The distance from Rimini to Como is nearly four hundred kilometres by road. Although Highway S9 goes through towns such as Bologna, Parma, Piacenza and Milan, I have no recollection of the journey either going or returning, nor in what transport Alan and I travelled. Whether it is the passing years or that I did not keep a written record I do not know - I trust it is the latter!

Arriving at the Rest Camp in Como, after checking in we were given a room with four others, the six of us spent the whole of the seven days in each other's company. One of us, I cannot remember who, termed us "The Sprightly Six" - for a photograph and names of the happy band see "Memories of Leave in Como" below.

Of all the memories, which included boating on Lago di Como, chatting with guards at the Swiss Frontier and trips up the funiculare to Brunate, two stand out, the seemingly inexhaustible stories that Joseph had to tell and a wonderful round of golf.

I cannot recall how the coversation got around to golf - probably it was the subject of one of Joe's tales. Anyway, while we were enjoying lunch and a spot of vino at a small locanda near Brunate, the conversation came around to golf. Our ever attentive waiter, overhearing us, mentioned that he played on the nearby Montorfano Golf Club and that he was sure we would find a welcome there. When Tom and Gordon (both golfers) and I said we would like to go, the other three said they would tag along.

The following morning, crammed in a taxi, the six of us made our way to the course. Arriving at the clubhouse we were almost overwhelmed by the warmth of the reception we were given, certainly all of "you can play as our guests". Not having any clubs we were each given a set with which to play, surprisingly, those in my bag were made by the famous Scottish club-maker George Nicholl, of which mention has been made previously. Thus equipped and with a caddy for each of us, we made our way to the first tee. With an audience of about twenty, we all made a fairly respectable drive - including Joseph who stood with his feet splayed almost at 180º. It was a wonderful day that I will always remember, helped by Memories of Leave in Como.

Addio Italia

Back again in Rimini, the next couple of weeks passed uneventfully until being told that the Regiment had been warned to prepare for a move to Austria to take up garrison duties. It came as no surprise, but with perhaps a twinge of regret, we also learned that our faithful "Mountain Goats" were to be left behind.

Early in the morning, Thursday, 11th October it was all aboard a train bound for Austria. The journey was an interesting one, particularly for those who had taken part in the final phase of the Italian Campaign. As we travelled toward Ferrara, the train crossed the many bridges over rivers and dykes each of which had presented a barrier to our tanks as they fought their way northwards. One could but guess how many Bailey Bridges had been built, fascines dropped and Churchill Arks employed in the Po Valley.

On reaching Ferrara our train stopped for a short while, as did the Regiment prior to crossing the river Po. When we arrived at Rovigo (the furthest point north reached by our tanks) we had a chance to stretch our legs, the train having stopped for about an hour, awaiting the arrival of a south-bound train, before crossing the river Adige on the reconstructed bridge. There was another short wait upon arrival at the much bombed city Padua then it was off into the hills and a slow climb to and up the Brenner Pass. It was still daylight, as our train chugged its way upwards. How effective the Allied Air Forces had been, was evidenced by the numerous destroyed German vehicles we saw. Eventually, reaching the head of the pass at 4,508 feet, we truly could say "Goodbye Italy."