大象传媒

In September we had been moving around quite a bit 鈥� Lalatta (with Dr. Agostini), Musiara and Tizzano. But our main base at the time was Palanzano. The whole period was productive and, apart from having to leave Grammatica in a hurry in mid-October, we grew steadily more confident in organising drops 鈥� Rigoso, Corniglio and Tizzano being the principal DZs. By mid-November we were able to arrange a daylight drop at Monchio, and that was our undoing. There must have been at least six fighters escorting the dropping plane, and they kept circling round and round the area. Our position had clearly been pin-pointed, and we could expect reprisals. It was evident that our Palanzano hiding places were going to be inadequate, and we moved to a small farm owned by Mario Alinovi and his wife 鈥� la Perfrara 鈥� above Cozzanello, on the slopes of M. Caio.

I think it was the 20th November when the action started. We were just about to sit down to an appetising lunch 鈥� pasta asciutta 鈥� when we heard the first 鈥榯ac-pom鈥� from across the valley. We dropped everything, loaded up the mules and set off up the mountain.

Charles and I were, in fact, together when we came across the German machine-gun emplacement on the Ticchiano pass. I still recall my astonishment that they could have got up there so quickly, but I suppose they must have come up from Corniglio. We separated, and I hid in a ditch beside the path, listening to the Germans talking as they passed a few feet away. At nightfall I made my way down towards the T. Bratica and found one of our men who guided me to a barn where I slept for an hour until Charles joined us. One of our partisans, Giuseppe Mansanti, was from Grammatica and knew the area well. He led us to a cave and we hid there for five days with very little food.

There were many caves in the vicinity, with concealed entrances, and the Germans, who I am sure had a suspicion we were there, spent some time throwing hand-grenades into the mouths of the more likely-looking ones. It was a sort of unwilling participation in a game of 鈥楻ussian roulette鈥�.

When eventually we emerged, I was able to see a German column marching back down the road from Grammatica towards Corniglio. The rastrellamento was evidently over, but although the villagers gave us food we obviously could not stay there, and so we went back up towards Pianadetto and Valditacca where at least there were no roads.

Winter had now set in, and we sent on our partisans with the mules to make their own way upwards, while Charles and I plodded up through Rimagna to Rigoso in thick snow.

The only real option we had was to get through the Passo di Lagastrello, over M. Giogo and down into Tuscany. It was not a pleasant journey 鈥� 鈥業l Giogo鈥� had a fearsome reputation for killing a few unwary travellers each year, and this was a particularly bad winter. Fortunately we had an excellent guide, and finally made it to Taponecco and Tavernelle. I took up residence in the loft of one of the village houses (not that it would have done much good if any Germans had arrived) and resigned myself to a diet of chestnuts, which was the only food available. We had them boiled, roasted, made into soup and, of course, as 鈥榩olenta di castagne鈥�.

I had also developed a nasty infection from injuries sustained in the journey, and was getting quite concerned until someone managed to bring up from La Spezia one of the new antibiotics, which cured me in two days.

By this time we were well into December. On the 13th Charles Holland had gone off for discussions with Partisan leaders, and I was by myself with no other English-speakers for miles around. Towards late afternoon, I realised the significance of the date. It was my birthday 鈥� I was twenty-one today.

From now on things could only improve, and we moved back up to Rigoso. I set up my aerial, and we organised a small daylight drop for just before Christmas. Rigoso looked like a picture postcard 鈥� the sun was shining, the snow sparkling, and the coloured parachutes were dropping perfectly on target all round us. Besides arms, ammunition, boots and clothing for the partisans, we received some welcome tinned food and a few bottles of whisky. Included in the drop were such goodies as a tiny radio receiver (with state-of-the-art minature valves) and a walkie-talkie. I think the next time I actually went up to Rigoso was by Wel-bike 鈥� but that was much later.

