Mussolini_ His Part in My Downfall - Spike Milligan [75]
CAMINO MONASTERY piled with dead of both sides and therefore unoccupiable since rock surface affords no graves for bodies, it must have been horrible to clamber up that sheer-razor rock with mortars dropping with lethal accuracy but, after changing hands a number of times, it is now definitely ours and the 46 Division are advancing with the Yanks.
TUESDAY, DECEMBER 14, 1943
Mobile Shower Unit have arrived, naked gunners all over the place, steam, soap, whistling, songs, pranks. A Quartet of naked men are standing in barber-shop formation—Edgington, Milligan, Devine and White. The water cascades down them, patent-leathering their hair to their heads, water jets run off their noses, elbows and willies.
“We’re poor little sheep who have lost our way, baaa, baaa, baaa.” This is all done with a fine feeling for dramatic gestures, arms shoot up in all directions, occasionally the steam would obscure them completely. We sang for nearly an hour; when we came out all of us were bright red.
“I feel giddy,” said Edgington.
“It’s the loss of dirt,” I said. “It leaves you dizzy.”
Having given us a shower we are now told to don our denims and “Clean the underside of all the signal vehicles.” An hour later we were all shit-black again. As luck would have it, the showers unit was still working; soon from the steam came “We’re poor little sheep…”
The Bath Corporal said, “‘Ere, weren’t you lot in this mornin’?”
“Yes.”
“You’re only supposed to ‘ave one go.”
“This is only one go,” I said.
“This is the second time you been in. I recognised the singin’.” Fame at last!
He forthwith switched off the water. We were left naked, covered in soap and shivering.
“I’m not ‘avin’ this,” said Devine, who runs after the Corporal. Soon the water flowed again, but then it went off again, and on again, and off again…we could hear a scuffle out back somewhere, then the thud of a body falling to the floor. Devine reappeared with a turncock, he had blood coming from his mouth. “The bastard! I told him.”
What had happened? Simple. The Bath Corporal now lay unconscious by his control valve.
“Hurry up, then,” said Devine. “I didn’t hit him very hard.”
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 16, 1943
REGIMENTAL DIARY:
RA Band visited 10 Corps area and gave performance in the Teatro Garibaldi at Santa Maria, and Capua Vetere.
MY DIARY:
ONLY EIGHT SHOPPING DAYS LEFT TO CHRISTMAS. OH DEAR, I MUST HURRY.
FILDES’ DIARY:
Still no Naples or rest but plenty of graft.
Graft yes. We are cleaning and recleaning our Signal equipment.
“I can’t clean this wireless set any more, Sarge.”
“Why not?”
“It’s starting to scream.”
Afternoon. All ranks other than those on guard and regimental duties will proceed to Santa Maria for the RA Band Concert.
The Garibaldi Theatre fronted a muddy street. The interior was a wonderland of plaster work, gilt, marble columns and red velvet. Built 1840, in classical style, it would be a show-piece anywhere. Right now the RA Band are pumping out ‘Colonel Bogey’. We listen to a few Sousa Marches and off out. American Red Cross Cinema! That was for us. It’s full. Round the back, Milligan. Open door. On to the rear of the stage. Fildes, White and I lay on our backs on the reverse side of the screen and watched George Brent and Mary Astor in a film I think called Black Victory When the titles came up, White said, “This must be the Joe Louis versus Max Schmeling fight.”
I wish it had been. The film bored me to death, it was a series of doors opening and people coming into rooms, talking about an inheritance, then leaving; after door number