Signalman Roworth
Legend
Each page covers one month of Signalman Roworth’s service abroad with a scanned photo of the actual entries.
All diary entries are in black, some minor spelling and grammatical errors have been corrected, but these have been kept to a minimum.
Entries in blue are additional facts either historical or about the places or items mentioned.
Pink text has either an observation by me or where I remember the story as told to me later by my Father differs.
The following symbols on each page take you to the home, previous and next pages.
The 1939-1945 Star, The Italy Star,The Defence Medal 1939-1945, The War Medal 1939-1945 with oak leaves (Mention in Dispatches)
For a full description of the term D-Day Dodger see the wikipedia entry and here is one version of the song.
D-Day Dodgers
Sung to the tune of Lily Marlene
Now we're the D-Day Dodgers out in Italy,
Always drinking vino always on the spree,
8th Army civvies with the Yanks
We live in Rome and laugh at tanks,
Cos we're the D-Day Dodgers way out in Italy.
We landed at Salerno a holiday with pay,
Gerry brought the band out to cheer us on the way,
He showed us the sights and made us tea
We all sang songs, the beer was free,
Cos we're the D-Day Dodgers way out in Italy.
Naples and Cassino were taken in our stride
We didn't go to fight there, we just went for the ride,
Anzio and Sangro were a farce,
We did damn all but go on pass,
Cos we're the D-Day Dodgers way out in Italy.
On the way to Florence we had a lovely time,
They ran a bus to Rimini right through the Gothic Line,
Soon to Milano we will go
Now he's cleared off beyond the Po,
From all the D-Day Dodgers way out in Italy.
Once we heard a "blue light" we were going home,
Back to dear old Blighty never more to roam.
Then someone said "In Burma you'll fight"
We said "Damn That - We'll just sit tight"
Cos we're the D-Day Dodgers who live in Italy.
Oh, Lady Aster listen to us please,
Don't stand on the platform talking at your ease,
You're the 8th Army's sweetheart and nation's pride
But shut your mouth it's far too wide,
That's from the D-Day Dodgers, the boys in Italy.
Looking around the mountains in the mud and rain,
You'll find scattered crosses, some which bear no name.
Heart break and toil and suffering gone,
The boys beneath them slumber on.
Some of the D-Day Dodgers we left in Italy.
