Human relationships with animals have always balanced on the edge between uncritically attributing human traits and abilities to animals and an equally blind pretence that animals have nothing in common with humans, and thus can be considered merely as tools for achieving one’s goals. Some love them more than people, others coldly kill them, but both groups use them by eating them. An animal ends up on one of the shelves of the human hierarchy of basic needs - satisfying biological and physiological needs, ensuring human safety, providing a sense of love and belonging, securing the respect of others and serving as a witness to a person's status, and finally - perhaps also becoming a tool that helps us understand what it truly means to be human. It is on this last shelf that the idea may have arisen that an animal might also have some rights, but it seems the only way these are realised is through the fate of a lady’s lapdog.

On Bond Street in London, one can often encounter animal rights advocates scolding visitors to fancy fur shops. The activists are armed with distressing pictures of animals without skin and with severed limbs. Nearby, at the Oxford Circus underground station, I regularly take a detour to avoid the table around which a group of enthusiasts urges passers-by to sign petitions against the brutal use of animals for human needs. But at the Imperial War Museum in London, where an exhibition titled “Animals’ War” is currently open alongside displays on spies, the Holocaust, and the Allied landings in Normandy, these people are nowhere to be seen. At first glance, the title “Animals’ War” might lead one to think it is about wars between animals that have gone unnoticed by humans; something from the Animal Planet television channel, but no. The audiovisual materials, photographs, taxidermy, and sculptures on display document the activities of animals in human military conflicts from the First World War to the present day. The museum organised the exhibition in collaboration with historian Juliet Gardiner, whose book The Animals’ War was published specifically in connection with the exhibition.

Even without visiting the exhibition at the Imperial War Museum in London, we know that humans have used animals (horses, camels, and elephants) for warfare since before the birth of Christ and continue to do so today. In 2003, 75 dolphins searched for mines in the waters of southern Iraq, Alfie the mule continues his military service in the British Armed Forces, and the Swiss army only disbanded its carrier pigeon brigade in 1995.

However, the functions of animals in military operations have changed significantly since the First World War. One could say that at first, animals replaced machines and tanks, but over time they also replaced the telephone and the post. Nowadays, they perform even more subtle tasks that are beyond the reach of humans themselves, and often animals are much cheaper than the use of technology. Many thousands of human lives have been saved at the expense of animals. Animals test gases and weapons on their own skin, clear minefields and, of course, are still used for military medical experiments, but these facts are only mentioned in passing in the exhibition. Representatives of the animal rights organisation People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) claim that in the USA alone, 320,000 animals die in military experiments each year. At the exhibition, I also found nothing about the Barbary macaques released to run through minefields, although it would be interesting to learn the life story of some monkey veteran (one who survived longer than 10 minutes).

A use can be found for almost any animal. Scientists are constantly studying the behaviour of primates, mammals, birds, insects, and other creatures to find out how their natural abilities can be used for military purposes. It is said that the US military has even found a way to train bees to locate explosives.

Even if animals are not involved in active warfare, they can be found on the battlefield either as mascots or simply as collateral casualties; true, during wartime, people were sometimes troubled by the question of what to do with their pets - for instance, in the first days of the Second World War in London, people put down and drowned almost half a million pets for fear that they might not endure the trauma caused by the war and the constant trips to bomb shelters. (Although I do not understand how clarity on these traumas was achieved in the very first days of the war.) Together with other townspeople, animals perished in zoos during the bombings in Berlin, Hamburg, and elsewhere. In the very recent past, during the bombing of Baghdad, the tiger belonging to Saddam Hussein’s son, which had been left in the zoo, died. He was not torn apart by a stray shell, however - he simply died of hunger, because after the start of the coalition forces' attack, no one had any time to feed him. Conversely, chickens in Iraq died while performing a very simple task: chicken coops were placed on top of transport trucks and, with their deaths, warned drivers about the release of toxic gases; the soldiers would put on gas masks and could continue their journey unscathed.

A large part of the exhibition consists of stories about horses, mules, and camels that served for the transport of people, ammunition, and food. It seems that animal rights advocates have completely forgotten about them; the horse's arduous service for the benefit of man is taken for granted. In the First World War alone, eight million horses, donkeys, and mules perished. As time has passed, the number of animals dying in warfare has decreased significantly - thank God - because nowadays an animal's advantage is no longer strength and speed, but intellect. For example, in San Diego, USA, the Navy Marine Mammal Program has been developed since the 1960s, with the task of training dolphins and sea lions for the guarding of ships and ports, and the location of mines and lost equipment.

