Italy 1944 - Chapter 1

Signed:……………………………………
(ex-Grenadier Guardsman 26174 )

Chapter 1 : Anzio to Aprilia

Fighting our way from Anzio, to the outskirts of a small town, which we initially called “The Factory”, we discovered it was called Aprilia, and had been designed by Mussolini in the 1930s.

We started to build our slit-trench, Bill Taylor and I. I was then ordered to escort 100 German prisoners of war (our first), back to Anzio port, accompanied by an officer, a sergeant, a corporal, and 2 more guardsmen.
On approaching the small port, we were stopped by 2 Military Policemen at a place they called “Stone-it Corner”! This was so-called because of the heavy shelling by a big German gun we called “Anzio Annie”, which sent a shell every 4 or 5 minutes timed interval, landing on the road before us.

So we had to divide our prisoners up into batches. After each super-charged shell had landed, each batch had to make a run for it.
Having safely delivered our prisoners, we made our way back to Aprilia. On the way we were heavily shelled, so we sheltered off the road in some farm buildings for half an hour. I found out later this delay saved my life. As we approached Aprilia, shelling started again, and when I finally reached my slit-trench, I discovered that a 250mm. shell had landed nearby. This had killed a guardsman who had taken my place digging the trench, and also wounded my mate Bill Taylor in the chest. But for that delay of half an hour, I would have been in that poor guardsman’s place.

Later, I was called upon, with my mine- detector , to accompany Padre Browning into No-Man’s Land, to search for my company commander, Captain Christopher Ford. He had gone out on a recce with 4 jeeps, and on returning, had taken a wrong turning, and gone straight into No-Man’s Land. They were stopped by a Spandau machine gun, which killed every man in the party, and had set the jeeps on fire. As we went forward with our Red-Cross truck, we passed a field on our left. Here lay dozens of Irish Guardsmen, dead. They were face-down, as if asleep,(as indeed they were, with God), complete with all their equipment. They couldn’t have stood a chance, nor could the company commander.

We loaded up all the bodies into the 15cwt. truck, including one jeep driver, a D. Rider. He had been trapped by his legs under his jeep in the ditch. Two of us pulled him out, but unfortunately the bottom half of his body stayed in the jeep.

My captain was nowhere to be seen, so I took my mine detector back to where we came from. Eventually, I found him, 250 yards back, where he had crawled with a row of bullets across his chest, till he finally died. He was 6ft. 8ins. tall, and I couldn’t help thinking, if only he’d been 6ft. he could still have been alive.

In our party also, was Captain Ford’s brother, George. Now he was around 6ft.
I shouted, “I’ve found him, sir!” I asked if there was anything he wanted from the body before it was placed on the truck.

His brother said, “ Yes, his cuff-links and tie-pin, they were a Christmas present from our mother.”

Then we placed him on the truck, and I shed a few tears, as he’d introduced his mother to me at Caterham Barracks in England. She was a very nice lady, and shook my hand. She was under 5ft. tall, and I had marvelled that she should have a son 6ft. 8 ins.tall.

Then we left the area.

We went back to advancing in Aprilia, reaching a large factory type building, where we occupied the basement with our supplies and equipment. The basement windows were half —above and half-below ground. Some authority, in their infinite wisdom, had stored dozens of jerry cans of petrol outside the windows facing the enemy! A stray shell landed, bursting open some cans. The contents then started pouring into the basement, which set on fire, causing us to quickly evacuate the building!

Directing this German fire, we found, was a sniper hiding in the town’s bell-tower, which was quickly destroyed by our gunfire.

Our platoon then pulled back to my previous area on the outskirts. Orders were given to pull back further to the fly-over. It was then that we were relieved by the 2nd Battalion Sherwood Foresters. One of the Foresters I met I believe had been asked to lay barbed wire in front of the area. He asked me if he could borrow my wire-cutters. Meanwhile, we were ordered back, and I never saw my wire-cutters again! [They were used by my wife, Irene, doing her war-work in the factory back home.

So, when I was given the opportunity to revisit Italy in March 2004, by the Sherwood Foresters Commandant at Chilwell Depot, Major Hackett, I laughingly asked the group of 22 old soldiers if any of them had borrowed my wire cutters! But, no luck.]

Eventually, we pulled back to the flyover, where we were stopped by an Irish Guards sentry, who said, “Halt! Who goes there? Friend, advance and be recognised.”
The sentry peered at me and said, “I know your face!”
I said, “Yes, and I know yours! You’re from Sandiacre, aren’t you?”
It turned out he was Mick Hancock, a former school friend!

After disposing of two Germans blocking our way, we took over the Carroceta Gully, used by the local animals as a drinking place.

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