Ken Fuller's Blog

Kingston – November 2nd

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I set out on this trip to follow my Father and the men of 10th St Catharines Field Battery who spent 19 months from July, 1943 until February, 1945 fighing in Sicily and Italy. Along the way I visited the grave sites of the 5 gunners from 10 Bty who were killed in action and as a form of remembrance I left a stone from the Canadian Shield with a red maple leaf, on each man’s marker.

I also left a stone at the site of my friend Pat’s uncle who is buried in the Catania War Cemetery, Catania, Sicily.  I visited 3 other war cemeteries to pay my respects to the Canadians and other allies who rest there.

I solved a mystery about where my Father was in February and March 1945 when he should have been with his unit in North West Europe.  I stood in the same place he stood at Castello Lancellotti in Lauro during that time and I met a very dear man who helped me solve that mystery.  I even managed to find the Grand Hotel in Riccione where my Dad had a 7 day pass in October of 1944.

I visited our good friends Dave and Barb in Modica and they introduced me to a number of very fine Italians who were quite interested in this adventure. I met Cat in Florence and we spent four delightful days together, including dinner with Ian and Judith and there friends.  We all went to St Marks Church where we met Franz and Ilse and the company who performed a wonderful rendition of “Carmen”.  I learned a little bit about Italy along the way.  All of it pretty darn good…magnificent food and incredible wine aside…this is a lovely country and all the people I met were kind and gracious. Every time I said “Mi dispiace ma non parlo Italiano” I was greeted with a smile and a helping hand.

I travelled a lot on the roads of Italy…3,690 km to be exact…some of them good roads, some of them a bit worn…I got lost a bit….but all of the roads eventually took me where I wanted to go.

Other numbers to consider:  21 days;  12 hotel rooms;  9 Michelin maps;  8 war cemeteries; 5 airports; 4 aircraft; 1 ferry; 1 opera; 1 jazz quintet; a ton of photos; 0 Ducati motorcycles brought home.

Some people believe the Italian Campaign was a wasted effort. The Russians had been clamoring for a Second Front in order to drain German troops from the Eastern Front. After North Africa, Sicily and Italy seemed the logical next step to the invasion of Europe. After the surrender of Italy in September 1943 the Italians provided a Corps of over 330,000 to fight alongside the Allies…this Corps could have equally been going the other way if it had not been for the Sicilian Campaign and the landings on the Italian Mainland. On the other hand at least 160,000 Italian troops of the Italian Socialist Republic continued to fight for the Germans until the defeat in May 1945.

The fact that Italy became an ally forced the German army to maintain about 430,000 men and over 700 aircraft in Italy to counteract the invasion.  These troops and aircraft were therefore not available on the Eastern Front to fight the Russians, or the Normandy Front after June 6, 1945 to fight the allies.

After June 6, 1945 Italy was pretty much forgotten by most people. Some of the Canadians were resentful that there government pulled them out of Italy in February, 1945 when defeat of the German forces there was so close.  Most probably did not really care.  This had been a grueling and tiring and deadly campaign and if nothing else, the move to North West Europe took them even closer to England and eventually the home most of them hadn’t seen in 6 long years.

This remembrance day will be quite different for me.  I’ll still attend the Artillery Cenotaph in City Park, attended by serving and ex gunners of all ranks, but it will be a bit more personal.  I’ll be thinking of Stanley Cobourn, Arley Burke, Don Reid, Edward Thomas and Joe Jaillett.

Lest We Forget

Stand Down

 

 

 

 

Riccione – Monday October 30th

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A somewhat unsettled sleep last night.  I think the near miss on the A11 was more unsettling than I thought…but…I’m up and at em as they say.  The first thing is to find a gommista so that I can get the tire repaired.  It turns out there’s one with a good reputation just up the road but I have to wait until 08:30 when they’re open.  When they’re open the boss tells me he can fix the tire but…he points to my watch and the 11…and suggests I drive around a bit since there’s no parcheggio here and he already has a line up of impatient Italian drivers.

This too has turned out to be a bit fortuitous.  There is one other place where I know my Dad was…but only in a general way…nothing as specific as Castello Lancellotti.  I have a 7 day pass for him to be at the Grand Hotel in Riccione commencing October 27, 1944….so I know that 73 years ago around the same date, he was in Riccione too.