Deeper in the exhibition, visitors are introduced to pigeons. Based on the seriousness of their tasks and the number of awards, they could be compared to couriers whose duty is to ensure communication between the front lines and headquarters. In 1943, Maria Dickin, who ran the People's Dispensary for Sick Animals (today it is the largest veterinary clinic in Great Britain), established the Dickin Medal to honour animal bravery. Half of the Dickin Medal recipients are pigeons. The bronze medal, inscribed with “For Gallantry” and “We Also Serve”, has been awarded to 60 animals in the UK. The exhibition features a 1940s newsreel capturing the award ceremony for two pigeons. Maria, clutching the bird with both hands, kisses its beak, while a respectable man places a medal around its chest - unfortunately, there is no information on whether the birds wear these medals after they are awarded, say, for festive occasions. One of the first three pigeons to receive the Dickin Medal was the carrier pigeon Winkie. He was in a Royal Air Force bomber heading for the front, but due to technical difficulties, the aircraft was forced to land on water. At the moment of the accident, Winkie escaped in search of rescue and flew back to the military base in Scotland. By examining the dirt and oil traces on the pigeon's wings and knowing the last location of the plane, comrades were able to react quickly and rush to assist the plane's crew. But Winkie became a war hero because of his survival instinct. In turn, the pigeon Mary of Exeter is one of the bravest participants of the Second World War. When retiring, Mary had 22 stitches. She had suffered from bullets and hawk attacks, and her neck muscles were so badly injured that she had to wear a collar to support her head.

It is doubtful whether the pigeons derived any joy from the awards or if they could tell the difference between a medal hanging around their neck and another message from the front. The point of the comical award ceremonies might be an attempt to publicly atone for human guilt towards animals. A pigeon - or any other animal - receives a medal, and we, humans, no longer feel so indebted to it, even though we sense that it is not quite right. If only because the civilian life of such a pigeon, where it is threatened by boys with catapults, trains, cars, and predators, is also an endless struggle.

Audio recordings of pigeon cooing are replaced by barking dogs. Dogs have performed various tasks, starting with patrolling and attacking enemies, ending with the search for shells and mines. Pigs have just as good a sense of smell as dogs, but rats have an even better one, and their training costs five times less than what is spent on training a single dog (one thousand British pounds for a rat, five for a dog). Rats and pigs are used to search for mines and other explosives in Serbia, Afghanistan, and Iraq. However, despite this, it pays to train a dog because, unlike rats and pigs, it has more versatile applications - indeed, pigs and rats are hardly used for direct attacks on humans, although in times of peace, such cases have been heard of. A dog's obedience and, consequently, its ability to attach itself and “respond” to human feelings have made it man's best friend.

100,000 dogs participated in the First World War, a third of which served in the German army. After the war, the German government set up a special organisation for training dogs, and by the start of the Second World War, the German army had 200,000 dogs at its disposal. The USA only involved dogs in military service after the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941 - although I do not know why the American military command made this decision specifically after that dramatic attack. Even today, dogs perform the same tasks, and it seems that in terms of numbers, it is the most militarised animal species.

The exhibition features a video from dog training sessions at different times, as well as a photograph - a dog in protective gear with a gas mask, which has a built-in radio so it can hear the owner's commands. Other photographs introduce several dog heroics. The Russian military dog Dzhulbars found two thousand mines in 18 days during the Second World War. In turn, the collie Sheila helped save the crew of a downed US plane in December 1944 - the dog and its owner went to the rescue during a snowstorm, helping to locate the airmen. Sheila became the first civilian dog to receive the Dickin Medal.

Also found in the exhibition are several sets of wartime propaganda postcards clipped together. One of them is addressed to the owners of long-haired dogs in the posh district of Kensington, attracting attention with a greeting supposedly uttered by the dogs themselves: “Comb us out!” At that time, the British Dog Wool Association called on people not to throw away dog hair, but to hand it over to the association. The hands of industrious women spun it into yarn and then knitted gloves, socks, and other small garments, which were sent to British soldiers at the front. It is said that items knitted from poodle wool were especially warm.

Animals were not just privates, but also pets and mascots for soldiers. Several stands in the exhibition are dedicated to them - both British dogs, Russian bears, and German pigs. The pig Dennis was among those rescued from the sinking German ship Tirpitz. British ships Glasgow and Kent sank the German ship in 1915, but the drowning pig was rescued by British sailors, was renamed after the ship as Tirpitz, decorated with a German Iron Cross, and for several years was the mascot of Glasgow. Later, Dennis or Tirpitz ended up in the care of a British primary school, but his school days did not last long, as in 1919 the pig was handed over to a meat auction, earning 1785 British pounds for the Red Cross. By the way, in the United States, a pig is still a popular mascot in schools, and, possibly, also on the menu. Thus, an animal, during its lifetime, can very easily experience a career rotation on our scale of basic needs, in the case of the pig - a regression.

