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By this time we were nearing Bologna and the next big obstacle was the river Po. It was there that the Germans dropped a load of propaganda leaflets on us. I did pick one up and had it until the year 2000 but I couldn’t include it in these memoirs as it has gone missing. On one side of it was a gruesome war picture and on the other was a letter reputed to be from an English lad who was a German prisoner. It told us to stop fighting and give ourselves up to the Germans as they had been really kind and treated him very well and given him plenty of food. It said that we would never cross the River Po as it was so well fortified.
Of course we did cross it and forced the Germans north passed Padua, Venice and Odine by which time they were well and truly finished. They gave in and the War in Italy was over.
Our company went right back to Ravenna on the Adriatic coast. After a while we went right across country and down the Mediterranean side to Naples. While we were in Naples I noticed that the theatre was going to stage Verdi’s opera ‘The Barber of Saville’. Although I realised I would not be able to understand the words at least I would be able to listen to the music and the singing, so I booked a seat. For me it was more than a treat — it was really something! I never saw anything like it again. The whole atmosphere was almost indescribable. The lights in the auditorium were turned down a few minutes before the curtain went up and the doors were closed and late comers were not allowed in so as not to distract or disturb the audience.

A Visit to Rome
It was around this time that our platoon was told that we had to collect some special equipment. This meant taking about six lorries to the main Royal Engineers Supply Depot which was only a few miles outside Rome. I was given the job of doing the trip and was given a list of things we needed. When we arrived at the depot I was told it would be three or four days before I could have the things we wanted. A day or two after we’d settled in, I asked for permission to go into Rome which was granted. So a motor mechanic, whose name escapes me, and I did get a little time to have a look round.
First we went to the Coliseum and then to Saint Peter’s Basilica which is a really wonderful building. As we walked round inside the Basilica we came across a small open door. As we looked though the door we could see there was an inner and outer wall forming a cavity about five or six feet wide. Within this cavity were some stone steps leading upwards. I could see by the way the steps were worn that a great many people had been up them, so I went up. After what seem like a long climb I came to a window set in the inner wall. This enabled people to see right down into the church, a view that was well worth the climb. The steps carried on up and so I carried on to see where they finished. They did at last finish on a parapet which ran round the outside of the dome from which I had a spectacular view over Rome. I didn’t go far round the parapet but I noticed there were hundreds of names of the people who had been there. As I had a pen with me I decided to add my name to all the others.
We didn’t stay in Rome for very long as I wanted to get back and see what was happening at the depot. It was only a couple of days after we got back that we got the equipment we had been waiting for and were able to return to the platoon.

Sleep
During the time we were in the desert and throughout our journey up Italy we took small snatches of sleep when we could. During the time we were passing Monte Cassino I thought I’d check to see just how much sleep I did manage during a two-week period. The first week I managed five hours and the second week I got seven hours — that’s a total of twelve hours in two weeks! I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to do that now.

Temporary Repairs
I mostly travelled with a mechanic in the breakdown lorry always at the rear of the convoy. One day we came across a lorry in trouble and soon found out that the distributor rotor arm was damaged. Although only a small part, the rotor arm is essential for the engine to be able to work and we hadn’t got a replacement. I knew there was a R.E.M.E. unit not too far away from where we were and I was confident they would have the required part. I told the lorry driver to stay where he was and I’d be back in a little while. When I did get back the driver had talked another lorry driver to give him a tow and he’d finished up ramming into the back of the lorry that was towing him. This had broken two tubes in his radiator, which was a real dilemma. We were able to use a small hacksaw blade to cut out the two damaged tubes. We then had to find four pieces of wood to plug the tube ends. When we re-filled the radiator we were fortunate that the plugs held and didn’t leak. In addition to this the radiator mounting was damaged. We were able to fix that by tying the radiator in position with a length of rope. It was all a bit ‘Heath Robinson’ but the best we could do. I had managed to get a rotor arm and we fitted that in about two minutes. So after giving the driver a telling off we were able to continue our journey. That radiator had still got the wooden plugs and the radiator was still held on with a piece of rope when we eventually said goodbye to the No.1 Heavy Bridge Company which was several weeks later.

