'Stretcher-bearers': (30) Italian Advance

Italian Advance

May 19th or 20th, 1944

Moved again northwards. Lingard and I decided to dig out our bivvy space and were half way through in blistering heat when Jerry lobbed over about 10 shells. This obliged us to dig a slit trench as well, but, since no further shells came over, our energies began to flag. We did not get much deeper than 4 feet through heavy clay soil, but we did cover the trench with logs and an empty metal German ammunition box, chiefly for cover against APs and shrapnel.
The following day was very quiet, the only disturbance being the blowing up of two mines about a mile away.

Today at about 8.30 a.m., a single plane swooped down and dropped one bomb about half a mile away.
20 of the company moved up. Stayed behind.

Moved up next morning, after a 4.30 a.m. reveille. Stomach trouble. Not much breakfast.
Convoy very slow. Roads littered with burnt-out tanks, self-propelled German guns and war equipment of many kinds.

May 26th. Jimmy Hough, a cook in Eleventh Field Ambulance, killed in bivvy by anti-personnel fire.
Passed through F---in--e (Frosinone) of which only ruins of houses remained, to an agricultural storehouse where we started functioning at once as the most forward ADS of the division.
(Extract from "Algiers to Austria." Page 136.
"During this phase the enemy withdrawal was particularly skilful. The Germans slipped from one good position to another at night, leaving roads, verges, villages and bridge-approaches mined and booby-trapped, and all the avenues of advance covered by observed artillery and mortar-fire.")

Received many casualties and worked at full pressure. Mortar wounds, shell wounds, mine victims and ack-ack flak casualties passed though our hands.
Assisted at the amputation of a right hand which had been shattered and was attached to the arm by only skin and ligaments. Capt. ... took up a pair of Spencer Wells seven inch scissors and cut through the flesh without difficulty. The patient (? Lancs Fusilier) was conscious throughout and joked with us. When this was finished, I picked up the hand and disposed of it.

Next day many Italian children were admitted, as well as adults. They had been without food for some time, but one did offer me an egg in return for some chocolate.
A fair amount of interpreting to do. My Italian, thanks largely to Latin and a little to "Teach Yourself Italian", is now fairly reasonable.
Many mines in the vicinity. (The Italians, trying to help, raise their hands expressively and cry "Mine!" and "Bombardimento!" This gives some clue as to the general whereabouts of mines and bombing, but it is better to understand in some detail the drift of their information.)
Heavy work in resuscitation dept. - very tired - FDS (Field Dressing Station) arrives and takes over c. 6.45 p.m.
Moved to a ruined bungalow--- Slept.

World News. Rome has fallen. It is declared an open city and the Germans have pulled out.
June 4th,'44. Allies enter Rome.

June 6th. D-Day. Allies invade France.

Rushed forward to take up new positions about 30 miles north of Rome. (Did not enter Rome ourselves.) Slept fitfully during night drive.
After two days in our new location we learnt that the division was being held in reserve. Time passed uneventfully except for one incident. We were taking a short stroll after supper when two shots rang out and which a man's voice called out "I've been hit!"
We found that one of the Ls had picked up a Luger pistol and shot himself through the ankle.
I dressed the wound with the man's first field dressing . O---- (Onion) and I then carried him by hand carriage to the ADS . Rumour had it that the wound was deliberately self-inflicted. I doubt it.

Five days of continuous movement, sleeping in different places every night, and sometimes moving three times in one day. Lingard and I dug in at the first two localities, but as the third was a garage, there was no need for cover. At this spot we learnt that "Ted" =Tedesci ( Italian for Germans) were some miles away.
Unfortunately developed serious stomach trouble and was in poor fettle.
Moved from garage through Frosinone where the heavy guns kept us awake.
Felt very bad. Could not dig or eat. Had a bad night. Blood in stools.
Stopped in a field on a hill. Once more American planes machine gunned us in error, sending us diving for cover. Two wounded brought in.
Reported sick and was given a course of sulphaguanadine tablets. Still unable to eat.
Moved in afternoon to another field and then to a doctor's house, much looted. Admitted 26 casualties that night and 32 next day, including some Jerries.
Moved again after 5.30 a.m. reveille. Following morning moved to a wood. Later entered a village which had not been completely taken. Advanced Dressing Station area subjected to heavy shell fire in morning and at tea time. Felt more nervous than usual. Anti-tank men sheltered with us. Remainder of unit arrived p.m.
Shelled again, but no machine gun fire near.
Jerry, as I write, just before dark, has sent over about 15 for the road.
Bren gun crews have left their vehicles to take shelter. We leave upstairs room of a school we are now using.