Riccione is clearly a summer seaside town.  Hotels everwhere…most closed…parks, amusement rides, all closed….the waterfront walkway and cycle path is amazing, and lots of beachfront concessions and change areas…all closed up as well.  No lithe young things prancing about the beach.

Grand Hotel is not so grand anymore.  It’s quite overgrown and everything is locked up. In the back there is a large parking area with two wrecked cars.  The place is still standing however and was once one of the major hotels on the beach, in fact the footprint covers about 2 square City of Kingston blocks.

The Salvation Army War Services took over the Grand once the Canadians had settled in the area.  By this time in ’44 the Canadians had pushed further north across the Savio River and and were facing the Po Valley and it was time for a rest.  The fighting had been intense and the weather had been the worst October weather in living memory.

It’s 11:00 and time to find out how much it will cost to get my tire back.  The boss directs me to angle park my blue machine, brings out his cart, jacks up the car in 2 seconds, and with his pneumatic bolt driver has the new/old wheel back on while I stow the doughnut in the trunk…safe for another blowout.

Officina Pratelli has charged me E15 and I’m happy to pay it.  I now have the right tire back on at the right air pressure…no flashing dashboard warning lights…and I have a spare in the boot in case of another road hazard.  All is well in the driving world.

I’m off north along Route 16 to Ravenna.  The Canadians spent another dismal winter in the north of Italy, roughly between Ravenna and Cattolica, while the Italian Campaign became forgotten even at this stage of the war.  The war diary for 2nd Field has the last gun position for 10 Bty as 44 28 07 N    12 05 44 E on February 23rd, 1945 and I’m going to go there.

It’s a bit of a weary drive as the road is very busy with truck traffic and moving not very fast.  There are lots of roundabouts and on one of them I go all the way around just to get a tailgating truck off my bumper…I’ll follow him for a bit.

The further north you go the further behind you the mountains are until eventually you can’t see them at all and the land is completely flat for as far as the eye can see.  The mountains are still there…they’ve just turned west a bit and are angling away from the Po Valley.

The village of Mezzano is about 10 km NW of Ravenna along SS16.  Turn right at Via Zuccherifico and go across the railway tracks and you’ll see a field on the left.  The last gun postion in Italy of 10th St Catharines Field Battery, 2nd Field Regiment, 1st Canadian Division.

I guess I can say “mission accomplished”.

A few km back down the SS16 is a signpost for the Ravenna War Cemetery and a visit is in order.  There is a small parking area and a long grass walkway up to the gates.  We’re in the middle of farm country here and it’s flat, flat and more flat.  Just before the gate, on the right, is a marker explaining the involvement of 35,000 Palestinian Jews who enlisted in the British army to fight Nazi agression.  Thirty-three of their comrades rest here at Ravenna.

There are 956 markers in this cemetery of which 438 are Canadian.  I wander quite a bit and notice the small stones on everyone of the 33 Palestianian soldiers markers.  There are many personal inscriptions on these markers and whether it’s that, the end of the mission or the wind blowing across the fields…I’m suddenly very tired.

……………………

I have reservations in Bologna for tomorrow and Wednesday but I think I’ll head that way now and see if they’ll let me in.  I need to stop driving and I need to walk about a bit more.

From the Cemetery I strike out across the country side heading to SS 253, the backroad to Bologna.  This drive is quite pleasant, the road is flat and straight and there are very few vehicles around…a few tractors and such but no whizzing speed demons.  It’s about 70 km to Bologna and on the outskirts I take the autostrada bypass and head for the airport.  My hotel, the Amadeus is not far from the airport so taking that exit puts me home free.

Another eventful day, time to rest and take a breather.  Once settled inI amble down the road a few hundred meters and take a left turn on the Via Antonio Cavilieri Ducati.  I’m in the Borgo Panigale.  Panigale…Ducati…my these are interesting names.  Well…what do you know…I’m suddenly at the Museum and Factory of Ducati Motorcycles.  What a surprise.

I’ll have to check this all out tomorrow.

Buon riposo.

Stand Down

Riccione – October 29th

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It’s been an exhausting day.

It began at 05:00 when Cat and I woke up to get ready for her ride to the airport.  On the way back from dropping her off…it was dark because we’d got up so early…an accident occurred in front of me on the A11 and I had to swerve to avoid two badly damaged cars and a truck…not to mention the people waving madly in the dark…duh.

