Speaking of errors, I hope no one is grading my writing.
Gene
"Ron, in all time in Trieste did I never visit the YMCA."
Nora and Gene in Trieste
Regole del forum
Collegamenti al regolamento del forum in varie lingue ed alle norme sulla privacy in italiano.
Collegamenti al regolamento del forum in varie lingue ed alle norme sulla privacy in italiano.
I don't find them boring and thanks for your photos.gene odom ha scritto:
Says guys, let me know when I start hogging everything. It is refreshing to recall a few fond memories for interested people, but fond memories for me can be boring for others.
GO
Bye
[i]Liliana[/i]
- . - . -
[size=75][i]"Quando comincia una guerra, la prima vittima è la Verità.
Quando la guerra finisce, le bugie dei vinti sono smascherate,
quelle dei vincitori, diventano Storia."
(A. Petacco - La nostra guerra)[/size][/i]
- . - . -
[size=75][i]"Quando comincia una guerra, la prima vittima è la Verità.
Quando la guerra finisce, le bugie dei vinti sono smascherate,
quelle dei vincitori, diventano Storia."
(A. Petacco - La nostra guerra)[/size][/i]
Gene
Please...... no talk of hogging the site...... this is the English Section and we are talking about Trieste
I was most interested to read that you were refused a courtesy visit to the old barracks, this bears out completely what happened to me and I think that the persons involved should be ashamed of themselves
I show below a GOOGLE EARTH map of the walk to the tram stop
Regards
Ron
Please...... no talk of hogging the site...... this is the English Section and we are talking about Trieste
I was most interested to read that you were refused a courtesy visit to the old barracks, this bears out completely what happened to me and I think that the persons involved should be ashamed of themselves
I show below a GOOGLE EARTH map of the walk to the tram stop
Regards
Ron
- Allegati
-
As a British soldier, I was stationed in the Trieste area from October 1945 until January 1947
Ron- The barracks we occupied were the same barracks the Brits occupied. You have confirmed it. . I never new for certain, but I heard rumors that the Brits had pulled out shortly before we arrived.
When I was denied permission to visit the caserma, I departed a bit angry with the Italian unit there.
Gene
When I was denied permission to visit the caserma, I departed a bit angry with the Italian unit there.
Gene
Ron-
I have found your blogs and they are so extensive that I am downloading them on a flash drive so I will have them and can read them without going on line.
I would like to know if anyone has any photos of the church named Salesiani in Trieste. I explored the Architeir a Triestina site and I could not find any reference to it.
Also, I would appreciate any photos of Chiesa Evangelica Augustana. This church is the only building of northern neo-Gothic style in Trieste. It was built in 1874 based on a plan by architect Zimmermann. It is located on Via Milano a couple of blocks from the train station
Gene
I have found your blogs and they are so extensive that I am downloading them on a flash drive so I will have them and can read them without going on line.
I would like to know if anyone has any photos of the church named Salesiani in Trieste. I explored the Architeir a Triestina site and I could not find any reference to it.
Also, I would appreciate any photos of Chiesa Evangelica Augustana. This church is the only building of northern neo-Gothic style in Trieste. It was built in 1874 based on a plan by architect Zimmermann. It is located on Via Milano a couple of blocks from the train station
Gene
Hi Gene.
I've searched "Chiesa Evangelica Augustana Trieste" on Google.it.
Here's what I found:
http://images.google.it/images?hl=it&q= ... 2&aq=f&oq=
I've searched "Chiesa Evangelica Augustana Trieste" on Google.it.
Here's what I found:
http://images.google.it/images?hl=it&q= ... 2&aq=f&oq=
[i]Liliana[/i]
- . - . -
[size=75][i]"Quando comincia una guerra, la prima vittima è la Verità.
Quando la guerra finisce, le bugie dei vinti sono smascherate,
quelle dei vincitori, diventano Storia."
(A. Petacco - La nostra guerra)[/size][/i]
- . - . -
[size=75][i]"Quando comincia una guerra, la prima vittima è la Verità.
Quando la guerra finisce, le bugie dei vinti sono smascherate,
quelle dei vincitori, diventano Storia."
(A. Petacco - La nostra guerra)[/size][/i]
Only the first 8 pictures, in that link, are what you are looking for.
I didn't find any picture of Salesiani church.
I didn't find any picture of Salesiani church.
[i]Liliana[/i]
- . - . -
[size=75][i]"Quando comincia una guerra, la prima vittima è la Verità.
