closer look, they couldn't identify any characteristics except a wing with the bloody numbers BEF206. It was evident that Somerset had been attacked and pecked to death. Homer became angry.

“What a horrible way to die, Clovis.”

“Plain murder.”

“They didn't have to kill her.”

They dug a small hole to place her remains.

“If we had known she was in danger, we would have guarded her.” lamented Clovis. “From now on, it will be our duty to protect all allied carrier pigeons so that they can safely deliver their messages.”

Homer agreed. The death of Somerset came as a warning to Clovis and Homer, because it was a direct consequence of their
ongoing exploits which ultimately had mobilized a war among the birds.

The next day, another allied carrier pigeon was liberated. As he flew over the deep woods toward allied headquarters, the patriots secretly followed him to insure his safety. As the allied carrier flew out into the open sky, two enemy carrier pigeons leaped out of the forest on his trail.

“There they are, Homer!”

Homer was angry and set out to avenge the death of Somerset. He placed his claws firmly into one of the bird's neck while putting his weight on the carrier pigeon's back, holding his wings closed, and they slowly descended.

“Where do you think you are going bird slayer?”

The other carrier pigeon was also taken by surprise when Clovis wrestled him down to the ground before releasing him.

Clovis insisted Homer let the pigeon go unharmed, and the bird flew hastily back into the forest.

Homer was frustrated with Clovis. “Why are we just letting them go after what they did to Somerset?”

“We have done what we came here to do, Homer. Mission completed!”

“You are so stubborn, Clovis.”

The bird empire was ruled by Vogelzar, and he had officially declared war on the patriots, as well as the allied carrier pigeons. Clovis knew that one day they may be compelled to use deadly force.

One morning as daylight barely peeked through the forest, rapid thumping sounds awakened Clovis. Homer was pecking at every morsel on the ground without pausing. After joining Homer on the ground, Clovis watched him for a moment.

“What are you doing, Homer?”

“If this forest is destroyed, there won't be any trees, and if there aren't any trees, then there won't be any seeds, and if there aren't any seeds, there won't be any food.”

“Rise above it Homer. We will always be able to find food.”

“And look,” leading Clovis to his nest. “I'm losing my feathers!”

“You are molting, Homer, all birds do.”

“You mean it isn't because I'm not getting enough food?”

“No, didn't your father teach you about that?”

“We were never close. He said that I wouldn't listen to him anyway.”

For a moment, something about Clovis distracted Homer.

“I never noticed those marks on the side of your neck before.”

“Are they like the ones my Papa had?” asked Clovis proudly, turning his head side to side, recognizing it as a sign of maturity.

“Yes, I remember.”

“And Homer, I've noticed that you have grown much faster than me, and the combs over your eyes are a brighter red.”

“I got that from the pheasant side of my family.”

Clovis and Homer thrived in their maturity, and began to form a bond that would surpass their childhood rivalry. They shared a brotherly love that would last a lifetime.

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted by rustling sounds coming from the battlefield. Trench raiding was not uncommon on the battlefield. They flew to their lookout to investigate. In the pre-dawn morning, they could see the enemy crawling on their bellies toward the allied trench lines, quietly dragging their rifle bayonets for a surprise attack. With their weapons still clinched in their arms, the unsuspecting allies were fast asleep, leaning against the parapets. Aware of the impending danger, Homer stretched out his neck.

“Where's the whistleblower?”

Clovis realized they had to warn the troops, and turned to Homer. “I'm looking at him!”

“Me?”

“You want to build another nest?”

With that comment, Homer let out a shrill that echoed throughout no man's land. The warning alerted the allied troops who responded so quickly that the enemy almost crawled backward in their hasty retreat.

“Good work, Homer!”

Later that day, they would discover a new kind of invention when they spotted an enemy carrier crossing the allied trench line over the smoke- filled battlefield undetected. They followed him into the forest and brought him down. Each standing on one wing with the carrier lying on his back, Clovis and Homer stared at the funny looking box strapped on his chest. Click! Click! The box opened and closed at specified intervals.

“What kind of canister is this?” asked Homer.

“It's not a canister, stupid; it's a camera that take pictures. Now, let me go.”

“First, tell us what a camera is before we let you go,” replied Clovis.

“It takes pictures of the number of soldiers in the trenches and where they are located,” he confessed.

“He's spying on the troops, Clovis.”

“What is your name?” asked Clovis.

“Der Tourist.”

“I don't know how to open this one, Homer, Let's keep all of it.”

“You are thieves,” yelled the carrier as they removed the equipment.

“No,” chuckled Homer. “You said they were our pictures, right?”

Der Tourist was finally released.

Homer suggested that the allies should know about the camera. But, they soon agreed that bringing it to their attention might jeopardize their own safety. They buried it deep in the woods.

After returning to their homes that evening, Homer thought about the early morning sneak attack.

“Are you awake, Clovis?”

“Why?”

“I'm tired, but I can't sleep.”

“Why keep me awake?”

“Well, I keep having the same dream – that we'll wake up in enemy territory . . .or something.”

Clovis thought for a moment and realized they had been neglecting their night vigils.

“Okay, back to guard duty.”

“You get the first watch, remember?” reminded Homer.

The following day, as they perched on the branch of their lookout once again, Clovis felt weary and longed for peace. Looking for a brief escape, he bowed his head for a few moments and let his mind drift to a more peaceful time. The constant rattling of machine guns and loud ground artillery slowly faded in the distance as he dreamed about the tranquil sounds of Doveland: The gentle flow of sunlit waters; the twitter of wild birds; soft breezes shuffling through the pines, and the simple sound of an acorn falling on the ground… Suddenly, he felt startled.

“Clovis!” Homer kept repeating. “Can you hear me?”

Clovis remembered the pact they had made to never mention Doveland again.

“Yeah, I guess I fell asleep for a moment.”

The sting of winter was once again upon no man's land, as the Tommies draped their sleeping blankets over their thick woolen tunics to keep warm. A cold windy drizzle hung over the battlefield as sounds of gunfire decreased in no man's land. Both sides huddled inside the trenches to avoid the bitter cold winds. Clovis and Homer watched from their lookout as the cold rain dripped through the tree foliage above them, saturating their feathers. With the lack of role models, they sometimes emulated the behavior of the troops to survive the elements.

“I have a good idea!” announced Homer.

“What?” Clovis asked while shivering.