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PART 14. PO Valley

It was a period of bad weather; the lines were static with the occasional patrol activity from both sides. A house near to the bank of the PO River was manned by the Welch as an out post. Enemy bodies still lay on the open ground behind the house. One of them must have been shot down with a Thompson submachine-gun, it had taken his chest and a part of his arm, his death must have been instantaneous, the other one’s were as they fell. It was a fact the sight of these bodies got little more than a glance, the colour of the uniform made it acceptable, almost like the hanging carcases and bloody pieces of animals in a butcher’s shop. Within a short time one of the Welch number entering that house was to be killed, the reaction to this death of one of their own so very much different.
The house had the usual protective trenches in all parts of the grounds; added firing points were cut through the walls of the building, added to this was observation holes cut above wall plate level. These observation holes were manned all day with Bren guns. It was first light,everybody was going about their normal duties, the lads, (one of them may have come from Newport) were at the roof observation hole, when there was a single shot that was hardly heard on the other floors of the house. There was no doubt that something had gone terribly wrong, the loud shouting for help was soon heeded, it was a period when the unexpected freezes the mind, now active a stretcher bearer was called for. It was a useless gesture as the bandage was applied to the head wound. Perhaps with the fear that another shot would be poked through those holes care was taken to bring him down to the lower floor. There was no doubt about it he was dead, his companion at this terrible time gave out the story. They had observed movement on the river bank; the one to be killed had observed a single movement and turned to observe it and must have presented a bigger target to the sniper on his other side. A single shot was to silence the soldier for ever, a life that was to be over even before he had reached the floor. His companion dulled with the sudden death was silent for a while then returned to the Brengun determined to avenge the death. Other people helping him were moving things about to entice the sniper to show himself, he did. The Brengun was capable of firing a single shot or automatic. The gun pointing in the direction of the sniper was now on automatic and ready to blast off a full magazine. It did blast off and to everyone’s satisfaction there was one less sniper.
Vengeance was sweet, but never as sour a feeling as they witnessed the comrade’s body being taken away in the Company PU.

Polish troops and Welch troups changed over at regular intervals. They always seemed so well disciplined and was very impressed with their soldier appearance, but most importantly there was a feeling of being safe with them as a back up. What they thought of the Welch was never found out?
The thing that puzzled the lad at the time was when the Polish elements were taken prisoner; the German army uniform was discarded for the British uniform. They could have stepped out of the war and been safely protected as prisoners of war. Post war information went most of the way giving detailed information about the terrible deeds done in their home land.

One day remembered was to be detailed to take a mixed nationality of prisoners to the Head Quarters well in the rear. There certainly was no problems from the prisoners even had the feeling that if they had got lost they would have shown the way to the nearest British camp. The big guiding factor was to keep the twenty five pounders' banging off behind them in the right direction. The guns had a sound of their own, more of a sharp cracking banging noise. Within time Red Caps appeared. They were patrolling the area and stopped every-one to check their identity, when satisfied they then gave the route to the Head Quarters and prisoner compound.
Further enquires were asked before giving directions to the sergeant. Without much ceremony he took over the prisoners. He was in no mood to be nice, his only words, ‘the cookhouse is over there, get something to eat’, them emphasized, ‘get back up there.’ At the time he was not a favourite guy. Dreams of a little skive evaporated, the food was good but the trip back did nothing to improve the sergeant’s parentage.

Without a doubt things were getting routine, within a short time the official hostilities would end and be replaced with different problems. Forming the mounted patrol (as stated in Chapter 12) was a very small part in gathering information, the main thing now filling the minds of most was demob and to keep out of trouble.

Welch Battalion moved to Austria.

Again more travelling to be done in an open truck, details were scanty, but it mattered not for the trip would unfold the most beautiful natural scenery that could be imagined. Most of the fighting had stopped and his Battalion was to be stationed in Austria. It was so clean with its beautiful cities and with mountain and Lake Scenes that could only be dreamed about, so much of it untouched by war. Their Austrian National Dress was so colourful and romantic but was often to wonder what dress it had replaced. Much older youthful eyes would only accept the beauty of the place, anything bad that had happened getting there was forgotten. Once again a new romance was under way. Nothing extra special about it, he liked her company, this time it had weeks to flourish in. Maybe if he had not returned to Wales and met the girl of his life things may have been different. The whole place was relaxing, for the first time the only thing to be reminded of the war were military grave yards. He would have been more than pleased to sit out the rest of his army life there, it wasn’t to be so it was good bye beautiful Austria and back to Italy.