Quando la guerra finisce, le bugie dei vinti sono smascherate,
quelle dei vincitori, diventano Storia."
(A. Petacco - La nostra guerra)[/size][/i]
- . - . -
[size=75][i]"Quando comincia una guerra, la prima vittima è la Verità.
Quando la guerra finisce, le bugie dei vinti sono smascherate,
quelle dei vincitori, diventano Storia."
(A. Petacco - La nostra guerra)[/size][/i]
We have an entire topic dedicated to the Salesiani Church. Photos galore!!gene odom ha scritto: I would like to know if anyone has any photos of the church named Salesiani in Trieste.
Gene
https://www.atrieste.eu/Forum3/viewtopic ... ni&start=0
Evening all. Sorry I've been absent for a couple of days but it is hard work typing at the moment. We've had some fine weather here in GB and I decided I had better do some gardening or rather, try to find my garden under the jungle it had become! QED, every bone in my body aches including my fingers. But to get back to the subject. I, too, spent a few months in those barracks in Opicina. During the most brutal winter for 40 years in the Trieste/Opicina/Basovizza area. I was there from October 1946 to the end of January 1947 with the 1st Bn The Royal Welch Regiment. I then transferred to the Royal Signals and moved down to the coast at Miramare Castle. When I get some free time I'll have a dig around my photo albums and see if I can manage to post something here.Night all. Larry
Auld acquaintance should ne'er be forgot
For the sake of auld lang's syne
For the sake of auld lang's syne
That terrible winter of 1946
Larry's article that mentions the winter of '46 reminded me of a piece I wrote on the BBC WW2 Archives:
I consider myself a fairly active octogenarian and, unless it is raining, I kick-start my day with a three mile circuit of my local park.
Despite wearing suitable clothing I confess that I DO notice the cold (10 degrees below zero at the time of writing) but on reflection this is as nothing compared with the temperatures we endured in Italy during WW2 and it is on this topic that I now write.
Our first winter in Italy, namely 1944, was horrendous.
Our introduction to weather conditions overseas had started off innocently enough.
I was stationed in Algeria from April ’43 until August ’43 and the sun presented no major problems. I know that immediately on reading this, some of the ‘old sweats’ will write of desert conditions and the perils of sunstroke but this was not my scene as I had arrived too late for the fighting in North Africa and had no real desert conditions to put up with.
Again, in Sicily, in July and August ‘43, apart from the perils of being shot at, the weather posed no major problems and the campaign was to last for only one month.
Italy, however, was another matter.
The first winter of ’43 found us totally unprepared for the conditions in which we had to serve.
It was nothing to have wet clothes on for three days at a time. We all had, at the most, three changes of underwear and shirts with which to survive and very little chance of washing and drying the same. It was not unusual to dig a slit trench to sleep in and to wake up to find ourselves floating in a foot of water.
But it was the cold that we all hated the most.
We rarely had a chance to see a thermometer but when the petrol froze overnight in our vehicle carburettors… we knew it was cold, when in Trieste our mugs of tea had ice floating on top before we could get them back to our barracks…. we knew it was cold and when , if you took your gloves off and touched the side of your tank , your hand literally froze to the metal … you again knew it was cold .
The winter of ’44 was no better but with the addition of mud everywhere the cold seemed to stick and because of the mud we had to wash more often which in turn made us colder…. It was a vicious, life-sickening circle that sapped our energy and turned us into morons.
Trieste in the winter of 1946 had it's own special brand of wintry delights.
They had (and probably still have)a local wind there called the Bora, supposedly coming from Russia and after the snow had fallen, melted and changed to ice it blew a 50 mile an hour gale througout the Trieste area that transformed people into skittles that were being blown over at every street corner.
The issue of leather jerkins, tank suits, extra blankets and even rum issues eventually helped to lighten our loads but today, sixty odd years later, whilst walking today in the park I was reminded of the cold of Italy and it was good to get back to my wife, my house, and the warmth and peace of Cockfosters
I consider myself a fairly active octogenarian and, unless it is raining, I kick-start my day with a three mile circuit of my local park.
Despite wearing suitable clothing I confess that I DO notice the cold (10 degrees below zero at the time of writing) but on reflection this is as nothing compared with the temperatures we endured in Italy during WW2 and it is on this topic that I now write.
Our first winter in Italy, namely 1944, was horrendous.
Our introduction to weather conditions overseas had started off innocently enough.
