Many years after the Second World War had ended, my father mentioned a diary he had kept during part of his active service. He had kept it, somewhat faded and tattered, ever since. He had also recently purchased a computer, a Sinclair QL (remember them?), and at my suggestion he decided to transcribe the diary on to the computer. Since his death, I have transferred the Sinclair file on to my own computer, and converted it into a web page. In a few places, I have added my own comments (in italics and colour red). However, I have not edited his text in any way , even though by today's standards some of his comments are somewhat politically incorrect! The original typescript of the diary is now in the Imperial War Museum in London.

David Sullivan

I INVADE SICILY

(Diary of an artillery radio operator,
written between 10 July and 3 September 1943)

Very early hours of Saturday 10 July 1943

• At long last the LCI (Landing Craft Infantry) arrives alongside the troopship, and we file out and embark. The LCI is rolling considerably in the choppy sea and we don't feel too comfortable, especially after we leave the parent ship. The swig of rum should help, but only succeeds in temporarily depriving one of breath. Time goes on, and we are very glad when the time comes to land. But for some reason we don't land, and suddenly we hear a series of loud bangs, of which we can feel the vibration. Somebody apparently doesn't like us. Several of the chaps have climbed to the top of the ladder, and with the opening of the door we see it is daylight. We're here, then, and will have to land in daylight. Let's hope the infantry have cleared the beach! The bangs continue; it isn't too pleasant cooped up in here, unable to see outside, and wondering where the next one is going. Why on earth don't we land? Someone calls down from the deck that we can't find our beach! However, at last we stop, and start filing up on deck. We find a formidable looking cliff facing us, with rocks and boulders at its foot, and a yard or two of water between us and it. Just as we reach its shelter a shell hits the top of the cliff, spattering us with stones. It appears the enemy has been trying to hit us, and we've had to make for the shelter of this cliff. And by the look of things we've only just made it! A very uncomfortable landing follows, thigh deep in swirling water, with a bed of boulders. Where are we? Not where we should be, obviously! We clamber to the right, along the base of the cliff, until eventually we round a corner to see a proper beach ahead. Not ours, but we can at least get inland.

• Suddenly rat-tat-tat! Everybody freezes, crouching. Eventually word comes back that we can't proceed as an enemy machine gun is covering the gap in the wire. We curse and turn back. Right to the other end of the cliff, over boulders and through water, only to be told we can't get through. All the way back again, and this time we make the beach. Sappers are going up to the cliff top making sure it's clear of mines. We follow, and traverse the cliff top in single file, fifty yards apart, with rifles at the ready. Apart from passing two dead Italians the only incident is when from the bushes on my right there suddenly appear two grey-clad, helmeted and armed soldiers a few yards in front of me. What the heck do I do now? Shoot, or wait and see what they do? They ignore me, and as they pass one speaks to the other - in an American accent! Well, that's a relief! At last we make our proper beach and strike up the track we should have followed. It's hot by now, and my equipment is cutting my shoulders. I feel half dead, and look, I know, like a Christmas tree! Going up the track we pass several old peasants being taken down, presumably for questioning. They look decent enough sorts, especially after our recent neighbours - from appearance they might be English farm folks.

• Then at last we reach the road; a good-surfaced one which runs right round the island. Seems strange to be walking along an ordinary country road - very like England; nothing at all like Egypt! Hard to believe we are actually in Sicily! Feeling of relief, too, at having got off the beach area - had visions of ending up as a prisoner of war whilst we were stuck down there! Soon we turn off into a sort of orchard (lemons and almonds!) and dig in. Eat sandwiches and apple, for which I at least am quite ready!

• Fall asleep in my slit trench, and am awakened and told to take my kit and join a three-tonner, which I do. In it, a group of us move up the road and pass through the small, rather poor-looking town of Avola. Quite a number of civilians, who for the most part greet us cheerfully, waving and giving the "V" sign (V for victory, that is, not its more modern usage!). Shortly after passing through town we reach area where Command Post to be established, and again dig in. Brew up and eat! Then, when not operating set (radio), spend time leaning on wall by roadside, watching streams of civilians passing up and down. Most of them wish us "Buon giorno" and smile in a friendly way, though a few ignore us. More duty on set, and so to bed.

