大象传媒

I will never forget the one sunny day in May 1944, when strolling through the usually tranquil, small Yorkshire town where we stayed, a blaring radio placed in an open window of the house transmitted an emotional narrative of the ongoing fight to the death, the battle at Monte Cassino in Italy. Spellbound by the unreal contrast of an ideal Spring day in an idyllic place and the unfolding human drama taking place in the bitter action of war, people froze to listen to the exalting voice of the British reporter giving the detailed account of the individual Polish soldier's struggle in an unrelenting, often hand-to-hand fighting at Cassino.

To think about it, how courageous, how heroic that war correspondent must have been to be there, not as a fighting man, but as an exposed observer in the midst of the front line vicious contest.

Each time I recall this event, with unbounded recognition for his heroism, I take my hat off for him. He went on describing the final assault on the indomitable fortress on top of the domineering mountain peak, manned by the unyielding Germans, by saying that the fortitude of the Polish soldiers had no parallel.

And later, when the decisive onslaught came to an end and the attacking Poles planted the red and white Polish flag, the first Allied colors ever on the fortress, he stuttered and his voice became unintelligible. The long and costly battle for Monte Cassino was at last over, and the road to Rome lay open.

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