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The month of October was marked by the establishment of the 885th Squadron at Brindisi Airport; the initiation of Balkan Operations; and the regular scheduling of daylight operations. Despite the move from North Africa and the persistence of unfavorable weather, operations were carried on efficiently and with effective results.
MOVE
On October 2nd an air echelon, led by Colonel MacCloskey in B-17 #171, consisting of the aircraft and crews that had remained at Maison Blanche, supplemented by such craft as could be obtained from Maison Blanche, flew to Brindisi. Additional headquarters personnel with reduced section staffs were also included in the air movement. Under command of Major MacPhail, personnel and equipment not included in the air echelon departed Maison Blanche on October 2nd, by rail and by motor transport, on their way to Oran, whence they were to ship to Italy by boat. The road and motor transport proceeded down through Algeria and Tunisia by rail. The trip, which took an entire month, is the subject of a special article in this History. The Air Echelon came through in one day, with the exception of a small detachment under Captain Kinsey, which remained several days at Maison Blanche awaiting the final ferry. Organization of the ground and air echelons had revealed the difficulties of operations, but the move was efficiently accomplished as was possible under the circumstances and combat operations were not curtailed.
BILLETING AND MESSING
Despite the smoothness of operations, many difficulties had to be overcome. On arrival at Brindisi, the immediate problem was billeting and messing. The new arrivals were temporarily billeted in a Monastery near the west end of the runway. Living conditions were in keeping with the traditional hardships of Monastic life. About a dozen men occupied each room, the chambers being on the second floor of a drafty set of corridors surrounding a court yard. The Monastery, according to rumor, had been built in the Renaissance and no "modern conveniences" had been added since the early days when the first monks had prowled the high vaulted archways.
The squadron took temporary quarters from the 64th Troop Carrier Group, which was about to leave Brindisi for Rosignano. It became clear that the Squadron would have to establish its own mess as soon as the 64th Troop Carrier Group moved out. Colonel MacCloskey dispatched a plane to Oran to pick up ten cooks from the ground echelon still held there, and through the 62nd Service Group he obtained a sufficient number of stoves to carry on a temporary mess. Captain Foote, with the able assistance of M/Sgt Savick, set up a temporary mess. Until the additional cooks arrived, operations became rather difficult. But help came in from the "field" to help with the cooking and was joined by Sergeant Sweeten, who at the time, was acting First Sergeant.
On October 9th the 64th pulled out and the 885th moved into the barracks area. Sergeant Sweeten returned to his Communications work and Sergeant McNutt was made Acting First Sergeant. The officers and men moved their quarters from the Monastery to barracks immediately; mess in the 64th mess building continued, and enlisted Men's mess was established in the area behind Flying Control. Every effort was made throughout the remainder of the month to improve the area and living conditions.
OFFICES
Only one small office was available during the first three days after the arrival of the Air echelon at Brindisi. This was on the ground floor of the Flying Control building and had been used by 64th Fighter and Coastal Plain Wing for an S-3 and S-2 office. The space was so crowded that only half of the officer crews could get into the room at one time and, consequently, on the first night of operations there had to be two briefings. Following the departure of the 64th Troop Carrier Group, however, the entire Flying Control building was turned over to the Squadron for Headquarters office space, with the exception of one office on the extreme end which was reserved for tower control. A large room on the second floor of the West Wing, which were occupied by R. A. F. Flying Control and the 51st Troop Carrier. Tech Supply moved to an outside building and Engineering moved to a tent at the new dispersal area on the North West section of the field. The Medical dispensary was in a building adjacent to headquarters. These arrangements made an extremely compact unit.
TARGET CHANNEL
Parallel to commencing operations with the Balkan Air Force, the Squadron's Chain of Command was even more anomalous than it had been at North Africa. The Squadron was not in the Mediterranean Allied Air Force though operating on a base controlled by B.A.F. The allocation of targets that had previously been done through the Target Section and S.F.U.C. when the 885th was at Blida and Maison Blanche was done at 334 Wing Headquarters for both Italian and Balkan targets. The procedure was similar to that in Algiers. At 0900 hrs. Colonel MacCloskey and Captain Hansen attended a Target meeting at 334 Wing Hq. O.S.S. and the other Field Agencies correlated their target demands through Captain Lord of the British Army, who presented a target request in order of priority for the area in which weather permitted operations. From this list for the day, Colonel MacCloskey, Wing Commander Haywood of 148 Squadron R.A.F. and the Commander of the Polish Squadron usually assigned their respective Squadrons for the day's operations. Following this meeting an operations schedule was made out and the work was laid on within the Squadron as it had been in the past.