I was stationed in Algeria from April ’43 until August ’43 and the sun presented no major problems. I know that immediately on reading this, some of the ‘old sweats’ will write of desert conditions and the perils of sunstroke but this was not my scene as I had arrived too late for the fighting in North Africa and had no real desert conditions to put up with.
Again, in Sicily, in July and August ‘43, apart from the perils of being shot at, the weather posed no major problems and the campaign was to last for only one month.
Italy, however, was another matter.
The first winter of ’43 found us totally unprepared for the conditions in which we had to serve.
It was nothing to have wet clothes on for three days at a time. We all had, at the most, three changes of underwear and shirts with which to survive and very little chance of washing and drying the same. It was not unusual to dig a slit trench to sleep in and to wake up to find ourselves floating in a foot of water.
But it was the cold that we all hated the most.
We rarely had a chance to see a thermometer but when the petrol froze overnight in our vehicle carburettors… we knew it was cold, when in Trieste our mugs of tea had ice floating on top before we could get them back to our barracks…. we knew it was cold and when , if you took your gloves off and touched the side of your tank , your hand literally froze to the metal … you again knew it was cold .
The winter of ’44 was no better but with the addition of mud everywhere the cold seemed to stick and because of the mud we had to wash more often which in turn made us colder…. It was a vicious, life-sickening circle that sapped our energy and turned us into morons.
Trieste in the winter of 1946 had it's own special brand of wintry delights.
They had (and probably still have)a local wind there called the Bora, supposedly coming from Russia and after the snow had fallen, melted and changed to ice it blew a 50 mile an hour gale througout the Trieste area that transformed people into skittles that were being blown over at every street corner.
The issue of leather jerkins, tank suits, extra blankets and even rum issues eventually helped to lighten our loads but today, sixty odd years later, whilst walking today in the park I was reminded of the cold of Italy and it was good to get back to my wife, my house, and the warmth and peace of Cockfosters
- Allegati
-
As a British soldier, I was stationed in the Trieste area from October 1945 until January 1947
Ron and Larry were talking about the cold weather in 1946-1947. I arrived in Livorna in December at the beginning of the winter and it was very, very cold. We were quartered in a replacement depot that had been requisitioned by the Army as a barracks for incoming troops. The building lacked heat. We installed a pot bellied stove and ran the stove pipe out the window. For firewood we started removing loose wood from the building, floors, walls, etc.. After about three days of this we were loaded on a troop train and left for Udine and points north and east.
Those coaches did not know the meaning of heat. We laid our duffel bags between the seats and tried to make ourselves comfortable with only our woolen overcoats for cover. It took two days to make that trip. We stopped on the siding at every station we came to and waited for the through trains to pass. It was terribly cold in those cars and miserable.
It was a terrible winter! I was destined for Tarviso and it was very cold, so cold in fact, that our kitchen in Tarviso had a coat of ice on the floor throughout the cooking and clean-up area.
At the time I was a 17 year old young man fresh out of a Florida high school and in the army. I had never seen snow before and was I shocked.
Gene
Those coaches did not know the meaning of heat. We laid our duffel bags between the seats and tried to make ourselves comfortable with only our woolen overcoats for cover. It took two days to make that trip. We stopped on the siding at every station we came to and waited for the through trains to pass. It was terribly cold in those cars and miserable.
It was a terrible winter! I was destined for Tarviso and it was very cold, so cold in fact, that our kitchen in Tarviso had a coat of ice on the floor throughout the cooking and clean-up area.
At the time I was a 17 year old young man fresh out of a Florida high school and in the army. I had never seen snow before and was I shocked.
Gene
- Allegati
-
I believe you, but I thought thar USA treated better its soldiers.Ron ha scritto:Lililian
Questa è la verità!
Ron (AKA Rinaldo)
[i]Liliana[/i]
- . - . -
[size=75][i]"Quando comincia una guerra, la prima vittima è la Verità.
Quando la guerra finisce, le bugie dei vinti sono smascherate,
quelle dei vincitori, diventano Storia."
(A. Petacco - La nostra guerra)[/size][/i]
- . - . -
[size=75][i]"Quando comincia una guerra, la prima vittima è la Verità.
Quando la guerra finisce, le bugie dei vinti sono smascherate,
quelle dei vincitori, diventano Storia."
