Taking over as Brigadier.
It was a great day for me, the 18th of February, when I got back to the brigade and started seeing all of the old faces again. I began in good style because, when I arrived at Divisional HQ to see the General, I ran into three of my late battalion of the Irish Rifles, now highly placed officials at Brigade HQ. I was glad to see my training had stood them in such good stead in a hard school, and I think I detected some signs of apprehension when they began to suspect that my presence meant more than a friendly visit.
I was delighted to see Nelson Russell again and hear about all the great exploits of the brigade since I had left it. He had kept me very well posted about his doings but it was best to hear the first hand description of what all the different chaps had done, and how well they had done it. Nelson had been fighting with the brigade now for nearly a year and a half with great distinction with hardly any let up. It would have been enough to undermine the health of many a younger man and it was obviously a great disappointment to him when the doctors warned him that it would be dangerous to go on. What was worse, I knew it would be a great disappointment for all the chaps in the brigade.
There was a brigade football match going on the next afternoon, which gave us a great opportunity of wandering around and talking to old friends, without yet having disclosed why I was there.
All the COs had changed since my day and also all the seconds-in-command. James Dunnill, who had been with me off and on in various capacities for the last two years, was commanding the “Faughs” with Hugh Holmes as the Second-in-Command. These were faces I knew well. The Irish Rifles were commanded by Ion Goff, with Bala Bredin as Second-in-Command. This was a new team to me but on the other hand, I knew the lads in the Irish Rifles so well that I did not feel it mattered. The “Skins’” were commanded by Bryar, late of the Kensingtons, our support battalion, with Smudger Maxwell as Second-in-Command. I found a good proportion of the old soldiers were still present in all the battalions and, of course, these are the people that keep the spirit as it should be.
Soon after I arrived, I imported Paddy Bowen-Colthurst as Staff Captain. I had fished him out of commanding a platoon in the Scots Guards last November and then was with him when he was an Liaison Officer, learning the job of Staff Captain, in the Hampshire Brigade. Having his origins in County Cork, he was a very suitable person to join the brigade, though why he was in the Scots Guards rather than the Irish Guards, I have never yet discovered, He relieved John Norman who, before coming to Brigade HQ, had had a long tour as Adjutant of the Skins. He went to a welfare job at 5 Corps and turns up every now and then to see how the party is managing to get on without him.
Nelson went off to hospital the next day, much missed by everyone, and I came out in my true colours, no doubt causing a great amount of misgivings among those who, as Nelson put it, had suffered from my abominable temper in the past. I always had a secret feeling that Nelson exaggerated this failing of mine because he or his staff had possibly met it more often that any of my subordinates. Nonetheless, others are the best judge of one’s own failings.
Volturno Training.
Needless to say, the Division had not been brought over behind the Cassino front for nothing. The New Zealand Corps, working under the Fifth Army, and consisting of 4th Indian and 2nd New Zealand Divisions, were to capture Cassino and the Monastery, while our role was to break through the bridgehead, which they would have formed.
I knew the sector pretty well. Cassino, the Monastery, the River Rapido (Gari), the Liri and the River Garigliano, as it was called above the Rapido (Gari) junction with the Liri, had all been familiar places to me when commanding the Hampshire Brigade. I had seen, and taken part in, abortive attacks in this area, and a mighty unpleasant place it was. The General said that we would remain in our present area until the New Zealanders’ break in took place. My immediate comment was that we had a good chance, without any reflection on the New Zealanders, of staying where we were for quite a long time, which proved to be only too correct.
The attack on Cassino was due to start with a colossal air bombardment as soon as the weather permitted. The weather did not permit this for some time. As soon as the ground showed signs of not being tank proof, owing to the mud, down came another imperial storm. Air visibility was of a very uncertain nature at this time of the year. In fact, everything combined to be against a “weather permitting” operation. Slowly, but surely, the Division started to get sucked into this battle front before zero day. 11 Brigade took over a sector on the Rapido on 23rd February and 36 Brigade moved up on the 26th.
We were to stay put in our comfortable surroundings, as the Brigade Commander’s ankle was still far from being battle worthy. This, of course, gave me a certain unmerited popularity among our own warriors, who were quite prepared to see that I had another accident if the same results were likely to arise from it.
To look ahead a little, we did not in fact move finally until the 22nd of March. I had a month, therefore, with the brigade before we had to do anything; and a very useful month it proved to be. We got really stuck into individual training and except for trying out tank cooperation and river crossing exercises, we were able to keep the training on that low but vitally important level.
There was some very spirited inter battalion boxing competitions, football matches and a sports meeting. Some may have looked upon visits to Naples as the most important item of all and I think everyone succeeded in having a look at that overrated city. Our style was rather cramped by the abominable weather and torrential rain, snow on the hills and other clemental discomforts, but fortunately the majority were quite well housed.
Soon after I took over, Bala Bredin went to command the “Skins” and John Horsfall, who had recently returned from an SOS course at home, went as Second-in-Command to the Irish Rifles.
The day I arrived, I had seen the Brigade Pipes and Drums performing en masse at the football match. We certainly had a high potential morale raiser in the Brigade Pipe Band, who had vastly improved since our rather pathetic efforts at Guelma. We had been foolish in North Africa in taking Pipers into battle, often with their pipes. The result was that at the end of the North African campaign, we found ourselves badly depleted in both musicians and instruments.