Speaking of pigs, during the First World War, Hitler allegedly had a lapdog named Fuchsl with him in the trenches, which, unfortunately, someone stole. Hitler later remarked that “the pig who stole my dog did not grasp what he had done to me.” Meanwhile, the British Field Marshal Montgomery had two terriers during the Normandy campaign - Hitler and Rommel. The dog Judy is the only officially known animal - prisoner of war. Judy was the mascot of a British ship in the Pacific Ocean. In 1942, the ship's crew fell into Japanese captivity. Judy was placed in a prison in Medan, Malaya, where she became the mascot of the prisoners of war and always raised an alarm (it seems - barked) when other dangerous animals approached. When the prisoners were rescued and transported by ship to a safer place, the female dog was also secretly taken out of the camp in a rice sack. Unfortunately, this ship was also torpedoed, and Judy ended up in captivity once again - this time on Sumatra. The Japanese commander allegedly sentenced Judy to death and ordered the prisoners to eat her afterwards. However, the dog managed to hide, and later Judy secretly returned to London with the soldiers.

The famous dog - film star Rin Tin Tin - was found by an American soldier among the rubble in the province of Lorraine in France at the end of the First World War. The dog was taken along to the soldier's home in Los Angeles, where it learned various tricks, for example, jumping to a height of four metres, but at a dog show, the dog was spotted by Hollywood producer Darryl Zanuck from Warner Brothers and made into a film hero.

There was not enough space for everyone in the exhibition, but since 2004, a memorial to all animals that participated in wars has been located in a corner of London's Hyde Park. Its creators have tried not to forget anyone. The memorial consists of two large bronze donkeys laden with packs, which are struggling to climb stairs, steps, and a wall on which images of animals are engraved; in the middle of the wall is a hole from which a horse and a dog look out pensively. In the wall, one can even find a glow-worm, the light emitted by which supposedly helped soldiers in the trenches to see maps. I could not find an answer anywhere to the question of whether each soldier was given one glow-worm, for example, along with a cyanide pill, or if there was some chosen one among the soldiers, perhaps a higher-ranking person, who was allotted a box or even a handful of glow-worms, just as I am preoccupied by the question of whether these were some specially trained glow-worms that shone according to the soldiers' needs, because I have read that only female glow-worms shine, and only during mating time.

The exhibition also lacks an answer to the question of whether using animals for human wartime needs, such as postal services and mine location, is nevertheless more innocent than killing them for food and the production of furs, handbags, and shoes. The reviews published in the press are mostly about the ethical side of this very question: “If animals are sensitive enough to be brave, do they also have a sense that they are being exploited?” ponders journalist John O’Connell from Time Out. But PETA activist Ingrid Newkirk writes in the exhibition catalogue that “they [animals] are not covered by the Geneva Convention or peace treaties” and their lives depend only on our mercy.

However, the activities of animal rights advocates are quite tendentious. Animals that satisfy only one of human basic needs do not earn anything more than simple pity, because their primary task - to be eaten or shot in war - seems as self-evident to people as the condition of their own survival. Conversely, the moment an animal ends up on one of the higher shelves of the pyramid outlined at the beginning of the article, for example, becomes a decorative element, affirming human social status, animal rights advocates begin handing out leaflets on the streets. Some have the honour of dying as heroes, others are ground into sausages, but at the very end, one is as dead as the other. Animals have no special choice, but neither did soldiers - both humans and pigeons, horses, and dogs are just privates in war. However, one cannot deny the emotion that overcomes one when reading about the courage and devotion of animals, and not only in war and not only animals trained by humans. In Kenya, a stray dog saved an abandoned two-week-old baby girl. It had crossed highways and crawled through barbed wire fences to bring the child abandoned on the outskirts in dirty clothes into the sight of humans. In the USA, a car fell on a man in his garage and trapped him. Thanks to his four cats, which caused a commotion at the neighbours' house, the man's life was saved. In turn, the female dog Roselle helped her owner get out of the 78th floor of the World Trade Center before it collapsed. Even when wounded or in the presence of mortal danger, these animals performed feats of heroism without complaint, long thought, or wailing. It is also difficult to forget translator Guna Eglīte’s three cats, which used their bodies to warm not some abandoned human child, but her severely ill dog, and after the dog’s recovery, they do not leave its side for a step.
The article was first published in the February 2007 issue of the magazine Rīgas Laiks