Cool, Damp, Safe Rooms at The Savoy on Sicily
By L/S Doug Harrison, RCNVR & Combined Ops
"80th and 81st flotillas: On the beaches and in the caves near Avola"
At midnight July 10, 1943 a vast number of merchant ships carrying the machinery of war were strung out as far as the eye could see, close inshore off the southeast coast of Sicily. Aboard a number of merchantmen were about 250 Canadian sailors with their landing crafts, whose job it would be to deliver this machinery ashore for the Army and Air Force. Every article required was there in the correct spot, and in the early morning light we went over the side and the invasion of Sicily was on in earnest.
The surprise wore off before noon and bombs began to fall. Some ships were hit and many Canadian sailors suffered from shrapnel cuts and burns. The worst attacks from German bombers came in very early morning and late dusk when a ship’s masts and super structure could be clearly seen but the planes weren’t visible. Attacks out of the sun were so fast there wasn’t enough time to be scared or unlimber a gun.
One day, about day three, a large net full of wooden cases landed on my landing craft. Stencilled on the side of each case were the words NAVY RUM; destination Officers’ Mess. I decided that the Officers’ mess was in the engine room of our LCM. I never worked so hard and enjoyed it so much in my life.
“Navy rum continues to benefit serving sailors” Photo - The Telegraph
Late that same night, we were resting aboard ship, trying to round up some food and comforting a chap with a terrible toothache, when suddenly the sky all along the beach lit up like a ball diamond at night. A German plane with its engine cut had coasted overhead and dropped chandelier flares. Amidst the racket of ack-ack fire we all abandoned ship, toothache and all, and headed our landing craft out of the convoy. We knew the bombers would swiftly take advantage of the lighted sky.
A few miles up the beach we anchored our craft, took out our saltwater soap and went for a swim while all Hell broke loose down the beach. The word got around somehow that I had rum and before long I had more friends than you could shake a stick at. A fool and his rum are soon parted, but for a few nights we slept in the lap of the gods. In the wartime Navy, a sailor is rated as either G or T (grog or temperance). If temperance, the sailor gets extra pay of six cents a day. Suddenly, every darn one is G, but as I said, we all slept well and although my head was splitting, I took it in good part. We needed each other. In the early morning it was back to the firing line.
After about a week of being continually harassed by bombers, ack-ack fire and dog fights in the sky (we Canadians shot down a wing tank and almost single-handedly drove the Americans from the skies) one of our fellows on a short reconnoitre ashore found an abandoned limestone cave. This cave, a huge hump in the beach landscape, was to become our shelter at night for nearly three weeks. About 60 of us slept there, including another Norwich boy, the late Buryl McIntyre. The remaining Canadian boys slept in holes dug along the beach, covered over by whatever they could scrape up.
The cave itself had been used at some time to house cattle to protect them from us. It was large enough to sleep many more. The roof was 70 or 80 feet thick and supported by huge limestone pillars inside.
“The cave was large enough to sleep many more” Photo - Palermo91
We soon obtained a barrage balloon (the same way I got the rum) which we anchored on top of the cave. Unless a bomb dropped in front of the door, we were as safe as a church. There wasn’t a bomb as yet that could pierce that roof.
The limestone underfoot was almost like wet cement, but we happily trudged through this, put our hammocks down doubled up, laid our mattresses on them, curled up in our blankets clothes and all, and slept like logs. We even recessed navy lamps into the walls. The ceiling was about 20 feet high. It was cool, damp and safe and we shared our good fortune with several little green lizards who had cool feet.
Early each morning we paraded out and slung our sleeping gear over bushes or on the lower limbs of olive trees and they would be quite dry by night. We decided to free one sailor from duty and he was to take over as a cook, something we just didn’t have. The cook’s duties were to find food and cook it in a huge metal cauldron, which we had procured in the same way as the rum and barrage balloon.
The cauldron was raised on stones and heated by pouring gasoline on the limestone underneath. This worked out quite well. The cook scrounged tomatoes (pomadori) which were plentiful and we managed some bully beef (the same way as rum, barrage balloon and cauldron). This was all stirred up together and one night we had tomatoes and bully beef, and the next night we had bully beef and tomatoes. Once in a while we threw in a sea boot to add a little flavour.
Although we were like a bunch of orphans, spirits always remained high. There were hundreds of cleverly contrived anti-personnel bombs about, but we and the cook were well-schooled on these. Field Marshall Montgomery spoke highly of the Canadian flotillas through the British Admiralty and said he was glad to have us along. After about 38 days, the Army and Air Force had won the day and Sicily was freed. Our work was done.
Our commanding officer, Lt./Cdr. Koyl gave us the news and said we could now return to Malta and prepare for Italy. In our glee someone shot down the barrage balloon and we said goodbye to the cave, which we had nicknamed The Savoy.
Since we remained on good terms with our officers and never heard anything about the rum, I concluded they didn’t know where it went and I didn’t enlighten them.
On the next invasion, I was hopeful they would send food.
The above story is from the book "DAD, WELL DONE" - The Naval Memoirs of Leading Seaman Coxswain Gordon Douglas Harrison as compiled by his son G.A. Harrison
Please link to Short Story re Sicily, The Long Way 'Round
Unattributed Photos by GH
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