LOADING
During the month of October, loading was carried on by Jugoslavian enlisted men from "Paradise Camp", the main British packing station. The work was supervised by Captain Foote and his Armament Sergeant, but as the Squadron loading personnel were almost entirely on the Convoy, the work itself had to be done by "borrowed" personnel.
STRATEGIC BACKGROUND
As the Squadron's work was interwoven with the progress of the war in Northern Italy and the Balkans, a brief survey of the strategic highlights throughout October is essential to a proper understanding of the Squadron's activities. It must first be noted that weather conditions in Northern Italy had become such that a limitation to night operations in that theatre alone rendered the Squadron idle very considerable periods of time. Conversely, during a substantial period of enforced idleness because of weather in Northern Italy, it was possible to fly daylight missions to the Balkans. With this in mind, Colonel MacCloskey secured permission from M.A.A.F. to carry on daylight operations in the Balkans. There were three areas in which operations were flown during October: 1. Albania and Greece; 2. Yugoslavia and 3. Northern Italy.
Greece was liberated during October 1944. British Forces striking by land, sea and air, invaded Greece on October 2nd. A landing field was captured on the North East Peloponnesus and the Germans were quickly forced to withdraw to the Northern side of the Gulf of Corinth, to the main line blocking the Corinth Canal. Principal Airborne operations to Greece were based at Brindisi. In short order the Germans were forced to withdraw from Epirus and from Athens, finally giving up Salonika and abandoning Greece altogether, with the exception of Crete and some of the Aegean Islands. Landings in Southern Albania had driven the Germans out of that area to a line that was temporarily stabilized from Durazzo to Elbasan. Allied advances in Yugoslavia during the month proceeded from landings at Dubrovnik, clearing the Dalmatian coast during the month, from Zara to Kotor. The German forces in west central Yugoslavia were in full retreat. To the East, Marshall Tito's Partisan Army linked with the Russians, while the latter captured Belgrade and his end controlled the entire Morava Valley.
The progress in North Italy had been reduced to minor gains on two front lines. Thus it had become impossible for Allied troops to be able to supply the Resistance Groups in the Hills with their full requirements by air. They consequently suffered from an attrition of supply. Early in the month the Germans followed a course of extreme ruthlessness in the Udine area and Gruppi Mobili were bitter in combat with German units which traversed the Ossola Valley in force with devastating effects on the resistance groups. In other North Italian areas, however, the units maintained substantial organization and continue their active resistance. During the month, however, priority of operations changed from North Italian to Yugoslavian targets and the emphasis was in trapping the 300,000 German troops who were endeavoring to retreat from the Balkans.
OCTOBER OPERATIONS
Due to unfavorable weather, little success was achieved during early October operations. On the night of October 1st, when the first flights were scheduled. Weather conditions were none too promising and turned out to be even worse than predicted. Targets were selected in various North Italian areas to obtain a weather spread. Thirteen crews took off and only two, piloted respectively by Lt. Diebel and Lt. Voight, were successful, while one, No. #697, piloted by Captain Simon, failed to return and was reported "Missing in Action". A special report is made on Captain Simon's plane under the "Losses" section of this history. A report from the field indicated that some of the crews at least had parachuted to safety, though they might have been taken prisoners. Bad weather continued throughout operations on 6th, 7th and 8th, although successes had been achieved and sorties accomplished in the three days between. On the night of the 12th, however, weather conditions improved and ten aircraft were successful out of eleven take offs, while on the following night all thirteen aircraft to take off made successful drops. This success, however, was followed by two nights during which the weather was again so bad that no operations could be scheduled. Missions were flown again on the night of the sixteenth, but again, weather conditions were so adverse that success was impossible. Lt. Solomon in B-24 #772 failed to return from a target north of Udine on 16 October. Reports received later, from the field stated that a plane had been heard over the target, but it could not be sighted. A later report stated that the plane had crashed and all its occupants had been killed. No identification of those missing could be made in the field, but a final report stated that the dead had been buried in a Slovene Military Cemetery.
