Cher Ami

Taking off with precious cargo invites German fire right away.

At least let me get airborne before opening up on me you Huns!

I bank right, hoping to avoid the barrage of small-arms fire that doomed my predecessors.

Yet, as I turn the bullets streak past me.

My skin gets goosebumps, my eyes water, and my heart races.

How am I going to get out of here alive?

How am I going to get back to our lines?

How am I going to succeed when others failed?

I turn sharply left, attempting to zig-zag in order to avoid the constant fire.

Just as I finish my zag, a round clips my leg.

AAAaaarrggghhhh!

The shock of the impact sends me fluttering, as I fall to the ground.

I’m not giving up you bastards!

Dangling from a tendon, my injured leg still holds my precious cargo.

I’m going to make it. I’m going to get out of here!

Those huns think they shot me down.

I look up at the sky, waddle on my one good leg, and lift off again, this time aiming straight up.

I’m going to gain altitude, rather than maneuver this time. I just have to get out of range fast!

The fire starts up again.

They’re not giving up, neither will I!

Higher, higher, and higher still, I soar into the sky above the stranded men, and those attempting to destroy them.

The Germans keep up their deadly fire as I rise above it all.

Higher, I must get higher!

A round pierces my breast bone, coming out my left eye. I lose altitude.

I don’t feel the pain. I don’t feel anything. I just need to get to the Command Headquarters at full speed. Nothing else matters!

The bullets stop streaking nearby.

I must be high enough!

Banking again, I head toward headquarters.

Twenty-five miles to go, just twenty-five miles.

My leg begins hurting, the bullet wound in my chest and eye stings.

I must make it, for my boys, I must make it!

I am all they have for hope. Without me, they are doomed.

Before I know it, I see the command headquarters, and my loft just behind the tent.

I fly directly in, not bothering to stop on the perch outside as I enter.

The bell rings, announcing my arrival.

I collapse on the floor of the loft.

I made it. I still have the precious cargo dangling from my shattered leg. My boys will live.

A soldier comes to read the latest message from the front located in the silver canister on my leg. When he sees me with my shattered leg, blood streaming from the bullet wound, and missing eye, he gasps.

“Cher Ami, you’ve returned to us!” he cries out, as he gingerly removes the message from my dangling leg.

I’ve done my job. I made it.

*****

 

On October 3, 1918, during the Argonne Offensive, Major Charles White Whittlesey [DL1] was trapped with 500 men in a small depression on the side of a hill behind enemy lines with little food or ammunition. They were under constant enemy fire, while also receiving fire from allied artillery who did not know their location. Surrounded by the Germans, many were killed and wounded in the first day and by the second day, more than half of the unit was injured or killed. Whittlesey had three carrier pigeons at his disposal to dispatch messages, but the first and second pigeons were shot down by the Germans before they could make it off the battlefield. Only one homing pigeon was left: "Cher Ami". She was dispatched with a note in a canister on her left 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.”

As Cher Ami took off, she was immediately fired upon by the surrounding Germans. She flew through the unrelenting fire until she was hit and fell to the ground. After a few moments she took flight again, evacuating the battlefield and returning to her loft with her precious cargo in the silver canister attached to her now shattered leg. When she arrived back at her loft at division headquarters 25 miles to the rear in just 25 minutes, she was found to have been shot through the heart, missing one eye, and her leg with the message on it was hanging by a tendon. Despite her injury, her mission was a success. The message she carried helped save the lives of 194 men from her unit.

Cher Ami became the hero of the 77th Infantry Division[DL2] . Army medics endeavored to saver her life, but they could not save her leg. They then carved a small wooden one for her. When she recovered enough to travel, the now one-legged bird was put on a boat to the United States, with General John J. Pershing [DL3] personally seeing Cher Ami off as she departed France.

Cher Ami (French masculine for Dear Friend) was one of approximately 600 homing pigeons donated to the U.S. Army Signal Corps by the pigeon fanciers of Britain. Originally assumed to be male, Cher Ami turned out to be a female pigeon. Upon arriving in the United States, Cher Ami was awarded the Croix de Guerre[DL4]  Medal with a palm Oak Leaf Cluster, for her heroic service in delivering 12 important messages in Verdun. She also received the Silver Star from General Pershing. She died at Fort Monmouth, New Jersey, on June 13, 1919 from the wounds she received in battle. Cher Ami was later inducted into the Racing Pigeon Hall of Fame in 1931. She also received a gold medal from the Organized Bodies of American Racing Pigeon Fanciers in recognition of her extraordinary service during World War I.

Cher Ami as displayed in the Smithsonian Museum

Cher Ami is not the only animal recognized for gallantry, or even the only pigeon. Many animals have given their lives in sacrifice to human wars. The United Kingdom recognizes these animals through the Dickin’s Medal, of which there are 32 pigeon recipients from World War II alone.

To American schoolchildren of the 1920s and 1930s, Cher Ami was as well known as any human World War I heroes. Cher Ami's body was later mounted by a taxidermist and enshrined in the Smithsonian Institution[DL5] . It is currently on display with that of Sergeant Stubby[DL6]  in the National Museum of American History[DL7] 's Price of Freedom exhibit.