San Pietro
In the middle of December 1944 the weather got so bad, we were held up. Our platoon was in a very small village called San Pietro. It was so small it wasn’t even on the map. It was a few miles inland from the Adriatic Coast near the towns of Rimini and Ancona. The village consisted of a few cottages, large barns, a church and a large wooden hut which was the Veno Bar. The bar didn’t have a proper floor, just dirt, and a few rough tables and stools.
As it was not possible to put tents up we had to get what cover we could mostly in the barns. Some of the lucky lads managed to get rooms in cottages. Me and another lad where two of the lucky ones. The room we had had no carpets or rugs on the floor and the furniture consisted of a rickety old table and a couple of wooden chairs. The cottage belonged to a middle aged woman who we later found out had two small boys. She kept herself and the boys in the back room and never came into the front room while we were there.
We went to have a look at the Veno Bar. There was a few elderly men sitting around but we noticed none of them had a drink. We asked the man who owned the bar why this was and he told me that there was no wine because they couldn’t get a delivery. They got it from a few miles away at the foot of the mountains but they had no petrol for their lorry. We had a bit of trouble understanding them as we had only picked up a few words of Italian. But with a lot of sign language we were able to get the message. The Italians had had a rough time with the German Army so we did what we could to try to give them a little help. I asked our officer if we could take a lorry to fetch some vino for the village. As it was only a few miles away he gave us permission. The man from the bar came with us and he was able to get six barrels of wine. He was more than grateful and he gave us a small cask for us to have in our room. One day we went back to the bar. The few men that were sitting around seemed to be at a lost so we had their tankards filled and as best we could told them to have a drink on us. They couldn’t believe it.
After we’d been there a while we found out that the husband of our landlady had been taken into forced labour by the Germans. This may have accounted for her remaining in the back room. She was probably frightened of soldiers. We found out there was an office set up in a nearby town to try to sort out any problems for the Italian civilians. It was run by British Officers with the help of Italian officials. We were eventually able to persuade our landlady to come with us to this office to see if they could tell her what had happened to her husband. When she came out we could see by her expression that they had not been able to tell her anything.
One day we were working on the lorries when a chap came along pushing his motor bike. He was Canadian and he asked us if there was any chance of us mending his bike for him. We had a look and found he had a problem with one of the engine valves. Although it was a big job we did repair it. We had to set the tappets and we didn’t know setting for this particular bike. As each make of engine has a different tappet gap, we had to take a guess. We had the bike running for a few minutes before we let the Canadian lad have it back and everything seemed all right. However, we made him promise to have the engine checked as soon as he got back to his unit. So after a lot of thanks he went on his way.
A few days later the village had a bit of a barn dance. I had a stroll over to see what it was like and what was going on. There was a few people dancing to a man playing an accordion. As I looked around I noticed the Canadian lad who had obviously had a drop too much to drink and was making a bit of a nuisance of himself. I went over to him and told him to calm down or I’d have him put out. He immediately recognised me and apologised. He did stay but caused no more trouble and the dance carried on.
As Christmas approached I wondered what we could do for the two boys in our cottage. We couldn’t get any toys so we asked the lads to give sweets and chocolates from the N.A.A.F.I. rations and if possible a bit of fruit such as apples and oranges so that we could make up something. On Christmas Eve we knocked on the kitchen door. The woman opened it and we held out the two parcels and as best as we could offered one for each of the boys. At first she shook her head as to say no. We opened the parcels and took out one of the sweets and ate it just to let her see they were all right. So at last she did accept. I don’t think the boys had ever seen sweets or fruit before. On Christmas Day as I had managed to scrounge more than enough food for us I asked my mate if we should ask the woman and the boys to share the meal with us. After a lot of persuading and probably the smell of our meal she eventually accepted our invitation. She had to supply her own plates and cutlery but we set out the meal as near to Christmas dinner as we could. We had a tin of turkey with potatoes and greens and a drop of gravy. We also managed to get hold of a Christmas Pudding but no custard or cream. And of course we had a drop of vino. When the meal was ready our landlady wanted to take hers into the back room. We were not having any of that and insisted that her and the boys have it with us. Although I think they must have felt a bit embarrassed we did the best we could to have a good Christmas dinner. I’m sure they enjoyed it as no doubt they didn’t have a proper meal themselves and they couldn’t thank us enough.

Advance up Italy
It wasn’t long after Christmas that we reluctantly had to leave the village. The Germans were again on the retreat. At the same time in England our forces were preparing to cross the English Channel to deal with the Germans in France. The code name for that expedition was ‘D-Day’. We couldn't believe it when we heard that a Member of Parliament had the cheek to call the 8th Army the ‘D-day Dodgers’. I can’t think of a strong enough word to describe our feelings but you may be sure the lads took a very dim view of such a comment. We had driven the Germans right across the North African desert and were still chasing them up Italy.
Note by the Editor:
Harold was very upset by this comment. A few minutes search of the Internet in June 2004 came up with the short article reproduced below that suggests the original remark was made by Lady Astor, who was renowned for putting her foot in it!

"The 'D-Day Dodgers' in Italy
By Troopertomcanning

It is generally believed that it was Lady Astor MP who first called the men of the 8th Army who were fighting in the Italian Campaign 'D-Day Dodgers'. But then, she was known to say many things she must have regretted. She was the one who once famously chided Winston Churchill for being drunk - to which he countered that she was ugly, and at least he would be sober in the morning! During another encounter with the Prime Minister she said that if he were her husband, she would give him poison. He replied that if he were her husband, he would drink it.

The fact is that the 8th Army were more than displeased to be called 'D-Day Dodgers', and with good reason. Since 1941, they'd had quite enough D-Day to last a lifetime during the North African and Italian campaigns: El Alamein, Tripoli, Mareth, Tunis, Sicily, Calabria, Algiers, Salerno, Anzio, and then the slog through the mountains of Italy.

The only way to deal with this slur was to laugh, and so a song was composed to the tune of 'Lili Marlene', the haunting song by Marlene Dietrich. The 8th Army version went like this:

We are the D-Day Dodgers, out in Italy,
Always on the vino, always on a spree,
8th Army skivers and their tanks,
We go to war, in ties and slacks,
We are the D-Day Dodgers, in sunny Italy.

We fought into Agira, a holiday with pay,
Jerry brought his bands out to cheer us on our way,
Showed us the sights and gave us tea,
We all sang songs, the beer was free,
We are the D-Day Dodgers, in sunny Italy.

The Moro and Ortona were taken in our stride,
We didn't really fight there, we went there for the ride,
Sleeping 'til noon and playing games,
We live in Rome with lots of dames,
We are the D-Day Dodgers, in sunny Italy.

On our way to Florence, we had a lovely time,
We drove a bus from Rimini, right through the Gothic Line,
Then to Bologna we did go,
We all went swimming in the Po,
We are the D-Day Dodgers, in sunny Italy.

We hear the boys in France are going home on leave,
After six months service, such a shame they're not relieved.
We were told to carry on a few more years,
Because our wives don't shed no tears,
We are the D-Day Dodgers, in sunny Italy.

We are the D-Day Dodgers, way out in Italy.
We're always tight, we cannot fight.
What bloody use are we?"

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