On Christmas Eve I went back along the road to Palanzano and the Castiglioni鈥檚 house to re-establish our base there, while Charles and the rest followed a few days later. I had no trouble in contacting TacHQ, and had great pleasure in decoding the news that Charles had been promoted to the rank of Major, and that I was now a Sergeant.

Perhaps I should mention the Lt. James episode. We had arranged for the pick-up, and prepared the landing field. It was quite long enough but, to be fair to the pilot, it did slope slightly upwards. I was squatting next to James鈥檚 chair when the plane came in. It touched down perfectly then slowly, gently and gracefully went nose-down and came to a full stop. James burst into tears. I belted back to my radio to notify TacHQ, while Charles organised immediate repairs. It took a couple of days鈥� frantic signalling before we were advised that a replacement propeller had been located and would be dropped in to us.

I didn鈥檛 actually see the propeller dropped, although I think it was at Cozzanello. At this time we had such a volume of wireless traffic that I was virtually tied to the set. I recall there was some difficulty in getting hold of a replacement propeller 鈥� firstly one had been found, then it was not available, then another one located in Sicily, I think. Everything then went fairly smoothly 鈥� the plane was repaired and took off without further incident, but we had expected reprisals and these soon came in the form of German distaccamenti 鈥� but by this time we had all gone safely to ground.

After this mild reprisal (which we could easily dodge), from then on we weren鈥檛 too much bothered by the Germans. I was, however, attacked by a USAF plane while walking down the road with my mule and a mulettiere (Romano, I think). We dived into the ditch beside the road, but the mule was killed. On another occasion I watched an American plane spend a good ten minutes 鈥榖uzzing鈥� a piece of farm machinery in the corner of a field.

In these closing months, intelligence was pouring in from all directions 鈥� Rigoso, Corniglio and especially Palanzano. For our drop notifications, we relied on the 大象传媒 鈥榤essaggi speciali鈥�, which we had previously arranged with TacHQ. Two of my own messages that resulted in successful drops were 鈥業l vento e cessato鈥� and 鈥楲e castagne sono arrostite鈥�. I can鈥檛, however, now connect them with specific drop dates and places.

Our mission HQ (Charles H. and myself, with partisans Max and Romano) was at the Castiglioni farm overlooking the hydro-electric station at Isola di Palanzano, but much of the courier activity was run by Michael Tyler in Palanzano itself. Michael was quite a character 鈥� before the War I believe he was the Manager of the Hotel Adlon in Berlin. He spoke fluent German and Italian and had a talent for organisation, recruiting an efficient team of 鈥榮taffette鈥�. One of them, a mature lady known as Maddalena, would go down into Parma, pick up a German officer and, while he was asleep, make off with his pistol and papers. She was quite ready to use the pistol if the situation required it.

We were able by now to monitor and report on all vehicle traffic on roads 62 and 63 鈥� Parma-Aulla and Reggio-Aulla, and get the German convoys travelling along them a bit jittery. The German Intelligence HQ in Parma was known as 鈥楨inheit Ida鈥�, and Michael went so far as to put a placard 鈥楨inheit Ida Nr. 2鈥� outside his Palanzano base, making sure that this knowledge was conveyed to the Germans, but by then they probably thought it was too much trouble to do anything about it.

PART THREE - the story up to the end of hostilities, and my subsequent transfer to Force 136.

Charles and I went separately into Parma on the 26th April 1945 (the armistice in Italy came into effect on the 3rd May). There was plenty of gunfire over the first two days, mainly from pockets of fascist resistance, but also from the occasional jubilant partisan firing into the air. Our first job was to establish a Mission HQ. I acted as Quartermaster, requisitioning transport (including a lorry), furniture, radio etc. from local citizens. To assure proper documentation, I had an 鈥榦fficial鈥� rubber stamp made.

One of the tasks we set ourselves was to prepare a list of those people in the mountain areas who at great risk to themselves had given us their generous hospitality, so that we could at least ensure they received some financial recompense for their personal sacrifices.

The troops arrived a couple of days after we did, moving cautiously from side to side up the road, although the Germans by this time were many kilometres away.

When things had settled down, we involved ourselves in the organisation of a Victory parade, with Charles and the various commanders marching at the front while I went up and down the parade on my Wel-bike, generally keeping order. Just before leaving Parma to go to Florence for de-briefing, I went to a local photographer to have my picture taken.

Florence was a fairly short stay, my main memory being of Siena where I met several old friends, including Bert Farrimond. I do recall being de-briefed on both 鈥楨nvelope Blue鈥� and 鈥楾offee鈥�, particularly as I recall being told that my station was 鈥榯op of the operator league table鈥�, whatever that may have meant. Also, I was informed that they had a unique security check: I think I previously mentioned that in the interests of speed I had committed to memory the transposition table, and apparently in doing this I had made a few unwitting errors but which were of course consistent, so that had our Mission been overrun any transmissions that were not genuine would have been detected right away.

I also remember being informed during the de-briefing that I had been recommended for a Commission. It turned out, however, that this would involve going through the full OCTU process in the U.K., and an alternative was proposed 鈥� a spot of home leave then out to join Force 136 as a Warrant Officer. I took the latter.

Of course, by the time I had been home and embarked for the East the atom bomb had been dropped, and I discovered on arrival in Bombay that Force 136 had liquidated itself.

Accordingly I was looking around for a job, or a Unit I could attach myself to, and applied for three in quick succession: with the Food Analysis laboratory in New Delhi (this on the strength of my School Certificate chemistry credit); with the 44th Indian Airborne Div.; and as Superintendent of the Armoured Corps Branch at HQ ALFSEA (with the rank of WO1).

I went to Delhi to take up the first job, but after a couple of weeks the posting to the Airborne Div. came through and I went to join it in camp several hundreds of miles away. It was just preparing to move to Karachi. I was attached to a Sikh unit, and soon got used to eating curry three times a day. However, the posting to Allied HQ soon arrived and I made my way from Karachi down to Madras (after a week at the Army rest camp in Secunderabad) and thence to Colombo.

Mountbatten had by this time moved his HQ to Singapore, and so I spent Christmas 鈥�45 in Kandy, a small town with an infrastructure geared for an HQ but with only a skeleton staff. My job turned out to be gradually to run down the Branch, and finally to fire myself.

At this time I heard from my parents that I had been awarded a Decoration for gallantry. It was the BEM, and had arrived in the post.

With the R.A.C., which was my original Corps, disappearing before me, I managed to get myself transferred to the Royal Army Educational Corps on the 15th March 1946. Within weeks, I was given control of the Command Library for SEAC. Each Unit in the field had a basic 鈥楿nit library鈥�, and my Command library acted as a sort of Central lending library for the Units. My job was to receive the latest published textbooks from the U.K., read and classify them (Dewey decimal), and notify Units of their availability. It was a wonderful job. Most of my time was spent in reading 鈥榮tate of the art鈥� books on a wide variety of subjects, and repairing the gaps in my education.

As my repatriation date approached, I carefully examined the range of Government-funded options after demobilisation. Going to university or becoming a Teacher didn鈥檛 really appeal, and so I opted for the Government Business Training Scheme. I had little idea of what the future might hold: all I had was the firm conviction that whatever I chose to do, I would eventually reach the very top of my profession. Which, of course, I did.

Embarkation day arrived in November 1946, and a peaceful voyage to the U.K. on the m.v. 鈥楤ritannic鈥�. I teamed up with several people from ENSA, and most of my time was spent in arranging, rehearsing and eventually performing a Revue 鈥淨uiet Please鈥� for all on board (including Lee Kuan Yew).

Arrival at Liverpool was in dense, freezing fog. My papers directed me to Alton Towers, where I obtained my demob. suit, and I finally left the Forces on the 9th February 1947 to face an independent future.

Prepared from a series of recollections dated January 1993 to February 1996.

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