To increase the Squadron's operational opportunities and to take advantage of breaks in the weather, Colonel MacCloskey had secured permission from Mediterranean Air Force to operate in the Balkans by daylight. Obtaining approval from Headquarters of Fifteenth Air Force, Colonel MacCloskey, flying in B-17 # 171 and thirteen additional Squadron planes initiated daylight operations in the Balkans. Targets on this first day were in the Peloponnesus, Albania and Macedonia. All were successful. During the missions a great deal of propaganda leaflets from both countries was possible. Multo sheets were sent back by air crews that spotted troop movement. As a result of a report on October 24th, Balkan Air Force alerted Allied Attack Planes, who were able to destroy 16 trucks. The record of success on these daylight operations was extremely high. Fifty two successful drops were made out of sixty five daylight take offs; 88% success.
In response to an urgent demand from the R.A.F, a special mission of 5 planes was flown in most adverse weather to drop supplies to R.A.F. troops stranded on a Greek beach in the Southern Peloponnesus on October 27th. One plane was forced back by engine failure. Flying at only 500 ft. above the water, to get under cloud, four planes found the destination and approached it at extremely low altitude to the troops, who waved enthusiastically.
The Squadron dropped a total of 461,177 lbs. during the month of October, considerably less than had been dispatched in the busy months at North Africa. The curtailment was due almost entirely to unfavorable weather. That the operational difficulties were largely due to the Squadron, was clearly demonstrated on the night of the 13th, when, with good weather, during the dark period of the moon, complete success was achieved at every target. The record of successes during the latter part of the month was better than had ever before been achieved in the Squadron's history. The month of October was notable for the initiation of daylight operations and Balkan operations and the disturbance that the German troops begun to the liberation of Greece. The movement of the Squadron from Algiers to Brindisi without curtailment of combat operations was achieved by dint of careful planning on Colonel MacCloskey's part and hard work on the part of all personnel of the Squadron who responded with a fine display of cooperation, to overcome the difficulties of the move. The Squadron may justly take pride in its achievements of October.
A detailed analysis of operations is presented in Appendix A.
PART I
After a few fretful days of final preparation and a last night of inebriation in the products of the Sergeant's Club at Maison Blanche, the Squadron was ready to move on the morning of October 2. The advance party had already gone to Brindisi to establish a "beachhead" at Brindisi. But for most of us it was to be a push to the West, in the prairie schooners of the day, to Oran where a boat would be waiting to whisk us across the sea to Italy. It sounded easy enough if we could just get to Oran. To accomplish this all but 90 men were packed into those quaint units of Algerian civilian motor transport; G.M.C. trucks chosen as behemoths for the various muscular athletes allotted to go. The party bravely at 0800 hours to face the hazards of crossing the great divide, equipped with high hopes and many auto repair kits.
It was a motley collection of 42 vehicles, of all sizes and shapes, plus assorted trailers, grinding behind, and one motor and one duster. The convoy set out that sunny morning. The natives flocked to watch the procession move by as if it were a victory parade down Fifth Avenue. The armed might of the Allies! Very impressive till the trucks developed organic troubles in the mountains. One ambulance died a gurgling death high in the hills and mechanics were sent back to nurse it along. Flat tires appeared at an alarming rate. Minor difficulties caused several others to drop out temporarily and then the last of the convoy's abandon child disappeared altogether. The remaining cars scattered almost back to Blida. By nightfall, however, everything had reached the camp site, between Orleansville and Relizane, except the ambulance and when it rolled in at midnight, all property was present and accounted for.
To keep things that way, guards were promptly posted, for there was a tribe of Arabs in the hills above us who eyed our belongings with the look of all Arabs and descended upon the field, like vultures, the moment we pulled out the next morning. The night had been perfect - warm, and with a full moon - and everyone was ready to push on when morning came. The country was hot and weary, getting on, and now we would drive into what still looked like war. But at the outskirts of Oran, we met by a M.P. escort who was not up on his local geography and who seemed to have only a sketchy idea of where we were supposed to go. He led us through a labyrinth of alleys till finally we were on the open road again and headed back in the direction of Algiers. But we did make progress. For some months the War Department had chosen to establish a metropolis of pyramid-shaped tents whose layout bore a striking resemblance to the familiar pattern of overseas replacement centers. M.B.S. Staging Area #1, it was called and it certainly didn't look like a pleasure resort. Many of our Squadron had been there before when the camp was under the benevolent rule of the Infantry and their harrowing tales of past torments surpassed the wildest chillers of Edgar Allan Poe. Therefore it was not without some trepidation that we learned
The above personnel account of the trip by the "ground echelon" to Brindisi has been graciously contributed to this monthly history by Corporal William E. Musser. While Corporal Musser wishes to go on record as speaking only for himself, his account describes the Odyssey of the "Ground Echelon" in convincing detail that we could expect to be here at least ten days. In fact, the look of the damned was already in the eye of many of the drivers that noon when our trucks ground to a stop in a parking lot that had been very fittingly named "The Dust Bowl".