In order to put the Pipes and Drums on a proper brigade footing, I asked each battalion to nominate a Pipe President to run the show. They all sent in a name but added a rider that the only way to run it was for someone at Brigade HQ, who knew about the Pipes, to take it on, otherwise a certain amount of inter Regimental suspicion would be attached to the Pipe President. As I was the only member of Brigade HQ who had the necessary knowledge, I found myself filling the job of CO Pipes and Drums. I had done a great deal of this sort of thing, and enjoyed doing it when I was Adjutant, so I rather liked the idea of having this sideline to look after. The Pipes and Drums made its debut under new management on St Patrick’s which was quite appropriate.
On the 15th of March, the battle for Cassino started with its terrific air onslaught. The results in some ways were disappointing with only about 40% of the bombs falling on the target area. It seems questionable, if one wishes to attack a town or village, whether the right thing to do is to smash it up first or not. If streets were an unrecognisable wreck of rubble, two bad things happen – you cannot drive down the streets with tanks and it quite impossible to know well which piece of rubble holds the enemy. On the other hand, if streets are open, there are obvious advantages for the attacker, and if the houses are intact, you have got some chance of knowing where it is physically possible for an enemy to be. In Cassino, the bombing had an added disadvantage as the Rapido runs under the town and the bombs went through and loosed it all over the place causing the most impossible obstacles.
Barrosa Day.
The 5th of March found the Faughs celebrating Barrosa Day in no uncertain manner – in fact, the most fantastic things occurred.
I reproduce their own account:
‘To visualise what happened in the Battalion, the memorable 5th March 1944, take the Braemar Gathering, a Varsity Rag and a football final at Wembley and a mock battle on Salisbury Plain.
Mix and stir well.
We had become Barrosa minded in advance. Company detail boards had exhibited the programme, days ahead. There were reliable reports of the presence of two large vats of wine in the RSM’s tent. It was rumoured that Norman Bass had been doing nothing but count beer bottles for a week – and he is not the sort of man to count empty bottles or the same bottle twice.
The traditional officers’ v sergeants’ football match was also announced. It was just as well that the officers’ team had not been taken off the secret list. Otherwise the sergeants might have been tempted to call off a match against such tough customers as Sam McIlhinney (Dumfries Distillers), Brian Clark (Sorsall and Glasshorse), Ray Titterton (I-zig–a-zumbas) and that formidable cleric, Harry Graydon of Sodom and Gomorrah.
The great day dawned and everyone, even the batmen, was roused by the Pipes and Drums who, led by the Adjutant, Brian Clark, marched round the camp to the tune of ‘Barrosa’.
After Church Parade, for the 5th was a Sunday, strangely garbed figures were seen to be popping in and out of the Italian farmhouse that served as the Battalion HQ officers’ mess. The Pipes and Drums dispersed to various secret rendezvous, nervously clutching their precious instruments about whose fate in the forthcoming turmoil, they obviously entertained some highly justified apprehensions.
The crawl around the football field had its first glimpse of the pageant when two saffron kilted pipers emerged from the olive groves followed by a mounted figure clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful: from a holster at his waist protruded the butt of a verey pistol, in his left hand, he brandished a sword, in his right an umbrella. He looked like the Lion of Judah, only happier – perhaps the Lion of Judah after hearing a particularly good one about the Duce. He was followed by a procession of sergeants looking like a Hollywood impression of a Commando about to go into action. After circling the field, the procession made its way to the centre where the horseman (now identified as CSM Cheyne) was assisted from his mount and enthroned, with raised umbrella, in a chair of state.
Meanwhile three carriers had rumbled to a halt outside the officers’ mess, then had been swamped to the gunwales by oddly clothed officers and set off again in the wake of three pipers. These pipers were joined by the Adjutant making a rather pathetic bid for popularity by wearing pink silk pyjamas and beating the big drum.
Hardly had the carriers discharged their ugly cargo on the field when another mounted figure broke from the cover of the olive groves – Lady Godiva as portrayed by Mae West and censored by the Hays’ Office. On closer inspection, it was found that the long golden tresses encased the deliberately chiselled features of Ken Hanssen.
Photographers clicked their cameras. Alas, noone had yet seen either negative or print of these efforts.
The field was ankle deep in water and the most sagacious players were obviously those who had attired themselves in bathing trunks – a costume to which Basil Kentish had taken the precaution of adding a tin helmet. Neville Chance, whose company lived beside an American camp, appeared in the guise of an enlisted man. Whoever lent him that uniform must have been very sorry afterwards. Brian Clark’s pink pyjamas lasted very well until their owner decided to adopt Rugby Union tactics and fell on the ball. They were a nice pair of pyjamas. However, there were no ladies present.
At half time, reinforcements were called into the battle by both sides. The field was jammed with mud coated officers and sergeants, the majority of whom spent most of their time scooping mud from their eyes, ears and breathing passages. The sergeants guarded their goal with a dannert wire obstacle and a minefield of detonators which Sgt Cross, who must have spent a week laying the wires, was busily letting off under the feet of officers and sergeants indiscriminately. A threatening rush by the sergeants was broken by a DF task brought down by one of our tame gunners, Duggie Evans, firing blanks at point blank range from a 25 pounder. A flight of aircraft bound for the front circled for a moment – obviously searching for a target.
The match was followed by a tug of war contest, which was won by S Company, who had plenty of practice in pulling vehicles out of some of the best Italian mud. Here, the sergeants easily defeated the officers by the common sense expedient of tying their end of the rope to a carrier, which was then driven away at a brisk speed.