Sunday, 11th July

• Up very "betimes" this morning (four o'clock) and stood around in groups chatting, keeping weather eye open for possible counter-attack which, however, never came! Breakfast from tinned rations (main course biscuit and dripping, and chocolate) then spent the morning much as last evening, - shifts on set, watching and greeting local population, back on set, and so on until the order "Prepare to move!" came through, when we packed up. It was, on the whole, a quiet morning, although several raids by aircraft, countered by a skyful of 'flak'. Much more frightened of flak than aircraft! Round about lunch time news came through that Syracuse had fallen, and when we moved, were told we were going near that town. Was on set during journey, so didn't see much scenery till we arrived, when we found ourselves at a farm. Can see Syracuse from here; looks about four or five miles away. We made friends with the people of the farm, who seem quite a decent lot. Two lovely babies, one very dark and one very fair. Fair one looks about two, other might be twelve months (I'm not much of a judge, even now!) Carried on long conversation with the younger one, - we seem to understand each other quite well! At last, after my saying "Ridi" (smile!) and the more English "Boo!" several times, she consented to smile at me! I showed "grandpa" David's photo (polyfoto snap) and told him that was "mio bambino". He nodded and smiled, and one of the girls (age perhaps 8 or 10, - I wouldn't know!) wanted to see it.

• After another spell on the set I came off in time for tea, first having a welcome wash and shave (good going, two shaves in one day!) in water from a well. Plenty of aircraft activity - mostly enemy I think, though the folks at the farm think they're British, or if they aren't sure they ask us, and we tell them they're ours! They all beam at each other and say "Son inglesi" and look very happy. I suppose they feel British planes won't bomb this area now!

Monday 12th July

• Another move today - not very far - to Floridia. An amusing incident happened here. Some of our people were out looking for an enemy three-ton tank which had been reported in the area. Suddenly it appeared in the town, ran along one of the streets, and eventually ran into a lamp-post, whereupon the crew got out and surrendered!

• Our new position, just outside the little town, is in a very rocky country lane bounded by rough stone walls. Near by is an excellent garden with a very large bed of tomatoes amongst other things; also water melons. Our rations are now enjoyably supplemented by these two commodities. The tomatoes are the nicest I've tasted outside England, and melons, of course, are always refreshing, especially when water is not too plentiful. There are also some grapes in another garden along the road, but they are not quite ripe yet, and taste like green gooseberries. And of course there are the inevitable almonds.

• In the evening I had a slight accident. I was climbing over a wall (which was only about four feet to 4'6" high) and just as I got to the top one of the stones gave way, and I, together with a number of large stones, descended to the road again. On the way down I scraped my shin badly and also bruised my right knee and left forearm. The shin was so painful that I couldn't walk, and on examining it I found it was bleeding freely, and also had a lump like half an egg. My attempt to get to the Command Post, where it could be treated in the light (for it was now dark) proved abortive, and in the end two of the lads had to carry me. I was hors-de-combat for the rest of the evening and was excused night-duty. Thus I managed to get about five hours' sleep instead of about two!

Thursday 13th July

• Leg still very sore this morning, but after a time I managed to get it working sufficiently to hobble about, and took a turn on the wireless. Sitting in one position stiffens it up very much though, so resolved to do as much walking as possible. Heard that Sortino has fallen this morning, so we shall probably be moving again.

Later

• Exercised my leg by going to the tomato beds, where I collected a good number. I can just picture Lallie's (His sister-in-law, my aunt, now 95 years old but a keen gardener in her time) face if she could see all these growing in the open air, apparently by themselves! The work, of course, has been put into them before we came, and it's a shame the owner had to leave them. As a matter of fact he needn't have done, though we should undoubtedly have helped him to eat them just the same!

• This afternoon we moved again, back through Floridia and then onto the Sortino road. This runs right over the hills, and has some alarming hairpin bends on the mountain side. If you went round too wide you would lose all further interest in this world's affairs. The views were, of course, marvellous - this is a lovely island. What a change after Egypt!

• At one point we crossed a long narrow bridge and saw "X" (the battery commander's tank), which appeared to have run down the bank. On stopping to make enquiries we were told that the edge of the road had given way and the tank had overturned but righted itself again. The only casualty was George Baker, who seemed to be rather seriously hurt. Fortunately the following vehicle to them was an ambulance, which immediately dashed him back to the hospital in Floridia. Lucky!

• We passed by Sortino, just touching a corner of the town, and a few yards further on I was dropped to wait and guide the rest of the vehicles. Capt. Palmer went back to the crossroads and K (my 'home') was told to go a few yards on and get off the road. (These initials represent different vehicles). When Capt. Palmer reappeared we went on to find K, but it was nowhere to be seen. We trudged on, I limping badly, for my leg was still very sore, and after walking about a mile and a half we decided it must have gone on somewhere, so waited for the guns to come up and got a lift on C.l.