Back to nature, the call of the wild, name it what you will - they tried to make soldiers of us in that rustic spot. At least the Staging Area regulations required that a training program be instituted. Fortunately this rule was interpreted very liberally by the Squadron and program consisted primarily of roll call at 0800 hours, at 1300 hours, at a few times and a few abortive attempts at drill and calisthenics. But in all fairness it must be reported that the great bulk of the time was spent in activities of our own choosing. These activities, in order of popularity, were sleeping, visiting Oran, playing the usual games of chance, reading and walking in the hills. There was a good beer hall which provided liquid joy at special hours each evening, and outdoor movies every night, though G.I.'s were outnumbered 10 to 1 by the legions of Italian P.W.'s who filled the arena two hours before picture time. We got to know how the Ethiopians felt when the hordes of Mussolini poured into their country in 1936. American movies were really out of place - a good measure of its moral health being lost upon a captive audience. Chow and our mess was better than ever. The whole setup, though somewhat primitive, was still almost ideal, and only after spending two weeks in such an indolent way, and wondering whether we had been completely forgotten by the ruling authorities, did we feel the urge to move on. The feeling may have been heightened early in the late hour's one day when Lieutenant Noble turned exhibitionist and dashed us on a few cross-country jaunts. We even made so bold as to try to scale the face of Lion Mountain itself but the project was abandoned at the halfway mark and the foot troops, wheezing heavily, returned to camp and called it a day.
By this time almost all our equipment had been loaded aboard the Liberty Ship "Mary Lyon" and we knew that we would soon follow it into the cargo holds ourselves. October 17 was D-Day and so it was that we left Lion Mountain, two weeks to the hour after we had arrived there. The interlude had been surprisingly enjoyable but now that the time had come, we were glad to leave. We were herded into G.M.C.'s and rolled down to the docks at the terrifying speed common to these gallant conveyances. The trip having used all of our Army-issue stamina, we huddled, dehydrated, on a wharf. The "Mary Lyon" was anchored out in the harbor. There were no rowboats in sight so we sat down to sweat it out. "We can't be here for the duration, we mused, judging by the rate at which our journey had progressed so far. On the way to Italy and it had already taken over two weeks to go 250 miles in the wrong direction!
PART II A MEDITERRANEAN CRUISE * * ORAN TO NAPLES * * 17 OCTOBER - 26 OCTOBER
After an hour or so, an old coal barge loosed up out of the distance and after much crowding and pushing we managed to fit our entire Squadron on to the vessel, as well as some 70 representatives of the 251st Signal Co., who shared the facilities of our liner with us. As the barge grunted its way out to the harbor and we got a closer look at the "Mary Lyon", it became all too clear that this was strictly a cargo ship and had no provisions for carrying Army personnel as far as from New York to Hoboken. Proof of this was the fact that the ship, on its last trip here, had brought mules to Oran, and it was apparent at a glance that the Merchant Marine recognized few fundamental differences between those passengers and us as human beings. They did see one concession to human requirements - a simple which carpenters had wrought in the form of a wooden latrine suspended over the side of the ship, like the hanging gardens of Babylon. The device consisted of a few long planks, appropriately spaced, and the smaller members of the outfit often came perilously close to falling through the slots. Those who got acclimated to riding tidy, however, though the position of those who straddling was very much like that of the window washers swinging on rubber belts twenty floors above Fifth Avenue.
There wasn't very far to go to reach the "Mary Lyon" which was probably the only reason that no one fell overboard during the passage. To get us from the barge on to the ship, the sailors dropped a wooden ladder parallel to the side of the ship and any acrobat with 20 years' service with Ringling Bros. circus could have climbed up fairly easily. But we had our duffle bags, barracks bags, blunderbusses, et cetera, carefully loaded on our backs and all the chain hike that makes a soldier look as if he's coming home from a farm auction. The ladder was about one foot wide and its steps were sloped at a 45 degree downward angle. We made our way up this, haltingly at best, for with every step one leg would go down between the rungs. Most of us ended up by continuing the trip on our knees, dragging our impediments behind, and staring blanking at the sea far below.