After dinner, where the rumours of Norman Bass’s beer bottle counting were amply justified, rival attractions were offered. Some went to an excellent concert produced by our incomparable Field Ambulance. Others watched a rather less polished performance by Brian Clark, Jimmie Clarke, John McNally and Sergeant Phillips, who compelled three pipers to do terrible things with their pipes.
One by one, the weary Fusiliers retired to think things over, while the officers withdrew to a large room in the nearby town to dine and listen to the traditional account of Barrosa Day – given by Ken Hanssen. Hardly had this excellent discourse ended, in fact rather earlier than that, a swarm of WOs and Sergeants broke in and the morning’s football match was resumed. There was a nice concrete floor. Many a head was broken, aye, and many an eye was shut.’
This day made me cast my mind back to the Barrosa Day of 1943.
We were at Bou Arada then, in Tunisia. Nelson Russell was commanding ‘Y’ Division; I was commanding the Brigade and Beauchamp Butler, the Faughs.
How few of that company were here today. James Dunnill and I were nearly the only ones. Hugh Holmes told me that about 3,000 names had passed through the Faughs since November 1942.
We took the Barrosa Cup of 1944 to drink Nelson’s health with him in No 2 General Hospital. He was supposed to be tee-totalling, but he was none the worse for the drink. He was pleased to know we were thinking of him.
St Patrick’s Day.
Patrick’s Day was the next orgy. We started the day by being placed at four hours notice to move. I had made a secret arrangement with the General that nothing short of a calamity would cause him to move the brigade before late on the 18th. I kept this secret pact to myself for obvious reasons but was glad I had it when I saw the shape the party was taking. Italy is a country of unlimited, cheap and potent wine and sometimes worse.
Father Dan Kelleher
We started off with two parade services, one being the traditional RC service and the other a C of E one, so that all could attend something. I had endeavoured to synchronise the duration of these services so that they would finish at the same time and we could continue with item 2 without a hitch.
I was thwarted in this aim by Dan Kelleher, our excellent RC priest, who decided to hold communion during the mass. Naturally, it was impossible to do anything about this during the service but I pointed out to him afterwards that it was an entirely unprecedented ritual during our traditional St Patrick’s Day mass.
He duly apologised for the breach. I happened to tell my wife about this incident and she said that it was a great pity that Ireland could not be run on the lines of the Irish Brigade and that she would see me matting Cardinal McRory if he did anything that I did not fancy.
When we had eventually united the rival religions, we held the ceremony of distributing shamrock. As often happens in foreign parts, the national emblem was hard to come by and what we had was difficult to recognise. However, the Irish Rifles nobly produced enough shamrock for us to present some to the officers and warrant officers.
Owing to the battle, General Keightley had to cancel his intention of joining us but sent a personal message to which I added my own:
PERSONAL MESSAGE FROM MAJOR GENERAL CF KEIGHTLEY CB OBE, COMMANDER 78 DIVISION.
ST PATRICK’S DAY 1944.
To all ranks 38 (Irish) Infantry Brigade:
I regret that the present battle does not allow me to come and wish you personally all god fortune as I had originally arranged.
I do wish you it with all my heart.
If the whole army fights with the same spirit and gallantry, which you have done in the past year, then the Bosche will soon be exterminated.
I am confident that next St Patrick’s Day will see the extermination complete and your return home with all the honour, which will be due to you.
In the meantime, let us fit ourselves for our last battles: May they be short and successful.
Good luck to you,
CF Keightley, Major General.
After the shamrock had been presented, the Brigade Pipes and Drums played Retreat and the Irish Rifles’ hospitality provided an excellent drinking booth on the pitch. The rest of the day was observed as a holiday, a term which was expressed with considerable energy and alcoholic stimulation according to each Regiment’s likes. It was a good day. The Skins had an officers v sergeants football match and some of the officers were certainly a sight for sore eyes. The CO was dressed in KD shirt and shorts, vivid socks, boots and Italian black coat and a green port pie hat pulled down over one eye. Smudger was resplendent in khaki trousers, shirt and beautiful net veil. The Adjutant, always keen, was dressed in FSMO complete to the last detail. Badger Dicker appeared around the corner on a donkey, Stan Pollard riding pillion with black eye and adhesive tape and holding an enormous aspidistra. Bradford Myles appeared as a magnificent Arab. Sgt Cain riding a donkey led the team into battle. The Sgts’ team took an unfair advantage by using carriers in the hull down position.
The RASC band, on tour in Italy, appropriately visited us on this day and played for the Faughs in the afternoon. There was two old Faughs in this band, one was Dwyer, who many of us had known in the Regiment. Possibly the best part of the their programme was given when the Faughs’ shoemaker, Fusilier Fergusson, decided to take the bandmaster’s place and conduct matters himself. Whether the excellence of these items was due to Fergusson’s innate skill or the band’s ability to follow him, I don’t know, but I have seldom laughed more.
When commanding the Irish Rifles, I had had great success in the evenings at Guelma encouraging the officers to sing songs of a national character. We had great talent and some delightful evenings were spent. Encouraged by this success, I started similar nights at Brigade HQ when various guests from the battalions were present. The attractions of an evening like this grew so much that we decided to publish a book called “Songs of the Irish Brigade”, so that we could all join in when we felt inclined. We collected material from various sources and though still incomplete, had the book printed at Campobasso. This song book had been an invaluable asset during many an evening in many an odd place and is much sought after by people outside the brigade.
This pleasant interlude came to an abrupt close when we had to take over a defensive position on the Rapido and we left our winter quarters on the 22nd of March.
San Angelo.