• When I at last arrived, I found the Command Post in a farmyard, and on going into the yard met Dave Seideman and looked forward to being with him for a day or two at least. But I was immediately put on the set in H, as the operator had been on for some hours. K, it appeared, had not turned up, and nobody knew where it was.

• I had not been on the set more than about five minutes when H was ordered to move off on a "reccy" (reconnaissance). I was rather perturbed about this, as evening was drawing on and every bit of my kit was on the missing K, (except my big pack which was at Wagon Lines - wherever that is now! We proceeded up the road, and --- passed K on the way up! At last we stopped in another farmyard, from where we sent a message to the battery to follow us, picking up K on the way. Whilst we were waiting one of the farm men gave us a cup of local wine, which was not too bad though a trifle crude and sour. It was dark long before I left H, and then we got a meal of M & V and marmalade pudding - very acceptable. Thank God for the British Merchant Navy and the American canning industry! They can "can" anything and everything! Made my bed in a field behind the farmhouse. On set during night. About two hours' sleep altogether.

Wednesday 14th July

• Moved again this morning, not very far. A number of 'Stuka' (dive-bomber) raids and strafing, but no casualties except Sgt Lympany, who was slightly wounded in the arm. Fairish activity. K, on its way, I believe, to O.P. (observation post) overturned, with, of course, all my kit on it! Haversack and webbing rescued for me, for which I'm very thankful. My rifle, of course, was with me, so I still have that!

• In the afternoon we moved off again, I travelling on M.l. Passed over the hills to Carlentini, which we passed through with the infantry. Here again the population was cordial, and paid much more attention to us than to the batch of prisoners in the 'square'. Mr H. took a snap of them from the bonnet of M.l. - must try to get a copy if they are ever developed. From here we went on to the neighbouring town of Lentini, which lies below Carlentini and is reached by one of the zig-zag mountain roads with which we are becoming familiar. We stopped at last at another farmhouse, where we had tea and Stukas. Even here, as at Alamein, they seem to come out especially at meal-times. We didn't stay long, but moved again in the evening, travelling in the dark, and arriving at our destination, about ten miles from Catania, about 1.00 a.m. We are close to the Jerry lines here, but it appears the battle is going well, and perhaps it won't be long before we cross the plain and get Catania. Etna has been in sight much of our last journey; it is smoking. Lost our way after dark and went wandering on blindly in the dark for several miles. We were all convinced that we were in the enemy lines, but we saw no sign of life, either British or Jerry, except once when the officer and one man walked forward to reccy, and two figures in unfamiliar helmets suddenly confronted them. It was fortunate nobody fired, as they turned out to be British paratroops! We gave them some tomatoes, which they accepted eagerly. Eventually we turned back, and after a time met up with H and S.13, which had also been lost, but now knew the way. Finally we reached the position, at about 1.00 a.m. What with the late arrival and wireless duty, I got one hour's sleep.

Thursday 15th July

• The new location is in a vineyard, though the grapes are not quite ripe yet, and taste like green gooseberries.

• Great excitement today caused by the arrival of two bags of mail, brought by the D + 3 party, one bag being exclusively HQ mail, which I sorted. Mr H. snapped me during the process, so I must watch out for its being developed.

• In the afternoon I was told I had to join X to go to the O.P., but after hanging around all afternoon with my kit, - and actually boarding X, I was told I wasn't required so went back.

Friday 16th July

• Infantry attacked Bridge last night and were successful. I believe the O.Ps had a very sticky time, so it was probably just as well I wasn't needed! During today Jerry counterattacked, so expect we shall have to have another go tonight.

• A bit of bad news today - I heard that Ron Morris's ship was sunk with only six survivors. He is missing - presumed dead. Very sorry about this, he was a very decent bloke, and has been very unlucky in his army life.

• Again, detailed to join X, but again not needed. Hurrah!

Saturday 17th July

• As expected we made another attack last night, and managed to take the bridge. Went to O.P. in the afternoon - farm buildings just over the bridge - and found a terrible state of wreckage and carnage. (Note: The wrecked building faced Catania across completely flat land without another building in sight. As I gazed across this plains near my left leg there was a huddled form covered by a tarpaulin, which when two men came to carry it away, I found to be the body of an officer.) Fortunately not long after I arrived there we were relieved by another brigade, so I had nothing to do. Although I was only there two or three hours at the outside, two shells hit the building!

