© Michael Page · Permission to share the memoirs of Arthur Page, Una Bella Passeggiata (A Walk in Wartime Italy), has been granted by the family of Arthur Page.

Read also  “Arthur Page’s Memorable Walk,” “Una Bella Passeggiata (A Walk in Wartime Italy)—Installment 1,”  “Una Bella Passeggiata (A Walk in Wartime Italy)—Installment 2,” “Una Bella Passeggiata (A Walk in Wartime Italy)—Installment 3,” and “Una Bella Passeggiata (A Walk in Wartime Italy)—Installment 4.”

Chapter 20—The Valley of the Cremona

From the beginning of our sojourn in the Cremona Valley, we two ex-POWs gradually merged with the neighbourhood. Neighbours became aware of us, began to pass the time of day with us, talked about us in their homes or with other neighbours. Many people came to know of us, coupling a protesting Piet Van Rensberg with me as the ‘due inglese di casa Tamburrini’ (the two English of the Tamburrini Family). He gave up, as a bad job, explaining the difference between an inglese and a sud africano.

Read also  “Arthur Page’s Memorable Walk,” “Una Bella Passeggiata (A Walk in Wartime Italy)—Installment 1,”  “Una Bella Passeggiata (A Walk in Wartime Italy)—Installment 2,” and “Una Bella Passeggiata (A Walk in Wartime Italy)—Installment 3.”

© Michael Page · Permission to share the memoirs of Arthur Page, Una Bella Passeggiata (A Walk in Wartime Italy), has been granted by the family of Arthur Page.

Chapter 15—The Americans Drop In

Since the beginning of January ’44, Allied offensives against the Gustav line had been going on. They halted at Monte Cassino. On January 22nd came the landings at Anzio but 35 miles from Rome. The American commander was overcareful in advancing and a great opportunity was lost. February was spent in making the bridgehead safe for the Allied troops who had landed. On February 15th the monastery at Monte Cassino was bombed and shelled, but the Germans held on. In the fighting for the monastery the 1st German parachute division were heavily engaged and fought tenaciously. When I was recaptured at the Gran Sasso the previous September, the young German who spoke 5th form English had been in that division; I wonder if he survived.

© Michael Page · Permission to share the memoirs of Arthur Page, Una Bella Passeggiata (A Walk in Wartime Italy), has been granted by the family of Arthur Page.

Read also “Arthur Page’s Memorable Walk,” “Una Bella Passeggiata (A Walk in Wartime Italy)—Installment 1,” and “Una Bella Passeggiata (A Walk in Wartime Italy)—Installment 2.”

Chapter 9—Vicissitudes

I left the Caprese Michelangelo district and decided to continue in an easterly direction in order to place myself alongside the main crenella or ridge of the Apennines proper and then use its southerly direction to bring me to the front line. I was entering the Val Tiberino, the valley formed by the River Tevere (Tiber), and would have to cross this and the Strada Statale which hugged its course in order to carry out my intention. The Tiber, of course, flowed down to Rome—exciting thought—and the road, too, joined the Via Flaminia at Terni and this ancient route was the old entrance to the capital. With thoughts of helmeted and kilted Roman legions, Horatio, toga clad citizens and the like running through my mind I cross the Tevere a few kilometres south of the townlet of Pieve San Stefano.

© Michael Page · Permission to share the memoirs of Arthur Page, Una Bella Passeggiata (A Walk in Wartime Italy), has been granted by the family of Arthur Page.

Read also  “Arthur Page’s Memorable Walk” and “Una Bella Passeggiata (A Walk in Wartime Italy)—Installment 1.”

Chapter 5—Sempre Giu Alle Montagne

From the first moments of being taken prisoner we, who had been expecting imminent death or dreadful wounding, were given a sudden and unexpected reprieve. As one German said to me, “For you the war is over, but I go on and on.” The neutrality of camp life seemed to confirm that, as in 1914–1918, being a POW meant immunity from the perils of war for the duration, that we were meant to return to wife, girlfriend, or mother. As prison became less disagreeable and its monastic nature appeared to distance us from the struggle against Naziism, so we slowly accepted its placid regime and grew less inclined to consider re-entering the fight to rid the world of totalitarian frightfulness. Belsen was not known to us and the Holocaust barely a whisper. Now, at a stroke, we were back in it as though the drive and spirit of our old company commander, despairing of our inertia, had booted us back to duty.

© Michael Page · Permission to share the memoirs of Arthur Page, Una Bella Passeggiata (A Walk in Wartime Italy), has been granted by the family of Arthur Page.

Preface

I can claim no experience in authorship of any extensive written work beyond responding to my Tutors’ demands in Teacher Training College days for a pocket thesis on some facet of education and an attempted booklet aimed at introducing Geology to 14-year-olds. The first was accepted as adequate and the second judged to be too ponderous for 14-year-olds to stomach.

In March 2015, I published a short post on Camp 59 Survivors about British Sergeant Arthur Page. (See “P.G. 59 Prisoner Arthur Page.”)

Five years later, in December 2020, I received a surprise comment on the post: 

“I am proud to be this man’s son, forever in our thoughts.” 

I was thrilled and wrote immediately to the commenter, Arthur’s son Mike, saying I would very much like to know more about his father.