By now, it had become evident that the New Zealand Corps’ plan for the capture of Cassino and the Monastery had failed and it would be necessary for considerable regrouping to take place before the major offensive could be resumed. From December till the big push in May, some parts of this particular front had not changed at all.
There had been a limited success in January near the mouth of the Garigliano River by 10 Corps and there had been an advance by the French and the Americans in December which placed them in the neighbourhood of Cassino. The French had done magnificently in the mountains to the north of the Liri Valley and had got up behind Cassino and the Monastery onto Mount Castellone and Belvedere, mountains of over 2,000 feet and sub features of the mighty Mount Cairo which towered above them. These features were captured in order to facilitate operations against Cassino and the Monastery, but while these places remained in German hands, a pre war Staff College instructor would have labelled ours untenable. Cassino, the Monastery and Cairo remained in German hands.
At this time, the French had been sitting in this unwholesome area for a month. The Monastery was undoubtedly the key position. It completely dominated the French line of control, Cassino and the Liri Valley. On the other side of the Liri Valley, the village of San Ambroglio also dominated the lower ground. I had endeavoured to capture this place in January with the Hampshire Brigade but had been thwarted by the Germans having opened a dam at the psychological moment, making the river completely impassable in front of Ambroglio.
It will be seen from this, that the Germans enjoyed unpleasantly good observation over the Allied positions. The Rapido (Gari), a tributary to the Garigliano ran straight across the Liri Valley from Cassino to Ambroglio and it was on either side of this river that the opposing armies, as they concerned us, sat. The ground rose gradually from 50 to 100 feet on either side of the Rapido (Gari) and the Monastery looked at it all. There was a fair amount of cover owing to the undulation of the ground, with a certain number of broken down houses.
Our job on 22nd March was to relieve 11 Brigade in the middle of the Liri Valley on the banks of the Rapido in front of the village of San Angelo. In the early days, road movement was the greatest problem on this front. Highway Six and the main Rome to Naples railway were both on our axis and had been well demolished in many places. Movement off the roads after rain was disastrous. There were also plenty of mines about.
By the time we came into the picture, Highway Six had been mended, the railway had been converted into quite a good road known as “Speedy Express”, and a certain number of minor tracks had been strengthened. The forward concentration area for this part of the world was around Mignano, from which Highway Six and Speedy Express diverged towards Cassino. Mignano used to receive the unwelcome attention of 170s, especially during the hours of slumber. Speedy Express and Highway Six also had their drawbacks. As one got close to Cassino, these drawbacks became more evident and more noisy.
The normal form of transport for people like myself was a jeep driven as near as 60mph as the road surfaces or track surfaces would permit. We also had about 600 guns varying from 250 to ordinary field pieces in this neighbourhood. Unfortunately, they seemed at this time to have unlimited ammunition and the din was quite appalling. ‘Long Toms’ were apt to creep up behind one’s HQ in the dark without reference to anyone and suddenly start loosing off. I think this was almost worse that the contribution sent over by the other side. There were still a few German aeroplanes playing about but their role seemed to be mostly reconnaissance, though they occasionally had a crack at one of the many gun positions. The ack-ack fire that went up at these odd German reconnaissance planes was of no ordinary intensity.
By the 23rd, the Irish Rifles and the Faughs had taken over from 11 Brigade, while the Skins remained well back in reserve. It was difficult country to defend economically and it was overlooked to an uncomfortable degree in its forward areas. Mortars were the chief nuisance to the forward troops at this time and we started a counter mortar organisation to deal with this. What it really amounted to was the plotting of German mortar positions and infantry positions as far as we could possibly get them, then the moment any German mortar was sufficiently ill advised as to fire, we sent back about a fifty to one bombardment onto all known German positions using everything we had including the invaluable 4.2” mortars. This policy certainly paid quite a good dividend and reduced German harassing fire to a very considerable extent.
Nothing much happened while we were in this sector except what the BBC calls “artillery duels and patrolling”. This always sounds a matter of small interest on the news, but if you happen to be a participant in it, it is one of the most unpleasant forms of war there is, especially in an area like that where there are immeasurable unmarked minefields. By the 27th, we had handed over this place to the New Zealanders and moved back to the Mignano area before indulging in what proved to be the most unpleasant month the brigade has ever spent.
Meeting up with the French on Monte Castellone.
While we were facing the Germans in the San Angelo area, plans had already been started for us to get a more pleasant view of them from the mountains north of the Monastery on the foothills of Mount Cairo.
(NA 13509): General Juin, General Leese and General Alexander in conversation.
On the 26th, the General told me that we would have to take over from the French in this area and that a reconnaissance was to be made straight away. As he anticipated, hill walking might be necessary, a thing I still could not do, so he told me to send James Dunnill to have a look round. He and John O’Rourke accordingly set forth on what they thought was going to be a pleasant motor drive. It turned out to be anything but. The Rapido valley ran due north past Cassino and formed a branch valley running up between St Elia and Atina.
This valley was about one mile wide and fairly bare. Our forward troops and the Germans were on one side of the valley, which included the foothills and the Monastery, while our Administration Points were in the hills on the other side. The result of this was that a horrible no man’s land lay between us and the needs of life. This was situated round the area of San Michele and the unpleasant crack in the hills called The Inferno and Portella.
At a pre arranged rendezvous, they met a French LO and then set off for the HQ of the 4th Regiment Tiraileurs Tunisienne, which was situated in the much battered village of Caira. They followed the French LO in his jeep, which disappeared down a track known as the San Michele Road at an incredible speed. This was one of the main supply routes to Cassino and the positions north of it. It was a perfect day. The track and all the surrounding countryside were in full view of the Monastery.