• Sgt Whaley was hit in the back by a shell splinter near his gun today, and is seriously wounded.

Sunday 18th July

• Mum & Dad's wedding aniversary, and also the anniversary of our arrival in Capetown last year. I was instructed to take my kit over to K, and resume living with it again, but before I could do so the order was countermanded, and I was told I had been "promoted" to X. Promoted indeed! Took my kit over to X, after being included in a snapshot of Command Post personnel.

• Heard that Sgt Whaley has died.

• Had some stukas over in the evening, but otherwise quiet.

• Drew wine ration and put it in my water-bottle. It isn't bad stuff with the addition of water, though a bit crude!

Monday 19th July

• Nothing doing till afternoon, when we moved to a new position in a barley-field. We didn't stop there, however, but moved again after dark, a pretty tough journey over the hills.

Tuesday 20th July

• This is a pretty and convenient spot in a valley. Quite an attractive vista, and what is more important, there's a water point at the bottom of the valley. Plenty of fruit around, - tomatoes, oranges, lemons, grapes, plums and peaches. Also the usual almonds.

• Most annoyed this morning to find I've lost my pen during the trip here. Having had it for over ten years without its needing so much as a new nib, it's tough to lose it here!

• Battle of Catania still going on, but we had a quiet, easy day.

Wednesday 21st July

• At last we've had permission to say in correspondence that we're in Sicily, but have not yet been told our new address.

• "Premature" (shell exploding as soon as it leaves the gun) in the early hours of this morning; Tony Burton seriously wounded in the chest, and Pedley also wounded. I appear to have had a pretty narrow escape, as splinters flew all over the place.

Thursday 22nd July

• Burton dead.

Friday 23rd July

• Barbara's birthday. I wonder how she's spending it. Last year on this date I went up to the summit of Table Mountain on the cableway.

• This year I started re-reading "John Halifax - Gentleman", which Babs sent me for my birthday. An appropriate day to begin it!

Saturday 24th July

• Went for a swim in the afternoon, which was very enjoyable. Met Dave Seideman on the beach. Looks as if I shall keep bumping into him at intervals!

• More mail in.

• Frankie found my pen - in the bottom of X. Overjoyed - It must have fallen inside after all!

• Wrote Babs enclosing my latest verse efforts "Dreaming" ("In a green Sicilian Valley").

• Have a bit of a headache today from the banging of the guns. (It's awkward being in front of them like this; the effect is shattering every time they fire. If we stay here long I shall be a nervous wreck!

Sunday 25th July

• A very quiet day for a change. Finished reading "John Halifax".

Monday 26th July

• Heard today that we now have three quarters of the island. Good work; now for the other quarter. The present line is from Santo Stefano di Camastra (on the north coast) to just south of Catania. Also heard that Mussolini has resigned. Wonder whether it's true.

• Moved to new position near Scordia - position in an olive grove. To bed about midnight. We are now attached to a Canadian tank brigade.

Tuesday 27th July

• All quiet.

Saturday 31st July

• Nothing new since last entry. Today we moved about three miles and parked X by a barley rick.

Sunday 1st August

• There's a crazy old farmer here who visits us regularly and gives us a long and incomprehensible harangue accompanied by gestures which don't help us to understand! This morning he finished his performance by kissing the hands of Nobby and myself! First time I've ever had my hand kissed by a farmer!

Monday 2nd August

• Got our new CMF address today.

Wednesday 4th August

• Found trough big enough to bathe in. Had quite an enjoyable swim, though restricted, as the "bath" is only about 5 or 6 yards square, and the water about 2ft 6ins deep.

Thursday 5th August

• Now out of action.

• Phillips gave a show at C. Troop this evening - quite amusing. Many telling references to the "bullsh" which is sure to ensue now we're out of action.

Friday 6th August

• Moved over to the other side of the big house this morning and established in an olive grove. We fitted up awning and made table out of three 'compo' ration boxes, and stools out of ammo. boxes, also a mug rack and mess tin rack on a close-by tree. Called the home "Cosy Nook", which we printed on a board together with the words: "No hawkers, No beggars, No circulars, No duty N.C.Os" and fastened it on the other side of the tree.

• Battery guard started, and - believe it or not - clean webbing guard! Even here!

Saturday 7th August

• Announced on 9.0 a.m. parade that there's a church parade and march-past tomorrow, so put shirt and slacks in soak in the morning.

