Open Writing

Since my father took me to my first Kol Nidrei service (the evening before the Day of Atonement fast day) when he considered me old enough, it has always been the experience of the year for me.

The most memorable year is 1943 when I was in Sicily. The Allies were enjoying great success: the Americans on the west coast and the British on the east. At the tip of the southeast coast is a tiny village called Pachino. Alongside it was the first of many airstrips cut through the Sicilian vineyards. Only 800 yards long, it had been of enormous importance in the campaign that had only lasted just over a month. There were five further airstrips across the plain of Catania.

On the 3rd September the British crossed the straits of Messina into Italy, and a little later in the month we were given the task of clearing Pachino airstrip of a number of Spitfires and Kittyhawks that were lying around. This had to be done during one day, with a Baltimore light bomber returning us each time to Pachino for the next aircraft.

By dusk the job was done, and four of us found ourselves at Pachino airstrip with all the fighters gone, as were the tents and all facilities. No landing lights, so no possibility of taking off again. We watched the local men pressing the grapes into wine in a wooden winepress. The method was simple. Just roll up the trousers, remove shoes and stamp round the press in unison.

The pastime soon palled. The question was asked, “What are we going to do for the night?”

“Stay in an inn in Pachino,” was the answer.

“But there is no inn in Pachino,” was the comment from a more knowledgeable member of our small party.

Pause.

“I know, let’s stay in the brothel,” came from an even more knowledgeable fellow.

So off we set and made our way to the brothel. On entering we ordered a bottle Asti Spumanti for 7/6d and while sipping it asked for Madame. “We would like a bedroom for four of us.” Long pause followed by a lengthy discussion in broken Italian/English on the peculiarity of our request.

Finally a price was agreed, and eventually we made our way to the room and climbed into our respective beds. Several girls popped their heads around the door during the night to see what was going on, and I believe that one of our party disappeared for a while.

As my head hit the pillow, I suddenly remembered that this was Yom Kippur eve. For the first time during the war I was certain that we were on our way to winning it and that it was now only a question of time. We had driven the Germans out of Africa and Sicily and were now fighting successfully on the mainland of Europe, with Italy out of the war.

It was a night of thankfulness, with a prayer that I should be one of those who would live to see the arrival of victory and peace.

Next morning we flew off successfully. Within a short period the airstrip along with the five others on the plain of Catania had returned to their natural condition.

A couple of years back Hilde suggested a return to Sicily. So we went. I recognised nothing. Today there is a motorway right round the island and a load of cars and coaches.

Reflecting on my three companions of 1943, two were killed flying before the end of the war. The third died during the last few years. I also remember my popularity at breakfast time during the war as a bacon donor.

One imagines the wartime RAF as a British force. This was far from true. All the Commonwealth countries provided pilots with whom I flew. In addition, Americans, Poles, Czechs, Greeks and Yugoslavs were with us. The French, Norwegians and Danes had their own squadrons.

After our long spell in Africa without women, our arrival in Sicily and Southern Italy gave our lads many opportunities with the local women, who had previously served the Germans. The Germans had supplied them with M & B, a medication immediately prior to penicillin. Thus, types of venereal disease that were resistant to M & B were infecting our men. The only treatments possible were the old and very painful ones.

Remembering all this has always made me reluctant to have any preventative jabs such as the ones now given against flu.

Sicily, the island that controls the Mediterranean, has been invaded more times since 400 BCE than any other part of Europe. Not unnaturally, a secret Resistance was formed to kill the invaders. When no more invaders came, the Resistance, now known as the Mafia, continued as gangsters. Is this the future of the IRA? Emigration from Sicily to USA enabled the Allies to use the Mafia to good effect during the 1943 invasion of Sicily.

At one time there had been a large Jewish community in Sicily. That is, until the arrival of the Spaniards. Today there are none, although there are some Jewish names resulting from forcible conversions during the Inquisition. There are relics of all the invasions. Even one church has signs of its previous life as a synagogue. Of the Allied invasion of 1943 there are no remains - other than three cemeteries. But one Jew remembers Sicily every Kol Nidrei - and sometimes in between.