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Jul. 29th, 2020 11:20 pmYou know, the thing is, it's not even that I have a particular pre-existing interest in WWII spycraft -- or at least I didn't, before I started reading Ben MacIntyre -- it's that I have consistently found people who write about WWII spycraft to be really good narrative nonfiction writers with excellent primary source research, a relative minimum of un-sourced speculation, and a solid sense of the ridiculous. All rarer than you might think! Except, apparently, among the subset of historians who specialize in narrative nonfiction about British intelligence agencies during the war.
Anyway, I just finished Operation Columba: The Secret Pigeon Service, a really in-depth look into the British use of homing pigeons for intelligence and counterintelligence, and while I really didn't intend to livetweet another book so soon after Amy's Eyes I just enjoyed the pigeon facts so much ...
The actual objective of Operation Columba was to drop homing pigeons in occupied France, Belgium, and Amsterdam, armed with rice paper, tiny pencils, pigeon-feeding instructions, and a survey questionnaire about a.) any top secret information the pigeon recipients might wish to share and b.) the quality of BBC radio service in their area. (I understand the tactical importance of the latter during wartime, but it remains particularly delightful to me as a public-media-adjacent professional.) Despite the dangers, quite a lot of people did actually write back via pigeon post, and the author is determined to make the argument that the information they provided and the services rendered by the pigeons were key to victory in Europe.
The book is more or less split between the bureaucratic details of the pigeon service on the British side -- a riveting tale of pigeon politics and hobby drama, featuring, among other elements, a gay occultist Baron, a pair of Girl Guides, and accusations of national secrets splashed in Racing Pigeon magazine -- and the much more dramatic story of a group of Belgians who picked up a pigeon early on and were inspired to form themselves into a proper spy ring, making beautiful secret maps in the hopes that they could eventually get a second pigeon to send them to Britain.
(...instead, Britain parachuted in a couple MI6 spies to make contact with them ... who were greeted with a general sentiment of "nice to meet you? but where are our pigeons??" At least, this is certainly the tone conveyed by author Gordon Corera, who also very clearly feels this way about MI6.)
As a result, the book itself manages to be both a compelling narrative about ordinary people running great risks to express resistance under occupation, and an extremely funny account of Weird Wartime Activity. Gordon Corera absolutely cannot resist a single opportunity to make a pigeon joke -- the book is littered with phrases like "pigeons were low in the pecking order of intelligence requirements" -- and to this I say, with all my heart, more power to him. Write what you love!
I leave you with this image of a 'pigeon bra', for parachuting in troops with as many pigeons strapped to them as possible:
Anyway, I just finished Operation Columba: The Secret Pigeon Service, a really in-depth look into the British use of homing pigeons for intelligence and counterintelligence, and while I really didn't intend to livetweet another book so soon after Amy's Eyes I just enjoyed the pigeon facts so much ...
The actual objective of Operation Columba was to drop homing pigeons in occupied France, Belgium, and Amsterdam, armed with rice paper, tiny pencils, pigeon-feeding instructions, and a survey questionnaire about a.) any top secret information the pigeon recipients might wish to share and b.) the quality of BBC radio service in their area. (I understand the tactical importance of the latter during wartime, but it remains particularly delightful to me as a public-media-adjacent professional.) Despite the dangers, quite a lot of people did actually write back via pigeon post, and the author is determined to make the argument that the information they provided and the services rendered by the pigeons were key to victory in Europe.
The book is more or less split between the bureaucratic details of the pigeon service on the British side -- a riveting tale of pigeon politics and hobby drama, featuring, among other elements, a gay occultist Baron, a pair of Girl Guides, and accusations of national secrets splashed in Racing Pigeon magazine -- and the much more dramatic story of a group of Belgians who picked up a pigeon early on and were inspired to form themselves into a proper spy ring, making beautiful secret maps in the hopes that they could eventually get a second pigeon to send them to Britain.
(...instead, Britain parachuted in a couple MI6 spies to make contact with them ... who were greeted with a general sentiment of "nice to meet you? but where are our pigeons??" At least, this is certainly the tone conveyed by author Gordon Corera, who also very clearly feels this way about MI6.)
As a result, the book itself manages to be both a compelling narrative about ordinary people running great risks to express resistance under occupation, and an extremely funny account of Weird Wartime Activity. Gordon Corera absolutely cannot resist a single opportunity to make a pigeon joke -- the book is littered with phrases like "pigeons were low in the pecking order of intelligence requirements" -- and to this I say, with all my heart, more power to him. Write what you love!
I leave you with this image of a 'pigeon bra', for parachuting in troops with as many pigeons strapped to them as possible:
