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Gilbert told us this story and then wrote it down for volunteers at the Age Resource Desk of Age Concern Oxfordshire to process ready for submission to the 大象传媒. We hope that you enjoy this. Gilbert has two other memories already in the archive.

The Kissing Cup

When the General in charge of the landing on Peter Beach at Anzio in Italy (22 January 1944) finally decided that we were ready to move off the beach and get on with the job we had been sent to do - which was to straddle Route 6 and 7, cutting the German's means of getting to, and supplying, Monte Cassino - we were only too glad to go. The whole time we were on that beach we had been subjected to an attack and a pounding from artillery, including shells the size of a dustbin from 'Anzio Archie', which was run in and out of a railway tunnel not far up the line to Rome. That was some gun. Each time a shell landed in the sea close to any boats that were coming in, the tide rose six inches.

Deader than a duck

We were finally on our way - but to where? Cutting route 6 and 7 was now impossible, therefore the main purpose of the landing was 'deader then a duck'. So we went straight up the road to Rome until we came to the 'Flyover'. This flyover bridge was to become the focal point of most of the action on Anzio and is now preserved in posterity by the Italians just as it was left when the final shell had battered it for the last time. It is now a tourist attraction.

Angelina

At that time the best tourist attraction was a teenage girl by the name of Angelina who would have made the top men in the movie industry look over their shoulders at this rival for the place of No 1 - she was a PIP and incredibly lovely, and she lived in a large farmhouse, which we took over for several days until we were ordered back from the flyover area.

The first day was taken up with getting our various vehicles out of sight behind the farmhouse and getting ourselves organised for whatever was to happen next. Not only were the Germans bringing up reinforcements but rumour had it that two SS divisions were on their way including the Herman Goering division of fanatical youngsters dressed in their sky blue uniforms on the lines of the Luftwaffe.

A mug of coffee all round

We had last met them in Sicily when their commander had sent our colonel a message saying that we were about to be wiped out, and by the way, 'We don't take prisoners!' 'Neither do we!' replied our colonel. We mangled them then, and we could mangle them now, so we decided that it called for a mug of coffee all round. Our rations did not include coffee and we got ours off the Americans in exchange for bottles of beer.

So, miraculously, eight battered enamelled tin mugs were lined up on the farmhouse table with Angelina in charge of the boiling kettle and she added a small enamelled porcelain cup to the line of eight without a word being said. We looked at each other and then followed what is referred to by some authors as, 'a pregnant silence'.

The corporal in charge of the party said, "You're an ignorant lot! Don't any of you know what that is?" I admitted that I didn't for a start, and his reply was that he had always thought that I had gone to the wrong school. "Lawrence of Arabia went to it," I said. "Like I said", was the reply! "You went to the wrong school, so we will have to see who will receive the Kissing Cup!" I was still trying to work things out when Angelina stood in front of me, drank from the porcelain cup, then turned it to the spot she had drunk from and handed it to me. I did not want to respond as she expected. Then it started - I was being called everything in all the words that only the army can produce. 'Taking the Micky' had begun.

An omen?

I could see that my non-acceptance of the kissing cup had hurt Angelina's feelings, so she started sweeping the floor. As she got to the door there was a terrible bang and crash, which shook the whole building. We all dived for cover and Angelina ran upstairs. When the dust had subsided we opened the door and found that a Jerry shell had scored a direct hit on the stone horse trough almost opposite the door - it had ceased to exist.

Next morning after a fitful night, we went to the back of the building to make some 'POBS' for breakfast. This is made up of army biscuits smashed to bits by a hammer then boiled up in a dixie. When it starts to resemble porridge a tin of evaporated milk is poured in with a fair whack of sugar and that is 'POBS'.

Gentlemanly behaviour

Angelina had joined us by this time. There was a noticeable cooling off in her demeanour then as we got to the front door about 40 German prisoners under armed guard came down the road and, as they passed Angelina, each one said, 'Bon journo, Angelina.' She replied with a wave of the hand.

I had been wondering all night if my actions towards Angelina had been in true English gentlemanly fashion - I think the answer had been given to me by 40 German prisoners.

7932844 CPL: G.C.Bayliss, EX-'A' Squadron 46th, ROYAL TANK REGT

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