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Where have all the bullets gone_ - Spike Milligan [82]

By Root 119 0
Yes, it was agony for the people underneath.

Lieutenant Priest boards the charabanc. “Answer your names,” he says.

“Bornheim G.”

“Sah,” we all shout.

“Mulgrew J?”

“Sah,” we all answer.

He tears up the list in mock defeat; the charabanc and its precious cargo of piss artists proceeds forth. We inch thru the unforgettable fish market off the Piazza Capuana, displaying everything from water-fleas to tuna on the barrows. The mongers douse their catches with water. “Fools,” says Bornheim. “They’ll never revive them.” The church bells are anointing the air, each peal sending flocks of pigeons airborne on nervous wings. Through the machicolated crowds we edge, finally arriving at the peeling front of the Albergo Rabacino, which roughly translated means Rabies. Ronnie Priest flies into its front portals. He’s annoyed — the Italian ballerinas from our cast are not ready. “They had to go to holy bloody mass,” he says. We all get out and stretch our legs and are immediately beset with vendors. I am casting my eye on a tray of watches that gleam gold like the riches of Montezuma. They are in fact cheapo watches dipped in gold-plating. I knock the price down from ten million lire to ten thousand. OK, I buy the watch. Of course it doesn’t give the date, phases of the moon, high tide in Hawaii, it doesn’t light up in the dark, doesn’t give electronic peals every half hour, and it doesn’t ring like an alarm in the morning. All it does is tell the silly old time.

I paid the vendor and told him the time, I said hello to Mulgrew and told him the time, I called Bornheim over and told him the time and I wrote a letter to my mother telling her the time. Looking at the watch I realize it’s time to close this fifth volume of my War Time Trilogy. It was the year I had left the front line and found various Base Depot jobs. I had much to be thankful for and now I knew the time. In Volume Six I will tell the time and the story of my love affair with Maria Antoinette Pontani, the Italian ballerina who in a way changed my life and made me abandon my store of second-hand Army underwear. The time is 11.20 a.m.

Photo of Naples Bay — to prove it was there

Table of Contents

Preface

Foreword

AFRAGOLA

Afragola

February 14

News

February 30

92 General Hospital Naples

TORRE DEL GRECO

Torre Del Greco

March 1944

The New Broom Cweeps Slean

March 5

70th General Hospital Pompeii

March 10

Volcanoes, Their Uses in World War II

Diary: March 21

BAIANO

The Baiano Rehabilitation Camp

Orginisateum

Daily Life in the Camp

Romance One

April 13

April 21

Necrophiles

Sport

June. A Posting

The Officers’ Club, Portici

The Dancing Officers

Music Maestro Please

A Colonel Intervenes

Romance

Dances! Dances!

Filing for King and Country!

A Day Out in a Certain Direction

Ars Gratia Artist

Band Biz

The Aquarium Club

A Red Beard and a Beret

The Murals

Il Bagno

The Prodigal Returns

ROME

October 9

The Gig

The Days

Romance Two

Back to Base

Religious Interlude

December

O2E Christmas Arrangements

Christmas Eve

January 1945

Romance Three

The Printed Word in Maddaloni

Furlough

Anna Morto

April 17

May 1

Tuesday 8 May

2nd Day of V-E Festivities

Peace

The Great Neapolitan Band Contest

June 17

LIAP

The Torch of Love is Extinguished

August 9

Roma Encore

September 1

Diary: September 2

Diary: September 6

September 6

Little Bits of Useless Information

A Trifle

September 27

Hail the Chief

England Home and Beauty

October 5

Awake, My Pretty Ones

Landlords Ahoy!

Leave: Day 1

The Great Amnesia

Gunner Milligan Traces Beryl Southby Now Mrs Smith…

Dawn Over Reigate and 40 Meadow Way

Saucy Sandwich

Folkestone

RETURN TO ITALY

Return to Italy

Redivivus

Shock Horror Etc and Other Headlines!

A New Life and a New Dawn

’Over the Page’

ROME AGAIN

Rome Again

BOLOGNA

Bologna

Christmas in Italy

FLORENCE

Florence

RETURN TO NAPLES

Return to Naples

BARI

Bari

New Year’s Eve

Naples Again

January. CPA Barracks

A Bitter End

Romance ‘Neath Italian Skies

CAPRI

’Twas on the Isle of Capri

Nearly!

Nice Surprisey-Poo

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