Once aboard, we were shown two small, empty cargo holds which the Navy man said we were welcome to call our home, pointing to those holes we couldn't be much look at. I might request a few inches of black enamel to brighten up growing fold rings when I first looked down into the pit. It was a perfect setup for a Sea Galwyn slave ship sequence. But this hold, as empty as it surely have - it had nothing in it, not even light or air. We sent our bags sailing down to the bottom, clambered down the crude wooden ladder built for the purpose and started to set up housekeeping. Cots were set up, one by one, and of course they didn't all fit in the hold but that's nobody's worries. Used to as this kind of venture is never 100% successful in the Army, however, we sandwiched almost all of them in and after playing tag with our belongings and removing countless feet from our faces and stomachs, settled down for the journey.
There was quite a bit of deck space, even after the various gaming cliques had set aside arenas where dice could be rolled fairly. Bathing facilities consisted of a few salt water taps where if you were energetic enough, you could fill your helmet and try to wash. The effect is like rubbing your face with gravel and working up a lather is almost out of the question. Still, towels, toothpaste and mirrors offered some visual check and a daily spit, bath, shaving, on the other hand, was something else again. Before many days at sea, beards of all shapes and sizes were blossoming. We might easily have been mistaken for the crew of a whaler three years out of New Bedford and even the porpoises that bounced past our bow one morning looked better than we did.
In due time our dormitory was arranged in some degree of order, and with systematic planning we managed to get some narrow aisles between the rows of cots. This meant that we could reach the ladder up the hatch by walking (quite a revolution) rather than by crawling on all fours over every bed that lay in the way. But the cots were so close together that it was hard to tell where one began and the next one ended. Therefore it was possible for a fitful sleeper to wake up in the morning many bunks away from the one in which he was started. The housing problem was complicated by the presence of a roving menagerie which had booked passage with us. Dogs of every kind, from police to poodle, cats, monkeys, goats, sheep, rabbits, hamsters and assorted monkeys, cats and other species. Noah's ark had nothing on us. It was even rumored that there was a camel below which had to be watered every three days. It was very possible - anything could have happened on that ship.
In our first two days aboard, the ship progressed to a point of about 500 yards from shore, or just outside the breakwater. Waiting for the convoy to form, they told us. The ship rode quietly at anchor and gave us plenty of time to look back at the city of Oran on one side and the beautiful African coastline on the other. Most of us were glad, in a way, to be able to make a dignified departure. Our stay in North Africa, which began last December, had bred a curious affection and considerable regret in departing. The country was always beautiful, the cities were always interesting. And after all, the history of the Squadron as well as our own personal histories were so interwoven with the new lights that had somehow worked their way into our lives, that we all had deep memories of that strange land. Most of us often gathered around deck wondering when we would leave. It would be a long time before we would forget the narrow, twisting streets, the funny Arab styles of dress, the mosques, the eternal shoe-shine boys, the bitter smell of Arab tobacco in every town, the brasseries on every corner and the terrible wine they served, the never-ending chain of men selling almonds and wallets, the street-cars always overflowing and always breaking down, the pasters drawing up enthuse lines for bus leaflets, the countless indifference of Arab inhabitants - and except a good bargain, the urchins hanging on your knees and asking if "You got chocoolaa, Joe?" - these and hundreds of other little impressions just as unimportant came back to us at that time. As we were among the last of some millions of Americans to leave the country, the interlude had already grown into history to become a book which told several volumes. But finally, like clockwork, on the evening of the 19th, the ship pulled out of the harbor and the rugged mountains on the coast became gradually dimmer and then melted into the night altogether.
There were some, naturally, who didn't feel so warmly about the whole thing. They wanted to "get outta this goddam hole" (an epithet they would have applied to any place on the map after a few minutes). One such soul dumped blame on Henry Kaiser, censuring him for not taking more than three days to build the ship. But the weather was ideal, and the water smooth, and for diversion we could always attempt to buy grapes from the merchants in shops in the water below (this involved dropping a long line over the side, reaching the deck). Once out in the Mediterranean, we joined with a fairly large convoy moving East, and together we moved on at a gentle rate. A convoy must travel as slowly as its slowest member, and if this equation is true, we must have been paced by a couple of Free French in a kayak, for our speed was not exactly terrifying. Nevertheless, the final proved to be the usual spoiler with abortions of the stomach. Many were afoot after the first swell, spreading tales of approaching someone and falling barometers. They had some small effect on some olive-colored individuals tottering around the deck looking for rail space, but much of this must have been in the imagination, for the sea was quiet and pleasant.