(A. Petacco - La nostra guerra)[/size][/i]
It would have been nice to have had modern sleeper cars but remember how conditions were in Italy right after the war. The transportation system was struggling to recover, there were a lot of bombed out houses and If I remember correctly, Italy was at that time one of our allies. I admit the US Army treated its soldiers well when circumstances permitted, but we were also trying to help Western Europe back on its feet. In 1946 and 1947 our supply line to Trieste was stretched a bit thin. The major part of the military resupply effort from the States went to where the bulk of the troops were.
Gene
Gene
-
AdlerTS
- cavalier del forum
- Messaggi: 9561
- Iscritto il: mar 27 dic 2005, 21:35
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We also have our own pictures of this church hereserlilian ha scritto:Hi Gene.
I've searched "Chiesa Evangelica Augustana Trieste" on Google.it.
Here's what I found:
http://images.google.it/images?hl=it&q= ... 2&aq=f&oq=
Mal no far, paura no gaver.
This too, may sound a trifle theatrical but believe me, tis true. Bear with me, it's a little long but I felt I had to reply to Ron's blog above. I now see that Gene has also added his lament about the cold in Italy in those years. Mine will just heap more lamentations on the story. Here goes, let me see if I can paste this extract from my memoirs below:
Ron, I agree with you that the campaign in Italy that first winter was extremely bad but up in Northern Europe we also had our share of bad weather. Especially down in the Ardennes where we – the 2nd Bn Monmoutshire Regiment – found ourselves. We had to make an attack to try and open the road to Bastogne. We got stopped by some Jerries on our way down a hill through a forest so my Major, I was his radio operator, called for an artillery stonk. The problem was that our shells hit the tops of the trees and started dropping on us. I made a dive as one shell exploded about 6/7 yards away. We retreated back up towards the top of the hill and dug in. And it had snowed all day but now it came down in earnest. First morning we had about ten feet of snow and could not move nor could we be relieved. Three days in that, no food or drink except for snow and twigs off the trees. We woke up in the mornings with out feet in about a foot of water with ice on top. That’s where I got trench foot and a touch of frostbite which put me in hospital and out of the war. Fourth morning relief managed to get to us and we had hot tea and porridge for breakfast. I got a mug of hot tea, took a sip and put the mug on the side of the slit trench. Couple of minutes later went to take another sip and the mug was empty. I accused the Major of drinking my tea but he protested he had not touched it. Looking at the mug there was a jagged hole in the bottom. That mug had been in my small pack on my back when I dived to duck the 25 pounder shell explosion. I examined my small pack. A jagged hole on the cover, my spare socks ruined, and whatever else was in it and in the bottom of the pack a nice inch long half an inch thick piece of shrapnel. (I was minded of this this week by the story of the fella from Afghanistan who got shot through his helmet and lived to tell the tale.)
But after that episode I though I would never experience cold like that again but that winter in 1946/47 in Trieste! We had had a blissful summer down in Pola from March to September where we had the hottest summer for over 40 years. Temperatures up to and over 44C. For a bet I actually fried an egg on the windowsill of my barrack room. Then I got posted to the 1st Bn The Royal Welch up in the barracks in Opicina in October 46. Come December the winter up there was crucifying. The coldest winter for over 40 years. Even the sea froze, right up out to the the breakwater. There were hillocks of ice all the way along the water front and even into Piazza Unita. And the Bora blew. Boy, it blew. Minus 30 C and drizzling on top of snow. Everything the drizzle touched it froze. Like you said, the tea froze in your mug when you walked from one end of the dining room to the other. Those barrack blocks were in the form of a U. We had to put all the transport into the open part of the blocks, put 40 gallon oil drums at each corner filled with sand and petrol and set them alight to try and keep the air warm and every night for a week or more we had to go down to the trucks every two hours and start the engines and run them for 10 minutes or so to stop them from freezing up. Best bit of all though, was the fact that I was the Company Despatch rider and had to make the rounds of the outposts on the Morgan line carrying the mail and orders round every other day. One day at the last outpost, after I had defrosted in the warmth of the guard-room, I went out to get on the bike and return to Opicina. The kick-start box cover broke in half and all the oil ran-out. Luckily enough there was a Dodge 15 cwt truck there so we loaded the bike in the back and set off for barracks. We thought it best to go via Bassovizza and then down to the big quarry before turning right to take the cliff road back. Skidding all over the place on some of those bends. On one bend about half-way up we skidded and slid over the edge. Luckily enough we landed in a kind of a saucer but the bike finished up at the back of the University as a lump of scrap. Back in barracks, story reported, I was put on a charge for not having ridden in the back of the truck with the bike as per Regulations at the time. Up before the Colonel on Xmas Eve 1946 who said – “You knew the Regulations.” “Yes, sir, but had I been in the back I would have probably been killed!” Replied the Colonel, “it takes about six weeks of hard work to make a motorbike, but about 5 minutes of pleasure to make a human being. Fined one pound. March out and, oh, yes, and a Merry Christmas”.