His first leave took him by train though the untouched lands of Switzerland that contrasted so much through the other war torn countries of Europe. The second leave was army style on the back of a lorry. Rest stops were lousy factually and descriptively a disgrace to the army authorities. Repeated use of the infected blankets spread the bugs and things. It meant the undignified dusting and the use of a blue liquid to control it. Thoughts at the time, "all the way through that war, and the big reward was to return home buggy and covered in that blue stuff".

It was on this first leave that he met his future wife. There had been an exchange of photographs earlier while he was in Italy. He had no doubts from the start that was the one girl for him. Sitting as close as he could too her in the bus he proposed to her. It was the first day of home leave, the letters prior to it had stirred his emotions to a point he had never experienced before, sitting beside her made him tingle all over. Words were hard to find as he blurted out,’ will you marry me’. She looked surprised but at least that over heated piece of male was not rejected. The main hurdle to clear was her Dad’s approval of this new ‘son-in-law’. At the time it seemed a mere formality and he was eager and willing to go through the ritual of asking her father's permission. It went well enough but future father-in-law Fred thought it would be better to wait for discharge from the army. Perhaps his army experience preached caution.

Leave days were more important now. They started off the same but were now full of a reason to be alive. There would only be so many hours before they were together again. During the day she worked in the laundry at the top of the street where he had lived during the pre-war period. It had always been there, the windows opened to the street. They were now important to him. He was on leave with his army friend; they had served together in war. It was their first home leave. Promises of having a good booze up were kept to the letter. Both were suffering the same love sick symptoms, he with his Hilda and the other with his Joyce. Each pint made them even more romantic.
The earlier part of the day was spent in the local pubs. Beer took away any fear of looking ridiculous; and would serenade her through the window. It may have been a strange start to courting the lady of his life. That’s how it was. By the time he returned to the house the pleasant effects of the beer were working off, and the 'never again' was taking over. Somehow he always managed to sober up to meet her from work. Taking her home was a must. Most times missing the last bus and having to walk from Roath to Canton.

Returning to Italy was not welcomed. This short period seemed to go on forever. Educational Courses were on offer. His choice, electrical, it would be the first of many. It was a successful experience that removed the dread of his earlier school days. Waiting for letters became more important than ever. The first letters to be opened were from his future wife Joyce. It would take hours and wasted pages of NAFFI paper to reply. New photographs were studied for hours.

Lake Garda.

Going back to Italy was softened by being put in charge of the Lake Garda canteen. German prisoners and a couple of Italian girls helped to run the place. It had an excellent forecourt, just the job for relaxing and just a place for a holiday, the only signs of the war was a sunken wreck of what looked like a ferry boat. Add to the beauty of the place sunshine in plenty. The photograph ‘Lake Garda is a combination of some of the lads, the lady helper and two German soldiers, Zum Andenken and Hermasm Treydle, Friedeburg a,S. uber Konmern Deutschland. Maybe the spelling of their names is not correct but with the war out of the way there was mutual respect between the lad and them. It was from Lake Garda the lad was to make the final army trip to Wales. As a final sign of good will German soldiers made an extra strong canvas cover for the lad's suite case. It was a proper war constructed thing that looked like leather but was made of compressed cardboard. Both the case and the suitcase still survive as a reminder of those final army days.

An interview had been arranged with his officer. He had requested that his correct birthday be entered on his army records. To do so would have added to the points system and delayed his discharge. It was decided to leave it as it was. There must have been a push to encourage men to re-enlist. He was offered three stripes if he signed up for a further period, there was only one wish now, to return as soon as possible to Cardiff. He was given the date of his discharge from the army. Days were numbered and crossed off. The last one was indescribably wonderful. That return trip was lost in dreaming about the future.

It was a beautiful day when he docked at Dover. Army discipline was relaxed, within hours they all would be equal citizens. There were some regrets for him at leaving this roaming life but the thought of barrack life soon sobered him up. Even the delay for a meal in this final camp was not objected too, home was the all-important thing. Eventually he and many more arrived at quartermaster's store. Tables were set out with all the documents. No more saluting as he passed along the line. The final words spoken from the army man sat at the last table, was, "sign here Mr. G" Mr G was a civilian again. To prove it they gave him a suit, shoes and things. Choice was limited and finished up with a single-breasted blue pinned striped suit. It didn’t matter what clothes were in that box, all that mattered was to catch that train. Standing out-side an enterprising young lad with a bucket collecting cap badges. The ex-soldier was caught up in discarding his cap badge. It was the most important part of his uniform, and regretted doing it. The newly appointed mister was on his way home to his intended.

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