At Rest in Rome and Egypt.
On the first day of July, we started our move back to a concentration area near Rome, where we were to hand in all our transport and give everybody as much opportunity of visiting Rome as we could. Advance parties left in the afternoon and I slipped off about the same time. The brigade was to follow the next day.
The concentration area was on Route 4, about eight miles east of Rome. There seemed to be a certain advantage in establishing my Tac HQ at the Eden Hotel in Rome. This consisted of John McClinton and myself. It proved to be a wise move. We had decided to hold a Brigade Dance in the city, which was to be as far as we could make it, the sort of show that everyone would remember. A lot of preparation was needed, including a good deal of contact with the local Romans. I don’t think we could have ever done it without a ‘pied a terre’ on the spot.
Our object was for as many men as possible to visit Rome as often as possible, and I think most of them got in every other day. There was a lot to be done in getting all our transport and G1098 stores sorted out for handing over.
On the 5th, the advance party of the incoming brigade started to take over our equipment.
I was glad to welcome, at this time, four Canadian officers who had – in some cases – voluntarily given up higher rank to come and fight with the Faughs.
One of the main drawbacks in Rome was the shortage of places where troops could eat a meal. There was very little spare food in Rome and what few restaurants there were had to be run with the aid of army rations. We decided to launch out on our own in this matter and opened ‘The Shamrock Club’ for all members of the Brigade Group. Paddy did great work with Peter Chalk, our BRASCO, getting this place under way and. for the short time, it lasted it was a roaring success.
On the evening of the 8th, Brigade HQ held their big dance for the Brigade Group at the Barberini Palace. About 400 guests were present. It had been a terrific business rounding up the necessary quota of females. Eire Minister’s family collected a fair amount of locals. Other people raided hospitals for nursing sisters. My contribution was rounding up a number of ATS staff officers from General Alexander’s HQ. This I did by walking round the vast building, which housed HQ AAI and, with the moral support of John O’Rourke, walking into every office displaying a female name on the door outside.
The party started with the Pipes and Drums playing Retreat in the Palace courtyard. We then had a buffet supper. This was prepared by the RASC from army rations and I have seldom seen such a fine and ingenious display. Our late host of Tavernelle mansion, Gulio Moretti, gave us all the wine we wanted. The party went with a swing and the dances were interspersed with Irish dancing as the evening went on, both pipers and ourselves. Everyone joined in a Haymakers Jig with great gusto. Two old Faughs turned up for the party, Alban Low, now Deputy Commander of the Rome area, and George French, who had recently given up command of a battalion of Manchesters. Bala Bredin ingeniously arranged to return from hospital on this evening, having recovered from his Gustav Line wounds.
While we were near Rome, most of the people who had been unable to attend the Pope’s special audience for the brigade went on their own to audiences. All creeds seemed to take part in this. Perhaps, the amusing incident was how an Orange sash came to be blessed by His Holiness.
This sash must be unique in the history of Orange Lodges. How it came about was this. That fine old warrior Sergeant Major Hamilton MM of the Irish Rifles, at other times a leading Orange light of Sion Mills, had boasted of wearing his Orange sash on all occasions for many years. So when he decided that his visit to Rome would not be complete without seeing the Pope, naturally the Orange sash went too. Whether this experience had anything to do with breaking the custom of years, I don’t know, but he told me lately that he had forgotten to wear his sash on the 12th of July.
In every way, our visit to Rome had been a success and on the 10th we left for Taranto.
One thing, only, cast a shadow towards the end of our stay. It was the tragic news that the 6th Inniskillings were to be disbanded. General Keightley did all he could to stop this seemingly unfair decision, but orders had come from the War Office and nothing could be done. Everyone from General Alexander downwards was only too aware of the magnificent fighting spirit and performance of this now veteran battalion. They had played a key part in many battles since they landed in North Africa in the dark days of November 1942. Two Tree Hill at Bou Arada, Tanngoucha in the mountains of Medjez-el-Bab, Centuripe in Sicily, Termoli, the Trigno and the Sangro on the Adriatic shore and then the great advance from the Gustav Line, were all battle honours, which this magnificent battalion had earned for the Inniskilling Fusiliers. It was all a question of manpower and gradually the War Office was disbanding all war formed battalions. At first, we were inclined to look upon the thing as another injustice to Ireland, but I am satisfied that this was no so. On the 9th, I spoke to the 6 Innisks’ men and told them all of this fateful decision. They took the blow extremely well. They would – they were a great crowd.
