A Different kind of Christmas
It was Christmas Day in the Work House
The pudding came into view
Currents there were plenty
Raisins there were few
Up stood a brave old warrior
His face as bold as brass
" You can keep your bloody pudding "
" And Stick it up your Ass"
By December 1944 the 8th army in Italy had passed the Gothic line and captured the northern Italian cities of Forli and Faeznza. The Battalion had been pulled out of the line and the carrier platoon were billeted in a large Italian farm 12 miles behind the lines. The farm had a good sized house with a large barn. There was an Italian farmer and his family still living in the farm house so we parked the carriers in the large barn which still left plenty of room for us all to sleep in there. The barn was so big I was able to build a small cookhouse at the back of the barn from old furniture and a stove the farmer had let us have. The farmer was always very kind to us. He lived in the main farm house with his wife, young daughter and his brother.
Every few days a carrier would be sent to the Battalion HQ which was about 10 miles away to collect our ration allowance and to pick up any Christmas mail that we were all eagerly awaiting from our loved ones at home. For about two weeks we just lazed around more or less giving the carriers a good over haul to occupy our time. The way the war was going we were hoping this would be our last Christmas in Italy as we were due to be repatriated back to the UK after serving four years over seas.
| Christmas Eve soon came around and we took two carriers into the nearest village to see if we could get any decent wine and food. At the village we started bartering with the shop keepers, offering sardines, bully beef and lira which ever they wanted. In exchange we managed to get a pretty good hoard of goodies, loads of eggs, cheese, ham, 1 flagon of Asti, 6 bottles of red vino and some spanish roasting nuts. We even managed to get a small toy doll for the little girl at the farm. On the way back to the farm we found some holly bushes growing near the road, so we filled the carriers with these holly bushes and carried on back to the farm where we decorated our barn with the holly to try and make it a bit more festive. There were no christmas trees to be had anywhere but one of the blokes made one from an old tree branch which he found on the farm and we tried to decorate it with anything red or green we could find. |  |
Later that night the farmer invited us to join his family in the living room of the farm house. We brought some of our wine and the roasting chestnuts with us. Soon we were all very merry and roasting the chestnuts on a big fire in the farm house living room. Every one had to take his turn singing a song, including the Italians. The farmer's brother played the fiddle and sang some old Italian folk songs. He had a beautiful voice and some of the songs were very sad. We soldiers on the other hand had a very large repertoire of rude and crude army songs. I hope the Italians did not understand too much English otherwise I think they would have been quite shocked. It always amazed me how a British soldier could turn something like a Christmas carol into something that would make your mother faint. It was a strange sort of night being so far away from our families on this very cold night in Italy.
Early Christmas morning while the rest of the lads were sleeping off their hang- overs Hughie and I got up early to prepare the Christmas feast in my homemade cook house. We had a special rations today, tinned turkey, potatoes and plum duff. I managed to get some vegetables from the farmer as well. Hughie and I slaved all morning in the cook house and at 1 o'clock we all sat down for our Christmas meal. It was very common in most regiments for the officers and NCOs to server the lower ranks on Christmas day so we were waited on by Captain Brennan and the NCOs of the carrier platoon. Sgt. Paddy Ward was the wine waiter and jugging by the amount of wine that ended up on the floor rather than our cups, I think he was drinking more of the stuff than he was pouring.
After this great meal all the lads congratulated me and Hughie saying it was the best Christmas dinner they had ever had. It was late afternoon by now and we still had more wine left so everyone had to stand on a table and give a little performance, whether it was a song, poem or a joke. Some of the blokes were terrible singers but we cheered them on anyway. Skin MacGergor did his famous recital of the "Corridors of power" which went something like this..
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The General The Major The Captain The Lieutenant The Sergeant Major |
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And so ended our last Christmas in Italy. A funny sort of way to celebrate Christmas if you ask me.