• "Bathing parade" 10.00 a.m.; trucks took us down to the sea. Took rations and didn't return till about 4.45 p.m. Quite pleasant, although hot. Amphibian flying boat stuck in the sand a little distance away, so went up to have a look, and gave a hand. Nearly got cut up by the air-screw in the process.

• On return to the leaguer (battery camp) I took my washing down to a trough of which the others had told me, with a bowl, soap and scrubbing brush. On arrival there I found it occupied by a peasant woman who was doing her washing, and as her stuff was spread all over, I put my bowl down on the edge and went to take off my shirt and lay it down in a dry place. When I got back to the trough a second woman had materialized and was asking the first one whose bowl this was. She turned round to me and I made signs indicating that it was mine, whereon she took the shirt and slacks and insisted on washing them for me! So I grinned cheerfully and let her. When she'd finished I said "Grazie" and gave her a few cigarettes, and we parted on the best of terms.

Sunday 8th August

• Inspection, church parade (which as usual I had no chance to avoid) and march-past this morning. After the service the colonel "said a few words". What fine fellows we all are, how proud he is of us, etc., and also that the Division and Brigade Commanders had been writing every two days since we left them, trying to get us back. We seem to have gained a reputation.

• In the afternoon the four of us took a walk down to the bathing trough near the last position, and had quite a good bathe. Strolled back and collected melons and a cucumber on the way.

Thursday 12th August

• Jerry air raid last night, though not much damage apparent. But of course we now have to dig slit trenches! Spent a spare half hour this afternoon writing a "Stanley Holloway" type monologue: "Sam in the Eighth Army".

Friday 13th August

• Moved this morning to a new position near Palagonia. We are in a corner almost surrounded by most inhospitable cactus. We have again established our little home, and given it the obvious title "Cactus Corner".

Saturday 14th August

• Felt awful this morning, so went sick. The truck took us a couple of miles, much of it over bumpy ground, after which we had a further walk of at least half a mile, uphill, and including a couple of walls which had to be surmounted. If I hadn't felt bad before I started I certainly should have done before I got back to Cactus Corner; - Heaven help anybody who was really bad! The M.O. diagnosed gastroenteritis, which can't be as serious as it sounds, since he "prescribed" M & D (i.e. Medicine and Duty). The 'M' tasted bad enough, but fortunately there hasn't been much D today, I felt too bad to do much.

Monday 16th August

• Had a headache most of yesterday, and felt unfit for P.T. (physical training) this morning, so judged it best to go on sick parade again. Diagnosis and prescription same as before, except that this time I got four large tablets to take as soon as I got back to Cactus Corner.

Tuesday 17th August

• An interesting day. Went out on a "sightseeing tour" round the district. Travelled in a comfortable truck, which made it the most comfortable journey I've ever had in the army. Stopped for an hour in the morning at Caltagirone, and it was quite a thrill to be able once more to walk about a town, albeit a small unpretentious town. There were a number of stalls in the roadway, from which, if one was so minded, one could buy nuts (almonds!), stickjaw toffee and shoddy - and somewhat expensive - toilet articles: mirrors, combs, nailbrushes and the like. After a short time it was borne in on us that a number of the buildings were shops, although they bore little external evidence of the fact. So we went into one or two to look round, but failed to find anything we particularly wanted. Caltagirone has obviously had a certain amount of bombing, which may account for a certain quietness and absence of welcome which we observed there. It is strange to see armed Italians in uniform walking about, even when one has seen the POLICE armlets they wear. Most of the population seem to be unoccupied, and the main square is thronged with civilians busily engaged in standing around, and staring with mingled curiosity and apathy at our party. The children are more cordial, and pester us for "sigarette" and "biscotti" (cigarette and biscuits). Cigarettes and tobacco seem to be completely 'non est' all over Sicily - nor have we sufficient to give away - and the children have soon learned that the British Tommy is always good for a biscuit or two, of which he has far more than he can eat. By virtue of my very small knowledge of no doubt atrocious Italian it devolves on me to fulfil the role of interpreter when coming into contact with civilians.

• From Caltagirone our truck took us back along the road by which we came, branching off for a time to pass through Grammichele, stopping at last in a little hollow where we got out our rations and had lunch. An hour or so later, having fed, and collected a number of huge tomatoes, we left and took to the road again.