There were two things on the plus side. The 2 Innisks were to take their place and, if it was humanly possible to do so, the powers that be promised that everybody in the 6 Innisks would either remain in the brigade or become reinforcements for it. If 6 Innisks had to go, no better solution than the 2nd Innisks taking their place could possibly have been thought of from our point of view. It meant that the new party would already be one of the family in our eyes. The 2 Innisks had been in 5th Division throughout the war, and had fought in that Division throughout with great distinction, first in France and later in Italy on the Garigliano and at Anzio. They would be naturally sad to leave their old Division, but we were pleased to welcome them. Above all, it made a whole difference to the 6 Innisks being able to hand over their fine traditions directly to their regular battalion.
On the 14th, General Allfrey, Commander of 5 Corps, flew to Taranto to give the 6 Innisks a special message from General Alexander. He had been our Corps Commander throughout North Africa and knew the battalion intimately. He was most disappointed about its disbandment, but explained the reasons very fully to all the officers and men. It would have been difficult to have chosen a more appropriate person to give the 6 Innisks their final blessing.
A good deal of reorganisation was going to be necessary to absorb the 6 Innisks, Bobbie Scott, commanding 2 Innisks, was to remain in command; Bala Bredin, who had only just returned from hospital, went straight off to command the 2 LIR, his own regiment, and John Horsfall took James Dunnill’s place commanding the Faughs. That was all done before we left Rome. The rest would be started when we reached our destination in MEF.
On the 23rd, the whole brigade had arrived in their MEF concentration area. We, at once, started taking over our new equipment and sending everyone on leave to Cairo, Alexandria or Ismalia. The leave arrangements were extremely good. Everyone was fixed up in a hotel and made as comfortable as possible. I think a good deal of money was spent, and a certain amount was lost by the roguery of the local population but, on the whole, everyone enjoyed themselves.
John McClinton and I had arrived by air about a week ahead and I started making the necessary arrangements with GHQ for our Inniskillings’ reorganisation. The 2 Innisks were already in the country, and so we went down to spend a few days with them and started tying up. I spent one very pleasant morning wandering round the battalion in their camp renewing many acquaintances among the older soldiers. A number of them I had known when I was adjutant of the Faughs and before that. Two I found had actually drilled in the same recruit squad as me when I was a 2/Lieut in Dover.
RSM Kilduff had been a slim member of D Company in my platoon commanding days, Three CSMs and three CQMSs I had known. There were a few members of the old band and drums, among them Shuhy, Adams, Gilligan, Shanks – now Pipe Major, McAleer. The one time battalion runner, Fusilier Reed, was a company storeman. It is always good to see faces one knew of old.
In the 2nd Skins, there are a good proportion of old soldiers, so essential to any battalion, and also a very high proportion of Irishmen. I felt these chaps would be a great asset to the brigade and didn’t feel that they would find new surroundings with us difficult to get used to. They were part of the family already.
Soon after the rest of the brigade arrived, we had our plans finished for the disbandment of the 6 Innisks. We were going to be able to retain everyone in the brigade except 180 ORs, who were to be earmarked as our reinforcements. This was better than I had hoped.
The welfare arrangements in this command were outstandingly good, and those who were not on leave had plenty of NAAFIs to visit, concerts and cinemas and daily leave for a limited proportion to one of the big towns. It was pretty hot but not unbearable.
On the 30th, our Divisional Commander, General Keightley, who had just returned from lecturing in England, got sudden orders to take command of 5 Corps, and left the same day. We were glad that he had got this command for his own sake, but we were very sorry to see him go. He was an old friend of the brigade’s; we had served under his command in 6 Armoured Division in North Africa and in Italy since December when he had been changed over to command 78 Division. We shall miss him a lot and hope his successor will treat matters Irish as sympathetically.
On the 7th August we joined up with the 2 Innisks and completed the final arrangements for the disbandment of the 6th. Both the Irish Rifles and the Faughs were taking a certain amount of them.
On the 10th, the 6 Inniskillings officially ceased to exist and in memorial of this much respected battalion, I conclude with this tribute written by Roy Hingston of the 2nd Battalion.”