Everything was quite peaceful going through the villages of San Michele and Portella, but even so they viewed with a considerable amount of misgiving the notices which read “Shell Trap – No Halting”, which were placed at intervals along the road. On leaving Portella, they descended into the Rapido Valley, which was completely dominated by the Monastery and they both entertained considerable mixed feelings at they followed the French LO towards the Monastery, which by now seemed as if it was towering above them.
The speed of the two jeeps down the “Mad Mile” – well named – broke all records. James remarked that he had done some cheeky things in his life, but this about took the cake. Eventually, however, they turned off right through the village of Villa, but met a warm reception from the Bosche gunners going along this stretch. They reached the village of Caira and caught up with the French LO and heartily cursed him for the exciting experiences that they had been through. The French LO remarked that it was quite all right – there was nothing to worry about. He knew where the bad spots were and so he went little bit faster.
On arrival, all military matters were suspended for the ritual of dejeuner. This lasted for nearly two hours. There were seven courses and adequate liquid refreshments. The orchestra was not lacking either. It was provided by shells of all sizes arriving about. The Huns thought this was a sound place to shoot at, an idea that they never got over. After a brief squint around and hearing what the form was from the French, the gauntlet of the return journey had to be run. This, fortunately, was uneventful. When these two heroes returned to Brigade HQ, I can assure you that the horror of all they saw lacked nothing in the telling.
The next day, the brigade now being clear of the line, I felt I must go and visit this paragon of places myself. James Dunnill and I accordingly set forth to visit General Monsabert, commanding the 3rd Division Indigene Algerien. This was an experience I would not have missed. We went along the San Michele road, James taking very good care to point out all the places where the shells had a habit of dropping.
We eventually reached the “Inferno”. Much to my astonishment, we then went up this strange canyon by a jeep track that the French had made. In places, it was cut through the rock with just room for a jeep to get through. Eventually, we arrived at the mountain fastness where the French Divisional HQ was. I was expecting a sort of “hugger mugger” establishment and had a haversack ration in my pocket. I need not have worried. Outside the General’s house was a large sign emblazoned ‘Les Trois Croissants’, just like a good old English pub. It was like a pub in more ways than one. The first room I went into was a bar in which was every conceivable size and shape of bottle and I was duly pressed to sample several. Well heartened by this refreshment, I was then told I was to be presented to the General.
On entering his office, I saw a very good looking little man with silver white hair, bristling white moustache, flashing eyes, absolutely dapper from the head to the foot of his full five feet. He was absolutely charming and bubbling over with life. There were quite a number of beautiful ladies present. I discovered afterwards that these were ambulance drivers, who had been imported specially. In the two hours during which we sat at the meal, the flash in the General’s eye became more and more pronounced. We started singing. First of all kisses were blown to the fair sex, then hands were kissed and later cheeks.
The logical outcome of this, I was unfortunately not permitted to see, as the General decided it was time to visit his observation post. From this point of vantage, the whole war lay beneath us with the exception of Mount Cairo, which towered above from the other side of the Rapido Valley. There was the Monastery some hundreds of feet below. This was the only chance I had of looking down at it, except a long time afterwards from an aeroplane. In that clear, concise, logical way the French have, General Monsabert explained the ground, positions of his own troops and the Germans. We were some distance away but it was the most comprehensive view I had ever had of that battlefield. By the time, we have returned from the OP, I had to make tracks from home if I was to get there by daylight. It had been a most interesting and amusing day, but the prospect of sitting on those hills didn’t appeal to me at all.
This position had nothing to commend it except that it was a springboard for the big offensive in the then distant future. The machinery of carrying out this relief with the French was in it itself most complicated. It was impossible, obviously, to use the Rapido Valley in daylight. Having crossed it, it took, in some cases, as long as four hours for the troops to get into their positions on the mountain tops on the other side.
We, therefore, had to move one day into the San Michele area, and then the next night get across the valley and carry out the relief. We were told that we would have to hold this position for about one month.
In order to give people a rest, we started by holding our frontage with three battalions up, each less one company, in order to be able to ring the changes. This system worked reasonably well in most cases. It was obvious that our main battle was going to be one of administration. It would be a question of jeep trains, then mule loads, and eventually man packs before food, water and ammunition could reach the forward companies. Very strong administrative teams worked from San Michele, with ‘B’ Echelon about ten miles behind them.
Monte Castellone/Caira.
The COs’ groups went 24 hours ahead to tee up the takeover in each area. Only one battalion could be relieved on any one night owing to the limited track space.
The Skins started off from Mignano on the 28th, followed by the Irish Rifles and then the Faughs. The relief was not completed until early on 1st April. Brigade HQ was in one of the small houses on the edge of the Caira village. The top storey had been blown off, but there was still the ground floor, which the French had taken some trouble to strengthen. It was very small and the fewer people we had over there the better. Our party eventually consisted of Jimmy Stewart the BM, Johnny O’Rourke the IO, Ronnie Laming the Signal Officer, and the two LOs Frankie Lyness and Johnny McClinton. In addition to these, we had Rollo Baker, commanding the 17th Field Regiment. There were a few small outhouses tucked about and we managed to fit in under cover. We even had two sections of the Defence Platoon to see that we did not get beaten up by a Bosche patrol in the night.
We spent three amusing days with Colonel Gilbaud, commanding 4 RTT, and his staff. They passed a good deal of the time asleep. 10 to 12 and 2 to 4 were good sleeping periods. We soon began to see the sense of this; for sleep at all hours of the day and night was apt to be rudely broken by the arrival of a salvo of what Rollo called “enormous bricks”.
