Percy Smith's War Diary - Part 11

Perhaps it should have been mentioned before that in the early part of the war there was an organisation formed known as E.N.S.A. ( Entertainments National Service Association) to which every one of the top names downward belonged, people such as Gracie Fields, Noel Coward, George Formby and so on. They formed small parties and toured round the towns in the rearward areas entertaining the troops, though as there were a great many troops you needed quite a bit of luck to see the top names. There were also mobile film units which on one occasion came to us in North Africa which was quite a laugh in that, first of all, as it was all outside we ha to wait for it to be dark, then there was difficulty in getting the screen up. For operation it required power from our workshop lorry, so matching the technicalities of the film unit with the obstinacy of our workshop dynamo had to be overcome. However, eventually, the show got started, by which time a number of Arabs had joined the audience even if they did have to sit on the ground with their feet under the screen. All this happened during the latter part of our time in North Africa when everyone was fed up with the heat, the flies and the mosquitoes. The film was called ‘The Shop at Sly Corner’ and in the early part of the film it showed a dingy London backstreet on a dark night with the rain pouring down, and at that moment one of our little cockney lads shouted ‘Good old Blighty — pissing with rain’.

The victory in North Africa was to be followed by the capture, in early June, of the small islands southwest of Malta - Pantelleria, Lampedusa and Linosa. While this was going on we received a box of kit for each vehicle for ‘waterproofing’. This consisted of an extension pipe for the exhaust and all sorts of items so that the vehicles could be run off a landing craft into the sea and up on a beach. There was so much work and material put into this, it went on for weeks. However this being finished, we waited for further orders. For about a month I think it was the only time during the war when we had nothing to do. It was now about October, we were under canvas and it started to snow ( in North Africa). It had been cold, but not so cold as it gets in Britain before it snows.

In mid-July the Allied Forces took the island of Sicily, and though not without some struggle, it was at least the first return to Europe in strength. It was taken for granted that Italy would only be a matter of time.

Great interest was focussed on our portable (car battery) radio for the latest news as at last it looked as if things were getting somewhere. I think we were tempted to think that Italy would soon give in. In this we were disappointed. We had been camped for a while near the port of Bone in Tunisia. British and American units occupied most of the countryside next door to each other. The landings in Italy began in about the second week in September with a fierce battle at Salerno, south of Naples, and at about this time we had orders to get ready for the boat.

After all the work that had been put in ‘waterproofing’ the vehicles, they were lifted onto ordinary ships in the usual way. We were marched on to one of the new American type of boats which were being mass produced, they were known as ‘Liberty Boats’ but the crew called them ‘Misery Boats’ and when we got out to a rough sea we found out why. There was certainly no luxury and they seemed to do everything short of turning over. Needless to say everyone was terribly sick. We were at sea for four days, the first day was terrible but the second was fine. British rations were issued one day ( bully beef and biscuits) and the next American which were three boxes for breakfast, dinner and supper. On the whole I think we liked the British better in spite of it being plain.

Soon after leaving port we joined up with other convoys, until going up on deck we could walk round the deck and in every direction right out to the horizon as far as the eye could see, it was tightly packed with ships. An amusing incident was that we were British and American but evidently under British command and on one occasion and American boat was lagging behind rather, so we were able to hear quite clearly, over a loud hailer from a British Navy ship “Get a move on number 237, you’re in the British Navy now”.

Although we were surely on the winning side now you could never be quite certain of things, but the voyage passed generally without incident. Towards the afternoon of the last day the summit of Mount Etna on Sicily was visible in the far distance but soon our particular ship was making its way through the Straights of Messina between Sicily and the Italian coast. I think our first feelings were that it was a relief to see a place, though poor, a bit more civilized than the dust and heat of North Africa. No doubt each of the many ships had their own destination, in our case we sailed slowly up the coast to what was left of the docks at Naples. There were a great many sunken boats and the whole place was a complete mess, after all, this was only about a week after the Battle of Salerno about 30 miles south down the coast. Even so, we were in Naples Bay, dominated by Vesuvius and looking across to the Isle of Capri, it was marvellous.

