"Uncle Steve, you don’t look too well. Are you all right?"
"I’m fine, my boy. I think you mother is trying to kill me with her homemade pesto sauce, though. Like the saying goes, ‘those who forget the pasta are doomed to reheat it.’ Urp. Hmm, excuse me. No offense, but your mother’s cooking could make a vulture gag. But it’s still better than the food I ate while serving in Italy."
"You were in Italy, Uncle Steve?"
"Yes, indeed. Bring me a pint of Alka-Seltzer and I’ll tell you all about it… thanks, lad. Ah, where was I. Oh, yes. I was detached from the Regiment with a Bren team and we found ourselves attached to the Royal Ulster Rifles of the 56th Division. The Black Cats. Fine group of men, even if they were Irish. We’d had particularly nasty weather in the days before this particular action, and, luckily for us, this immobilized the German Panzer division that would have otherwise been supporting the German attack. Unfortunately, that same storm had swamped several of the LSTs carrying the Shermans of the US 1st Armored who would have been quite useful in supporting our defense. So, this was fated to be an infantry engagement.
"We were ordered to defend a portion of the Anzio beachhead, along with some Recce boy-o’s. I had acquired a prototype mortar the Ordnance wizards had come up with, and had to give my report on its utility. Hernbroth had the Bren, and Snook was his assistant gunner. It was bloody hilly terrain, and we placed ourselves about midway up one of the prominent hills.
"The Bren team was situated in a beautifully concealed position with a clear field of fire. I was about 15 yards above them, in a bit of scrub with some of the Recces acting as my mortar team. Some GI’s manned the low rise to our front, and we were to support them as they delayed the German offensive, and to cover their withdrawal. We weren’t in position long before the first wave of Germans hit the Americans. They put up a good fight, but found themselves in a pincer movement, and never got a chance to pull back. Poor boogers.
"We tried to lay in some mortar support for them, with rather unsuccessful results. The first round dropped down the tube went off with a roar, and we never did see where it landed. One report said it landed in the south of France, representing the first shot fired upon occupied Europe since Dieppe. However, I believe Intelligence was merely yanking my chain. In addition, the recoil of that first shot popped off the baseplate.
"We adjusted the fusing, and tried again. However, that round landed about 20 feet from the Bren team. I heard them make several unkind comments regarding my parentage, intelligence, and general state of my mental health, which I understand, given the circumstances.
"The third round was even less successful. It detonated prematurely, slightly wounding me. Luckily, the Recce medical orderly was close at hand, and attended to my wounds in a quite professional manner. As he was finishing up, the Germans overran our position. They apparently had bigger fish to fry than a medic and a slightly smoking corporal with an out of commission mortar tube, so they passed us by with rather impolite laughter. It may have been that they saw our first mortar attempts, and figured that we were more of a risk to Allied troops than to their own.
"I didn’t know where my Bren team had gotten to in the confusion of being slightly blown up, so we set out for the next hill. We established a small defensive position there, and regrouped. We saw German movement all along the opposite ridge, but they were out of effective range. After a bit of brew-up, we moved on to regain contact with the other units. I decided to try and find my men and headed down a draw with very little cover.
"Soon, I spotted about 30 Germans moving across my front, about 300 yards away. I went to ground until they had passed, then followed at a safe distance. At the bottom of the draw, I saw the Germans commence a well-executed assault against dug-in Allied positions. They took heavy casualties, but the Germans did carry the hill.
"I finally reestablished contact with Snook and Hernbroth. They’d been dug in on the hill and doing a fine job of repelling the Germans when the Bren began to jam. They were able to get out, by playing dead for about 15 minutes, until the Germans were looking the other way. They took their chance and got away.
Now, we were all forming up for a counterattack. The Bren team swung wide to the right, and I was on the left with the mortar team. Several GI’s were moving up with us, at the center. At a bend in the draw, we encountered quite a few SS soldiers moving up a low ridge to our right and front.
"The mortar team went to ground and we tried to sight in and gauge the range to the German positions. They were at the military crest, and hard for our men to hit. Whilst fiddling with the mortar fuses, I failed to notice that the GI’s had moved up and crawled into the high grass to our front. This information will be important later, boy.
"The first rounds went short, as there was a high head wind. Still the fire did keep the Germans’ heads down. It also made our boys look over their shoulders, since they were a bit nervous about me fielding a mortar. Turns out this was with good reason. On loading one round was dropped on the ground, arming it! Quickly, I scooped up the round and flung it to our front, yelling ‘Fire in the hole!’ and lay flat, covering my head.