The plan for the day was to take the A1 a bit south then head to the coast.  As I was just about to enter the A1 ramp the low tire pressure warning came on.  I didn’t take the turn and found the nearest spot to pull over. Now one of the interesting things about this car is that it’s a French Renault that I’m driving in Italy and all the warning words are in German.  Good thing the tire warning light is somewhat international.

I assumed that I’d hit something on the road while avoiding the pileup which, for those of you who’ve heard my tale of tire woes while travelling, will not come as a surprise.  In fact I think I would have been disappointed if I hadn’t blown a tire or two on this trip.

The signal showed the front left tire down to 2.5 and the book says it should be 3.0.  I drove for a bit on it and watched it go from 2.5 to 2.3.  At that point I stopped and put the doughnut on.  It’s actually a full size spare but the warning reads only 80 km/hr.  I took a look at the tire I’d taken off and sure enough there was a shinny bit of metal protruding. As if that wasn’t enough a few clicks later another warning light came on…you know the one with the little wrench implying something needs fixing.  I took a chance that it was telling me in German that there was something wrong with my front left tire…the one in the back of the car I mean…perhaps it’s own wee plea for help…so I ignored it and pushed on.

This called for a plan revision since it’s Sunday and abolutely nothing is open.  All the fuel stations are self serve so there’s no one around to even ask for assistance.  I decided to take the back roads to the coast…me and the doughnut.

Now, whoever said that every cloud has a silver lining was absolutely right.  Since I was on backroads doing about 80 I got to see some of the most beautiful country side anywhere in the world.  I sedately drove through the hills of Tuscany then over the Apenines to Fano.  The drive over the mountains was quite spectacular and I never went over 50, even downhill.  The road from Sansepolcre to Saint Angelo in Vado is only about 30 km but it is a motorcyclists dream come true.  The road is without a bump but with twists and turns galore.  At Saint Angelo there were at least a dozen bikes stopped for a rest and I was passed by at least a dozen more both coming and going.  I saw one bicyclist and he was going downhill all wrapped up for the weather.  You see the temperature went from a balmy 19 at the bottom to 10 at the top.

I pushed on slowly but surely…didn’t get lost once…amazing that.  I made it to Fano then decided to continue up the coast.  

I didn’t bother with lunch as I knew I’d already lost an hour of sunlight due to the time change and I was determined at this point to finish one major part of this quest.  I was only a few km away from Gradara where E. Joseph Jaillet is waiting.

SR 16 is the old Route 16 that our boys followed north to the Gothic Line. At Pesaro and the Foglia River things got very ugly for them.  Gradara has 369 of our boys attesting to that fact.

The day Joseph was killed he was manning Sgt Newcombes gun, which was one of the 700 guns firing on Coriano ridge, just west of where I am as I write.  This was the CanadianéBritish attack on that ridge.  Josephs gun received a direct hit from German counter battery fire, he and three others were wounded and Joseph died on the way to the aid station.

The cemetery itself is in an awkard spot hard against the hill side with a view of the A14 streaming by below.  Not what I would call the most picturesque of spots.  The spot was well signed from the SR 16 but the road in was rutted and there were trees down and the wind was a howlin’.  Joseph is laying at the very top of several rows of terraced markers and he actually has one of the best views of them all

I placed my final stone and said a few words of thanks to Joseph then headed back down through the olive trees and on my way.

I don’t know whether you recall the trouble I had finding digs along the Adriatic Coast much further south…well it ain’t much different in the north.  I figured there must be something open…this whole area being a seaside resort.  I stopped at a supermarcato to pick up dinner and asked if there was a hotel open.  The women looked at me as if I’d spoken english.  She then went and yelled to another worker at the very end of the store…and I’m assuming it was about an hotel aperto…but there were several customers who snickered so I immediately checkd to see if my pants were done up.

Apparently everything is chiuso in the hotel field.

I pushed on…I mean what else am I to do.  I took a right turn off SR 16 to the Royal Hotel…nada…locked up tight.  I tried another a few km along…again nada.  It’s now getting a wee bit dark and I’m thinking I may have to sleep in the car for the night.  See…the other thing is I’m pretty bushed and would welcome an OPEN sign.

In Riccione I strike gold…well actually the hotel operator struck gold as this little place is a bit high end and they want E79 a night.  I’m too tired to argue about it so that’s it for the night.

