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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.

By the time it was dusk we had reached the end of ‘lorry’ road and transferred all our kit to jeeps. We ten marched on, across country, between white tapes which denoted a passage clear of mines. Once we missed the track but did not ‘contact’ any mines and eventually found our way down to the river and the partly completed bridge. Then we had to slide down the bank, clamber on to the bridge, taking our bedding, ammunition, etc., across. This we finally accomplished after several journeys. Then taking out two blankets, we set off along a road to take up our positions. I vaguely remember we passed a gun or two which were knocked out, and a dead Italian soldier. After a good walk there was a sign informing us the road was only checked for mines up to this point. Eventually, we reached a bend in the road at which it had been decided to set up our machine gun nest. Our section then took up position and proceeded to dig a small trench. Hardly had we started than there was a ‘switch’ and with one accord we ‘bit the dust’. Heaven knows where it came from. After finishing the digging, we drew for reliefs and those not on guard wrapped themselves in their couple of blankets and slept as well as they were able.

The morning arrived without incident and we moved to take up further positions. A couple of bodies lay in the ditch where an infantry patrol had run into trouble. Our position was on the hillside in a position where the enemy had abandoned a gun. For a time, things were quiet. Then shots suddenly rang out in some building on another rise, a figure appeared on the skyline, only to disappear as shots churned up the dust at his feet. Up came a sergeant to warn us to keep an eye on the ridges behind us, as it was not certain who occupied them. Sure enough, figures appeared at the top and a keen eye was kept on their activities. Then some mortars started to range the area, then it rained, but eventually the ‘commotion’ sorted itself out and we rendezvoused in an old stone building.

In the evening we took up position on the lower slopes of a hillside. I distinctly remember it was thick with water and liquid mud so that it was impossible to lie down and, in any case, it was soon far too cold as the night progressed. We just crouched, huddles up as best we could, taking it in turn to sleep or look-out. Once I remember the sentry at one particular time, throwing some mud to attract our attention and we were almost too cold, stiff and browned-off to notice. However, we crawled to where he was but his alarm only proved to be our people making contact. The dawn eventually arrived and very thankfully we returned to the building, caked with mud as we were, to have breakfast and to get some semblance of circulation functioning again. We then decided to try to get some sleep but hardly had we settled down than word came that we had to prepare to move.

In the late afternoon, the enemy once again mortared us but with no success. As is invariably the case, the hours seemed interminable when one is waiting about to be relieved. It was eventually in the early hours of the cold morning before the ‘taking over’ troops arrived. So we journeyed back, did a lateral drive and on to a different part of the front. As we didn’t have to move until dusk, we moved forward down the road and then transferred all our kit, etc., to jeeps and made our way through rain sodden tracks across country to our destination, which was a brick habitation. After making further journeys which involved man-handling of the jeeps in the clinging mud, our section went forward to another house to act as a forward observation post. This night passed without incident and we returned for breakfast, made a fire in a makeshift brazier and got into our blankets.

One evening, someone set the chimney on fire but the expected ‘stonk’ from the enemy did not materialise, much to our relief. Another night we took up position in the bottom of a valley to stop any enemy force from coming along it. We dug slip trenches and settled in. One night was particularly cheerless — cold and continuous rain. As happens at such times, the trenches filled with water. Everywhere became a sea of mud. The only chance of any sleep was to try and find a spot above sea level, do a sudden dive into the blankets on removing the gascape, etc., and cover up with greatcoat and gascape. I remember one fellow suddenly waking up and finding himself in the middle of a stream. Another night was spent on the hilltop and the days and nights passed, very slowly, it appeared at times. When we came to leave, the jeeps had a painful desire to stick in the mud. This we partially overcame by utilising a bullock cart to carry some of our kit. So we went back to the village of Picilli.

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