At one time or another, a “brick” hit every house in our immediate neighbourhood except our own (I think it was largely saved by not having a top storey on it), which would undoubtedly have been hit by the ones that passed close overhead to fall on the mule track below. The French were very graphic in their descriptions. After some hideous salvo had gone off outside, they would shout in unison “La Piste” or “Sur les quatre-fours”, or “Sur Les Goums” (an unfortunate company of those bearded warriors were holding some positions below). This would immediately be followed by a graphic description of which particular battery of German guns had perpetrated the crime. We admired their sense of direction at first, but found as time went on that we could even add to these things by giving the bearing of the German battery that had fired without reference to a compass or any of the normal aids.
The Skins’ positions which was the nearest to the Monastery covered one of the few tracks from the hills into the German positions, and it was here that most of the clashes occurred. “Phantom Ridge” became a local playground for Skins beating up Bosche when they got bored. Unfortunately, the armies of about three different nations had, at one time or another, laid mines in this area, and some very good chaps were lost in this completely sickening way. Their HQ was the only one we could drive to in daylight. Even going there, it was anything but comfortable on account of the unpleasant mountain called Cifalco from which the Huns peered down behind us.
The Irish Rifles held the key feature, Mount Castellone, which was a most inaccessible pinnacle 2,300 feet high. Owing to the observation we had from the Castellone ridge, the Bosche used to shoot shells of an enormous calibre onto the crest. When they missed it, they came to pay Brigade HQ a visit. We used to find these unexploded monstrosities from time to time. They rather brought home the inadequacy of our tumbledown home.
The Faughs were somewhat better off as they held the valley running up from Caira to Mount Cairo and were not nearly so much cocked up in the air. All their positions, though, were to some degree overlooked. They did not have the advantage of reverse slopes that the others had. On the whole, they got less shelling than the other battalions except for their HQ. This came in for nearly as much as Brigade HQ, which undoubtedly held the record for this period. The trouble was, there was nowhere else Brigade HQ could go. It was a good place to be away from and there was quite a lot of competition to go visiting. Unfortunately, I was unable to enter the visiting stakes as I still could not walk and contented myself with an occasional jeep ride to the Skins and, towards the end, a walk to the Faughs. The Irish Rifles, I never saw. Nearly every day, Rollo Baker and one or more of our own chaps visited the battalions by route march, about a four hour round trip.
Jimmy Stewart, our Brigade Major was indefatigable in this visiting and mountain hiking. Not content with daily expeditions he would sally forth at night to try and improve matters with mule convoys etc. Frankie Lyness or John McClinton usually went with Jimmy and often on their own. John O’Rourke was at it too. They all did great work and were always full of cheer. I often awaited their return with some anxiety when I heard noises and was relieved to see them again. I really thought John McClinton had it one night when he was trying to sort out a traffic muddle near the ADS. Those mule convoys at night were no fun – kicking mules and hills are a poor combination. I think everyone appreciated Jimmy’s untiring efforts very much – I know I did.
Ronnie Laming and his linesmen were a constant source of acute anxiety to me. Salvos would come down cutting his lines and off he and his bold warriors would go. I am full of admiration for linesmen. Cpl Occomore was grand.
The nights were really the worst part for everybody. The administrative convoys which set out at dusk each night really had a nightmare journey.
We were more than grateful to the chaps that came over every night. It was a nerve racking journey – far worse than just being there at night. How they got away with it, I don’t know. Providence was very good to us throughout this time, as indeed always.
The mule convoy going up to the Irish Rifles seldom arrived intact. On a dark night it needed tremendous vigilance to make sure that these animals had not slipped their loads by their own design or their drivers’ before they got to their destination. The Battalion’s administrative teams really came into their own during this period. There was some magnificent work done by the QMs and CQMSs and all the people who helped them earned the very highest praise. The Irish Rifles’ bakery, which never failed to produce appetising cakes for the warriors on the mountain top, was a great tribute to Dave Aitkenhead and his minions. The administrative area was very far from safe. Nothing but a thin covering of olive trees obscured it from the Monastery. They had a rotten time there. It was a matter of extremely hard work and thought by Paddy and everyone else to keep supplies going, but it was extremely well done. The lessons they learnt in endurance, guts and improvisation during this very difficult month probably paved the way to the magnificent administration that was a feature of the big advance later.
The counter mortar organisation was going full blast the whole time we were in this area. Goodness knows how many 4.2 inch and 3 inch shells were fired back whenever the Bosche were bold enough to loose off mortars at us. In addition to this, we kept Divisional and Corps counter battery staff pretty hard worked. When one is doing little else than being shelled intermittently most of the day and night, it is extraordinary how interested you get in counter battery organisation. There was no need to ask anyone for shell reps. They were only too keen to get them in. Rolle or I were continually badgering the CBO to ginger up the counter battery work. I do not think that we were able to reach the really big chaps. We took quite a keen interest in these. One morning, John O’Rourke and I were travelling up a track to see the Skins when we found an enormous hole on it making it quite impassable, and just beyond a huge dud. A couple of 210s had evidently lit in the small hours of the morning just before Brigade HQ.
The Faughs took over a most unfortunate site with their 3” mortars. It just happened to be just above Brigade HQ. Any shooting by them had a most unfortunate effect for it must have been quite obvious to any Bosche on the opposite hill where they were. The Faughs were rather pained when I gave strict orders that these mortars would only be used in a defensive fire role. We had so many others it really did not matter.