The ship had now come to a halt and we were going to have to wait awhile until those in command could sort things out. In the meantime our attention was taken up by a number of small rowing boats coming round the ship, about twenty or thirty feet below us, carrying some of the ‘locals’. When they got close by, they threw long ropes up to us and halfway down the ropes were baskets of fruit, at which point there was a great deal of bargaining between how much they wanted and how much our chaps at the top end of the rope would be willing to pay. They always seemed to come to an agreement and it was quite a bit of fun. The money
of course was sent back in the basket.

It has previously been said that the docks were badly damaged so we could not walk off the ship in the usual way, which meant that small boats came along to the side of the ship and landing nets were hung from where we were down the 30 feet or so to the boats at the bottom. This was terrifying seeing that we were in full kit with rifle etc., and we had never done this sort of thing before. We soon got the idea that as long as you didn’t get completely tangled in the rope net you were O.K. By a shear miracle everyone seemed to get safely down and the roll call on the shore seemed to account for everyone.

So this was our return to Europe. I can’t remember if we marched or if we had transport but eventually we found ourselves billeted in a large building, which I believe was a school, up on a hill. It overlooked the Bay of Naples and on the top of its flat roof in the sunset I think would have been a painter’s paradise. This was quite comfortable compared with what we had been used to. We were there for several days but before being allowed out the O.C. had us on parade and gave us a lecture about behaving ourselves, saying that ‘As you behave so these people will judge your country, so if any man is brought before me for misconduct I shall have no compunction in giving serve punishment’, to which one Yorkshire lad in the rear rank muttered ‘What the ****in hell is compunction?’.

Some of the time, while waiting for our vehicles, was taken up with unloading at the dock area. This was quite interesting in a way, seeing some of the hundreds of tons of various supplies needed to carry on a war. Tanks and other large vehicles had been loaded into the holds of the ships and then actually ‘buried’ in thousands of cases of tinned food and other cases of supplies. When all our vehicles had been offloaded onto dry land we made our way out of Naples and arrived at a little village about 15 miles away called Capua, which like the rest of the places in that area had been badly knocked about. Our billets were solid buildings and we soon made ourselves reasonably comfortable. Considering that we were now in what had been, until recently, enemy territory, the local people were extremely friendly. This was something that we were to enjoy for the rest of our time in Italy, in fact, we wondered where all the people were who had cheered and greeted Mussolini.

This small village was approximately thirty or forty miles from the fighting at that time. The fighting was to be mainly with the Germans from now on, especially in the region of Monti Cassino. We almost got the feeling that the average Italian soldier would be much happier selling ice cream than fighting a war. Come to think of it, they weren’t the only ones!

Things soon settled in and one of the pleasantest jobs in the army I was ever had was taking a driver and a 15cwt. Truck about thirty-five miles or so along the coast road twice a week to the big ordinance base at Salerno for spares. There, there were thousands of tons of army supplies of all kinds. The countryside, except for the war damage, was wonderful. There were orchards full of large, ripe peaches, but the strange thing was that each orchard had a notice up saying that there was a danger of mines. Well of course there would be! While on these trips we stopped at Pompeii once or twice for a look around.

Soon the autumn set in, the military activity slowed up, not only because of the weather, but inland so much of Italy is hills and mountains and the Germans, in their retreat, had blown up the bridges over the streams and rivers, which kept the Engineer companies very busy. In the shallow streams they just made the roadway through water and you drove through it, but in the case of deep water, what were known as Bailey bridges were built. There must have been hundreds of these eventually thoughout Italy. Basically a Bailey Bridge was a set of large standard parts which the Engineer Regiments assembled according to the length of the ravine they had to span, and which they could usually do in a very short time. The name Bailey came from the man who invented it. We were to find that while it could be cold, it could certainly be wet in the Italian winters, the calm rivers would soon become raging torrents in a very short time, which also meant damp clothes, wet boots and miserable guard duties.

Everyone made the best of Christmas 1943. It had become a bit of a tradition that the Scots did guard duty at Christmas and Englishmen did it at New Year, that way there was a fair chance that the guard would be sober. As usual, the cookhouse did us proud on Christmas day, dinner was served by the officers and the O.C. gave a toast to the King. One off-duty lad who had got rather drunk during the morning did a hiccup and said **** the King, the O.C. said get the man on his feet — the King and no more was said. It was Christmas.