To the 6th Inniskillings
by Captain GR Hingston MC, 2 Inniskillings
Born in a moment from the womb of war,
Heralded by trumpets speaking blood,
Mothered by tradition, sired by Mars,
Your adolescence fashioned rough and nude.
Barely of age, fate rushed you into war,
And, watching you, we others held our breath.
Entrusting you the Inniskilling Scroll,
Which you defended with your life: till death
With treacherous hands came stealing on you morn
And with one stroke slashed down the growing corn.
A son has died,
One who was most beloved,
And all the regiment will mourn the loss,
For never was a son more worthy.
Time shall enumerate; history shall tell
The deeds you did.
How in Tunisia your flowers fell
Leaving their fragrance to the regiment.
While there are Inniskillings left to hear
Tanngoucha shall speak,
And Centuripe, star of Sicily’s sky
Shall shine
O’er all the graves where Inniskillings lie.
Shall we forget the Sangro
Which your blood has sanctified?
Can we forget the noble part you played
Upon the gloomy mountains of Cassino,
How you stayed
And died?
The trumpet spoke again,
And echoing its death defying cry,
You smashed the Gustav Line
A second time.
Rome fell,
And you were there,
But not for you the joyous celebration.
Onward you swept, scattering the parting Hun
Like dross before a fresh West Ireland breeze.
And then the rally sounded,
With your heads held high,
Proud sons of a proud regiment
You returned to die.
We mourn our loss
But through the sweet refrains,
Of our sad Londonderry air
Come stealing all the skirling savage strains
Of Ireland’s battle songs.
The songs you played and sang.
And where those Irish songs are ever heard
No Inniskillings can forget
The way you fought and how your voices rang
And as our rolling drums play out your soul,
Proudly we add your honours to our scroll.
In Sidi Bishr.
My last story ended, if you remember, with our arrival in the Middle East for a period of rest and training. I touched very lightly on events of that time on account of security. As I said, we arrived on the 23rd July in the most abominable place called Qassassin. It was accurately described as the cream of the “F.A. country”. It was just a howling wilderness and a very hot and dusty one at that. The only redeeming feature of Qassassin was that it was about half an hour’s run to Ismalia. Ismalia had improved a lot in the last 15 years or so. There an was excellent sailing club on the lake, the officer’s club was quite pleasant; and there was a French and Greek club too. You could have quite a pleasant and cool afternoon there sailing and swimming and spend the rest of the evening in one of these clubs.
The big idea was that when the leave had been completed, we should go to Palestine and Syria for two or three months and do some proper training. This was a novel idea. Since we came abroad, opportunities for training had been practically non existent, with the exception of six weeks after the fall of Tunis.
In spite of our victories during the preceding months, or possibly owing to them, we were in much need of training as we had turned over a lot of men. It was obvious ridiculous to train in the flat desert for fighting in Italy, which is either mountainous or very fertile and in every way the extreme opposite. We were told that conditions in Syria would be reasonably near the mark. However, all this proved too good to be true. We hadn’t been in the country a fortnight before we were told we had got to go back to Italy as soon as possible. The war was going to finish or something of that kind. If we didn’t hurry, we might be too late. Probably the real reason had something to do with the decision to send a useful proportion of the Armies in Italy to land on the pleasant beaches of the French Riviera. Fortunately, “as soon as possible” was in about a month’s time. As that month went on with its tide of good news on the Western front, people really did begin to think we might get stuck in Egypt if the war ended too quickly. By the middle of August, everyone was getting quite keen to go. A protracted stay in the Middle East appealed to no one.
It was obviously no good going to Palestine or Syria now. We wouldn’t be there before we had to turn round and come back again. Any useful training had, therefore, been knocked on the head already. I was determined that we should employ the remaining month usefully and, if we couldn’t train in a serious way, we could at any rate enjoy ourselves thoroughly given the right surroundings and a little money.
I had spent three years in Egypt as a subaltern in the Faughs and had some local knowledge, therefore, of what the enjoyment form was, and where the best places to go might be at that time of the year. When we were invited to remain in Qassassin for our last month, I reacted fairly violently. This resulted in arrangements being made for us to go to Sidi Bishr, about 5 miles along the coast from Alexandria. The 2nd Skins were already in the camp and either they had to come to us or we had to go to them. The latter appeared the obvious alternative and we were not long in bringing it about. We only had a tented camp at Sidi Bishr but that was all we had had at Qassassin anyway, so we were no worse. The sea was only about five minutes walk away and the flesh pots of Alexandria about 15 minutes in a car.