The Skins’ 3 inch mortars did a lot of excellent work during this time from a very good position well up in the mountain and just off the jeep track. They could easily be supplied with the considerable amount of ammunition and they liked using it. Roy May of the Kensingtons, our ‘D’ Support Group, did very excellent work with his 4.2s, and Phillip Marshall, the Support Group commander and he spent a lot of time hatching counter mortar plots. The Bosche hates our 4.2 inch mortar. In that sort of country, mortars are about the only thing that can get into the wadis and behind the crests. The Germans used howitzers quite a lot. Our equivalent to that was 25 pounders firing in the “upper register”, but they didn’t seem to be a great success.
The French had done a magnificent job in capturing these hills we were on, at the end of their long advance through the mountains in January. They were a very business like lot of chaps and excellent soldiers but they did not seem very clever at stopping the Bosche patrols taking liberties with them. Our chaps very soon put this right. After a day or two, word soon got around among the Herrenvolk that patrolling among the Irish was a pastime that did not pay. In fact, the boot was very soon on the other foot. The Skins, especially, put up some very fine performances.
On the first occasion when the General came to see me, he asked me to think out a plan for capturing the Monastery. We had nearly been let in on this project a little bit earlier on and it was one that I did not altogether take to. I said I thought the best plan was for someone else to capture it. When it transpired that this really was the idea, I was quite prepared to advance suggestions, which I knew I would not have to put into effect. On another occasion, he wanted a plan for capturing Mount Cairo. This one, too, I was quite prepared to consider under the same terms of reference. However, these things gave me something to think about. As a matter of fact, we really did not need much, for we never seemed to be short of some subject about which we argued interminably.
The interesting thing was there were seven of us cooped up in this ghastly little house for a month and yet none of us ever got on the other’s nerves. It was a most amicable and pleasant party and if it had not been for all the German shelling and the stink of dead mules and French sanitation, it would have been a pleasant show. During all this time, Rollo Baker and Jimmy Stewart were simply splendid, doing all the things that I could not do owing to my state of immobility.
We were very glad when some Poles started coming over to have a look around. They were being given the unenviable task of capturing the monastery and breaking through the mountains behind it when the big battle came off. Their senior commanders seemed very good chaps and either spoke English or French. We did all we could to help them for we felt most grateful that someone else would be cracking this unpleasant nut.
Their attitude towards this battle was unusual. Their General expounded the big plot to them, which required one brigade to attack and the other to stay put initially. There was some questions about which brigade was to lead the ball. One Brigadier rose to his feet and asserted, with much vigour, that his men had fought at Tobruk, were seasoned warriors and would do the attack. The other Brigadier at once rose to his feet and said no, he was the senior, therefore his brigade would do the attack. Feeling became so strong that I believe compromise was impossible until the brigades were split in half and the Brigadiers commanded part of each. Such a show of keenness to attack in our army might be misinterpreted. They were also to relieve us in our current positions in time to give us a breather before the big push.
Some people used to get a break from Caira. Most of the companies got out for a few days, all the COs had a spell out. James Dunnill flying to the other Cairo. Rollo Baker used to have pressing engagements with his guns, which required a couple of days over the other side now and then. When Rollo was away, he was relieved by a gentleman, who became known as “George Porgie”. Georgie had an unfortunate habit – he would talk in his sleep. He even snored and when our sleep was broken in this way in addition to so many others, it was really too much. Georgie was told he would either have to sleep outside or cure himself. On the other hand, he had some really good qualities. No soon had a shell alighted within the confines, then he would rush out, take a bearing, shout for counter battery and demand an air OP. All that was very encouraging and Georgie (who was really Second-in-Command of 17 Field Regiment) well earned his keep.
Visitors were frequent at Brigade HQ as soon as it got dark. They all got fed and then had a drink, they needed it too. Visiting that Brigade HQ was no fun, day or night. These visits really reached a climax when Harry Slessor, whom I had known in 6th Armoured Division and who now commanded their A/Tk Regiment, arrived at 0200hrs to sell me some of his SP A/Tk guns. I was all in favour of these, and anyway I like Harry, so I forgave him and his strange hours of calling and received him in pyjamas. We had a few Canadian tanks already and these M10s with them provided a nice little party to seal the track through the Skins area and keep a few more in reserve at the bottom of the hill.
Shortly before our relief by the Poles, and during it, we had a lot of trouble with our own smoke shells. For some obscure reason, which no General was ever able to get to the bottom of, we started a nightly programme of firing smoke shells at the monastery. Unfortunately, those that fired them, who they were remained a mystery, were not very clever and kept dropping them amongst the Skins’ positions. This, Rollo assured me, was an error that no reasonable gunner should countenance. I got very angry about these smoke shells and no doubt the Skins got even more angry. Two nights running, I disturbed the General’s evening with vituperations against this nuisance. He tried his best to stop it, and I gather so did the Corps Commander, but still they went on. Whether they shot the Poles up or not, I never heard.
The time of our relief was now drawing close. Our relief by the Poles was going to be a very tricky and difficult position. However, we were prepared to overcome any difficulty to get out of that sinister place. The 6th Lwow Brigade were the people to relieve us. Their commander, Colonel Nowina, paid a preliminary visit two days before. He was a very good chap and most cooperative.