I’m again a bit ahead of schedule but I have one other place to go before Bologna and I might just try to get the tire (tyre) fixed as well.

Stand Down.

Firenze – October 28th

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I’ll begin with the end since that was the best part of our day.  We did visit the Galleria dell’ Academia and David but I can’t imagine how big Goliath was because David himself is a huge boy.  We also did the Uffizi, which was interesting, but we really topped the day off by going to the Opera.

This all started some weeks ago when our friend Craig told us that his brother Ian and his wife Judith were going to be in Firenze about the same time as us.  Ian and I connected and he invited us to dinner with another couple, Bonnie and Dennis, then the six of us would go to the Opera at St Marks English Church in Florence.

We dinned at Trattoria La Casalinga just NW of the Palazzo Pitti on the south side of the river.  Just around the corner is St Marks.  It is an Anglican Church established in 1877 to meet the needs of British visitors to Florence.  It is an intimate venue for an opera.

We sat in a semicircle in the centre of the church…Ian made sure we had front row seats as they have been going to these operas for years and are friends with Franz and Ilse Moser who established the Opera in 2002.  I have never attended an Opera and I highly recommend this venue for your first experience.

The acoustics were quite impressive and when I say it’s an intimate theatre I mean that you are within 1-2 meters of the performers at various points. Ian suggested that one of the things he enjoyed so much about this Opera is that intimate aspect.  We were not sitting so far from the action that we couldn’t see every facial detail and expression.  I can’t recall a live theatre performancee I’ve been to where you were so close to the performers but also not overwhelmed by the action.

Tonights opera was Carmen by Bizet featuring:

Raluca Pasquettin as Carmen and Mauro Pagano as Don Jose

Chiara Panacci as Micaela and Ricardo Crampton as Escamillo

I won’t list all of the very fine performers but suffice to say that they all come from different Opera Houses in Tuscany and are professional performers.

The Italian pianist Christiano Manzoni was the accompanist.

If you get to Firenze I highly recommend taking in a performance at St Marks.  This is coming to the end of their 15th season though so plan ahead for next year. One other detail and that is that all the proceeds from the performances go to AMALA a charity project for children in South India.

www.concertoclassico..info

www.stmarksitaly.com

While we were having dinner there was some conversation about what I was doing there and I had to point out that the GP occupied by 10 Bty from the 6th to the 8th of August 1944 was actually less than 3 km due south of where we were eating.

I had mentioned previously that, despite Firenze being declared a free city, there was still some danger from enemy action.  In fact 8 Bty had established a forward listening post and on the 8th it received a direct hit from a mortar round and Gnr Reeves was killed. I would venture to guess he was the signaller there.

On that sombre note I’ll leave this for the day.  Cat and I walked back to the Hotel Plaza Luchezzi and called a cab to take us back to the Mulino.  We were both very tired campers and yet we still have to get up at 05:00 to be airport bound.

Oh yes…we set our clocks back tonight…one more hour of snoozing.

Stand Down

Firenze

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October 26th

Thursday has been a day of trying to figure out what to do in Firenze and area for the next few days.  There is a shuttle from the Mulino that goes into town and stops at the Hotel Plaza Lucchesi which is on the north side of the Arno, just east of the Ponte alle Grazie.  I turns out that this is also owned by the people who own the Mulino and the bus driver tells us that the view from bar on the roof is worth looking into, or at, as the case may be.

But first…we amble off through the streets following our nose and generally moving about with no idea of where we are going…you see we have no plan.  We wander a bit north, then a bit east where we stop and check our map.  I am curious about where David is so Cat checks her phone and tells me he’s at the Galleria dell’Accademia which is back west a bit, so we head back that way and stand out in front looking at the line up. Perhaps tomorrow or Saturday after we’ve checked out details on tickets.  Then it’s on again north and a bit north-west and we end up near the rail station and a big fort.  Then we decide this is no fun so we amble back down towards the Arno.  All along we are simply watching the many people and just enjoying the amble.

Then we stumble into the piazza with the Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore, which is made of marble and is a marvel.  Neil tells us that marble is a metamorphic limestone low grade, though good and strong for building statues and cathedrales…we hope that’s not a load of geoligist rubbish.

Inside the building it is immense and largely vacant, which is quite in contrast to the amazing look of it outside.  It is filled with people filing through but they do so quietly. The underside of the dome is quite the piece of artwork and Cat points out a couple of bizarre images.

