The true story of a heroic pigeon during World War II
Rachael Lambert (age 11)
The beginning of it all
The grey pigeon
Peered out of its basket
Huddled in the straw
Winkie
Dark eyes
Intelligent
Felt the anticipation of her first flight
After months of training
She was an official carrier pigeon
Serving in the horrors of the war
Flight and fall
The plane soared
The four men were busy
Keeping this human wonder airborne
The pigeon waited
Patient as pigeons can be
Just as the hours seemed to meld themselves into eternity
There was a jolt
Panicked cries from the men
Winkie started awake
Another jolt
And the plane gave in
Tumbling to the unforgiving Norwegian sea below
One hope
Winkie shrieked as the plane plummeted
Thrashing and struggling in her basket
The lid, somehow
Came loose
And she flew
Circling
The small interior
Of the plane
The four men struggled to open a hatch
As the first crack of grey dim light showed
Winkie shot through
Straight and true as an arrow
Circling above, she could make out the men
Stepping into a rickety dinghy
They gazed up at her
She was
Indeed
Their one hope
Hidden compass
Pigeons
Have a unique ability
To find their way home
Wherever they are
They have an internal compass
A hidden guidance
That leads them home
For Winkie
Home
Was a smell of straw
Dusty feathers
Warmth
Food
Winkie let the memory of home
Fill her mind
She felt a tug
Firm and persistent
Pull her
She flew
On
Following
The memory of home
Eternity
The hours blend
The memories bend
The grey of the sea and sky
Make the hours eternity as they go by
The pain, dull numb
Sings to the wings’ thrum
It sings
Eternity…..
Eternity…..
Eternity…..
Refuge
If it were not for that ship
Winkie would not have made it
Indeed,
The grey pigeon had nearly given up the chance of life
But then,
A speck showed on the horizon
The despairing pigeon
Flew on
Straining,
It came closer
Closer
A large oil tanker came into view
A refuge
Not ideal
Yet
Refuge all the same
Oil
The pigeon half landed
Half crashed
To the deck below
Splashing clumsily
Into an oil puddle
She lay
Too weak to move
The sun set
Spilling crimson over the horizon
The night fell
The pigeon rested
Home ahead
In the pre-dawn
A grey speck lifted from a lone oil tanker
Winkie was covered in oil
Still tired
But had enough energy to continue
She flew
George Ross
Gorge Ross stared at the bird in his coop
Bedraggled
And covered in oil
He retrieved the bird
Her number identified her aircraft at once
Later that morning
A rescue party was launched
Four men were saved
From a rickety dinghy
The end of it all
Winkie had saved them
All of them
She cooed happily from her loft
She was home
Home at last
Word Oysters 