# First special service force WW2



## wildman0101 (12 Jul 2012)

Also known as the "Devil's Bridade". 
Any and all info would be greatly 
appreciated. Thank's.Cheer's ,,,, Scoty B


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## bick (12 Jul 2012)

Try the following website:

http://www.firstspecialserviceforce.net/


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## bick (15 Jul 2012)

Interesting article:

http://www.windsorstar.com/news/Kids+rally+fund+veteran+trip/6914760/story.html


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## wildman0101 (15 Jul 2012)

Rhod,, Thank's .. Cheer's.. Scoty B Owe ya one..


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## Greymatters (16 Jul 2012)

If you can find it, the 1966 book of the same title "The Devil's Brigade" by Colonel George Walton is a good read and based on actual events and soldier interviews, not a dramatization of the movie. G


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## Blackadder1916 (18 Jul 2012)

Another good book is "The First Special Service Force: A War History of the North Americans, 1942-1944 (Washington, D.C., 1947). " by Lieutenant Colonel Robert D. Burhans.

It was originally copyrighted and published by Infantry Journal Press and copyrighted again in 1975 by Col Burhans and republished in 1981 (my copy is from then).  Though there is no bio of the author on the dust jacket, LCol Burhans is listed in the roster of personnel (one of the appendices is a roster of all SSF personnel) and in one of the photos he is identified as the Force S2.


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## Hawk (18 Jul 2012)

"Black Devil Brigade" by Joseph A. Springer is quite a read. Its all quotes by members of First Special Service Force. Interesting to me because my Uncle was one, and he never spoke much about his service to anyone, and there are a lot of quotes by him in the book.


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## Bass ackwards (18 Jul 2012)

There's also _A Perfect Hell_ by John Nadler. It was written in 2005.
I found it quite readable.


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## Fishbone Jones (18 Jul 2012)

Rhodesian said:
			
		

> Interesting article:
> 
> http://www.windsorstar.com/news/Kids+rally+fund+veteran+trip/6914760/story.html



Reproduced under the Fair Dealings of the Copyright Act:

http://www.windsorstar.com/news/Donors+come+through+hero/6950134/story.html



> Windsor Second World War veteran Ralph Mayville has his flight and hotel booked for a visit to Washington, D.C., for the September reunion of his old unit, the famed and elite Devil's Brigade.
> 
> Cathy Moczko, co-ordinator of the Windsor Essex Veterans Support Group, said a fundraising function held by the Windsor Garrison Junior Ranks Mess at the armouries Tuesday raised more than $200 and brought total fundraising to $3,685.
> 
> ...



Congrats to MCpl Valigini, and the other members of the Windsor Regiment (RCAC) Jr Ranks for making this happen.


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## bick (18 Jul 2012)

Seconded, well done MCpl Valigini.


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## Rifleman62 (18 Jul 2012)

From the Feb 2010 issue of the Devils' Blast, the annual chronicle of The Royal Winnipeg Rifles.

Three posts.

*History of the First Special Service Force*

Properly designated as the 1st Special Service Force, the Devil's Brigade was a joint World War II American-Canadian commando unit trained at Fort Harrison near Helena, Montana in the United States. Many modern American and Canadian Special Forces units trace their heritage to this unit. For the movie of the same name, see The Devil's Brigade.

*Background*
The volunteers for the 1800-man force consisted primarily of enlisted men recruited by advertising at Army posts, stating that preference was to be given to men previously employed as lumberjacks, forest rangers, hunters, game wardens, and the like. The 1st Special Service Force was officially activated on July 20, 1942 under the command of Lt. Colonel Robert T. Frederick. Much feared for their fighting prowess, the monicker "The Black Devils" was adopted after the discovery of the personal diary of a German officer referring to "die schwarzen Teufeln (the Black Devils)."[citation needed] With blackened faces, small units would often overwhelm German defenders without firing a shot, and then disappear into the night.