Well, at least it finished on a more cheerful note.
Larry
Ron, I agree with you that the campaign in Italy that first winter was extremely bad but up in Northern Europe we also had our share of bad weather. Especially down in the Ardennes where we – the 2nd Bn Monmoutshire Regiment – found ourselves. We had to make an attack to try and open the road to Bastogne. We got stopped by some Jerries on our way down a hill through a forest so my Major, I was his radio operator, called for an artillery stonk. The problem was that our shells hit the tops of the trees and started dropping on us. I made a dive as one shell exploded about 6/7 yards away. We retreated back up towards the top of the hill and dug in. And it had snowed all day but now it came down in earnest. First morning we had about ten feet of snow and could not move nor could we be relieved. Three days in that, no food or drink except for snow and twigs off the trees. We woke up in the mornings with out feet in about a foot of water with ice on top. That’s where I got trench foot and a touch of frostbite which put me in hospital and out of the war. Fourth morning relief managed to get to us and we had hot tea and porridge for breakfast. I got a mug of hot tea, took a sip and put the mug on the side of the slit trench. Couple of minutes later went to take another sip and the mug was empty. I accused the Major of drinking my tea but he protested he had not touched it. Looking at the mug there was a jagged hole in the bottom. That mug had been in my small pack on my back when I dived to duck the 25 pounder shell explosion. I examined my small pack. A jagged hole on the cover, my spare socks ruined, and whatever else was in it and in the bottom of the pack a nice inch long half an inch thick piece of shrapnel. (I was minded of this this week by the story of the fella from Afghanistan who got shot through his helmet and lived to tell the tale.)
But after that episode I though I would never experience cold like that again but that winter in 1946/47 in Trieste! We had had a blissful summer down in Pola from March to September where we had the hottest summer for over 40 years. Temperatures up to and over 44C. For a bet I actually fried an egg on the windowsill of my barrack room. Then I got posted to the 1st Bn The Royal Welch up in the barracks in Opicina in October 46. Come December the winter up there was crucifying. The coldest winter for over 40 years. Even the sea froze, right up out to the the breakwater. There were hillocks of ice all the way along the water front and even into Piazza Unita. And the Bora blew. Boy, it blew. Minus 30 C and drizzling on top of snow. Everything the drizzle touched it froze. Like you said, the tea froze in your mug when you walked from one end of the dining room to the other. Those barrack blocks were in the form of a U. We had to put all the transport into the open part of the blocks, put 40 gallon oil drums at each corner filled with sand and petrol and set them alight to try and keep the air warm and every night for a week or more we had to go down to the trucks every two hours and start the engines and run them for 10 minutes or so to stop them from freezing up. Best bit of all though, was the fact that I was the Company Despatch rider and had to make the rounds of the outposts on the Morgan line carrying the mail and orders round every other day. One day at the last outpost, after I had defrosted in the warmth of the guard-room, I went out to get on the bike and return to Opicina. The kick-start box cover broke in half and all the oil ran-out. Luckily enough there was a Dodge 15 cwt truck there so we loaded the bike in the back and set off for barracks. We thought it best to go via Bassovizza and then down to the big quarry before turning right to take the cliff road back. Skidding all over the place on some of those bends. On one bend about half-way up we skidded and slid over the edge. Luckily enough we landed in a kind of a saucer but the bike finished up at the back of the University as a lump of scrap. Back in barracks, story reported, I was put on a charge for not having ridden in the back of the truck with the bike as per Regulations at the time. Up before the Colonel on Xmas Eve 1946 who said – “You knew the Regulations.” “Yes, sir, but had I been in the back I would have probably been killed!” Replied the Colonel, “it takes about six weeks of hard work to make a motorbike, but about 5 minutes of pleasure to make a human being. Fined one pound. March out and, oh, yes, and a Merry Christmas”.
Well, at least it finished on a more cheerful note.
Larry
Auld acquaintance should ne'er be forgot
For the sake of auld lang's syne
For the sake of auld lang's syne