The days were spent quietly and for the most part on deck. The usual chow lines occupied most of the time. After going through the process of waiting for a meal, eating it, and waiting in the line to washemese kits, it was almost time to start all over again. The food was surprisingly good though for a time it looked as if it were going to run out. Fresh water being one of the premium complexities of washing and the allies art of trying to get fresh water from the Navy. The rest of the time was spent reading which was very enjoyable under such pleasure cruise conditions. Not included in this group, of course, are the inveterate gamblers who rolled their cubes from dawn till dark and lost more pledge, pool dice etc. and thereby managed to get close on their money. At nightfall, however, blackout regulations had to be observed, so if we wanted to read in the hold, the hatch had to be battened down; then we were given the choice between light and air, and the inmates chose light, leaving us like deep sea divers whose air hoses had been snipped. When morning rolled around we all needed spraying with Coty perfumes which under such conditions would have had a hard time living up to their ads.
Another problem at night was that of going aloft. This was a highly dangerous procedure. As if to trap those who dare to venture on deck under cover of darkness, the Navy placed ramps, or walls, about shoulder high, across the passageways, where lights were room. These presumably must have had a purpose, but they also made pretty good road blocks for the blind-as-a-bat-proper who tried to come up for air from the "black hole of Calcutta". And since a lot of other people had the same idea at the same time, air came at the risk of broken bones. But it was well worth the risk. As the nights got hotter below, more and more people migrated to the deck with their blankets and posted themselves in the shadows all over the ship. Those who got there first. The only incident that might have caused any alarm was the night that two sailors mistook some long silver porpoises for torpedoes heading our way. But the ship's radar does not pick up porpoises, so nothing came of it and the fish splashed their way, to the relief and embarrassment of the two observers.
Time passes, with the weather absolutely perfect, every day clear and calm. The sea is a wonderful color of blue, clouds are drifting peacefully across the sky and the general conditions for a cruise couldn't be beat if it were a local boat. And unlike ordinary cruises people send postcards about, ours was daytime, blue, close and especially beautiful and interesting because it carried us within sight of land almost the entire time. We followed close to the shore of North Africa and when, after the first 24 hours, we sailed past Algiers, there were many who looked nostalgically back at the white city and many more who became wistful at leaving our roots. The second day we were approximately between Rome and Tripoli. The third day brought us into the waters and Cape Bon. That night we passed between Algeria on the port side and the next day we passed midway between Malta and the southern tip of Sicily so that we could see both clearly at the same time.
This naturally brought us into the waters which Ulysses and Aeneas and many other wanderers had made famous several thousand years ago. Every night when the lights were out and the only thing that could be seen in the darkness, when the stars above, one couldn't help thinking back to other convoys which once moved more slowly (but not much more slowly) across this sea when it was the maritime center of the whole world. It was strange, in this modern war, to find yourself thinking about the Phoenicians who first made this sea their lifeline, or the early Greeks, or the Barbary pirates. Or to think about other armies, composed of men who probably felt much the same as we did those days, who moved between North Africa and Italy during the Punic Wars of Rome and Carthage, and the number of men who have crossed between these same shores in the 20 centuries since then. We came closer to the Islands where Ulysses (or whatever ancient name he carries) encountered the sirens (that might strained their eyes but saw nothing) and the island of the lotus eaters. We stopped for a day in the harbor of Augusta, Sicily, close to the historic city of Syracuse. The view of Mt. Etna in the early morning from this harbor, with its summit shining with snow, was a picture that will not soon be forgotten. The next day we passed safely through Sicily and Calabria, that small peninsula that on any map but especially when you are in a relatively big ship. Here again, it seemed an anomaly to be more conscious of the past than the present or future, but the Mediterranean has always been the cradle of Western civilization and there is something about this area perhaps, in its heat resistant atmosphere, or its spaciousness - that has always attracted men. It has been a wonderful experience and quite a thrill, and once more, with everything so placed, it was difficult to realize that we were even connected with a war. Ironic that it should take a war to show us the world's beauty. The interlude was a pleasant one and we were lucky to have it.
Amateur navigators are having the time of their lives whenever our position becomes doubtful, as it often does to find yourself thinking about the Phoenicians who first made this sea their lifeline, or the early Greeks, or the Barbary pirates. Or to think about other armies, composed of men who probably felt much the same as we did those days, who moved between North Africa and Italy during the Punic Wars of Rome and Carthage, and the number of men who have crossed between these same shores in the 20 centuries since then. We came closer to the Islands where Ulysses (or whatever ancient name he carries) encountered the sirens (that might strained their eyes but saw nothing) and the island of the lotus eaters. We stopped for a day in the harbor of Augusta, Sicily, close to the historic city of Syracuse. The view of Mt. Etna in the early morning from this harbor, with its summit shining with snow, was a picture that will not soon be forgotten. The next day we passed safely through Sicily and Calabria, that small peninsula that on any map but especially when you are in a relatively big ship. Here again, it seemed an anomaly to be more conscious of the past than the present or future, but the Mediterranean has always been the cradle of Western civilization and there is something about this area perhaps, in its heat resistant atmosphere, or its spaciousness - that has always attracted men. It has been a wonderful experience and quite a thrill, and once more, with everything so placed, it was difficult to realize that we were even connected with a war. Ironic that it should take a war to show us the world's beauty. The interlude was a pleasant one and we were lucky to have it.
