Rome, May 22, 2004
Back to Rome again and made my way to Wolf’s apartment in the hills north of the Tiber.  Wolf has German parents, was brought up in Canada, and has married an Italian.  His uncle-in-law ended up as a general in the Carabinieri,  but in the war led a number of Italians over a treacherous snow-covered mountain to escape German occupation.  Like many young men, he neither wanted to be drafted into the Neo-Fascist Army or become a German labourer.  Back home in the evening.

Cassino, May 21, 2004
Managed to catch my flight OK, and after landing back in Rome, drove down to Cassino once more, where I finally met Monty Soutar from New Zealand.  He’s over here with a number of Kiwi veterans.

Piacenza, May 20, 2004
The party from last night reconvened and we headed off in cars into the mountains for a tour of their old Partisan haunts.  It was an amazing day.  Lunch was in a mountain trattoria run by another former partisan and seemed to be never ending – one course after another of incredible food, including nettle ravioli.  I realised halfway through the afternoon that I was never going to catch my evening flight back to Rome, but rather than worrying about it, decided to go with the flow.  And when we did eventually get back to Piacenza, it was easy enough to change.  I’ve now got a very early start in the morning, but that’s all right.  I’m so glad Stephen let me join him on this trip of his.  It gave me a very clear picture of how the Partisans – in this part of Italy at least – operated.  Stephen clearly loved every minute.  He’s a terrific bon viveur and it’s really good to see someone in their mid eighties so spry and eager to enjoy himself.

Cassino, May 19, 2004
I joined Wolf and his family for the German memorial service high in the mountains behind Snake’s Head Ridge.  Later we saw the spot where a large number of British tanks had been destroyed.  They had all trundled up the mountain one behind the other along an old mule track – and had, it seemed, been taken out one by one too.  Whoever had thought up that idea had clearly not been a mastermind of military strategy.

Afterwards, I finally bid the Kumbergs farewell and headed up to Rome.  True to his word, Stephen Hastings has arranged to see his former Partisan friends while I am over in Italy and so I am flying from Rome to Milan and then driving to Piacenza.  This time I caught my flight without a hitch, picked up the car in Milan and found my way to the hotel.  Stephen and his girlfriend, Caroline, were already there, as was his cousin – also Stephen Hastings, and who lives in Milan – and Giovanni Insom, the son of his right-hand man in Italy, Giorgio Insom.  Stephen was a on sparkling form, clearly both happy and excited to be back.  Soon after, two former partisans and old colleagues of Stephen’s, Muro and Bruno, turned up.  We all headed out in the main piazza where fifty-nine years before they had held their victory parades at the end of the war.  Muro had been in the Italian Army before the armistice in September 1943, but had then simply walked back home to Piacenza.  A few months later he joined the Partisans, but I asked him what it was that had made him make the decision to rejoin the fight, but on the side of the Allies.  ‘When you see German troops on the corner of your home town and you watch them breaking down doors and arresting people you realise you have to do something,’ he told me.  It made me think about Iraq.  No wonder American troops are having such a hard time with the local populations.

Dinner at the hotel where everyone drunk too much and Stephen, Muro and Bruno began singing old Partisan songs.  Stephen was clearly in his element.

Cassino, May 18, 2004
Got up early and headed straight to Cassino.  I’ve seen many photographs of the town and the monastery looming above it, but I stunned by seeing it all for real for the first time.  It looks a ridiculous place to try and fight a battle.  Monastery Hill is an unbelievably formidable natural obstacle, but even that pales substantially when compared to the massive Monte Cairo behind the string of mountains beyond that.

Met up with Wolf von Kumberg at La Pace Hotel without any problem.  Wolf then introduced me to his father, who looked younger than his years.  He spoke with a soft, gentle voice.  Wolf is here with a number of family members and all of us soon headed up Monastery Hill for the Polish Service of Remembrance.  The service was very grand but afterwards former combatants of all sides stood around chatting.  I was introduced to Rudi Valentin, like Hans a former German paratrooper.  He seemed very good humoured and genial and happy to talk about his experiences.  Hans and Rudi began talking to Bill Hawkins, formerly of the Essex Regiment, part of the 4th Indian Division.  Bill had fought through much of North Africa as well as Italy.  It turned out that Rudi and Bill had probably directly fought one another at Cassino, but here they were now posing for photographs arm in arm.

With the service over, we met up with some local Italians, Dr Alessandro Campagna, and Roberto Molle, a lawyer.  Both are very involved with the museum to the battle in the town and also the Associazione Battaglia Di Cassino, and were happy to take Hans and Rudi – and hangers-on – to see various remains of the Caesar Line.  We set off in a convoy, with Hans joining me in my car so we could chat.  ‘What was the point of it all?’ he muttered at one point.  I got the impression Hans had been as moved as all of us by camaraderie between the former enemies.

Alessandro and Roberto took us to see old bunkers and gun positions down in the Liri Valley, which was fascinating.  After retreating from Monte Cassino, Hans and Rudi had made a stand here along the Caesar Line.  Hans could clearly remember fighting off a Canadian attack.   From my point of view, it makes a big difference interviewing people at old battles sites because it sharpens their memories enormously.   Later Roberto took us to his house where he has a shed full of battle relics that he has picked up over the years: machine guns, rifles, jerry cans, mess tins, buckles, shell casings etc etc.  Then we were off again, this time up to Monte Cairo.  We kept seeing re-enactors and nearly all wore German parachute uniforms.  I do think dressing up in war kit is fine if you’re a young boy, but quite odd in grown men.  And why does everyone always want to dress up as Germans?  Hans was as bemused by this as me.  I felt a terrible tag-along all day, but it really was very interesting and I managed to stick my voice recorder under the noses of Hans and Rudi and get really good interviews.  Neither could have been more helpful; and although this was clearly an important family occasion for Wolf, he was once again charm itself.