It's Wednesday, 7th June 1944. A normal school day for me, like every day this week.
But yesterday was a very special day. I didn't know anything about it until I got home from school. We only listen to the wireless in the evening. I expect that people started to find out about it during the day. But Miss Cook and Mrs Fairey, our teachers at Sandwell School, didn't say anything about it and so they probably didn't know either. Otherwise I expect we would have had a little prayer, or something like that.
So I heard about it by reading the Birmingham Mail. We get it delivered and I'm now old enough to read nearly all of it. Or at least the bits which interest me. I like the For Sale page where sometimes somebody is selling some second-hand Hornby Trains. They probably belonged to a boy who is now grown-up and is away, somewhere, fighting. These were the headlines last night.
The 'Second Front' Opens Well
Troops Secure Beach-Heads at Two Points
Sea and Airborne Invasion of France
Armada of 4000 Ships Crosses Channel
Operations Proceeding 'According to Plan'
Later, after our wireless set in the dining room had been switched on and warmed up, we listened to the news on the BBC which told us more about it. It was the Armada bit which really impressed me. It was the biggest Armada ever. It made me think of Sir Francis Drake.
If I think about it, I know this is very important. But, even so, it just seems like another bit of the war which has been going on for ever. People have been talking for weeks that it is going to happen and I suppose that, now it has, it doesn't come as a huge surprise. Things for me carry on just the same, today, tomorrow, next week. Perhaps it really is good news. I suppose it must really be. I'm sure it will bring the end nearer. I can even start to think of a day when you can get bananas and oranges in the shops, possibly go to the seaside for your holidays or even get a brand-new Dinky Toy bought for you. And see grown-ups not worried about anything, any more.
If I have enough imagination, and I probably haven't, I can think of that Birmingham Mail being the way that a lot of people in Birmingham find out about what's happening. They'll pick up a paper on the way home from work. Possibly from the bloke in New Street by our bus stop who shouts something which sounds like "SpatcherMile". They'll be happy when they read the news. And then, a moment later, they'll think "Oh, what about our Frank?" (Or our Ron or Jim or Arthur). Frank is away, somewhere - and somewhere in this country. No one knows exactly where at the moment, or what is he doing. Is he all part of this? Is he OK? When will we know?"
We don't have that worry about my brother. He is what will soon be known as a D-Day Dodger. (That's something called sarcasm). We know he is safely in Italy, with his big gun.
Safely?
Much, much later he'll tell us what he is doing at this moment.....
(On May 26th 1944 and now well beyond Monte Cassino).............. By that evening, Aquino had been fully cleared, there was a general surge forward and the recce parties were called out yet again. The move to the next position was a tortuous one, crawling along hot dusty tracks and, every now and then, enduring long hold-ups due to traffic jams. All this time, we could see battles in progress on the hillsides to our right rear. After some time, we were beyond Aquino and crossed the railway to regain Highway Six. Pressing on northwards, the signs of battle were noticeably fewer and we spent the night in a farmhouse before proceeding to the designated gun area the next day. There were crowds of civilians around, all anxious to be friendly and telling us that they had been awaiting our arrival for over four months. That night, the Luftwaffe sent out its bombers to strafe and bomb Highway Six and the rear areas. Our previous gun position, where they were still in action, received a pounding but, despite near misses, suffered no casualties.
The new position proved to be in a field, overlooked by several mountains to the east as well as by the town of Roccasecca, all still in enemy hands. The guns followed us in but, despite the lack of cover, we were undisturbed and spent a quiet time there. On May 28th, another move took us to a position near Arce, in the MonteGrande/Monte Piccolo area. Moving up with the main Battery, everything seemed quiet with nothing much to be seen except for the odd tin hat sticking out of the ditch, with a chap crouching beneath it. We were soon to discover the reason for the caution as a welcoming salvo of artillery shells and mortar bombs arrived and we had to dash for cover. A ding-dong battle developed, and Monte Grande changed hands more than once. We fired "Uncle" targets (a codename for a concentrated salvo of the 72 guns of the three Divisional Field Regiments upon a single map reference point) at rather short ranges. The next day, the recce party moved ahead once more, proceeding along Highway 6 to Ceprano. North of here, even our Observation Post and infantry were to the rear of us and we set up in a small house where, happily, all remained peaceful.
The rate of advance continued to accelerate though we still met with determined resistance at several places. Meanwhile, on the coastal sector to our west, the Anzio beachhead had finally linked up with the main Fifth Army and there was a general thrust forward towards Rome. On May 31st we pressed on to a position near Ripi where it was quiet except for a number of mines which had been laid in the area, causing the loss of one of our water trucks shortly after arrival. Again we pushed onwards, next day reaching a point just to the south of Frosinone. It was on June 2nd that we passed through that town and branched off the main road to the north-east. Unkindly, the suggestion was that this was done so as to leave the way to Rome clear for the Americans. We reached one designated area, and orders came through to proceed further. So it was that we went bowling along the road to Alatri. Within sight of the town, progress came to a sudden halt as we encountered a sharp battle for possession taking place immediately ahead of us. It was decided that the Regiment would move up and go into action just where we were, and so we busied ourselves with the usual preparatory work. To our rear, we could see a battery of self-propelled guns belonging to one of the Armoured Divisions, firing over open sites at a church tower where the enemy was supposed to have established an observation post. Some unfriendly fire came our way and I found myself reasonably safe shelter and remained there intermittently for some hours. Towards evening, the town of Alatri was taken: our guns, still moving forward, had not reached this so orders were given for us to go back and rendezvous with them at a specified point, midway along the road back to Frosinone. The higher command had decided that the Division would remain in that area for a few days, whilst other formations maintained their thrust northwards. It was here that we learned of the fall of Rome on June 4th; this welcome news was soon overshadowed by that of the Normandy invasion two days later. As a diversion, I had been running a small sweepstake in the battery; the winner was to receive the kitty in exchange for having correctly forecast the date of the landings. Somebody duly won, I forget who it was, but I think that a few of them were surprised to find that I had safely retained all the stake money and was actually able to pay out on the nail!
On June 7th we were ordered to be on the move again: rumour had it that the destination was to be either Pisa or Florence, both to be taken within a fortnight, or so an optimistic general staff would have us believe! The following day we started off, first to Frosinone to rejoin Highway Six, on which we proceeded to its "source" in Rome itself. Valmontone appeared to have been severely devastated but by the time the outskirts of the capital were reached, were very few signs of damage to be seen.
Our passage through the centre of Rome was a moving experience, especially after all the weeks of "slog" to get there. There were huge crowds of Romans milling around and most of them seemed happy enough to have us there. Continuing northwards we headed out of the city on a new axis, Highway Three (via Flaminia) to a point year San Oreste, some 40km or 25 miles due north of Rome. Here the German General Kesselring had established his HQ set in a large underground township, carved out from beneath a prominent Hill. All seemed very quiet – perhaps suspiciously so. Next morning, we were shaken to receive sudden orders to bring the guns into action immediately as a scare was on, due to the reported presence of armed raiding parties in the area, and we heard one of the Divisional Headquarters sites had been shelled overnight. As in the past, we were allocated a platoon of infantry for "local protection" and they duly arrived, dug themselves in all around us and set up Bren guns........."
And so tomorrow, exactly 75 years ago, Our Kid will be trundling through the middle of Rome with the rest of his Battery and their 25-pounder guns, sitting in the back of a 15cwt. Bedford truck and happily accepting flowers and glasses of Chianti from grateful Roman maidens. Possibly, at that moment at least, a bit nicer than being in Normandy......
Chris
(Sources: Matt Felkin for newspaper headlines; my family archive)