Amateur navigators are having the time of their lives whenever our position becomes doubtful, as it often does. They form in little debating circles on the decks, take sun and tide into account, and announce our position with the writing would in front of a chalkboard. But it's always basically pinpointed by a nearby sort of stargazers of which based on the state of the water or the size of the birds, or a rumor they heard "from a guy who knows a cook who bunks with the bosn's mate who overheard the captain saying . . . etc." Anyhow, in the last half hour it has been reported without fail that we are approaching Gibraltar, (b) near Port Said, and (c) approaching Odessa. That's the sort of thing we were up against in the line of rumors.
In any case, this trip seems to be taking longer than most people expected. It's ten days are times when we're not even sure the captain knows where we're going. It's taking more time to cross this sea than it did to cross the Atlantic but who cares - its a nice vacation. An Army Beachmaster tells us that after sailing through the Straits of Gibraltar our convoy had worked hard that after passing Malta, we spent too-thirds of the way to Greece before turning back, may have had something to do with extending our journey and for a time giving credence to the vicious rumor that our orders had been changed and we were going on to India. There is always the alarming fact that we are running short of rations, even the indomitable PX-rations, new and improved soldiers are working their way into the ship's quarters to throw themselves at the mercy of the Navy. This is not entirely without profit to the Navy, however, judging by the number of sailors who have been seen recently in Air Corps flying clothes. Those who have made no contacts with the mess hall have given a lot of thought to fish-hook and magnet devices with which to snare food from the Officer's Mess through a port hole. Some are fishing over the side of the sip. Others, like the Ancient Mariner, are waiting to shoot an albatross.
Italy is now in sight, its rocky coastline appearing through the rain that we were told would come as soon as we got near the country (and probably continue until we left). The fact that we may soon be seen by the civilized world again has prompted a desire among the ruling powers to see us cleaner than we now are, so that outsiders won't think the Army has starved and beaten us throughout our treacherous journey. So we were granted the boon of four minutes per man in a Navy fresh-water shower (by now the rarest of luxuries) and ordered to be clean shaven by noon. Many a lush growth has been cut down in its prime because of this edict.
There is always a thrill in approaching a new country, though this looks far more dingy than North Africa. Looks like terrible terrain to fight in - steep, rough and cold. Passing Salerno early this morning, October 26, a grim reminder of D-Day just a year ago. Italy didn't look so thickly settled all around us though we are still a long way from land. Seasick beggars, evidently or else people looking for cousins from Brooklyn (of which there are no doubt plenty on board). Maybe we are supposed to throw coppers to them and they will dive for them. But that's too exotic, all the natives look like men with pongee suits and black mustaches, which is too close to the movies and the allure seems to disappear. Now land is getting closer. Turning into Naples harbor. Pompeii sits on a hill on our right, with Vesuvius rising into the sky, its head buried in clouds. The Isle of Capri on our left. Naturally everyone starts singing the song. The weather isn't very good; we look for famous landmarks every time it stops drizzling.
The ship sits in the harbor from about two to six P.M. and then begins to move into dock. Everything looks shattered and there are a lot of sunken ships in the way but the pilot eventually finds enough dock space to land. We start packing our stuff - we're sure to debark as long as it's raining. Army policy of some sort.
At six o'clock the word is passed on and we are told that we're sleeping on board tonight. "Make yourselves comfortable, boys, we'll get off in the morning". We made ourselves comfortable. 7 P.M. - pitch black and raining like hell. "Get packed and ready to leave immediately". We had had a sneaky feeling that this would happen, it always does. Up out of the hold with our baggage, we file off onto the dock into the rain. The gang planks were steep and too wet, too narrow, and very slippery. The best way to do it down, wet as it is, and slide on your fanny, dragging the bags behind, on to Italian soil. Triumphant entrance, you might say. Someone should have said something about the lake at the bottom. "Sunny Italy, Country of Charm", the posters say. Legend, no doubt, fostered by the local Chamber of Commerce or the people who make travel folders. The Army must subscribe to the theory, for the trucks it sent to meet us had no tops. Well we rode. "Hell Service for soldiers of the universe", free presents for everyone. Trekking through the night and the rain, into one of the trucks, and off through the city at a dizzy rate. Too dark to see anything, and everyone's too wet to care.