Time to de-amble so we stop for a wee bite and a coffee and simply gaze at the building and the people hawking pictures and such.

We’re soon off and down by the Arno again crossing the Ponte alle Grazie.  Cat has suggested visiting the Giradino di Boboli so we head that way.  It’s a very steep and long climb up a narrow street to the top and when we get there we find it’s a trap.  The only way forward is through the garden gate which is going to cost us E20.  We decide it may not be worth it and anyway we want to see the Ponte Vecchio which we saw as we crossed the Arno…so back down the hill and an amble across this bridge which has a zillion jewellery shops on it.  The buildings appear to have been former houses, much like the original London Bridge.  All very quaint but somewhat spoiled by the glitter of gold and silver.

Our feet are aching so we head to the roof-top of the Luchessi as pointed out by the bus driver.  The view is indeed quite spectacular and we are obliged to have a seat and a glass of white.  Since we are guests at the Mulino we are entitled to a 10% discount, which I duly leave for the waiter who told us this.

Another amble to the old market where there are flea market stalls and absolutely no one pushing anything on you.  This is a pleasant chance to browse without being told that this or that would look just fine on my manly frame.  Down to the river again to watch some of the rowers then off to the Luchessi and our bus back to Mulino.

We had a great dinner, I ate what Cat ate last night and she ate what I ate last night.  We both agreed they were both equally good.  I forgot to mention that we were obliged to have a bottle of Chianti Classico since we are essentially in chianti country.  This stuff is a far cry from that Chianti we all knew and loved as undergrads….despite the cute baskets that those bottles came with.

……………

October 27th

I’m having trouble keeping the days straight.  Apparently this is Friday.  The day dawned cloudy and cool.  We decided to have a bit of a late start and didn’t have breakfast until 09:00.  Today we do have a plan, which is to go to Lucca, just down the road toward Pisa, tour this fabled walled city, then head a bit south and drive through chianti country.

Getting there and finding parking is a breeze, although I imagine in season it could be difficult.  Lucca’s wall is about 4 km in circumference and penetrated by at least 6 gates.  We enter at Porta S. Donata and head to the centre.  In one small square we find a fairly recent statue of Puccini and in the corner of the square a museum dedicated to his life.  Around the square are a number of restaurants, Madame Butterfly, Tosca, Paris Boheme, well….you get the idea.

At the Piazza San Michelle we visit the church then continue on quickly loosing our sense of direction as the narrow streets start to turn.  You have to realize that we have no plan for actually being in Lucca so we are again simply ambling.  At one point we spot a tower…there are many…but this tower has trees growing on top and people up there.  We have to find this tower.  That becomes harder than you think as we quickly loose sight of it and the direction it was in. Solution…head to the wall and wander the wall until we can see it again.

A few years ago Cat and I, along with Colin, had walked the wall in Chester, England. This wall is nothing like that wall.  First of all it is very, very wide, with a road down the middle.  In fact it looks like a park with trees growing and people ambling or biking along.  We are slightly above the old town, which is on our right and we can see the new town hustling and bustling to our left.

We can finally see our tower again and determine it’s the Torre Guinigi so a little more along the wall then down into town and a sign in the right direction and bingo we’re at the side entrance.  But first…if we’re going to climb this thing we need sustenance.  A little bistro provides just the stuff including a very palatble local white and before you know it we’re E30 lighter and ready to climb.

The view is spectacular….and there are 6 small oak trees growing there.

It is getting late in the day and despite the occasional glimpse of sun it is still mainly overcast.  We had planned a circuitous route to get to Greve in Chianti but decide to take the fast route so that we can enjoy the views in the daylight.  A quick zip down the A11, A1, to the SR222 and we are in the heart of chianti country.

It is too bad that we left this so late in the day, but there is something enchanting about the fall colours and the mist coming off the surrounding mountains.  Greve is a cute town and we’ll have to come back some day to do a proper wine tour of this region. It is classic tuscany and the wine is superb.

Enough for one day…back to the Mulino and some R&R in perparation for tomorrow.

Stand Down

Florence, October 25th

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10 Bty made it to Florence along with the rest of the Canadians but did not go into action.  The regimental war diary points out that although Florence was declared a free city by the Germans, this did not eliminate sniper fire and the occasional mortar round.

