The bombs might have stopped for the night, but the sound of gunshots startled all the animals in the zoo all over again.

“What on earth do you think you are doing?” thundered Sid.

Eric had never seen the old man so angry.

He was shouting at a short, squat figure in the distance, who was now hurrying towards the pair.

“BATTER!” cried Sid.

“Corporal Batter to you!”

Corporal Batter was the nightwatchman for LONDON ZOO. He had been made a corporal in the First World War and had kept using the title. The rank was just above lance corporal, but below sergeant. An achievement, of course, but only a certain type of man would want to keep reminding people of it every single day, a hundred times a day, for the rest of his life.

A man like Batter.

The corporal’s job was to make sure the animals didn’t escape from their cages during the night. Since the Blitz had begun, there was every chance that one of the bombs could land in the zoo and destroy the cages and enclosures.

Then you might very well have:

…an escaped hippopotamus waddling down Oxford Street looking for a bargain…

“HOOT!”

…or a fugitive tiger leaping on the back of a double-decker bus…

“ROAR!”

…or a runaway rhinoceros charging towards 10 Downing Street to knock down the door of the prime minister himself!

THUMP!

When the Nazi bombing campaign began, LONDON ZOO’s resident vet, Miss Gnarl, had put down every single venomous snake or spider. There was a real chance these creatures could find their way into the homes of Londoners and kill them just like the bombs.

Imagine sitting on the toilet, and a huge, furry spider bites you on the bottom.

“URGH!”

Or lying in bed at night, and a snake slithers its way up your leg.

“AAAHHH!”

So Batter had been given the order that if a dangerous animal escaped from its cage during the night he could shoot it on sight. A gorilla more than fitted into this category. Sid and Eric were sure that Gertrude wouldn’t hurt a flea. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. If Gertrude found a flea in her fur, she would pluck it out and eat it. But this gorilla was more interested in blowing raspberries than harming anyone.

“I am… huh… huh…” huffed and puffed Corporal Batter as he finally reached the pair. The old soldier was out of breath.

“Well, out with it, man!” demanded Sid.

“I’ve… huh… got… huh… a huh…” spluttered Batter.

“What’s a ‘huh’?” asked Eric.

“I think he’s just trying to get his breath back!” said Sid.

“I’ve… huh… got a… huh… stitch!” he uttered, clutching his tummy.

“Oh, boo-hoo!” exclaimed Sid. “You could have killed us!”

“I was aiming for the monkey!”

“A gorilla isn’t a monkey – it’s an ape!” protested the boy.

“Same difference!” snapped Batter.

“No, it isn’t! And you can’t shoot Gertrude. She’s my friend!”

“I have my orders!” declared Batter.

With that, the old soldier cocked his rifle.

CLICK!

“Put that gun away, you fool!” exclaimed Sid, pushing its nose down.

“I will use my rifle whenever I want! It is me who is the war hero! Remember that, Private Sidney Pratt? Not you! You didn’t last one day on the battlefields!”

Sid hung his head in shame. The man was right. His tin legs told that story.

Next, Batter turned his attention to the boy.

“And as for you! You are not even supposed to be here. A child at the zoo in the middle of the night! It is forbidden!”

“It’s my fault, Batter,” said Sid. “He’s family!”

“Corporal Batter! Just wait until Sir Frederick Frown hears about this! Now stand aside! I have an escaped monkey to hunt!”

With that, he pushed the pair out of the way and marched off in the direction in which the ape had run.

Eric looked at Sid, tears welling in his eyes. “He’s not really going to kill her, is he?”

“He’s going to try!” said Sid.

“Then we need to stop him!”

cried Eric.