• From here our way took us along a fairly good road through beautiful mountain scenery, rising steadily until we came in sight of Mineo. This little town stands right on the summit of a hill and is about 1500 feet above sea level. From the road it has all the air of an enchanted city in a fairy tale. Inside the town we halted in a square, as at Caltagirone, and commenced our perambulation. The siesta held sway when we arrived, and everything was quiet and asleep in the afternoon sun. It did not stay asleep for very long, however, as, heralded by a loud call of "Wakey, Wakey!" from one of the party, we debussed and scattered through the small town. Mineo is much smaller than Caltagirone and equally poor, but there is a different atmosphere about it. The people were still, as at the larger town, less cordial and demonstrative than the peasants we have met in the farms, but more so than at Caltagirone. One reason is probably that the bombing and fighting have, owing to its unique situation, missed it completely, whilst another is no doubt the fact that the Roman Catholics of the regiment came here to church on Sunday, and the populace has realised that we are harmless and willing to be friendly.

• Some of the smaller children are most attractive, and I couldn't resist talking to them and in some cases picking them up. This, of course, pleases the mothers no end, and so fulfils two jobs, my own satisfaction (ah, the Age of Innocence - he'd never be able to write stuff like this these days!) and propaganda for post-war relations between Britain and Italy. The British troops are proving very fine ambassadors, making friends with the people wherever they go, treating the civilians courteously, gaining the confidence and friendship of the children - tomorrow's Italy - and paying a fair price for what they buy. (Note: there were exceptions, of course!) Before catching the truck for the return journey we called in a tiny cafe and had an infinitesimal cup of very good (and, surprisingly, sweet) coffee. And so back home, after one more incident as we were sitting in the truck waiting to move. Most of the juvenile population of Mineo was crowding round us clamouring: "Allo, allo, biscotti!" and we were throwing biscuits down to be scrambled for by a heaving mass of children of all sizes. Then I saw Cled, in his inimitable style, stand in the middle of the throng and distribute biscuits personally to all the tiniest children who were quite unable to get near them in the scramble. I gave a tin containing the last few pipefuls of very dry "Bruno" to an exceedingly ancient man who stood near sucking an almost equally ancient pipe. I don't think I've ever seen anything quite so quick as the way it disappeared into his pocket.

• In the evening there was a regimental concert at R.H.Q., but I had several things to do, including some writing, so I didn't go.

• Sicilian campaign now over. Finished in 38 days.

Friday 20th August

• Nothing of any note during the last two days except Italian and O.P.A. classes. Then today I went on another sightseeing tour. As on the last occasion we stopped at Caltagirone and Mineo, passing, this time, through Vizzini, Licodia Eubia, Vittoria and Militello besides Grammichele, which we saw on Tuesday.

• On this occasion there seemed definitely a warmer feeling in both our stopping places. No doubt the people are getting used to us by now. In a stationer's shop in Caltagirone I bought notebook for my Italian notes, but completely forgot to get ink, which annoys me considerably. Also in this town I provided a little free entertainment for the locals by treading unsuspectingly on a sloping kerbstone, with the inevitable result. My cigarette case was injured in this little misadventure, but fortunately I managed to straighten it out in the evening. We bought a "chatty" (or however you spell it) (I've no idea what this was! Any suggestions?) and some very nice grapes, before leaving this town. I suppose a kilo of grapes would probably cost about a pound in England, - if you could get them. Here they are 7 lire, or about 4d.

• In Mineo we had some more coffee, and some members of the party got hold of eggs and bread, but how it was done is a mystery to me. I suspect the black arts!

Friday 27th August

• A week since my last entry, but nothing of interest has occurred. (Note: except that at some stage I remember swimming in Catania harbour - but see last page!) This morning, however, we moved up by Dead Horse Corner and Primasole Bridge onto the Catania road. The building which was our O.P. during the battle doesn't look now as if anything could ever have lived in it. We left X in an assembly area about four miles or so from the Catania Aerodrome and set off for the new Battery position in a three-tonner. An incident occurred on this journey owing to the officer i/c party having gone the wrong way. When we got back as far as the aerodrome we had to turn round and go in the opposite direction. Now, turning round a couple of three-tonners on a narrow road in an endless stream of traffic in both directions is a tricky job, and it wasn't long before our truck was wedged across the road with about a mile of impatient traffic on each side, and everybody on the truck telling the driver what to do, - all differently! It was at this interesting juncture that we saw an open staff car approaching at a fairly high speed. We signalled it to stop, - which it had to do anyway, or commit suicide, - and it was when it pulled up that we recognized the principal occupant as General Montgomery. He waved to us as he passed - one of the things I like about Monty is that he will always wave, even to an odd group of soldiers, as if he knows them personally.