The reason the Canadians were here was part of another “ruse”.  Originally their move north had been kept a secret because the Eighth Army plans had been to drive through Florence on to Bologna and, of course, the Canadian Corps was expected to be the point and they didn’t want the Germans to know the Canadians were comming. At the beginning of July the Chief of Staff of the German Tenth Army, Generalmajor Fritz Wentzell summed it up…”if only I knew where the Canadians are”.

The Eighth Army big wigs changed their plans even as the Canadians moved north.  The plan was now to attack up the Adriatic Coast but to make the Germans believe the attack was coming through Florence so it was now necessary to let the Germans know where the Canadians were.  Still with me.  Not sure everyone in August 1944 was.

Waving the Canadian flag, as it where, would convince the Germans that an attack was forth coming.  To quote another German officer who was somewhat in awe of our boys, Oberst Henning Werner Runkel, the Chief of Staff of LXXVI Panzer Corps, “one of these days the Canadian Corps is going to attack and then our centre will explode”.

So our boys came to Florence, not to see the sights, but to be one of the sights seen. Once all this flag waving had occurred, the Canadians packed up and in just one week had secretly crossed the spine of Italy once again to a concentration area near Jesi, about 24 km from the coast.  This in itself was a major piece of work since the Canadian engineers built 190 km of road for our and the Brit tanks so that the road wouldn’t be chewed up for the infantry.

What’s about to happen from that point is the breaching of the Gothic Line…but I’ll get there when I get there.

At the moment I’m in an absolutely lovely spot on the south side of the Arno, on the east end of Florence, the Mulino di Firenze.  Look it up on the web and weep for me having to stay in such a lovely spot.  I’ll be picking Cat up in a few hours so that may be it for a while.

Stand Down

Perugia, October 24th

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I was a bit beat last night and failed to mention a few of the “sights” I saw yesterday.  I’ll start with the tour groups.  There were many of them, some walking and some biking.  The guy leading the bike groups had his own special layout with all sorts of bells and whistles.  One group leader still had trouble with followers as they were overly cautious on the roads and fell behind.  Silly people.

The walking groups were really dressed for  the occasion.  Each group seemed to have their own apparel to distinguish them from the other groups.  One group had bright red hats, another bright blue scarves and another bright orange scarves.  This is called a uniform.

Every walking group had a leader with some sort of “flag” or flying object held high to identify them.  This is actually what flags were used for originally, as rallying points for a group of soldiers.

You can see where this is going.

Then there were the actual solders…lots of them.  At almost every corner there was a vehicle with at least two very well armed soldiers…all wearing uniforms of course.  Each had a machine pistol and a side arm.  They also wore very long billy clubs in case the other two items failed.

And they weren’t alone.  There were city cops and country cops all over the place.  I really liked the two carbinieri guys, all dressed in black, who whizzed by on two black Ducatis.  When I grow up I want that job.

But just to lighten the atmosphere there were ordinary people wandering in awe all over the place, although I think some may have been local.  The picture I put up last time that showed the young lady and the priest was interesting.  As they walked past me, totally oblivious of my photographic talents, she looked quite despondent and began to cry and he was trying to console her.  I think she was a troubled young lady looking for some help.

At the other end of the scale as I was eating lunch I watched this women with blond hair dressed very “haute couture” completely in black and wearing a bright purple scarf cross the street and come toward me.  From the other side, crossing in front of her was a man with blond hair, dressed completely in white and wearing a bright purple scarf. Wish I’d caught that crossing on camera insteading eating my ligune marinara.

……..

I’m not as tired today but I am going to be a movie star…what you say!

I slept in and didn’t get going unti 09:00 so I headed straight for the American War Cemetery in Anzio.  This is a striking place.  The size is quite amazing and it differs significantly from the austere look of the Commenwealth War Graves.  This one has the same sort of perspective that exists in Washington D.C., looking up from the Lincoln Memorial.  The crosses are on either side of a very long, wide grassed area with the statue of brothers in arms at the end in the centre of a memorial building. The building has a chapel on the left and on the right a room with a visual description of the American involvement in the Sicily/Italy Campaign.

And there was something else I’ve never seen at one of the CWG Cemeteries.  Lots of police.  There was a security guard at the gate and I saw 5 local cops ambling about.  Has it come to the point when not even the departed are safe?

