'Stretcher-bearers': (27) Fun and Games

Fun and Games

Attending a cinema in the forward area necessitates lengthy queuing before the show begins. Sometimes you can book, but this does not guarantee a seat.
Having discovered the site of the show - it may be in an open field, garage, stables or partially shelled house - you burrow into the queue, reserving enough energy for the final push, and may be lucky enough to hurtle through the entrance, propelled from behind, a cork on the tide.
Once inside you must gather your wits and join the mad race for the "stalls" where benches and petrol cans often substitute for cushioned seats. If these are full, try the upper circle pronto, if there is one, hoping that it is not reserved exclusively for officers. If so, make yourself scarce until the lights dip, then boldly advance to the nearest available place.
At a high class show records may be played and then, after a preliminary experiment with focusing , when "4 -3- 2- 1- and-" end of part I " flash upon the screen, a Popeye cartoon appears, heralded by guffaws and cat-calls.
The main feature is almost certain to break down several times. During intervals for repairs the audience entertains itself with community singing and wisecracks.
At one show, a balloon floated down from aloft.. Some punched it, others headed it. Yet another held up a pin and burst it.

Another notable occasion was when the New Zealanders raised a massive screen in an open field.. There, standing with freezing limbs, we witnessed two war films packed with patriotic fervour. In both the hero volunteered to serve his country and in each instance he was killed.
To our audience the propaganda does not quite ring true, After such speeches by the leading lady as "I wish I were a man and could go to war" and "War is a man's business. Women have to do what they are told." comments are good-natured.
"You can take my place, hinny!" , someone replied.

A day's leave in Naples.
As our lorry drew into the day leave car park a motley selection of orange sellers, lucky charm vendors, pamphleteers and monks shaking collecting boxes jostled around us.
Escaping from the crowd I made my way to the Opera House to book a ticket for the afternoon performance of "Tosca". A certain Wildego had attached himself to me as we left the lorry. He had expressed a rather hesitant wish to go to the opera, so I bought him a ticket. Then we headed for Via Roma. En route we were escorted by the usual crowd of slinking rogues and small boys who offered us "eggs and cheeps" and worse and were swept along into the main current of jostling humanity .
We decided to make for the forces canteen as it was then 11.30 a.m. and, allowing for queuing, we might have an early lunch.. Wildego left me to visit some shops. I joined a twenty yard queue for the canteen. 15 minutes later I was about half a dozen places from the serving hatch where, on a wall opposite, was the painting of a disgruntled soldier, underneath which was written "Don't look browned off. They are doing their best to serve you ."
This was moot point, for the Italian women behind the counter were chatting eagerly, completely oblivious of our presence. In due course long varnished talons thrust into my hand a rock bun and a tin mug of tea.
At 2 p.m. there was still no sign of Wildego, so I set off for the San Carlo Opera House, showered by invitations to partake of food or some illicit pastime. The rock bun had been quite filling and, although I felt that infantrymen, who might not be living in a few days' time, were entitled to succumb to other attractions, we had been well versed in the dangers of VD, having worked on D block at Netley, and so, if for no deeper reasons, I replied "No, grazie." to dubious approaches.
My seat was in the gods, the opera "Tosca". I climbed within 20 feet of the ceiling and here, with some craning, could see about two-thirds of the stage.
The opera was very enjoyable, even though I could not fully appreciate the melodramatic plot. I shall certainly go to other operas if there is a chance.
Queued for tea only afterwards at the NAAFI canteen , no food left, before boarding our lorry with 18 others. Only one failed to return. They said he had struck an American Military Policeman., following an excess of vino Farewell to Williams for the present - normally a pleasant character.
Two days later our rest period ended and we moved forward..

Darkness falls early at this time of the year, limiting ways of passing the time between about 5. 30 p.m. and lights out. Reading by the light of our improvised lamp, made from a 50 cigarette ration tin with a piece of old shirt for a wick, tends to produce a headache. If there is a room with an electric light, it will certainly have no heating and life becomes cheerless, so the chance one night of attending a concert was not to be missed and I was rash enough to join the concert queue where I waited 45 minutes in a crowd of jostling Scotsmen (Argylls). Certainly it passed part of the evening, but occasionally I have been more comfortable in a slit trench.
The concert that night was held in an almost intact cinema and featured the divisional dance band.. No starting time was listed. Boulding and I joined the queue at about 6 p.m., but were still standing in the same muddy footprints at 6.20, when we were told by friends that the hall was half filled, so we abandoned the queue and made a reconnaissance, looking for other means of entry.
We tried the stage door and another side entrance without success, but were able to spy through a small peep- hole Reginald Smith seated in state in the back row. So we walked to the back of the hall where a blanket covered an aperture with the notice "No Entry" posted on it. We ducked underneath to find the cinema already half full.
On the stage were twelve music stands, each embellished with a yellow battleaxe on a black background, sign of 78th Division.
We did not have long to wait. Soon a straggling line of musicians dressed in white blouses and black trousers sheepishly took their seats behind the music stands. They all had sleekly dressed hair.
A disjointed blare from the trumpeter in the back row of the band sent a frisson through the audience and proved the prelude to a cacophony of sounds produced by the other musicians. This lasted for several minutes, before a new member appeared unheralded, to lead his men into a ragged musical canter.
From the outset the pianist suffered from having to play with his back to the conductor, but he took this cheerfully enough, and was even able to joke with the double bass, a sickly creature with a stage smirk.
At its wildest moment the tune came to a full stop, on top of a pinnacle, leaving the conductor to explain that we had just heard their signature tune, "Woodchoppers' Ball" and were now going to be treated to one of the latest song hits, where the vocal refrain would be interpreted by "Doc" Martin, who, as it transpired, was our pale friend the double bass. He fondled the microphone and proclaimed that he had had " the craziest dream last night.." He certainly looked jaded and might well have had a night pout on the tiles..
The rest of his song was virtually in-audible because the brass section was blasting fortissimo and his microphone was not working. His smile and flashy personality somewhat compensated for vocal deficiency and "Doc" retired happily, fully convinced that he had made a hit.
"And now, that famous star of screen and stage, Partricia Burke." There she was before us, already explaining, in a voice capable of reaching the gods in the Coliseum, that she was indeed Patricia Burke and that we might call her "Pat".. There, at the piano was her friend whom we might call "Jimmy" - scowl from Jimmy, failing to appreciate the liberty. She kept us interested by finding an imaginary ""Bill" in the audience.
Like the Mona Lisa, her comprehensive smile seemed to be directed at each one of us.. We envied her "Bill" and hoped that he was merely a figment of her imagination.. We appreciated her visit to entertain us in the back of beyond.

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