After more sulphaguanadine tablets the stomach trouble subsides. Took first full meal in 4 days. Did not have to go down the line. Thank God!
More wounded being admitted.
About 9.30 p.m. made my bed down and was nearly asleep when sergeant B---- entered the room and called out 8 names of men required to do stretcher-bearing for the Ls infantry. We were to relieve their RAP in evacuating wounded from a hilly ridge. There it was impossible to take Jeeps, now being used as ambulances, two stretchers on each Jeep.
We dressed in the dark and were told that there was no need to take more than webbing equipment, since we would be returning at first light. This story was, in my opinion, fantastic - sojourns with the infantry tend to last days rather than hours - so I picked up two books, a pullover, small kit and washing gear together with eating utensils.
We moved off about 11 p.m., making for the old RAP in the village.
After about ten minutes here we moved on in the dark, threading our way with difficulty through the main street which had been shelled and was littered with debris from shattered houses. We marched for about fifteen minutes before leaving the main street and climbing up a sodden lane. It began to rain steadily throughout the night. We waded through a shallow river, boots, anklets and socks alone getting wet.
It must have been roughly 1 a.m. when we reached the currently functioning RAP, a lone farm house not far up a large hill. It was in a safe position. We settled down on a stone floor and, after ejecting two chickens, had some sleep.

Next morning the civilians provided us with some eggs, so we had a good breakfast.
It was here that we treated two wounded Jerry prisoners and also an old Italian farmer who had a "sucking" chest wound, caused by a bullet passing through and out of his lung.
It was found impossible to evacuate by Jeep and obvious that we should not be returning to the Field Ambulance that day.
Since I alone had brought washing kit, we all used it to clean up before climbing to a higher house. Here there were no wounded, nor did it seem likely that we should receive any, for the battle was now far below us in the valley, and we did not seem to be near our own infantry. (Diary p. 218)
After remaining for a brief spell, we climbed again another ridge, entered another house and were greeted by about 20 inhabitants. Here we stayed most of the day, before leaving to make closer contact with the infantry The march took nearly an hour. The reward at the end of it was a splendid sight of Lake Trasimene sparkling in the sun's dying rays in a valley to our north.
As we were gazing down on it Jerry sent over some 50 shells in our direction, but they landed harmlessly enough on the ridge through which we were to pass about half an hour later.

It was now becoming dark and raining slightly.
We reached our immediate objective, yet another farm house, about 10 p.m., but minutes later were off again making for the village below us. We were to follow C company of the infantry, but our SBO (Stretcher Bearer Officer - a non-medical officer) lost contact with it and told us to wait while he went back to the bungalow, our first stop, to obtain further directions.
We sat down in a wood where it rained heavily for the next half hour. Then, since the SBO did not return to us, we decided to go back to the bungalow where we lay down briefly. Some of us were already dozing when the order came through to move into the village, so we stumbled.on down a rocky path. It was now past midnight and we were told that a meal would be awaiting us. It was - stone cold, as was the tea. We finally settled down to sleep about 1.30 a.m.. with one blanket each.

