Friday, 21 August 2015

My father woz ere

Last night, my brother sent the following information about our father:

He was with the Royal Artillery, ostensibly, but I think he was doing general duties with the British garrison. There was a dispute between Italy and Yugoslavia as to who owned Trieste. He said he was travelling in the back of an open truck which came under sniper fire. The driver, a local bloke and possibly in on it, stopped and ducked under the dashboard. Marcus jumped over into the cab and took the wheel and drove away receiving a clip on the foot from a bullet fragment.

That's about it. He also told me about an English officer's wife who had a dark complexion and was mistaken for a local girl. She was attacked in the street by locals who thought she was a consorting with the enemy. Apparently the CO ordered all the non-combatants (cooks, clerks, drivers, mechanics etc.) to line up along the waterfront in the evening and then walk slowly through the town with their belts swinging in their hands. They smashed every cafe and shopfront and beat the crap out of anyone who objected. There was no more trouble after that.

Not sure of the date but probably early 1946.

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