I had already made friends with Fred Bowsher, the Area Commander, and he and his staff did everything they could to get things going well. Their cooperation extended in many directions. After we had been there about a week, his DPM came to see me and told me of a variety of irregularities that were being performed by all ranks. I asked him what he was going to do about it. He told me that the Area Commander had sent him round to see me with the object of making some convenient arrangements suitable to both parties. After the stories, probably exaggerated, of unreasonable officiousness, which I had heard, of the Cairo ‘Redcaps’, this was a refreshing attitude. We came to the conclusion that the worst offence that anyone could commit was that of being found out. In other words, it was necessary that we should cover our tracks somewhat. Cars used to visit ‘dives’ in Alexandria must not, for instance, be parked at the door. Fair civilian partners, necessary for an evening’s entertainment, must not be seen in Government cars. Therefore, none should be given lifts in daylight. With those, and a few other commonsense rules, we never had any trouble in offending against the local laws.
The whole sea front at Alexandria is covered for miles with bathing huts. These places were very useful. Some were available for soldiers. Most of us soon acquired friends who owned one. Someone kindly lent me one. The only snag about these places was that they were not allowed to be used after dark and this rule was enforced by very militant looking Egyptian policemen, who were inclined to ‘brass off’ at the least provocation. However, we observed the rules and had a lot of amusing bathing parties.
One morning, I was greeted by the news that about thirty members of the brigade, on leave in Cairo, had been locked up by the Military Police and that more than twice that number from the division were also in the ‘cooler’. This was the first information that I had about the “Cairo Riots”. It took some time to find out what was really going on. We soon discovered that those locked up were some of the more respectable members of society and that apparently no charge had been furnished against them. We invoked the ‘habeas corpus’ act and got them out. Various garbled versions of their exploits reached us ahead of them. When the delinquents arrived, it became clear that there had been no ordinary party. It was also evident that those who had been locked up had merely been on the fringe of the activities. Each leave party had brought back a story of villainy of the local inhabitants of Cairo. Some had their pockets picked. Some were deliberately robbed, Everyone was greatly overcharged. The attitude of many shop keepers was insulting. Shoe shine boys threw blacking on soldiers’ trousers. There were a variety of annoyances of this description. Resentment of their treatment and of failure to put it right had produced a strong reaction against these blackguards for their attitude towards the division, who had recently chased the Germans from Cassino to Lake Trasimene.
Enquiry showed that some mastermind was directing activities on this August day, or rather night, for everybody appeared to be working to a Zero Hour of 8pm. All the more villainous haunts had parties told off to deal with them. The shoe-shine boys were liquidated. Fun and games went on in a variety of places and ways for an hour or two, but like an Irish affray, there was no evidence against anybody. It seemed that nobody had actually done any of these things themselves. We all received a justifiable rebuke, but there is no doubt about it, that all soldiers wearing the Battle Axe were treated with much more respect in Cairo after the exploit. Later, I received the congratulations of three Admirals, and an Air Marshal on the inconspicuous but apparently effective part, which some soldiers wearing hackles had taken in this business. They considered such treatment was long overdue. Of course, they didn’t understand the needs of military discipline, which must frown on an organised disorder.
Life in Alexandria had no violent scenes and everyone pursued the even tenor of their way; even, though exhausting. Everyone did a certain amount of shooting on ranges and field firing in the desert. There were a few repercussions from this. The Skins succeeded in shooting some camels. They also shot a local inhabitant, whose mother proclaimed that his death was the will of Allah – which saved a lot of trouble. Various people came and lectured us. We held Sand Model exercises, attended sometimes by the Egyptian Army, who I don’t think understood a word of what was going on. And then in the evening, the serious work of the day began.
The London Irish and the Faughs had some very successful parties in their camps, usually attended by a fine display of Wrens. Various people had violent, though usually short lived, love affairs. We got to know girls of every nationality; some of such mixed origin that it was questionable whether they had any nationality at all. I was told that the really dangerous thing was to meet anybody, who claimed to be French. I met one myself, who must have been an exception to the rule. There were fair Russians, Armenians, Syrians, Greeks, Malts, Egyptians, not so fair, Levantines and every sort of permutation and combination that one might get from mixing all the above together.
