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This story was submitted to the People’s War site by a volunteer from Lincolnshire CSV Action Desk on behalf of Norman Elsdon and has been added to the site with his permission. Mr Elsdon fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.

After our rest in Naples, we pulled up towards ‘the line’ and for a period we remained ‘parked’ in a field. The weather was usually fine but interspersed with downpours of rain. Potatoes were growing in the vicinity but not in sufficient quantity to keep us going for long. We next moved up to the vicinity of Roccamonfina where we bivvied amongst the trees. Here the atmosphere became definitely bleak; snow fell and fires quickly became conspicuous. At nights, the enemy brought up a self-propelled gun and we heard the shells whining over but none dropped in our leaguer. Also, the guns firing from below us rocked the earth and there was a rushing sound as of tramcars hurtling past, going over our heads and over the mountains. We stayed at this spot for some time until our orders came through for us to move. As we moved out of leaguer one evening, enemy planes passed high above and an optimist game them a burst of machine-gun fire.

With dusk settling down, we eventually approached our position along a muddy lane, mounted the guard and proceeded to settle down for the night. I remember waking up suddenly when there was a crash somewhere in the vicinity and pieces of shrapnel hurtled into the bushes alongside. However, it was only sporadic. In the morning at first light, we moved into a field. Later in the day, shells dropped just outside our area but no damage resulted and at dusk we again moved to a house on the roadside. During our stay there we did guard duty, etc. One afternoon shells dropped in the garden and fragments spattered the rooms but the only casualty was a pair of boots. Another evening a number of us had to go out to form an outpost. So about four o’clock we set off across country, clambered across streams, through bushes and up banks and finally settled down in a field. I remember it was a gorgeously wet night. We kept as dry as possible with the aid of our gas-capes and took it in turns to try to get snatches of sleep. One fellow, though, who did manage to drop off for a few minutes had a terrific snore which in the dead quiet seemed as if it would carry across the Garigliano. Nothing happened except that it was very cold and wet, and we were very relieved when it started to get light about seven the following morning and we were able to return to breakfast and a fire.

During our ‘spell’ here, we went back to Sorbella — typical Italian village, narrow streets, clusters of houses, unsanitary and altogether grubby. It was here that we had a flea epidemic. When we had had a number of days here, our turn for the line came around again. We returned to the same sector but to more advanced positions. Travelled as far as possible by road, then hiked across country with our kit, along a muddy lane, through flooded streams and so to our post. Then there was a trudge back to the road again to make contact with a vehicle. Getting it along to the post was a ticklish problem as there was a stream to negotiate, banked by slippery muddy slopes. But after much pushing and laying of branches on the track, it eventually reached base. Again the usual guards — on the house and at an outpost in a small building.

One incident I remember well. We had been doing look-out in a top room of an outbuilding. At night this was booby-trapped. On this particular night, someone had placed the trap before we came down — the other fellow with me ‘tripped’ it and there was a deafening roar. Fortunately, the mine was on a step and the shrapnel went into the wall, into the step and downwards, with the result that we escaped damage. One night I went on an ambush patrol. We wended our way across country, along streams ankle deep in water, and eventually came to a farmhouse, which we were to picket as German patrols were suspected of coming there during the night. Our particular position was among some haystacks. Dogs barked practically the whole night through. Throughout the long night hours, we crouched there, the night creeping by on cold, leaden wings. And, as dawn was approaching, the sudden swish of mortars. These were dropped before and behind but fortunately not on us. May have been that the barking of the dogs had aroused the enemy’s suspicions.

With the usual routine, our spell here passed. I believe we moved back to Sorbella. The crossroads just outside the village were always a minor hazard as Jerry had them ‘registered’ and occasionally lobbed a shell over them. Thence we proceeded to Visciano, where we spent Christmas. Again, it was a grubby, unattractive village. Have a vague recollection of going to do a wireless link in the vicinity of some American troops. From where we were we could see Jerry shelling the road along which we had to go back so, when we did return, we took good care to move quickly over that particular stretch. From Visciano, we moved further back, this time to Albanova. Rather larger than the other villages but scarcely more clean. After a fortnight or so, forward once again, this time to San Felice. Here, there were only a huddle of extremely dirty buildings, so we erected our bivvies and slept beside the cars. For a time, when our turn came to go in the line, I was on the rear party but when the majority came back, another job turned up which we, who had stayed behind, had to do. In the evening, we collected together our kit, piled on to a lorry and set off.

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