BY ROGER SMITH
Extracts from the book
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Flies and worse in
the Western Desert
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A peculiar addiction to Irish lyrics
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Burying the dead Tebaga Gap
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British Army at a minefield near Sfax,
Tunisia
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The countryside near Sousse, Tunisia
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The Padre's tools of trade
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A minefield near Takrouna, Tunisia
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Kelly in Cairo
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Housekeeping in a two-man bivvy in the
rain Sangro, Italy
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Falling asleep on duty Sangro
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Kelly dies at
the Sangro River
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Civilians caught in the frontline
Castel Frantano, Italy
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Getting sadness off your chest
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Giant drunken zooming fireflies
Alife, Italy
·
Christmas 1943
back from the front
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Maori Battalion,
Trocchio, Italy
·
Fear, and fear of fear Cassino,
Italy
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A break from Cassino
·
All in a days work in the Cassino
rubble
·
There for your
mate at the finish Terelle, Italy
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I lay still as the light grew. Warm, drowsy and relaxed, I was in luxury, knowing there
was no need to be alert. Then as I woke more fully, my reluctant brain began its work and
rushed unbidden memories to the forefront of my mind. I heard frantic voices calling under
the road
saw a pair of drumming heels disappear beneath an avalanche of
concrete
Roberts body with loops of intestine bursting obscenely from its
back
a Hun screaming as he writhed in the dust
four tumbled sacks against a
kerb, wearing red cross brassards as large as flags.
I shuddered awake, throwing off a chill that stroked the nape of my neck with a frozen
fear. I wondered how many other of the forms about me, seemingly still and peaceful, were
actually fighting similar battles. Fighting memories that threatened to engulf them.
Memories of friends that were no more. Memories of sights and sounds unbelievable in
terror. Memories of deeds done with viciousness undreamed of. I looked around at them, the
cream of men in my world, and the movement brought two pairs of eyes to focus on my own.
Buster and Josh. Each of us could see our own thoughts mirrored in the others faces.
For a long minute we lay thus, quite silent, growing comfort in the unspoken sympathy
between us. Then Buster said: Well get drunk to-night, Rod. |
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