The head policeman’s wife, a most hospitable lady called Mrs Baker Pasha – an Armenian – used to hold dances twice a week, to which were bidden a fine selection of the gay young things of Alexandria. Here, for a small consideration, one might enter her cool and pleasant garden and be introduced to as many cheerful maidens as time and opportunity permitted. We used to lend the pipers occasionally to join these festivities. The great attraction of Mrs Baker’s parties, apart from the fairies there, was that they were out of doors, and therefore reasonably cool. On other nights, she used to entertain anything up to 200 soldiers in one invitation.
There were two racecourses and a meeting was held every week. The Pipes and Drums used to play occasionally. Most of the betting was on the tote, which took 25 per cent – an arrangement very much on the basis of ‘heads I win, tails you lose’, as far as the committee was concerned. Some people made an occasional scoop, but I think, more often than not, they were out of pocket.
The food in the restaurants was the best I have struck since the war began. People began to get particular after a bit and one night a distinguished member of my Headquarters took exception to his food. It was supposed to be some choice sort of steak, as indeed it actually was, but unfortunately he had eaten so much already that he couldn’t face it. The problem was how to avoid paying for it. This astute businessman hit on the bright idea of assorting that the joint in question was really a cut off a camel and he proposed taking it away to be analysed. This so frightened the management that they struck it off his bill at once.
From every point of view, it was diffcult there ever was or ever had been a war. One was sometimes reminded that there was a war because it was used as an excuse for some tremendous ball, in aid of a warlike charity. These balls were on an entirely pre war level and one felt very tired after them the next day. Very often, the prices charged for drinks were also very much on a charity basis. The big hearted Scotsman in my Headquarters, after inviting a few of his friends up to the bar for a ‘wee doch and doris’ was confronted with a bill of no less than £5. History does not relate whether he gave the drinks back or not.
On the 20th August, nearly three weeks before we left, they started to take our transport away to send by special convoy back to Italy. This was most disturbing as it cramped peoples’ style a good deal.
However, we managed to borrow, beg and steal odd vehicles from here and there to keep the night life fairly mobile. One saw such spectacles as Paddy Bowen Colthurst arriving in the ten bob car park at the races sharing a 3 tonner with his West African driver. Similar parties used to arrive outside restaurant and dance places. I don’t think anybody was seriously stopped from following his unlawful pursuits.
About this time, General Butterworth was appointed to command the Division and he paid us his only visit in Egypt on the 24th.
General Paget, the Commander in Chief, came to see us on the 31st August. He spent the whole day going round the brigade and seemed to enjoy his visit very much. He has a passion for military bands, I discovered afterwards and I had just got everything on the right footing by inviting him to watch the Pipes and Drums at practice when he arrived. He was delighted with them.
While we were in Egypt, a lot of Immediate Awards came through, covering the advance from Cassino. I shall add an Appendix at the end for the decorations won during this period.
Father Dan Kelleher organised a Brigade Boxing Contest against the RAF, who were supposed to be pretty good in these parts. We won six fights out of eight – a most successful outcome.
By this time, the financial situation was tolling heavily on everyone. Every sort of resource had been practised to raise money, and ingenuity was just about exhausted as was the field cashier, so perhaps it was just as well that we should return to Italy.
I left Alexandria with John McLinton on 3rd September and flew to Bari on the 5th. We left at one in the morning after a fairly heavy night and most people slept in uncomfortable angles on the unyielding floor of the Dakota until our stop for breakfast at a ghastly place called Marble Arch. We eventually reached our destination at about 430pm.
The brigade embarked on the 9th September and sailed on the 11th, reaching Taranto on the 15th.
“There is not much to be said about Taranto. Its amenities and general attractiveness had not improved since the brigade first saw it about a year before. The first few days we were kept pretty busy sorting ourselves out and getting everything ready to move north. We had a training area, which was used a little, but there wasn’t very much time for this sort of thing. We were told we must get away as soon as possible. We were to be ready by the 25th. There was some talk of a PAD scheme being brought into action, but as there hadn’t been any hostile aeroplanes for 6 months, this didn’t raise great enthusiasm. Air sentries were posted but what anyone did, when the alarm was given, seemed open to question. No one proposed to waste time and energy digging fox holes in that hard unyielding earth if they could avoid it.