Force members received rigorous and intensive training in stealth tactics; hand-to-hand combat; the use of explosives for demolition; parachuting; amphibious warfare; rock-climbing; mountain warfare, and as ski troops. From the outset, the 1st Special Service Force was armed with a variety of non-standard or limited-issue weapons, such as the M1941 Johnson machine gun.[1] The Johnson LMG in particular helped greatly increase the firepower of the unit and was highly regarded by those who used it in combat. Frederick himself participated in the design of a fighting knife made exclusively for the Force called the V-42 combat knife, a derivative of the Fairbairn-Sykes fighting knife.

The formation patch was a red spearhead with the words USA written horizontally and CANADA written vertically. The branch of service insignia was the crossed arrows formerly worn by the U.S. Army Indian Scouts. The unit wore red, white, and blue piping on their garrison cap and on the breast oval behind their parachutist wings. Members of the unit also wore a red, white, and blue fourragere, lanyard, or shoulder cord made out of parachute shroud lines.

*History*
The 1st Special Service Force was activated on July 9, 1942 as a joint Canadian-U.S. force of three small regiments and a service battalion. Following its initial training period in Montana, the 1st SSF relocated to Camp Bradford, Vermont, on April 15, 1943, and to Fort Ethan Allen, Vermont, on May 23, 1943. On July 4, 1943, it arrived at the San Francisco Port of Embarkation, and on July 10 sailed for the Aleutian Islands. On August 15, 1943, 1st SSF was part of the invasion force of the island of Kiska, but after the island was found evacuated, it re-embarked and returned to Fort Ethan Allen, arriving September 9.


*Italy 1943*
A scheduled operation code named "Project Plough," a mission to parachute into German-held Norway to knock out strategic targets such as hydroelectric power plants, had to be abandoned, but in October of 1943, the commander of the U.S. Fifth Army, Lt. Gen. Mark W. Clark, brought the 1st Special Service Force to Italy where its members demonstrated the value of their unique skills and training. The Devil's Brigade arrived in Casablanca in French Algeria in November 1943 and quickly moved to the Italian front arriving at Naples on November 19, 1943 and immediately going into the line with the U.S. 36th Infantry Division.

At Monte la Difensa, near which was located the ancient town of Rocca d'Evandro (about 10 miles south east of Cassino) and was part of the Bernhardt Line Defenses on the Camino hill mass, between December 3 and December 6, 1943, they immediately earned a reputation for being able to take impenetrable objectives when no one else could. Here, in the dead of winter, the 1st Special Service Force wiped out a strategic enemy defensive position that sat high atop a mountain surrounded by steep cliffs. Previously, American and British forces had suffered many casualties in futile attempts to take the important target. The 1st SSF was successful, and this incident was the basis for the 1968 motion picture titled "The Devil's Brigade."

The 1st SSF immediately continued its attack, assaulting Monte la Remetanea from December 6 to December 9. It captured Monte Sambúcaro[2] on December 25, and assaulted Monte Vischiataro on January 8, 1944. During the mountain campaign the 1st SSF suffered 77% casualties.

*Anzio 1944*
The Special Force brigade was withdrawn from the mountains in January and on February 1 was landed at the beachhead created by Operation Shingle at Anzio, south of Rome, replacing the 1st and 3rd Ranger battalions which had been decimated at Cisterna. Their task was to hold and raid from the right-hand flank of the beachhead marked by the Mussolini Canal/Pontine Marshes. Shortly after the SSF took over the Mussolini Canal sector, German units pulled back up to a half-mile to avoid their aggressive patrols.

It was at Anzio that the Germans dubbed the 1st Special Service Force the "Devil's Brigade." The diary of a dead German soldier contained a passage that said, "The black devils (Die schwarzen Teufel) are all around us every time we come into the line."[citation needed] The soldier was referring to them as "black" because the brigade's members smeared their faces with black boot polish for their covert operations in the dark of the night. During Anzio, the 1st SSF fought for 99 days without relief. It was also at Anzio that the 1st SSF used their trademark stickers; during night patrols soldiers would carry stickers depicting the unit patch and a slogan written in German: "Das dicke Ende kommt noch," said to translate to "The Worst is yet to Come", placing these stickers on German corpses and fortifications. Canadian and American members of the Special Force who lost their lives are buried near the beach in the Commonwealth Anzio War Cemetery and the American Cemetery in Nettuno, just east of Anzio.