5.30 a.m. reveille. We had breakfast at 6 a.m. before marching to infantry lorries. These did in fact carry us about 200 yards, when the road ahead came under shell fire, so we disembarked, and marched cross country about 4 miles without being troubled by shells. Half a dozen tanks came up slowly with us. The plan, as we understood it, correctly or incorrectly, was for the tanks to make the initial attack, supported by infantry.
We lay up at a small village from which, half an hour later, we were recalled and spent the rest of the day at the first mentioned village overlooking Lake Trasimene.
A good night's sleep. We were told that we, Eleven Infantry Brigade, were the most northerly brigade in Italy.
We seemed to be doing a Hannibal the wrong way round, invading from the south, with tanks instead of elephants. Neither side was making much headway.
Recalled now to join the rest of the Field Ambulance, we spent two quiet days, watching explosions in the flat basin around Lake Trasimene. We could not advance chiefly because the weather was too bad for our fighting aircraft to take part, action being restricted to shell fire from our 25 pounders and replies from German artillery..
The road along which we had started to march two days ago with the tanks was still being shelled and we were in a position to see the shells of both sides exploding in the valley.
We are not welcome in this village, Panicarola, and the children, unable to keep up with events, are still giving us the Nazi salute.
For two days the battle has been taking place in the plain between Panicarola and the lake. We look down upon it from about 500 feet and see the shells of both sides exploding in white puffs. A few seconds before each explosion a fresh white puff appears, followed by the noise of its bursting.
This afternoon, receiving no instructions and thoroughly bored with the village, which is a dark warren of underground tunnels and evil-smelling alleys, often strewn with garbage, I went off for a stroll along a sinuous part paved with blue-grey flagstones in parts. As I drew away from the village the path deteriorated into rough dark stones, grained with white streaks, and generous sprinklings of gravel.
On my left I now had a view commanding perhaps 20 miles, the furthest shore of the lake, misty in the heat haze, merging with the horizon. The sun was shining upon the whole lake, lighting its small islands and its southern peninsula, on which I could see the crowded roofs of a small village.
Bordering the lake, about half a mile from it, ran the white strip of main road which had been heavily contested for two days. Little traffic was passing along it now, but I could make out the red cross on the roof of an American ambulance approaching the village, and grey-white dust trailing from what must have been a heavy tank, probably a Sherman. Now I could hear the mechanical clanking of its caterpillar tracks...
Leaving the small track I jumped over a low retaining wall and landed in an olive grove. My sudden descent disturbed a white admiral butterfly which fluttered about restlessly before alighting on my shoulder. This incident reminded me momentarily of the grim final episode in "All Quiet on the Western Front." This mood soon passed. More butterflies appeared, springing from flower to flower, blackberry bloom, love in a mist, clover, hare-bell. Cabbage White, Meadow Brown and Orange Tips flew around .All the while came the zizzing of crickets.
On reaching the lowest tiers of the olive grove I could see clearly the red and yellow roof of a cottage. This attracted me all the more because it had clean white-washed walls, unlike the sickly pinks and greens of dwellings in Calabria and the Naples area.
I passed on through a field where the corn was already piled into thick "stooks" and thence into a strip of pasture land where the ground was spongy, the result of the previous night's torrential rain.
A few minutes later, as I was passing the cottage, a small girl with two long pigtails opened a door and out trotted one of the largest black sows I have ever seen. It made for the meadow with the leisurely air of ownership and busied itself, rooting its hairy snout in the grass.
Much refreshed by this haven of peace, I returned to the village.

We were travelling in lorries, our objective Castilione del Lago, when we were diverted into a field because the road ahead was being shelled again, On our truck we started a card school, punctuated by exploding shells, including one notable "dud". As Quinn remarked gratefully, "A dud, thank Christ! Two spades."
Shelling continued. We withdrew to Panicarola again, where we spent the night.
Again advanced and again were diverted, this time into a farmhouse where we had lunch. The shells came over spasmodically and, since we could hear them whistling away into the distance, we felt safe. However, although camouflaged, we were too near an improvised track from which clouds of dust billowed every time a vehicle passed. We were also close to our own 25 pounder artillery, but, since we were scheduled to open up later at Castilione del Lago, we expected to stay near them for only a few hours. At this house we learnt that two stretcher bearers of 152 Field Ambulance had been killed and an American ambulance captured.
Lingard and I took our hard tack lunch into a shady spot and sat on the low wall of a disused well, or possibly a silo, about five feet deep. We had inspected it to find that it was firm at the bottom and free from petrol. For some reason, possibly, as we were told, to kill off mosquitoes breeding malaria, wells in Italy were often sprinkled with petrol. and I recalled,, months before, seeing a smoker's forage cap sailing into the air after he had carelessly tossed a match down a well.
We had become engrossed in a discussion about home leave and then possible service in the Far East, when, with no more warning than mighty blasts of air, two heavy shells crashed down .
Before the second touched the ground and while mud and branches from the first started dropping on us, we had leapt into the well., and were crouching on all fours. I was completely deafened for a while, and thought that my left ear-drum had been shattered, but, after a few minutes, it cleared.
A few more shells dropped. In our humiliating yet wise position we awaited and received another half dozen, all near enough to put the fear of God in us, but we did have the consolation of knowing that, if a direct hit did land in the well, we would snuff out immediately.

Since the road ahead was still being shelled intermittently, it was decided that lorries would leave at half hourly intervals for Castilione del Lago. Ours set out at 6.30 p.m. and arrived safely at the town hospital.

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