The battalions were right up to strength plus first reinforcements. The first reinforcements were to be sent to the No 3 CRU and kept there under Divisional supervision. The Brigade Pipes and Drums beat Retreat one night in the 2 LIR lines, which coincided with a visit from Colonel Macnamara, MP for Chelmsford, and who had commanded 1 LIR at the beginning of the war. He was a great enthusiast for Irish Regiments. Unfortunately, he was later killed at Christmas time visiting his old battalion in the 8th Army.
Paddy Bowen Colthurst had the bright idea of holding an A/Q party in the Officers’ Club at Taranto. He invited all the quality, which was in any way connected with A and Q in the division and in the battalions. It was a large impressive gathering and we had an excellent dinner followed by appropriate singing afterwards in which the Sassenach joined with great heart. All the guests felt that Paddy’s lucky evening at the tables at the Mohammed Ali Club in Alexandria, could scarcely have been put to more congenial use.
The weather got a lot cooler about this time, and we changed into battle dress before leaving Taranto.
On the 23rd, advance parties, including myself, started north. We were to move by Brigade Groups to Fano and come into 8th Army reserve. It meant three days drive for the column, two days of 150 miles and 85 miles on the third day. At 5am on the 25th, the Brigade Group started off. All the usual people were with us and remained with us during the next quick move which was to follow later. The only changes that had occurred were Colonel Bevan was commanding 152 Field Regiment since Bob Lyttle left to take charge of a General Hospital and the Kensingtons had undergone one of their periodical reorganisations which resulted in Major Foxwell (Foxy) being in command of our group instead of Philip Marshall.
Our route went straight up the shore of the Adriatic from end to end, not a very interesting road, with the exception of the part that went through the autumn battlefields – Termoli, the Trigno and the Sangro. Everybody arrived intact on the 27th. We had been allotted a pitch for Brigade Headquarters in a doubtful looking field. This was quickly changed to a cross between a castle and a villa, in which one might suitably stage a party.
On the 29th, the rain started and made a fearful mess of the countryside. The general situation, as we found it, was distinctly disappointing. The battles of the Gothic Line and afterwards had been a desperately hard struggle. Casualties had been pretty heavy. The manpower problem was getting acute for the Divisions in the line. We had been encouraged by the idea that the war was ending; that the Hun was pulling out, that he “had it” and didn’t intend to fight anymore; that he was going back to the Po as hard as he could leg it, if not beyond. It was pretty obvious that this was all nonsense; someone had made a blunder. The over optimistic outlook had not yet quite died at the time. I was told by a very highly placed officer that the Hun was merely waiting for the rain to pull out, blowing the roads behind him; with the country then too wet for us to get after him. The Americans still thought they were going to get Bologna at any moment. The ‘I’ Boys were full of theories. Events proved nearly all of them wrong.
We paid an interesting visit to the independent republic of San Marino, by way of reconnaissance. It was perched on top of a very high hill overlooking the battlefield below, where the 8th Army was still breaking through in the plain about San Archangelo and San Savignano.
We were told that the Hun artillery was fiercer that it had ever been before; that he was fighting hard, and giving up ground grudgingly. All this looked a bit discouraging after our high hopes of the month before. We were told that when our battalion strengths dropped to 30 officers and 700 other ranks, we would be compelled to fight on a three company basis. The COs didn’t like the idea of this at all. That fourth company had so often turned the day in previous battles.
Hugh Holmes gave up his job as Second-in-Command of the Faughs at this time and went back to the Middle East as a G1. I was sorry to see him go, as were many of us. He had been with the Faughs, on and off, since we left Scotland. Jimmy Stewart, my Brigade Major, took his place and was succeeded by another Argyll, Pat Spons, whose initials TPDS were the same as my own.
We continued our programme of training, which we had started at Taranto, during these few days. We had one or two lectures in the art of war in these parts. The most interesting part of these was the use of Searchlights for night movement and the equipment now available with an assault RE unit.
We had a big party for the Brigade Group on the evening of the 1st October, in which singing and dancing played a leading part.”