When the 5th Army breakout offensive began on May 25, 1944, the 1st SSF was sent against Monte Arrestino, and attacked Rocca Massima on May 27. The 1st SSF was given the assignment of capturing seven bridges in the city to prevent their demolition by the withdrawing Wehrmacht. During the night of June 4, members of the 1st SSF entered Rome. They are among the Allied units who claim to be the first to enter Rome. After they secured the bridges, they quickly moved north in pursuit of the retreating Germans.

*France 1944*
On August 14, 1944, the 1st SSF landed at Îles d'Hyères during Operation Dragoon, the invasion of southern France. On August 22, it was attached to the 1st Airborne Task Force, a provisional Seventh Army airborne division, and later made part of the Task Force. On September 7, it moved with the 1st Airborne Task Force to defensive positions on the Franco-Italian border. During the war the 1800-man unit accounted for some 12,000 German casualties, captured some 7,000 prisoners, and sustained an attrition rate of over 600%.

*Disbandment 1944*
The 1st SSF, a unique military unit that never failed to achieve its objective, was disbanded December 5, 1944 in a field near Villeneuve-Loubet. Villeneuve-Loubet holds a special place in the history of the Force, not only because the unit was broken up there, but also because it is one of the villages that the 1st SSF had the hardest time capturing in southern France, on August 26th 1944. The day the unit was disbanded, the American commander held a parade honouring the unit. To end the ceremony, the Canadian elements were dismissed by being honoured by the American troops with a marchpast, eyes right, officers saluting. On October 18th 2006, 14 bodies of German soldiers killed during the fighting for Villeneuve were found buried in a forgotten mass grave near the village by a local medical student. After the unit's break up, the Canadians would return to other Canadian units (most of them became replacements for the 1st Canadian Parachute Battalion), some American members were sent to the Airborne Divisions as replacements, and others formed the 474th Infantry Regiment, which served with the Third Army and performed occupation duty in Norway.
*
Post World War II special forces legacy*
In 1952, Col. Aaron Bank created another elite unit using the training, the strategies, and the lessons learned from the Devil's Brigade's missions. This force evolved into specialized forces such as the Green Berets, Delta Force, and the Navy SEALs. In Canada, today's elite and highly secretive JTF2 military unit is also modeled on the Devil's Brigade. As in World War II, Canadian JTF2 members and American Delta Force members were united once again into a special assignment force for the 2001 invasion of Afghanistan. 1st Special Forces Group traces its origins to the devil's brigade.

*First Special Force Memorial Highway*
In September of 1999, Alberta Highway 4 and Interstate 15 in Montana, being the main highway between the cities of Lethbridge, Alberta Canada and Helena, Montana in the United States, was renamed the "First Special Service Force Memorial Highway". This highway was chosen because it was the route taken in 1942 by the Canadian volunteers to join their American counterparts for training at Fort Harrison.


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## Rifleman62 (18 Jul 2012)

*BACK IN TIME…. ONE MONTH IN THE FIRST SPECIAL SERVICE FORCE*


My name is Scott Hollywood and I am a Corporal with the Royal Winnipeg Rifles.  I have been a member of the Rifles for 10 years and joined the Reserves on the West Coast as a member of the Royal Westminster Regiment, to whom I served two years with.  For civilian work, I patrol the streets of Winnipeg as a member of the Winnipeg Police Service which I have been doing for almost 5 years now. 

In February of 2006 I received an amazing opportunity that I would love to share with everyone.  I was informed of a Documentary that was in the planning stages, the main idea was to take 16 modern day soldiers (8 Canadian and 8 American) and send them “back in time” in order to see if we had what it took to become part of the First Special service Force (FSSF), better known as THE DEVIL’S BRIGADE.  

