My dad, Thomas Lewis Roworth, was born on 10th March 1920 after the outbreak of the second world war he tried to join up with the Royal Corps of Signals. They told him to come back when he was 21. Undaunted he went to the Marines and tried to join them but they gave him the same answer. He finally joined the the Royal Corps of Signals on 6th May, 1940 number 25928578.
Training
The diary does not start until after his training but I remember him talking about going to dances at The Pump Room, Bath during this time. After my Mum died clearing the house I found an autograph book of Dad’s which fills in parts of the picture.
This has entries from:
Warrington 8/7/40
Rudloe (Near Bath) 1941
Shrivenham 1943
I also found both Mum & Dad’s army release book and many letters written by Dad during the war.
He served for most of this time in Italy starting at the toe of the boot and finishing up in Austria before being demobbed on the 14th June, 1946. During this time he kept a diary in two exercise books. He did not write every day but I have included for each a scan of the entry and transcription as far as I can make it out. I have kept most misspellings and grammatical errors.
Text in blue is the historical background of what is going on in the war.
hyperlinks contain clarifications, my observations or where his later telling differed from what was in the diaries, people and places and open in a new window.
He was awarded four medals (from left to right)
The 1939-45 Star
The Italy Star
The Defence Medal 1939-1945
The War Medal 1939-1945 with
Oak Leaf Cluster
The D-Day Dodgers
Sung to the tune of Lily Marlene – Other versions also exist with minor differences
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.