#cher ami

You’ve heard of war heroes, sure, but you may not know of the role that pigeons played. Pigeons were so much more than street rats back in WWI, considered a valuable form of communication, less bulky than radios and able to fly at speeds unrivaled by any messenger. So lend an ear as I share the story of a famous pigeon of WWI; as I imagine it would have happened.

The air was heavy with smoke; the ground littered with artillery shells. Every few moments, a new shot fired out.

Cher Ami’s heart beat against his chest with fear, urging him to feel the same. A bird trapped in a cage, wanting to fly far, far away. The soldiers were getting desperate.

He knew that they were out of food, supplies, and ammunition. Every word was clipped with worry. We need this or that... We are surrounded…

And most desperate: We need help.

Every word seemed to increase in tempo as though the soldiers needed to get out as many words as possible before their certain death. And yet those words decreased in volume, becoming almost whispers as the sounds of battle drowned them out.

The 77th Division was going to ask for help.

“Send a runner!” The Major barked. His face was lined with worry. The boy’s fearful face was filled with determination, but you could tell that he didn’t believe in the invincibility of youth anymore. Cher Ami already knew that he wouldn’t make it in a battlefield swarming with Germans. Not without wings.

Neither would the next runner. Or the next.

“We need to send a pigeon.” 

Cher Ami watched as a tall man approached his carrier. The pigeons confined on either side of him were pressing back against the restrictive wooden walls. This isn’t my first mission, Cher Ami thought. If I am chosen, I will fly my hardest, no matter how many times I am shot at. I will not fail.

Large, rough hands closed around a pigeon shaded with reds and ashy greys. He’s young and inexperienced. He won’t make it. Cher Ami thought.

The Major put a pen to paper, hand unshaking.

“Many wounded. We cannot evacuate,” he wrote.

Cher Ami’s heart thudded as the bird fluttered up, up, up, wings pumping. Go far away, he thought. Don’t let them hit you.

Bang! A gun fired. The bird plummeted towards the German soldiers.

A second bird was sent; a second note was written. And he will fare no better than the other, Cher Ami thought. The tall man had returned, reaching through the door to his right. The young pigeon cock trembled as he was cradled in the broad brown hands, fingers carefully slipping a bit of paper into his leg canister.

“Men are suffering. Can support be sent?” it read.

I know how this is going to end, Cher Ami thought. The bird flapped his wide, strong wings, up towards the safety of the clouds.

There he was; framed against the sky. He’s getting farther than the first! Maybe this one will make it!

Bullets flew past the bird, barely missing him. A fatal drop in the air currents caused him to fall in flight. A bullet whizzed through the air, hitting him in the wing. It was sure to be shattered.

He drifted downwards, flapping frantically.

Cher Ami did not know where the bird fell, but he knew his certain fate. And he was next. However, the tall man didn’t come back.

They had backup! The American heavy artillery had come to help them out. For a while, it seemed as though all was not lost. 

BANG! BOOM! The sound of artillery rang in Cher Ami’s ears. Why are the shots from the artillery aimed at us beginning to get more frequent? he wondered. The Germans should be distracted!

“They don’t know where we’re at! We’re experiencing friendly fire!” a man called. The American reinforcements were not aware of 77th Division’s position. Instead, they were firing directly at them. 

“We need to put an end to this!” Major Charles S. Whittlesey shouted. 

Before he knew it, a message was strapped to Cher Ami’s leg. “We are along the road parallel to 276.4. Our own artillery is dropping a barrage directly on us. For heaven's sake stop it.”

The Major tossed Cher Ami into the air. He pounded his wings as hard as he could. Get up! Get away! Don’t let them shoot you down! He had barely gone a few yards when BANG! Cher Ami felt pain in his chest. I’ve only made it as far as the first pigeon. I know what comes next…

Cher Ami flapped frantically as he began to plummet. To the ground he fell. And the hopes of all the American soldiers fell with him. But before he could be grabbed by a German soldier, he spread his wings and started to fly again. I must get home.

Leave them behind! Leave them all behind! Get home. Cher Ami’s eyes were squeezed shut as he bore the pain. He felt pain and the responsibility for an entire army.

Shots were fired. They whizzed past his head, his wings, his legs. Smack! His left leg had been hit. The pain was unbelievable, but Cher Ami only flapped all the harder.

Bang! Something hit his eye. He faltered, dizzy with pain and unable to see through one eye. The space below him looked almost one dimensional. He flapped higher into the air, trying to stop himself from plummeting. Don’t let them bring you down. 

He flew, on and on, faster than ever before. He couldn’t recall what gave him the strength to keep going, he only remembered collapsing in someone’s hands. Hands that he trusted. And darkness.

Where am I? Cher Ami was dizzy. First, he noticed that he was lying down. Faces were staring at him fearfully. He still could only see out of one eye. His leg and his breast still hurt, but he couldn’t remember why. I was shot. That’s what happened. Cher Ami closed his eyes. He didn’t want to remember the gunshots or the pain. Sleep. That was what he needed.

Something was poking Cher Ami’s side. He awoke with a start, and the stranger withdrew his fingers. The faces around him were filled with relief now. The pigeon looked around himself. He could still only see out of one eye. Augh! My leg! It’s gone! In its place was a strange wooden object. What kind of creeps are happy about whatever that thing is replacing my poor leg?

He lept off of the table and fluttered across the room in order to escape them, but the motion hurt his still-healing chest. Not to mention his depth perception was way out of whack. Fingers wrapped around his wings and secured them to his sides. Perhaps that was for the best. Soft cooing words whispered in his ears. Calm.

The next day, he left that place. It was all a blur as he got on the boat and headed toward America, a place he had never seen before. 

It was only when they put the medal around his neck did he get a grasp on what was happening to him. Cher Ami, the pigeon who saved the 77th Battalion. As great a hero as the men. 

Cher Ami 🐦

God's chosen and worth half a lamb,

They took you to war

You saved 194 men by going home

For Veterans’ Day, the story of an unlikely and long-forgotten hero: Cher Ami, the homing pigeon whose skills helped save a trapped battalion during World War I. 

Kathleen Rooney, author of Cher Ami and Major Whittlesey, told me in an email interview that “as a fiction writer, I'm drawn to historical incidents and figures that were stunningly well-known in their day but that have since been forgotten.”

You can read the whole conversation here.