• After this contretemps we went on through Motta, and after losing ourselves twice we arrived at the new location, to which we were astonished to see X come chugging up shortly afterwards, not having been wanted yet after all.

Monday 30th August

• David's second birthday. My young son is growing up. I wonder how old he'll be when I see him next.

Tuesday 31st August

• Another move. X and jeep set out this morning heading for Santa Teresa, which is somewhere well north of Catania. (From information gathered tonight I think it must be fairly near Messina. - Purpose of trip to get X waterproofed for crossing to Mainland) Went to REME camp near Misterbianco where I transferred from X to the jeep. X was put on a transporter, and after I had been given a map (which only went as far north as Acireale) and very brief directions, we set off, jeep in the lead, followed by the transporter. Passed through Catania which, though knocked about in parts, seems for the most part to be in very good condition, and quite a modern city. It is the second largest city in Sicily, Palermo being the largest. Could not go by the coast road because of large priority convoys, so made our way by an inland roads with the aid of the map, as far as Acireale. When we reached Aci Catena, about a mile short of Acireale, we were warned that the road ahead was bad, and advised to take an alternative route; so leaving the transporter in a spacious square Frankie and I went ahead in the jeep to recce. Found the alternative route no good, but ours all right until just emerging onto the main road, where there's a sharp right-angle corner at the junction of two very narrow streets. Asked a C.M.P. (Corps of Military Police) Control Point if there were any alternative way through and he referred us to C.M.P. Headquarters, where we went. They said no, we would have to come that way, but would not be able to use the main road for some time - possibly not until tomorrow. However, after some discussion and emphasis on our own priority, they said they would allow us to go through after the "big stuff", which would not be before about 3.30 p.m. And with that we had to be content, so went back to Aci Catenat where the rest of the crew had brewed up, and we lunched among the usual throng of children, to whom we gave our biscuit scraps when we had finished. Then we took the transporter forward as far as the main road, and parked it in a little square to await permission to go on. The C.M.P. Control Post said it would be some time before we could proceed, so we went into a cafe for some coffee, and afterwards took a walk round the town, during which I bought some razor blades and some extremely sticky sweets, which were practically uneatable. On my return to the jeep I put them in the locker for possible later donation to children met on the road.

• At last, more like five o'clock than three-thirty, we got permission to carry on, and left Acireale behind us. From here onwards Jerry has made a very thorough job of blowing up all the bridges, and there are some very sticky diversions, especially for a big thing like a transporter. On one occasion when it was stuck for a long time, we stopped the jeep at the beginning of a little straggly village to await our charge. Immediately across the road from where we stopped was a group of women and children sitting outside two adjacent houses. When it became obvious that the transporter was going to take some time, I could no longer resist the temptation to go across and talk to the babies, so taking some of the afore-mentioned sticky sweets across as introduction, I did so. It did not take long for the women to open a conversation, and I let my Italian have its head. My knowledge, of course, is still small, but considerably better than it was a fortnight ago when I went to Caltagirone. I was told that two of the babies, who seemed - to me - to be about nine or twelve months old, were twins, (both girls). After some minutes' "play" with the twins, (Oh dear, here we go again!) I told the ladies that I, too, had a baby, and produced the "polyfoto" snaps of David. It was very gratifying to David's proud daddy to see the enthusiasm with which the snaps were passed round. The women all said how beautiful he was, ascertained that he was a boy, asked how old he was, and so on. They also, which amused me vastly, said he was like me! Women are the same all over the world, it seems. Anyway, my efforts towards Anglo-Italian goodwill were ably clinched by David!

• When the transporter finally came up we found they had had to take X off to get through the diversion. Shortly we came to another even worse, through which in the end the whole show, transporter and all, had to be towed by a bulldozer! Having seen it safely through this, I took the jeep forward to recce a position for the night, as it was now obvious that we couldn't get much farther this evening, and also to see whether we could get any rations, as none of us had any for tomorrow. For one reason and another, chiefly the inability on the part of the C.M.P. to agree with each other as to the whereabouts of D.I.D., (My father could never remember what that was!) I had quite a hectic time dashing up and down the road. After passing the same M.P. (military policeman) five times at an awkward turning, I felt he was beginning to regard me with a certain amount of suspicion! We were quite unable to procure rations, and the parking place I chose was claimed by a company of RASC or somebody but at last we found a decent field at the entrance to a village, and brewed up. With bully, onions, biscuits and some potatoes we managed to buy in the village, all stewed up together, we made quite a satisfactory meal, and left enough rations over for tomorrow's breakfast.

