The Liri Valley, 1944

The British Eighth Army broke through the German Hitler Line at Cassino and started its push up the Liri Valley to capture Rome. The advance was rapid; the first day we covered 40 miles.

At one point, there were three of us approaching a farm house which we thought may still be occupied by the enemy. There was a person lying half in and half out the front door, making a waving motion from time to time. We approached very cautiously from three directions.

I had just got to my end of the house when I heard Spr. Lightfoot call out "Alright you S.O.B, come out of there with your hands up!"

I stood to see what was about to happen. Then there was another call from Lightfoot. "You heard me, come out of there with your hands up!"

I took a quick look through a window and the house was a complete wreck. It had been hit several times by shellfire. Inside was a middle-aged man. His brain had been assaulted by concussion, and he was moaning, trying to scramble up a wall.

I called to Lightfoot, "This man is harmless, he's shell shocked."

We both went to the person lying in the doorway. It was a woman about the same age as the man. She was laying face down with her head on her left arm. What we had thought was a waving motion, was an attempt to rid the swarms of flies around her.

Bending down, I raised her up so we could see her face. What a shock! She had been hit squarely between the eyes by a piece of flying rock. It mad made an indentation about the size of a hen's egg. Both her eyes were swollen shut, and there were cuts on her cheeks, nose and chin. Gangrene had already set in from the dust, the dirt, and the flies.

I asked how long she had been laying there. Raising two fingers, she said two days. I thought it was remarkable she was still lucid. I wrapped some gauze around her head to keep the flies off.  There was nothing else we could do for her.

We carried her inside and placed her on a couch inside one of the rooms. She grasped our arms so tightly, it was a problem to make her let go. She did not want us to leave. Her husband was in severe shock from the shells. As we prepared to leave, he was trying to shave using an old razor and rusty can with water in it.

I notified the support group coming behind us about this couple. What ultimately happened to them, I don't know -- we had to go.

In one violent shattering explosion, the war had come to this couple. It smashed their home to rubble, and destroyed their quality of life; maybe their lives. They were innocent bystanders that got caught in the violence of war.

Scenes similar to this happened many times, over and over in all the countries of Europe. Mankind should learn something from all the suffering and destruction.

The  plight of this couple still haunts me to this day. I think it is because they were of the age of my parents and something horrible came along that was no fault of theirs. They had no choice. No say. It just consumed them completely.

Christmas Day 1943

Christmas Day 1943 was a cold wet day in southern Italy. We were on the south side of the Sangro River, and the Germans were on the north side. The river was very wide in our area, and we were clearing mines so other troops could move into position with us.

About 10:30 in the morning, Spr. Poole was badly injured by a German "S" mine explosion. An "S" mine is one that makes a distinct "click" sound as soon as its stepped on. It will explode 3 seconds after the click -- if you take your foot off before the three seconds, it springs up about three feet in the air and explodes at that level, doing terrible damage.

I did what I could for Spr. Poole, then we placed him on a stretcher and into a truck. I went with him to the hospital.

It was noon by the time I returned to camp. Our cook was set up in a shallow gully, and he had done his best to make our Christmas dinner a good one. We also got a bottle of Canadian beer with our dinner. Our feelings were subdued because of what had happened to Spr. Poole. We gathered in small groups, exchanged news, and talked of what it would be like if we could be home this Christmas day.

A steady drizzle started around 2:00 so everyone went for shelter. Most would end the day writing letters to dear ones back home.

We were sad to learn that Spr. Poole did not survive his injuries. He was born and raised in Saskatchewan. He had become a close friend of mine, and was well though of by his comrades.

Leaving England, 1943

Two years after arriving in England, we boarded a troop ship headed for the middle east as part of a mass convoy. The ship was American, and called the "John Ericsson". It wasn't as big as the "Andes" on which we had travelled from Canada to England, but I think it had just as many troops aboard. Every inch of space on that ship was used up. It seemed to have been designed with troop transport in mind, as there were no frills or luxuries, just whatever was needed to get the job done.

It was late fall, the same time of year we had sailed on the Andes, so we were expecting another rough ride. But we got a pleasant surprise. The sea was as calm as a mill pond during the entire trip.

Our convoy moved at the best speed of the slowest ship in the group, about 16 knots per hour. The ships employed a zig-zag course, changing direction about every two minutes. This was to make it more difficult for an enemy submarine to zero in on us as a target for one of their torpedoes.

Each time the ship changed direction, it was quite noticeable, and if you happened to be off balance at that moment, it could cause you to stumble a bit. The O.C. thought this was a good time to get all our inoculations up to date. IT would also help us pass the time. So there we were, lined up on the deck getting our needles as the ship snaked through bobbing sea. Just as the Medical Officer (M.O.) was thrusting the needle into my arm, the ship changed direction. The M.O. lost his balance and his needle hit me high on the shoulder bone and bent like a fish hook. When he pulled the needle out, it tore the flesh and skin, bleeding pretty good. He said "Whoops! I've never done that before!" They put on a bandage and gave me a shot in the other arm.

We put in more time attending lectures and sharing stories. Everyday we went through the abandon ship drill. Our quarters were at the front of the ship, down at about water level. It took us 3 or 4 minutes to get to deck from there through some very narrow passages. I'm sure a few of us had a few anxious moments the first few times we went through the drill.

The days passed by with beautiful sunny weather, and we passed through the Straight of Gibraltar (STROG) about 4:00 in the afternoon. We could see the activity in the Fort, Parson's Lodge, on the Spanish side as we went by.


Our second night in the Mediterranean Sea, the German Luftwaffe found us. They made a few bombing raids on the convoy. They hit and disabled on our our hospital ships, but an escort vessel got a line on her, and towed the ship into the Port of Algiers. Unfortunately, before it could be unloaded, it sank in the harbour, along with much needed medical supplies for troops in Italy.

When we departed from England, our destination was the Port of Algiers. But during our eight days at sea, the situation had changed. The Allies captured Naples, so we were directed there for our disembarkation. We marched through Naples to the outskirts of the city. From there, we boarded trucks that took us to a small village near the base of Mount Vesuvius. Still on the move, we bivouacked until we received the equipment needed to function as an engineer unit in action.

For shelter, we lived in pup-tents. The rainfall could be quite heavy at that time of year, so we were initiated immediately into the mud of Italy. It would be our nemesis, during the wet seasons, over our next 19 months in Italy.

We had our first casualty early in the morning on our first day. Everyone was just starting to stir about, when over came the Luftwaffe. They strafed our position pretty good, and "Smitty", from our troop, received a flesh wound in the buttocks. It was a month before he returned to us from the hospital. Smitty's only complaint was he would never be able to show the scar from the wound he had received in action, while serving his country during the war years in Italy.