Italy, here we come!
PART III
ITALY - OCTOBER 26 - 31
In the same tradition of driving, learned no doubt at the Indianapolis Race Track, our charioteers got us out to the suburb of Bagnoli in pretty close to record time. We took some corners, and even the fact that we had Bernie skid off the road didn't make us any greyer. Nevertheless the Army atoned for its sin of hauling us out into the rain by putting us up in a building of the college which serves as a Reception Center for incoming troops. It was sheer luxury to us by that time - a large room, with walls, a floor, and a ceiling. A place to get warm and dry, a place to sleep. We took full advantage of the facilities.
The next day we felt much better about the world in general in spite of the stentorian voice of the First Sergeant rousing us for chow at a grimy hour of the morning. Here again our only obligations were to meet roll call at 0800 and 1300 hours and not to stray off the post in the meantime. The last rule was a little difficult to enforce. For seven the most Dodge Club was our cutout. During our few days there, elements of the Motor Pool labored to put the vehicles in running order once more. Members of the Port Battalion, that unloaded the ship, had been somewhat negligent in the little details such as gasoline tanks the trucks specially with the result that we had to start tank by hand. But when all the mechanical troubles had finally been solved in a spirit of high adventure everything was ready to roll and when the ship was completely unloaded we waited only for clearance. Everyone was getting pretty restless by now and eager to get settled down once more. The allure of our Mediterranean cruise was wearing off. Our new country was dirty and it couldn't be any dirtier where we were going. Besides, there should be a lot of mail waiting for us.
November 30 was set as the date of departure, 0600 was the zero hour. The day dawned, cold and rainy as we had anticipated. We had learned in five years not to expect anything else. The 90 were primed for their two day boat with the vehicles, the rest were piled into trucks and rushed to Brindisi which they reached by evening.
We who were in our own convoy set out toward Naples in the murk of the new day. We had to leave at this ungodly hour in order to get clearance. "Clearance" is one of those intangible things that rule the destinies of men and motor convoys. It means, in theory, that there is clear track ahead and we had implicit faith that the road would be clear. Yet at through Naples and out the other side, a perfect traffic jam developed as the hills turned to mountains and the valleys turned to chasms. The roads were steep, curvy and wet, the visibility close to zero but the convoy moved on at a steady rate. Yes, this clearance was not a bad idea after all - that is, until we came to a junction and ran smack into a British convoy also going our way. We stopped to let it pass - a procession of every kind of vehicle and every kind of driver - Australians, New Zealanders South Africans, Indians and countless others who looked as if they belonged in Kipling stories instead of driving modern equipment. When we resumed our trip we ran into more steep grades, blinding rain and washed out bridges as well as many diversions from the ranks of the Decision Forces. Soon it reached the point where the British convoy and ours were intertwined and hopelessly tangled. We made our way slowly forward but by about 1300 hours, when we reached a convoy parking area some 20 miles this side of Foggia, we pulled in to take stock of the situation.
Practically everybody was soaked by this time in spite of the various shelter half arrangements which had been put up on the jeeps and command cars as a shield against the rain. The unanimous wish was to continue driving all night since it was hardly possible to become any wetter or for that matter any drier in this quagmire where we would be forced to bed down. But clearance, that magical force, detained us there so we put up a few tents, built some fires and tried to make the best of a bad deal. We were told to leave, we would be persuaded to wait until morning. There was some delay while we extricated some men who had sunk in the mud up to their knees and vehicles which had suffered the same fate. Yet by 0700 hours that day, October 31, we were on our way and glad of it.
The day was clear for a change and so was the road. We rolled along smoothly on this last lap like horses headed for the stable. Through Foggia and Cerignola and over to Barletta on the coast and then down. Lunch a short distance before Bari, refueling in Bari and down the home stretch in the afternoon. Approaching Brindisi about 1700 hours as a full moon came up over the sea, reminding us that a whole month has passed since the first day of our trip in October. In Brindisi at last but apparently no one knows how to reach the airport. We wend our way through and then get lost again. Destination is finally reached at about 2100 hours. There's still some chow left. Leave the vehicles and run for the mess hall.
We're home at last!
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