I wandered around for at least 90 minutes then headed toward the visitors centre to sign the book. At this point I saw a video crew setting up their equipment and a young lady came over to me and asked if I spoke English.  I said yes and she asked me why I was here.

I essentially said that the break-out from Anzio by the Americans had resulted in the 1st Division being withdrawn from action and put in reserve.  The least I could do was pay my respects to those American boys who had, even temporarily, removed my Dad from harms way.  She loved it.  She wanted to interview me.  How could I resist, handsome devil that I would like to be.  So it was lights, camera and action.  All to be televised on the Catholic TV Channel…whatever that is.  She informed me that the Pope was going to visit Anzio Cemetery and she wanted some colour commentary.  Good thing I wore my bright yellow T shirt and blue jacket.

Then on to Perugia following our boys, although it’s not clear that they came on this side of Lake Trasimeno on the way north.  I do know they came this way on the way east to Jesi.  I’m here anyway so I’ll just enjoy the town.

I managed to find some digs after driving merrily around this very old and hilly town.  It’s a University centre and all the young kids ambling around tell the tale.  After settling in I went for a walkabout and I just love this place.  Winding, narrow streets, cafes and tiny shops all over the place…a photographers dream.  It would take quite a long time to discover all the hidden gems here.  The receptionist gave me a great map and pointed out the outdoor escalator across the street that made climbing to the centro storico very much easier.  He marked out a great little hour long route.  Along the way I saw two other outdoor escalators. going from top to bottom.  Ancient beyond belief with all the mod cons.

Time to hit the hay.  Big day tomorrow, off to Firenze for a four day visit with Cat.  I’ll pick her up at the airport tomorrow evening and we’ll paint the town red….assuming I can stay awake. If you don’t hear from me in a couple of days assume the best…we’re having too much fun and I’ll catch it all up later.

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Take Post

Anzio-Rome October 23rd

I should have mentioned that the reason I didn’t go further than Frosinone yesterday ,is that 10 Bty’s last gun position before going into reserve was just outside of town to the north-west.  From that point they, like the rest of the Division, went into reserve and did not go back into action until August 6th, 1944 when they were just south-west of Florence.  We’ll pick that trail up later.

For now I have decided to stay another day in Anzio and use the opportunity to go into Rome.  Before I leave I will visit the cemetery here.

What can you say about Rome that hasn’t been said before.  I’ll just tell you where I went…you can fill in the descriptive blanks.

I caught the train at Anzio Colonia at 09:16 and from the Termini in Rome took the Metro to the Barberini stop.  I wanted to see the Trevi Fountain first.  I took a few snaps but what struck me, as I looked at this amazing piece of work, was how that contrasted with all the other pieces of sculpture in all the cemeteries I’ve been visiting.  We are such weird beings to be able to make something like Trevi (and indeed all the other marvels I saw today) yet still find a way to kill each other in large quantities.

From Trevi I ambled through the streets to the Colosseum and walked all the way around it.  Just to make sure it wasn’t fake.  I made two attempts to leave by the south but found myself at dead ends both times…once because they are digging up the entire Via di San Gregorio.

I looped back to Largo C Ricci and had a lovely lunch and sip of wine al fresco.  I then went in search of the Tiber River.  The entire Roman Forum area is under excavation/repair/something so it was a long walk around and down to the river where I took a few shots of the Ponte Fabrico (I like bridges).

At Ponte Garibaldi I turned north and wandered up to the Piazza delle Cinque Lune then turned right through the Piazza di Montecitorio and on to the Trevi Fountain again.  The crowds were even bigger so I avoided the area and worked my way back to Barberini and the Termini.

I boarded the train for Nettuno at 18:16…I simply got on the first car, which, of course is at the back end of the train.  The ride is roughly an hour and when I got to Anzio Colonia the train stopped and I pressed the button to open the door…only to find that I was not at the platform but about 50 m away from it.  I thought of jumping out but then the door closed and the train moved off.  The end of the line is Nettuno which was 4.5 km away and the train does make the run back the same way…so I thought I’d just wait.  To my surprise there’s another Anzio station just 2 km down the line so I decided to get off there.  I knew that it wasn’t all that far to walk back to my Albergo.  In fact it was 1.74 km back…I measured it.

When you stop laughing at me…say good night.

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Take Post

Anzio, October 22nd

I’m back on the old Route 6 heading north.  As I came down this way a few days ago I passed an Italian War Cemetery but it was closed.  As I go by again I see that it is open and I have to stop and pay my respects.