It took three days to carry out the relief. Three very difficult days for each battalion in its turn. The business of putting the Poles to the right place in time, with no known language in common and a fair amount of German shelling to impede progress, was no ordinary undertaking. Muddles occurred at almost every stage of the proceedings. Muddles were at once put right by the chap on the spot, whether he was a private soldier or a commanding officer. The whole essence of this relief was a race against time. The hours of darkness were barely sufficient to get the new unit across the Rapido Valley into position and the old one out and back across the valley before daylight. The margin was so small that chances could not be taken and to avoid the risk of a battalion being caught in the open at dawn, we had a series of smoke canisters across the valleys, with chaps standing by them, which were lit before dawn if there was any danger of the outgoing unit not making it in time. Sometimes, it was thickened up by the 25 pounders. This smoke plan saved both the French and ourselves on more than one occasion. Cassino itself was kept in an almost continual pall by this means. The main thing was that we eventually got out and affected an unscathed relief.
No one’s job was easy, but the Irish Rifles really had a formidable task to run their relief. Ion Goff thought out every possible contingency and scope for muddles; and it was largely due to his careful forethought and sound arrangement that things went so well.
The Faughs’ relief was an awful shambles, due to no fault of theirs. In fact, it was thanks to their firmness that things went as well as they did. They were last out, and when I caught them up the next morning and saw Hughie Holmes, commanding in James Dunnill’s absence on leave, he told me that there had been two casualties. One man slightly wounded and one kicked by a mule but as the latter had got up and kicked the mule back, they reckoned he was alright. It sounded likely.
I doubt if any of us were ever more thankful to get out of nowhere. I remember well my final rush across the Rapido Valley in the early morning light after everyone else had gone. One drove with the feeling in one’s mind that it would just be too bad to get pipped on the post and my jeep, with trailer behind, travelled at no ordinary speed, doing bending races through derelict cars, which had been smashed up a night or two before. For some extraordinary reason, the Bosche fired no shell my way that morning.
Resting at Formicola.
Division had found the most delightful place for a camp at Formicola, about ten miles north of Caserta and a good thirty away from the nearest gun. It was a really lovely valley and after a loathsome place like the barren and stenching slopes of Monte Cairo, it seemed about the next best thing to heaven that we had seen for a long time. Everything was green, crops were sprouting, the dark red clover was in bloom, the trees were all freshly in leaf and nightingales were singing. It was a good spot. The first four days were spent by each battalion in sorting themselves out. When this was over, they started in turn to carry out a comprehensive programme of battalion exercise, which had drawn up by Division.
One sound clause about this training programme was that it was not to interfere with people’s leave. The Sorrento peninsula was very popular at this time of the year. Division had organised a very excellent leave camp for all ranks near Amalfi. It was in a delightful situation and everything was laid on that could be including the local signorinas, who came to dances. I am told they were well chaperoned. Those that did not visit the Divisional Rest Camp went for seven days to a rest camp at Bari, also a pleasant spot, but I would have preferred Amalfi at that time of the year. There was a certain amount of individual enterprise too. Some officers paused in Naples for a while, quite illegally I believe, others travelled about in the Sorrento area. I found a caravan was a very acquisition for a holiday of this sort. This leave did all a power of good and we returned to the fold well refreshed and ready for everything that was on. It was fairly obvious to all of us that there would be plenty on.
While I had been away, the Army Commander had what was referred to as his ‘Malaria’ conference at which he explained the outline plan down to COs.
The Pipe Band performed a certain amount in this area and gave quite a good show almost as soon as we got out of the line. They were also invited to play out by other units. On one occasion, they were invited to perform before Kendal Chavasse’s 56 Recce Regiment. The invitation can come through Division. I naturally assumed that Kendal had laid this on as it was the sort of thing a Faugh might do. I decided to go there myself as well. When I arrived, Kendal seemed slightly disconcerted and his confusion increased when an irate lady set upon him and me because the Pipers, who had started to de-bus at the canteen were moved on to some more appropriate football field. She asserted in round terms that she had ordered the Pipers through Division to come and play outside her canteen for the whole evening. The big idea seemed to be that they should sit around in a happy circle and play continuously for about three hours. The fact that our Pipe Band does not perform like that was a matter of no consequence to her at all. Kendal was so overcome by this lady’s dominating attitude that I really thought at one moment that he was going to beg me to accede to her wishes. It transpired then that Kendal had only found by accident, just in time, that the Pipers were even coming at all. His soldiers had been kept rather in the dark both on the matter of time and place. However, it was a lovely evening and we did not mind a bit. We waited until all were ready and then gave quite a good exhibition. The canteen lady had taken umbrage and declined even to put her head out through the window to see what was going on. It was all very funny but I felt rather sorry for Kendal.
We had a very good party one night with the Band at our 152 Field Ambulance. After listening to the performance, they gave a very pleasant party in their mess. It closed in a variety of ways, foursomes in jeeps making frequent pauses on their way home seemed to be the order of the night. The technique of the Pipe Band was improving and dancing was beginning to feature in the programme.
During our Volturno training in March, we had had a few TEWTs (Training Exercises Without Troops) with 16/5 Lancers and we were beginning to get to know each other. Here, we had the opportunity of training with them in the flesh, if one can call a Sherman “the flesh”. The initial training and getting to know each other, which we did with this excellent regiment, laid the foundation stone for what happened later on in battle, not only with them but it gave us clues for dealing with others.
We had to leave our delightful village to think about more important things and then go off to do them on the 10th of May. We had had a longer pause and better leave than we had dared to hope for. It set everybody up mentally and physically and put them in the best possible fettle for the next phase, and so we left this place in the evening, sorry to go, but grateful to it and hoping one day to see it again.