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.
“Why don’t we dig our own trench in the ground like the allies to keep warm?”
“Okay, do you think it will work?”
“S-s-sure, I’m freezing.”
Into the woods they went to find a perfect location. The cold drizzle turned to sleet as they hurriedly began to dig into the frozen mud. They turned around, back to back, only to backlash each other. When that didn’t work, they stood side by side and began working their claws into the frozen mud. They worked together until they prepared a small furrow at an angle they could exit.
“This will be better than a tree nest. You’ll see!” bragged Homer.
When it was large enough for both of them to slide down, Homer pulled an evergreen twig over their opening as they slid down inside. Soon, they began to relax in their warm environment, protected from the north winds.
“You are one smart grouse, Homer!”
“A partridge, Clovis, did I tell you I come from a smart line of partridges?”
“How can you be related to so many birds?”
When Clovis heard no answer, he knew Homer had fallen asleep in a warm comfortable environment.
The next morning, ground artillery commenced at dawn, awakening the birds.
Overnight, several inches of snow had fallen above them.
“If it’s already daylight, how come it is so dark in here?” asked Clovis.
“Are my eyes open?” Is it still night? First, my hearing goes, now I can’t see!” shrieked Homer.
“Calm down, Homer, it is too dark in here to see.”
“We’re buried alive?”
“Rise above it, Homer, and help loosen the branch.”
Clovis tried to peck at the hard pieces of ice glued to the pieces of evergreen.
“My beak is numb,” slurred Homer.
They finally pecked a small hole through the ice and soft snow crumbled in.
“I can breathe again!” sighed Homer.
Finally, they emerged out of the small hole, one at a time, and flapped the snow off their wings. Clovis began to criticize Homer.
“If it had been rain, I suppose the smart partridge side of your family would have drowned us!”
“Rise above it, Clovis!” he retorted.
Clovis began to laugh at Homer.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing really, it’s just that those squishy combs over your eyes are frozen stiff.”
“Well, the feathers on your head would be frozen if you had any.”
They both began to laugh at each other with cold numb beaks, glad to be alive.
Later that day, they returned to the sidelines to find the intensity of warfare gradually decreasing once again. Both sides of the battlefield were huddled deep inside the trenches to shield themselves from the bitter cold winds. Clovis and Homer found a warm lookout in a nearby underbrush.
It was the second Christmas into the war, which meant another holiday truce. The grenadier and his friends gathered around a small fire to keep warm, while Clovis and Homer chose to remain in their warm underbrush and stay out of trouble this holiday.
As the weather grew warmer and spring was approaching once again, Clovis and Homer set out in search of enemy carrier pigeons delivering messages. While they were taking the message out of the canister, they noticed another flyer overhead. There was a change in the pattern of communication. Enemy carriers were being liberated in pairs. Their strategy had to change. They would work alone, and meet back at the lookout, unless something went wrong. This strategy worked for weeks. One day Homer didn’t show up and Clovis flew around looking for him. Finally, he found him wandering around on the floor of the forest, disoriented.
“What happened?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out!”
“Are you okay?”
“All I know is I took down this crazy red hen, and when we hit the ground, she started pecking the daylights out of me. I tried to explain that I wasn’t a roving bird looking for a mate, but it was too late. Then she flew away.”
“It’s okay, Homer.”
Homer looked up at Clovis. His head was bloody, and one of the combs over his eyes was torn, with a tiny piece of fleshy skin over his eye.
“Can you see okay, Homer?”
“I guess so, but from now on, we’ll leave the hens to you!”
“Okay.”
One afternoon, as Clovis and Homer perched on the sidelines, an enemy carrier pigeon entered their side of the forest just a few yards down. The strange behavior seemed intentional. Homer waited while Clovis investigated.
Clovis hid among the trees as he quietly scanned the forest for the mysterious flyer. To his alarming surprise, the bird had rejoined an army of enemy carrier pigeons. There were more than a dozen lined along the branches, possibly ready to launch a deadly attack on Clovis and Homer. His fear was confirmed when he spotted the Spitter among them.
Clovis returned to Homer.
“What did you find out?”
“One is all they wanted us to see.”
“They, who are they, Clovis?”
“The Spitter is among them.”
“More than four?”
“I didn’t count them.”
Homer began to quiver with visions of being attacked and pecked to death, like Somerset.
Clovis had a plan that might work, but first he would have to convince Homer to go along.
“We can always desert the troops and join the birds in southern France.” suggested Clovis.
“Why not? We’re doomed if we stay!”
“Of course,” Clovis continued, “If we choose to flee, it would mean victory for Vogelzar, and he would become ruler of the bird empire!”
Homer grimaced, as he could see that Clovis had no intention of letting that happen.
“How can the two of us win a fight against an army of birds, huh?”
“I have a plan that may work. We need some boom.”
“You mean the grenadier’s boom?”
Clovis began to explain how they would place a grenade in the middle of the forest. Homer would wait with the pin intact, while Clovis led the flock close to the floor of the forest. Clovis would timely signal Homer to release the pin from the grenade, and both of them would escape the explosion. The crimson combs over Homer’s eyes began to rise.
“You want me to sit on a grenade that goes boom?”
When Clovis did not answer, Homer grimaced.
“Well, you can forget it, Clovis!” He began moving down to the end of the branch.
Clovis paced Homer’s steps, and spoke to him in a grim tone.
“It’s our turn to go over the top, my friend.”
Like the Tommies in the trenches, they were outnumbered, and would be unable to defend themselves against an attack. Homer finally agreed, and they proceeded as planned.
The grenadier always set two grenades on the parapet. While he was opening another box, they quickly selected one of the grenades and began rolling it quickly toward the woods. The grenadier emerged to find one missing. Looking all around, he spotted the two birds wrestling with it a short distance away. His first instinct was to retrieve it, but leaving his post may compromise the safety of his fellow comrades.
They stopped in the middle of the woods and Homer carefully positioned his claw inside the pin. He was more afraid than he had ever been in his life, ever. Clovis warned Homer that timing was everything. He must wait for his whistle before pulling the pin.
Clovis flew into the forest straight toward the waiting band of enemy carrier pigeons. As soon as Clovis was sure the enemy carriers saw him, he made a startling turnabout performance. Leaping up and away from the oncoming band of enemy carriers, he kept the flock at a safe distance close to the ground, navigating around trees and shrubs. The moment Homer heard Clovis whistle, he pulled the pin and quickly fled into the forest followed by Clovis who passed over the ticking grenade at ground-breaking speed, dodging trees in his path.
The explosion sent forest debris high into the air. When Clovis and Homer met up, they were overwhelmed by the success of their actions.
Meanwhile, the grenadier noticed bird feathers floating in the air among the forest debris in the distance, and felt responsible.
“Those poor birds,” he uttered. “I should have looked after them.”
Clovis and Homer were safe for the moment. But, they were aware of the growing dangers of continuing their exploits. Their mission had ended on the sidelines for now. They decided to fly north to the Netherlands, a neutral country.