When I get home I’ll have to research a bit more about the Italian involvement on the side of the Allies from 1943 to 1945.  The museum tells the story in photo’s and memos but I can’t read Italian so I’ll just have to wait.

I knew I shouldn’t have jinxed things by menitoning the weather.  Cloudy and foggy to begin with and patches of rain. It’s rather cool as well but I can see what looks like sun way off to the west.

Back on the road through Casino again, right through the town this time following what would have been Route 6.  When I get to Aquino I turn left and head toward Pontecorvo.

The Hitler line extended pretty much in a straight line from the mountains to the east, through Aquino and on to Pontecorvo, then on to the coast at Gaeta.  It was in the section between Aquino and Pontecorvo that the Canadians had to cross the Liri then the Melfa. I stopped in Pontecorvo because I could see on the map that there is a bridge in town over the Liri River. This bridge would have been blown by the time the boys got there but a quick look suggests that the middle part looks pretty old while both ends look like they’ve been worked on so maybe they destroyed both ends and not the middle…but then what do I know…I only took one year of engineering.

At the same time that the Canadians began there assault of the Hitler Line near the end of May 1944, the Americans made their breakout from Anzio. Anzio is on the west coast just below Rome.  A combined American/British force had landed there on January 22, 1944 but were unable to break out of the bridgehead.  The intent of this amphibious assault was to land north of the Hitler Line and thus flank the German line.  It wasn’t until the Canadian assault on the Hitler Line further to the east that the Allies, now 150,000 strong as opposed to the 23,000 that had initially landed, where able to move inland.

I’ve travelled up to Frosinone today, which is just short of where the Canadian advance stopped.  I won’t go to the end of the line but I will tell you that for the Canadian Corps it was a difficult thing to be so close to Rome and be told they were going into reserve.  The Liri Valley campaign was one tough slog and many of our boys paid the price. By the time they had captured Colleferro they were only 50 km from Rome, but the Americans were already north of them and the valley was starting to get clogged.

There is some question today as to whether the American General Mark Clark could have significantly altered the outcome of the Italian Campaign and possibly the war, if he had not been so enamoured with being the first of the Allied Armies to take Rome.  His army was perfectly positioned to swing east in a pincer movement and trap or destroy a significant portion of the German army in Italy.  He didn’t do that and all the glory of taking Rome, which had been declared a free city by the Germans, went to him.

That glory was  short lived.  Rome fell on June 4th, 1944.  The Allies landed in Normandy two days later and for all intents and purposes everyone forgot about the war in Italy.

If you are wondering about the name of Daniel Dancock’s book “The D-Day Dodgers”, well, it’s what Lady Astor called the soldiers prancing about in sunny Italy.  Perhaps her stays in Italy gave her the impression that it was nothing but a romp through the vineyards and olive groves.  The Candians didn’t bat an eye over the insult…in fact if you get a chance to read Dancock’s book you’ll come across the little ditty that starts:

“We are the D-Day Dodgers, out in Italy, Always on the vino, always on the spree.”

Since the boys have been pulled out of action I’m going to do the same.  I’m heading to Anzio, not so much to see the beachhead but rather I think I might be able to use this spot as a jumping off point for a wee wander into Rome.  I haven’t been particularly interested in going to Rome, but as they say, all roads lead there.  I’m ahead of my schedule and don’t have to be in Firenze until Wednesday, so we’ll see what Anzio has to offer by way of accommodations and tourist directions.

So far, with a few exceptions, I’ve simply wandered into town and looked around for a sign that says Hotel.  At Nettuno, spitting distance from Anzio, I’ve driven around and around and around and still can’t see anything vaguely resembling a hotel.  The Hotel Moroco looked like it had been damaged during the Anzio landings and hasn’t been repaired.  I even tried parking and wandering about but to no avail.  So…I’m off down the road.

Finally, along the seafront in Anzio I see the sign for the Grand Hotel Dei Cesari, flags a flyin’ in the breeze.  The young lady at the desk speaks inglese so I’m home free for the night.  I’ve also managed to get an “Orario Dei Treni” which tells me that for E9.30 I can get a day transit pass to travel into Rome and use all the buses and metro.  Oh…and the statzione is 400 m around the corner.

I’ll mull all this over with a glass of red.

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