Tommy's Ark: Soldiers and Their Animals in the Great War. Richard Van Emden by Richard van Emden Page B
Authors: Richard van Emden
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hungry, Lance Corporal Vivian had already visited one farm in search of food. At the time, he and his comrades discovered nothing, or so Vivian had thought.
L/Cpl Alfred Vivian, 4th Middlesex Rgt
I had noticed this sack being carried slung on his back during the march, and it had excited my curiosity, especially as I thought I could observe movement within it. I had also been slightly puzzled by mysterious smothered screams, coming from somewhere within my vicinity, which I vainly suspected originated from that sack, but I had lacked the energy to ask questions on the subject.
As he now, therefore, showed sign of revealing his secret unasked, I watched him intently as he gently manipulated the fastenings. The string removed, he pulled it gently open, and peered into its depth, making an encouraging sound with his mouth the while.
A great commotion in the interior of the bag answered his efforts, and, to my unbounded amazement, a small and perky head of a little white pig, a couple of weeks old, appeared. Smiling happily, the soldier tenderly drew it forth, and sitting it upright, dangled it upon his knee. As proud as a father with his firstborn, he fondled that little beast, calling it by most absurd terms of endearment that would have caused an elderly spinster’s pet poodle to turn bilious with envy.
This little pig, however, had other ideas, and appeared to be hunting for something which claimed its attention to the exclusion of all else. Not being able to discover the object of its frantic search, it set up a terrifying squealing that soon brought everybody alert with frightful curses. This almost caused a fight between the owner of the pig and the remainder, until the atom of potential pork, finding by a lucky chance its owner’s finger, sucked at that digit voraciously, and immediately became quiet. The man then laid himself down, with the piglet snuggled down on one of his arms, with the finger of his other hand deputising as a mother, to the animal’s huge contentment.
This presented a most laughable picture, the man of war lying there crooning and making mother noises to his adopted baby, while the latter rested with great confidence against him, his bright little eyes sparkling with childlike mischief. I asked him how and where he had obtained it, for I was curious, as he was one of the men that had accompanied me to the farm to get water and incidentally to search for food on the morning of the 24th. He told me that he had found it hidden in the manger of an empty horsebox on that morning, and took it at first with the intention of converting it into food. The fact that we had been able to obtain the means of staving off our hunger had bought a reprieve to the little mite, which now lay complacently ignorant of the vile and untimely fate which at one time threatened it.
I asked him if he had any intention of killing and eating it later on, in the event of a repetition of the failure of food supplies, and his furious reply: ‘Whatcher take me for, a blinkin’ cannibal?’ both flabbergasted and amused me.
Anonymous soldier, 1st Gloucestershire Rgt
A young pig had strayed, from goodness knows where, and found itself wandering between the front and support lines. Immediately every rifle in B Company was directed at this new and more than welcome type of target. Bully beef and biscuits had been the staple diet, and here was pork to be had for the hitting. Yet no one could hit it! The animal either bore a charmed life, or the much vaunted marksmanship of the Glosters existed only in name. Then the enemy gunners joined in the same game. Their shooting became more intense, and, very reluctantly, B Company crouched down. Their mouths turned dry with disappointment and renewed thoughts of iron rations.
The shelling ceased. Up bobbed one head; then another; and soon the whole company was peering eagerly across the flat space which separated them from the front line. Extraordinary thing! That pig, which had
L/Cpl Alfred Vivian, 4th Middlesex Rgt
I had noticed this sack being carried slung on his back during the march, and it had excited my curiosity, especially as I thought I could observe movement within it. I had also been slightly puzzled by mysterious smothered screams, coming from somewhere within my vicinity, which I vainly suspected originated from that sack, but I had lacked the energy to ask questions on the subject.
As he now, therefore, showed sign of revealing his secret unasked, I watched him intently as he gently manipulated the fastenings. The string removed, he pulled it gently open, and peered into its depth, making an encouraging sound with his mouth the while.
A great commotion in the interior of the bag answered his efforts, and, to my unbounded amazement, a small and perky head of a little white pig, a couple of weeks old, appeared. Smiling happily, the soldier tenderly drew it forth, and sitting it upright, dangled it upon his knee. As proud as a father with his firstborn, he fondled that little beast, calling it by most absurd terms of endearment that would have caused an elderly spinster’s pet poodle to turn bilious with envy.
This little pig, however, had other ideas, and appeared to be hunting for something which claimed its attention to the exclusion of all else. Not being able to discover the object of its frantic search, it set up a terrifying squealing that soon brought everybody alert with frightful curses. This almost caused a fight between the owner of the pig and the remainder, until the atom of potential pork, finding by a lucky chance its owner’s finger, sucked at that digit voraciously, and immediately became quiet. The man then laid himself down, with the piglet snuggled down on one of his arms, with the finger of his other hand deputising as a mother, to the animal’s huge contentment.
This presented a most laughable picture, the man of war lying there crooning and making mother noises to his adopted baby, while the latter rested with great confidence against him, his bright little eyes sparkling with childlike mischief. I asked him how and where he had obtained it, for I was curious, as he was one of the men that had accompanied me to the farm to get water and incidentally to search for food on the morning of the 24th. He told me that he had found it hidden in the manger of an empty horsebox on that morning, and took it at first with the intention of converting it into food. The fact that we had been able to obtain the means of staving off our hunger had bought a reprieve to the little mite, which now lay complacently ignorant of the vile and untimely fate which at one time threatened it.
I asked him if he had any intention of killing and eating it later on, in the event of a repetition of the failure of food supplies, and his furious reply: ‘Whatcher take me for, a blinkin’ cannibal?’ both flabbergasted and amused me.
Anonymous soldier, 1st Gloucestershire Rgt
A young pig had strayed, from goodness knows where, and found itself wandering between the front and support lines. Immediately every rifle in B Company was directed at this new and more than welcome type of target. Bully beef and biscuits had been the staple diet, and here was pork to be had for the hitting. Yet no one could hit it! The animal either bore a charmed life, or the much vaunted marksmanship of the Glosters existed only in name. Then the enemy gunners joined in the same game. Their shooting became more intense, and, very reluctantly, B Company crouched down. Their mouths turned dry with disappointment and renewed thoughts of iron rations.
The shelling ceased. Up bobbed one head; then another; and soon the whole company was peering eagerly across the flat space which separated them from the front line. Extraordinary thing! That pig, which had
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