The Allied Armies (British and American) by the end of 1943 had now a good foothold in Southern Italy but further progress was halted by the German stronghold at Cassino. They were so well dug in around the Monastery, high on the hill overlooking so much of the countryside and the important main road leading to the North. Frontal attacks by the military had so far been unsuccessful and costly. Our location, Capua, was south of Cassino and one morning in early spring, from daybreak to midday, the sky was thick with aircraft continually going over at low level. We thought they were mostly American Flying Fortresses but we could hear the rumble of the bombs in the distance the whole morning. Even after all that, they still found it difficult to get the Germans out. In fact it was going to be a very hard slog al the way to Rome.

It was while we were in Capua and things were quiet by army standards, that the O.C. thought that he would smarten the junior N.C.O.’s with a drill parade each morning. However the ‘to the front’ salute and ‘to the right’ salute didn’t go down too well with most of us and the Corporal marching at my side suddenly said “Bugger this” and walked off the parade. The O.C. immediately shouted “Put that man under arrest” and the Corporal on his other side and myself had to march him off to the guardroom. We were ordered to be witnesses and the man was under continual guard until Court Martial, held in Naples some days later. On that day there were a couple of truckloads of us with the O.C., Defending Officer, the Defendant, Sgt. Major, Guards and witnesses etc. With the travelling, Court Martial and so on, it took the whole day, and all this on active service in the middle of a war. Our wretched corporal got a severe reprimand and lost his Corporals’ tapes. I think he was also full of remorse for all the trouble he’d caused.

We were to be in this location all through the winter of 1943/44, and it was not until the spring of ’44 that Cassino was finally taken, actually at great cost, as it was said that some of our troops had been killed by our own bombing. If this was the case, it wasn’t published.

This meant the road to the north was now clear of German dominance in that area and it was not long before we moved to other locations, generally going north. With the length of Italy and the length of the war, the different places we were in are too numerous to remember all, but the principal events and places are still quite clear. Since leaving Britain and being split up into small units spread over the countryside, one thing that was not possible was proper church parades but we still had Army Padres and they would come round any day of the week. In our case we would have two troop-carriers back-to-back, which actually served quite well for a makeshift chapel. The Padre would hand out the hymnbooks and invite suggestions for hymns. I’m afraid there was no music but there was no shortage of lusty voices. Our big, strong Blacksmith from Dundee would always ask for ‘We plough the fields and scatter’. The padre would have a short talk, a few prayers, another hymn and then go and have a mug of tea with the Sergeant in the office, which in one location was next door to where the blacksmith was working - with the result that rather bad language was heard after the service!

We were sometimes a bit confused about who we belonged to as far as High Command. We always wore the badge and vehicle markings of the 6th British Armoured Division. We first arrived in Italy under the American General Mark Clark. Then for a short time we were under British 8th Army and also 52nd (Scottish) Lowland Division. It was during the latter that on one occasion we had a visit and inspection from its General Officer, Major General Gordon Murray, in full Scottish uniform. These occasions were always a right pain as work stopped and it was nothing but bull!! until it was over. We were spit and polish up to the hilt, drilled and on parade before the appointed time. The whole company was drawn up in three ranks, I happened to be in the rear rank. The General began to walk along the front rank followed by his ADC and other Officers, then along the second rank and I couldn’t help hearing that he asked every man exactly the same two questions as he went by. “How long have you been in the army?” and “What did you do in civilian life?” By the time he got to me I had it all worked out. To the first one I said “4 years and 5 months, Sir”. He said “Oh, are you a regular, Corporal?” “No Sir, Militia” “So you’ve been called up quite a long time” “Afraid so, Sir” “Oh, nothing to be ashamed of” “No Sir”. He asked “And what did you do in civilian life?” “Undertaker, Sir” “Eh, oh, very necessary”. Our O.C. did a big grin and they moved on to the next chap. There was a saying at these times ‘If it moves, salute it, if it doesn’t, paint it white’.

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