大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People's War Website by Chloe Broadley of the Coventry and Warwickshire Action Desk on behalf of William Lennox Trinder and has been added to the site with his permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

In the last week of September 1944, 4th Troop "A" Squadron, Warwickshire Yeomanry, consisting of three tanks, Mohawk, Warhawk and Tomahawk, were climbing a large hill in the Appenines, along a narrow track, which became more and more narrow. As they climbed, the track behind them crumbled. Eventually, at the top of the hill, we came upon a farmhouse with the track passing in front. From the farm the track became very narrow, much too narrow to allow the passage of the Sherman tanks. It was obvious that 4th Troop were stuck, they could go neither forwards nor backwards. Having notified the H.Q.Tank by wireless of our predicament, we were told to stay put and engage certain targets across the valley. We did a lot of firing, each tank using sixty to seventy rounds of 75mm ammunition. We spent the first night partly in the tanks, and then a few hours in the farmhouse after having posted guards. The next day, I, as L/C Wireless Operator, on Mohawk, in charge of the Troop's wireless, had a message from the Squadron Leader, Major Samuels M.C. (now Lord Bearsted) to pass on to my officer, that we were to engage certain targets again. He said that this was by way of being "a bit of a demonstration". Actually we heard afterwards that the King was watching from a tower in Aprezzo. The Infantry in front of us all withdrew, leaving us rather like sitting ducks. We spent the next night in the tanks, in case of enemy attack. The next day H.Q. sent a platoon from the Indian Regiment, The Frontier Force Rifles, to guard our tanks. This was a mixed caste unit of Sikhs, Pathans, Rajputs etc. The sergeant (Havildar) in charge was a Sikh. That night we spent in the wine cellar where I managed to knock the tap out of a large barrel above my head and got drenched in "Vino Rossi". My bedding blankets stunk for days afterwards, it also drew the flies. In the morning, a tap on the cellar door. It was our Sikh sergeant. "Sahib, Sahib, two German prigonieres" (note British and Indian troops communicating with broken Italian). Two terrified Jerries had been captured by our guard, part of a German patrol. We sent them back at the first opportunity. Down to our right rear, the Ghurkas were fighting a battle of their own, this was the nearest farm. They commandeered Angelo Rossi's large barn to use as a casualty clearing station. From then on wounded Ghurkas were carried in plus several dead. The well for the farm was back around the corner, off the track that we had come along to the farm. All through the day Angelo Rossi (who appeared to be about seventy years old) fetched water for the wounded Ghurkas. The German gunners found this area of activity and shelled the area with periodic "stonks". Through all this heavy fire this very brave old Italian peasant farmer (bare footed) went backwards and forwards carrying quantities of water for the casualties. That day he was running the gauntlet of very heavy enemy fire.
The following day the Ghurkas brought about six prisoners, put them in a Bren carrier and sent them round the corner to be met by a particularly vivious "stonk". Sensing what had happened our Troop leader, Lieutenant John Oates (a Rhodesian, who we thought a lot of) went to see. He came back to us very white-faced. The carrier had received a direct hit, most of the prisoners were dead, killed by their own people.
After about five days, the Indian Royal Engineers came and widened the track so that we could draw back behind the hill and return to the rest of the squadron. However, I sahll never forget Angelo Rossi of Campriano!

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