• Beyond that we dare not look, but as Santa Teresa only seems to be about fifteen miles further on, we won't worry.

Wednesday lst September

• Breakfast and a good wash in the yard of a neighbouring house, and then Onward again. After a wearing few miles of diversion after diversion, (How I hate the word now!) we came to Giardini, with the world-popular resort of Taormina perched on the cliff-top right up above us. The country round here is really wonderful, and I can well imagine people who can afford it spending their holidays here. Not, of course, that there isn't enough sheer beauty in England to make foreign travel unnecessary, but there's a streak in most of us that makes foreign beauty-spots more inviting, and of course, here they have the sun! I certainly reflected that I should like to bring Barbara here for a holiday. Just beyond Giardini came a halt - we were told that we could not proceed as there was a 12-ton bridge ahead which wouldn't even take X, let alone the transporter. The only suggestion the guardians of the bridge could offer was that we go back to Catania and all the way round by the north of the island. This, even if there were no impassable bridges on the way, would probably take three days at least. So we did the only thing possible - got the big fellow off the road and brewed up! Then Frankie and Ken went up in the jeep to Santa Teresa to see what could be done, and the rest of us settled down to hang about and wait. It was as three of us were sitting on a wall by the roadside that "Monty" passed us again, and as usual waved back as though we were three personal friends. It was tea-time when the jeep came back - loaded with rations, but with no helpful suggestions as regards our plight. So once again we brewed up, this time making a full meal, and just as it was ready Capt. Peile came up the road in another jeep, so we hailed him and explained the situation. He went up to the bridge, and with the added weight that three pips give a chap, soon got permission for X to go on under its own steam, leaving the transporter where it was, to return in the morning to its base. I did the rest of the journey on the back of Capt. Peile's jeep - less comfortable but not too bad. A bit of a come-down, though, after driving the majority of the way from Catania! The only other item worthy of note was at a village beyond Santa Teresa (we found we had to go further north than our original destination). In this village, whose name I don't know, a huge green banner was slung right across the main road, with the legend: 'WELLCOME THE LIBERATORS" (spelling faithfully copied). At last we found the area we were bound for, pulled in, brewed up (hurriedly because of the approaching dusk) and bedded down.

Thursday 2nd September

• X was duly "waterproofed" this morning, and after lunch we moved out onto the beach, Capt. Peile's jeep having gone back to the Battery. We were now "teamed up" with two officers and three men of the Argyll & Sutherlands who were to accompany us on our trip across the straits. Regulars, all of them, and jolly good blokes. Our L.C.M. (the landing craft which would act as ferry) came in after missing the beach and being turned back. We began to mutter "If he loses his way at this side, how will he go on in the dark at the other?" We embarked, and were conveyed to another beach further south. Not without incident as in the first place the cox'n couldn't find the beach we were to be taken to, and in the second, when he did arrive he found he had lost his stoker. The latter appeared some time later, having, as far as we could make out, fallen overboard and swum ashore. In the third place the L.C.M. took in water through cracks between the ramp and the deck and sides. When we put in at the second beach they did what they could with it, but the result was not very satisfactory, and the crew were warned to stand by the hand pump on the journey across. All of which, as can be imagined, vastly improved our confidence in the boat and its cox'n (who, by the way, was about 17 years old!)

• In the meantime we lost no time in stripping off and having a swim. The water was beautifully clean and clear, and we fully enjoyed this, our last swim in Sicily. We alternately swam and lounged about until tea-time, when we made a good meal on the beach.

• Then we retired to a hollow with Capt. Peile to receive the "dope" on the coming party, and then sat around on the beach chatting amongst ourselves and our Scottish friends until from sheer tiredness we had to desist and go to sleep, which we did, there and then, on the shingle.

• During daylight one can see the coast of mainland Italy perfectly clearly from here, and although at this point it must be quite sixteen miles across, it looks about two or three. What it looks like near Messina, where the strait is only two miles wide, I don't know. It seems incredible that throughout the day we have calmly and insolently gone about the task of loading craft for the invasion right under the enemy's nose, as it were.

Friday 3rd September

• After a very few hours' sleep I was wakened up (in the VERY early hours of the morning) and went aboard. Soon afterwards we put out to sea. We were celebrating the fourth anniversary of the declaration of war by taking that war onto the mainland of Europe! And so the Sicilian chapter of my life closes and I open a new one. In four hours I shall be in mainland Italy.

• J.H.Sullivan

Note - Friday 27th August I later remembered that this happened during a two-day trip back to Catania from the mainland!

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