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We left Kermanshah at 8am and crossed the Paitak Pass. We stayed the night at the Paitak rest camp having traveled 98 miles. It was much warmer here owing to the lower altitude. We were now getting lower down towards sea level each day. Leaving the camp the next morning, we crossed the frontier from Persia into Iraq and arrived at Kanaguin City at 12am. We only traveled 45 miles that day. We filled up the trucks with petrol at a fuel point before going onto the camp where we stayed overnight. We were up very early the next morning and were on the road by 7am. We arrived at Baghdad at 3pm, which was good going, as we had done 108 miles. At Baghdad we stayed in the same camp as we were in on our way up into Persia. After having a meal and good wash, we were allowed out into town. As I was going out into town with a couple more of the drivers we saw the battalion derailing at Baghdad station. We did not travel on the next day, so most of the time was spent doing maintenance on the trucks. We were allowed to go out again in the evening. I went to bed quite early that night as revellie was to be very early. The convoy was now enlarged as the main body of the battalion, which had traveled by train so far, were to travel with us in TCV鈥檚. We were up at 4.30am and on the road by 7am. The day was Sunday 21st February 1943. We traveled west for 116 miles to a temporary water point in the wilds. There was nothing to see except a few tents, the water tower and miles and miles of wilderness. The following day was about the same, we did about 153 miles and camped at another water point. The journey so far from Baghdad had been very boring without seeing a town or village or even a single dwelling in nearly 250 miles. The next day we did about 125 miles and crossed the border from Iraq into Trans Jordan. It poured with rain all day and once again we saw not one single house or building. Owing to the heavy rains that day and the following night, a section of the road ahead was completely flooded so we were unable to move on next day. A strong wind got up and conditions improved enough for us to resume our journey. The next morning, 25th February 1943 we traveled another 135 miles and arrived at a place called Mafraq at 5pm. We made camp just outside the village, yes a village at last. It was rather chilly and a light rain was falling by the time we got into our tents, so most of us got to bed early that night.

We left Mafraq early the next day and crossed the border from Trans Jordan to Syria and arrived at Qatana near Damascus, our destination, at 3pm. Our new camp was of Nissen huts which was a change from tents, and during the first week we were there we were very glad to be in huts as the weather turned very cold and it snowed for several days. At night the snow blew in at the eves and down on to our beds, so we had to cover our blankets with gas capes or groundsheets. During our long journey in the 15cwt trucks I drove some of the time, and Smugger drove some of the time. We had a good safe journey and it was good driving experience for me. What struck me most about Syria, and I have many happy memories of Syria and the Lebanon, was the wonderful fertility of the country after the arid sands of Iraq and Trans Jordan and the hard rugged mountains of Persia. It was a comparative paradise, there were fields green with corn with clear streams running through them. Stately Cypress trees stood like sentinels on the banks, and there were masses of wild flowers growing everywhere. Syria has its mountains too but they are more beautiful than those of Persia. One afternoon, Danny Carey, Wenty and myself climbed up a mountain in the snow and we found the remains of an old temple or palace of an age long past.

Above us towered Mount Hermon, which is mentioned in the Bible. Damascus itself also has its religious story of St Paul in the Bible. I went into Damascus many times, they had a lovely YMCA canteen and several cinemas showing British and American films. There was also the usual eastern bazaar with silks, tapestry, carpets, leather goods, clothes, ornaments, fruits, spices and beautiful things made of filigree silver. How I loved those bazaars, just to walk in them for a while was like a fairy tale come true. It was like Arabian Nights with the men in their long white robes and red Fez and the dark tanned children, mischievous and grubby and as happy as children always should be. The women carrying bundles or baskets on their heads, their faces veiled and walking with a charm and grace which is typical of these women.

At Qatana we had a tough tactics course, instructed by commando officers, with cliff climbing, field firing and practice on land of assault boat landings and deployment. On 2nd April 1943 we were on the move again. We left Qatana by motor transport and camped for one night only at a place called Homs. I couldn鈥檛 go out into Homs as I was on guard duty. Early next morning, we moved on and arrived at Tripoli in the Lebanon at 11.45am. Our new camp was on a hill at Bedoui, overlooking orange plantations and the sea, and behind us a range of very high hills. It was lovely at Tripoli, the weather was wonderful, we did a good many battalion brigade and divisional exercises, some lasting three or four days, and we lived under battle conditions, sleeping in trenches or our gunpits. We ate concentrated rations, nuts, raisins, cheese and biscuits, chocolate, powdered milk and tea and sugar. On these exercises we had some good fun with realistic battles fought against another battalion or Ghurkas often with air support. Between these exercises we usually had a few days in camp to rest and clean our kit and our clothes. In the evening when we were not training or on guard duty, we could go down into Tripoli. It was a lovely walk along the coast road with your pals. The air was heavy with the perfume of Orange blossom and the gentle splash of the sea on the beach. The night air was pleasantly warm, the sky so clear and bright with a million twinkling stars. When the moon was up the whole countryside was bathed in such a soft light it would be hard to describe it. It was rather like white satin or cream, nowhere else in the world have I seen such peace and beauty combined. Tripoli was bright and gay and continental. It鈥檚 cafes with little tables and chairs outside on the pavements, and accordion bands playing. There was ice cold beer, wine and cherry brandy to drink with excellent meals. In the larger cafes there was dancing or cabaret. I usually went about with Cyril Wither and Pop Comer. There were five cinemas in Tripoli, four of them showing British and American films. Two of the films we saw were 鈥淪un Valley Serenade鈥� and 鈥淏uck Privates鈥�.

