The Small Green Halter

By Janet Baker-Carr

In The Small Green Halter Janet Baker-Carr describes how a donkey participated in the efforts of World Wars I and II while enriching the lives of everyone who loved her. With clarity and humor, the author illuminates the bonds of affection that strengthen and sustain, evenperhaps especially amidst the ravages of war.

Based on a true story, the book is informed by the authors deep love of animals and draws upon her experiences as a young child in rural England during World War II as well as her memories of travelling in France in 1946. The Small Green Halter quietly reveals how war changes everything.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 23, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450243612

Janet Baker-Carr

Educated in England, Switzerland and America, at the age of 15 Janet Baker-Carr began her lifelong involvement with the broadcast of classical music on radio stations first in Boston and New York City, then in Jackson and Memphis. She has interviewed musicians, artists and authors in the United States as well as London, Paris and Berlin. She served as a contributing editor to Harvard Magazine. She is the author of Evening at Symphony, A Portrait of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, and An Extravagance of Donkeys.

Book preview

Acknowledgements

I learned about Ninette quite by accident. At a luncheon meeting in Boston, I sat next to Charles W. Hare, who I found, like me, had a special affection for donkeys. I told him about my donkey, Jenny, who was my constant companion as a child growing up during World War II in rural England. Mr. Hare listened attentively, then took out his wallet and carefully extracted a very old, dog-eared photo of a donkey.

This is Ninette he said. I took this photo more that forty years ago in 1939. Ninette was my donkey when as a boy our family spent our summer vacations at my grandfather’s chateau in France. … We had to leave France when World War II began. I took this picture of Ninette early in the morning of our hasty departure. I promised Ninette I would keep her with me always. And I have.

At that meeting and another one a week or so later, Mr. Hare kindly told me all he remembered about Ninette, including her gentle death, and he showed me pictures of his grandfather’s beautiful chateau. Mr. Hare remembered his summers with Ninette and knew how she died. I found the story so touching, so haunting, I wanted Ninette to have a whole life. In The Small Green Halter, I have given her a life, one that certainly could have been hers.

These many years later, I remain grateful to Charles Hare for telling me about Ninette.

I offer sincere thanks to James M. Leighton for his invaluable technical assistance.

Most of all, I am grateful for and inspired by my daughters, Katharine and Harriet.

Prologue

It was 1916, and the First World War raged across Europe, Central Asia and North Africa. Millions of men fought on both sides. They fought on land and sea, in the mountains and in the desert. The warring countries fought with swords, guns and bullets. Airplanes, tanks and radios were just beginning to be used, and only in primitive forms. It was before war became highly technical and mechanized. So the men who fought had to rely on animals for help. No less than sixteen million horses were used on the Allied side alone. They led cavalry charges, pulled heavy guns and supplies. Countless mules and oxen moved supplies and ammunition and pulled ambulances. Dogs were trained to be sentries. They also carried messages hidden in their collars behind enemy lines. Specially trained pigeons carried messages on long flights over water. They had small metal cylinders attached to their legs that held documents. In the African desert, more than thirty thousand camels, marching two by two, carried water for the British troops. Even the little donkey, small and slow, bearing burdens out of all proportion to its size, served with patient endurance.

One: Hans

All day the small train of donkeys had walked through the country lanes of central France. Laboring against rain and spring mud, they carried food and medical supplies to the German infantry fighting at the front. There were twelve donkeys in all led and looked after by thirteen-year-old Hans, who was too young to fight in the trenches, and by his grandfather, Ludwig, who was too old.

This small band of donkeys had been taken from local French farmers and was the link between a supply base and an infantry unit. They carried food in baskets on their backs, and, because they were sure-footed and small, they were able to walk right into the trenches delivering rations as they went. The soldiers welcomed the donkeys, not just because they brought food but also because their gentle manner reflected a peaceful world, one in which bursting shells, guns and sudden violent death had no part.

On more than one occasion, the donkeys had been forced to spend the night at the front because of ice and snow or heavy rain. The soldiers gladly took the small animals into their dugouts and lay down beside them, grateful for the warmth of their furry bodies.

Now with heads held low and their long ears flat back against wind and driving rain, the donkeys at last turned into an empty cow barn, where they were to spend the night. Much like the cows, who had until recently lived there, they stood in front of the wooden manger and waited patiently. As they waited, each became the center of an ellipse of water that dripped off their tired, sodden bodies. Hans brought each some hay while Ludwig removed the large baskets and rope harnesses that held them. Soon, the contented sound of chewing filled the air of the old stone barn.

Hans said his grandfather, look after Anni, I think her time is near. She seems more than tired and she has not touched her hay.

Hans loved all the donkeys and looked after them well but he had extra affection for Anni. Hans thought she was the kindest creature he had ever known. When he was so cold he was numb, it was to Anni’s warmth that he went for comfort. When he had terrible bouts of homesickness for his family in Germany, Hans would bury his head in Anni’s neck, hold on to her tightly and sob, Oh Anni, this war must be very important because it is so bad. Pappi is fighting in Russia, Mutti and little Hanna are at home alone. Please, please Anni let them all be safe and warm. Even though I am warm, my heart still shivers.

Hearing his grandfather’s words, Hans moved toward Anni talking as he went. So, Anni, grandfather thinks you might have your foal soon. I don’t know how to help you but I will stay with you. Here let me move you away from the others. He led Anni down the barn. Hans brought her an armful of hay and scraping some loose straw, he found in a corner, he made a soft bed beneath her. As he stood up from arranging the straw, he started to run his gentle hands over her swollen belly. Anni turned her head sharply and pushed him away. Oh Anni, I’m sorry. I thought that might help. I’ll stroke your ears for you, you always like that. Hans sat on the edge of the high manger and holding the base of each ear in his hands, he rubbed them gently, singing quietly. Anni stretched out her neck so the full weight of her head lay on Hans’s lap. Her eyes closed in momentary bliss.

After supper in the farmhouse, Hans came back out to the barn carrying his blanket. Each night he checked the animals before going to sleep. There is a special smell and feeling of comfort in a barn that houses contented animals who are