"That’s when I heard an American voice to my front yell ‘Hey, do you know I’m here, Brit?’ Apparently, my throw had put the round about 10 feet from a hiding GI. The propellant charge went off, causing a good deal of smoke, but not detonating the main charge, much to my relief. I’m sure the GI’s relief was greater, however. Snook showed great courage and ingenuity by pouring his canteen on the round to flood the round and render it harmless.
"The skirmish was raging on around us, and we tried to put our mortar into service again. The wind caused a great deal of trouble for us, but we did manage to put a round right into a ditch with several Germans. However, it must have been a dud round, as the Germans merely looked at the round with curiosity, with no casualties. Damned bad luck for us, but damned good luck for the Hun.
"Our mortar rounds expended, I began firing at targets of opportunity with my rifle. I managed to get a sniper crawling across the ridge. That was about the extent of my heroics for the day, as a rifle round striking my helmet stunned me. Before I lost consciousness, the last thing I saw was a wounded Recce trooper fighting to the last round. He stood, put his pistol to his head, shouted ‘God save the King!’ and pulled the trigger. Damnedest thing.
"The next day, I was found by a patrol of Yanks. There was no sign of any British troops, so I found myself His Majesty’s envoy to the United States Army. From the reactions of the Yanks to my breakfast ration, I discovered why they gave so many tons of SPAM to Great Britain. They were not being generous—it seemed they were just trying to get rid of the stuff.
"As we were cut off from the rest of the Allied forces, we decided it would be best to spread out and take what cover we could. We encountered a pair of partisans and had them hide at a bridge and fire on any advancing German troops. Meanwhile, we went to ground. I holed up with a young GI, and we waited for what the day would bring. Soon we heard the firing of the partisans, and we knew the Germans would not be far behind.
"My GI friend popped up and down to see what he could. He said they were within about 20 yards, and I gripped my Enfield tightly, hoping it wouldn’t jam. Before long, a German squad leader came into view, advancing slowly. I waited until he was about 10 yards away, and let him have it. The GI popped up and got a couple more with his M1. I could hear the Germans moving around in the grass, but couldn’t get a clear shot, so I threw a grenade. It was clear I hit a couple of them, as a helmet went flying into the air, and I heard a couple satisfying screams.
"The Huns had swung a few men up the hill to our left, and fired down into our position, hitting the GI. I got a few rounds off with my Enfield at them, when it jammed. The GI croaked out for me to take his Garand. I was quite pleased with the fine craftsmanship, and the ability to put a large number of shots out in rapid succession. Another German went down. All told, I think we got 6 or 7 of them in that hole before our position became untenable.
"When we regrouped, we found ourselves defending a low hill, with little cover, aside from what we could scratch out for ourselves. We thought that if we could keep the Germans out of grenade range, we might be able to hold them off until we could be relieved. To make our numbers appear larger, two GI’s put their helmets in the grass to simulate another rifleman. The Americans made several references to an officer named Custer, and commented that they were not cavalry. I suggested we fix bayonets and charge, or form square, but they did not seem keen on the idea.
Nonetheless, we got down, and waited for the inevitable onslaught.
"Soon enough, the Germans came swarming down the opposing hill in 2 groups. They took advantage of what cover the ravine provided, and tried to flank us. The GI’s kept up an impressive rate of fire with the Garands, and I did what sniping I could. The Germans didn’t have any easy shots at our prone targets, and we got a good number of them during their approach. However, once they got in a bit closer, they were in a defilade position, and we couldn’t get them into our sights without exposing ourselves to their riflemen.
One by one, the valiant GI’s fell to the rain of grenades and charging Hun.
"At the end, with my rifle unusable, my grenades expended, and weakened by wounds, I was taken prisoner. One of the Hun was quite amused by the pictures of my dog, Tip, in my paybook, but I had few souvenirs for them to take. They said for me the war was over, but Fate had other plans for me…"
"Wow, Uncle Steve. But what about the Italian food you mentioned at the start?"
"What? Oh, saw damned little of it. Mostly I had King’s rations, and the slop at the POW camp before my escape. Yes, and a little jaunt to a local establishment with several comrades. Quite good food. I believe we sang ‘God Save the King’ approximately 30 times. I also discovered that the last two words of the Yank’s ‘Star Spangled Banner’ appears to be ‘play ball!’ Now, go help your mother with the dishes. Here’s a dollar. Make sure there aren’t any leftovers."