I was sorry to leave Tripoli but after a while we had to be on the move again. When we left Tripoli we stayed one night at Homs and then moved on to a camp at Maysaloume, about 20 miles from Damascus. Above the camp rose a range of very high hills known as Jebel Mazar, and the camp itself was of Nissen huts. There was a good canteen and camp cinema. Once or twice a week we were allowed out on pass to visit Damascus. We did very intensive training at this camp, with field firing, height exercises over the hills and long route marches. One day a week was sports day and we played football or took part in track events such as running, high or long jump or any other sports events we were interested in. A new Commanding Officer came to take over the battalion at this camp. A much younger man and we said goodbye to Lt. Col. G P Oldfield who was getting a bit too old for active service. He would be going to take up a position in charge of entertainment in the Middle East. I had four days leave in Beirut from 12th to 16th May 1943. I went with Danny Carey, L/Cpl. Nicklen and Cpl. Simmonds and we had a really smashing time in this lovely seaside town. After my leave, we did another week or two of training and then on 13th June 1943 we left for a camp in the desert at El-Shatt on the banks of the Suez. Each morning we did a little training and in the afternoons, when the heat was terrific, we went bathing. I went once on a lecture to a school of captured enemy weapons at Sarafan. After a week or two we moved up to Alexandria and boarded the SS Bergensfjord, bound for the invasion of Sicily.

On the evening of 9th July 1943 we crawled into our hammocks, mine was in its usual place on deck near to a steam winch. The following morning would see us on enemy soil. We had just finished a busy week on the Bergensfjord, a week of lectures, details of landings of our own and other units, times of, and positions of assembly and concentration areas. Studying maps and aerial photographs and listening to the Intelligence Officer giving us general details of the country and the support we were likely to get and opposition we were likely to meet. We had gone over it all so many times that the majority at least must have had a very good picture of our part in the invasion and we were all pretty well keyed up. On 9th July 1943 we packed our kit, drew 48 hours rations and fags, and the Commanding Officer gave us a final talk and wished us all good luck in the weeks to come, and by teatime we were ready. I was feeling rather tired, so after a final smoke down below decks, I went up and got into my hammock at about 8pm. It was quiet on deck except for the wash of the sea against the sides of the ship, and the creak of the timbers on board. From below, I could hear an accordion playing and a few lads singing. I lay for a while looking up at the stars, my mind was filled with so many thoughts and the sound of the sea and the music from below decks was so soothing and I soon fell asleep.

On the morning of 10th July 1943 the sound of gunfire and the heavy drone of aircraft overhead awakened me. I realised then that the invasion had started. It was still very dark as it was only 4am, but a good many of the lads were sitting up in their hammocks to watch the brilliant flashes on shore and the rumble of exploding bombs and tracer bullets flying over the water. The searchlights on shore were being twisted about frantically at sea level trying to pick out our ships. One was very soon put out by a burst from a machine gun on shore, so I knew then that the first troops had already landed. Shortly after this we were ordered to go below decks were we sat talking and smoking until breakfast at 6.30am.

It was daylight when I next went on deck and on the land I could see the dark green of olive and orange groves. In the sea were three transport gliders which had not made safe landings and on the coast road shells were exploding. Around us were ships of every size, British and American troop transports and cargo ships. Assault boats and tank landing transports were plying to and fro from ship to shore. Our turn to land came at 10am and we of the Mortar platoon went ashore in an assault boat and landed on George Beach Green. This was the stretch of beach for our brigade landing. Already on the beach and along the roadside there were huge piles of ammunition and other military stores. Tanks, trucks and carriers were rumbling along in a swirl of dust. Troops in single file were moving on and the Royal Engineers were lifting enemy mines in a field of maize. A few wounded were being attended to under the shade of some olive trees. As soon as we had left the beach area, we had to climb a high wall adjoining a bridge. It was slow and hot work as we had to pass all our kit up to four of the lads who had climbed up first. We followed one by one and the sweat was pouring from us by the time we were all up onto the road and on our way again. When we arrived at the assembly area we dumped the heaviest of the kit for the quartermaster to collect. We rested a while and had a smoke. It was here that I saw the first dead Italian soldier. He was about 30 years old and his uniform was very worn and shabby.

After a while we got moving again towards brigade concentration area. It was a long way, and after a while our Platoon Commander stopped some carriers of 17 brigade and asked the drivers if they would take our mortars and bombs a little way along the road and one of our NCO鈥檚 would go with them, and this they gladly did. They took the NCO and our mortars about three miles along the road, they then had to turn off towards Augusta which was the first objective of the 17 brigade. We had just started off again with our kit when six enemy fighter-bombers flew over quite low. We all dived for cover in a ditch by the roadside as they opened up on us with machine guns. They did not return, but flew on to bomb the landing beaches. Ten minutes later a big twin-engined bomber came towards us, flying low. We took cover again, this time in an olive grove and as the plane flew over, we opened up on it with rifles and a Bren gun, but it just flew on inland with half its tail shot away. I suppose it had been to attack shipping or to bomb the beaches.

When we got to the concentration area, we had a smoke, brewed up some tea and had something to eat from our 48 hour rations. We needed the tea most of all as it had been a long, hot and dusty march. The time was then 6pm and it was nearly twelve hours since we had last eaten or had a cup of tea. After dark we moved on from the concentration area and it was 2am on Sunday morning before we came to a halt again. After sentries had been detailed the remainder of us got down to sleep on the ground as best we could. We had no blankets or coat, only a gas cape and woolen cardigan and our anti mosquito face nets. I don鈥檛 think any of us noticed how hard or bumpy the ground was or the lack of bedding, we were all so tired we were soon asleep.

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