I was hesitant about applying but as usual, my wife pushed me and gave me the confidence that I needed to send in my application.  I received an email a week later which advised that they were interested in what I had to offer and that I would be moving on to the second stage of the application, out of the 1500 original Canadian applicants, about half moved onto the next stage.  The second stage was similar to the first; I had to show proof of the courses I obtained throughout my military career and answer a few more questions.  I was told that the third stage would consist of a video interview with the producers and that there would be about 200 applicants who would make it that far.  After waiting for quite some time without any word, I figured that they had found what they were looking for and I obviously wasn’t it.  

I was working the night shift when my wife called and told me to check my email right away, I had made it to the interview stage.  The production company, Frantic Films, was right here in Winnipeg and they wanted to set up a meeting.  I attended to their office with nervous anticipation which only increased when I heard what I was going to be in for.  The assistant producer met me and gave me a rundown of what was in store.  If I were selected, I would be sent to the original training grounds of the FSSF, Fort William H. Harrison in Helena Montana.  Once there we would be stripped of all our modern gear and issued with replica 1940’s uniforms and equipment.  We would sleep in replica tents, undergo intense FSSF training and be fed the same meals that the FSSF ate.  I was so excited to possibly be a part of this experience that I conducted the interview without fault and left feeling that I had a better than average chance of becoming a participant in this documentary.  I received a phone call from the Production Company with all the information I needed to prepare for my trip to the United States.  My next stop would be Helena Montana.

When I landed in Helena, I was picked up and brought to a hotel for the first night where there was a meeting held involving all of the participants. We were told that two Canadians and one American were unable to attend.  As I looked around the room, I recognized one Canadian soldier whom I had served with while I was with the Westies.  His name was Chris Bird and there was a lot of bad blood between us, we had had an interesting time with one another on the West Coast and time had obviously not healed the hatred we had for one another.  We both left the Westies around the same time and in 10 years, had only seen each other once on a Brigade Exercise which almost came to blows as we butted heads once again.  We were in for an interesting time and Frantic Films had no idea of the previous history between us.  

We introduced ourselves to our American counterparts and realized that the teams were stacked against us, unlike the original FSSF, the Americans had the combat experience this time.  They had 2 Army Rangers with 9 tours between them to Iraq and Afghanistan, a Special Force’s member, and a Marine Force Recon member who just arrived home from Iraq.  The Canadians had the storyline soldiers, a young inexperienced farmboy, 3 kids who joined the military as highschool friends, all too young to effectively shave, an aboriginal with strong roots to his history, a CSM with years of experience, and myself, a career Corporal who isn’t afraid to tell it like it is.  Only two of us, myself and the CSM Albert Boucher, had overseas tours and I was the only Canadian who was qualified as a paratrooper.  

The next day we were sent to the training area where we were issued our equipment and uniforms and changed into coveralls to start the day.  We set up our tents and were assigned to our sections, I was sent to 1 section which affectionately became known as the geriatric section and at 31 years of age, I was the youngest member of our section.  

We started the day by setting up tents and making sure our camp was livable, we had developed quite the appetite come lunchtime.  Lunch consisted of very good food, not the Spam and beans that we all expected to be eating.  The look of surprise must of shown on our faces as we sat down to eat because the filmmakers explained that the Force was given the best the Military had to offer, food, clothing, weapons, and training.  When we finished our meals we were divided into our 5 man sections and told to change into the 40’s era uniforms.  The First Sargent pointed to a massive high feature known as Muscle Mountain to the vets of the FSSF and explained how the men of the FSSF had scaled the mountain numerous times during their stay in Helena, those who couldn’t cut it or became injured, were sent home.  Coming from a prairie province and being thrown into a climate much higher than what we were use to was going to be challenging enough, climbing that mountain where the air was even more thinner was going to be Hell.

Once we changed, we were lined up into our sections where we were issued with two jerry cans full of water per section and began our march to the summit of Muscle Mountain.  The walk to the base of Muscle Mountain was tiring and uneventful until we started to climb towards the peak.  Halfway up we were all starting to feel the effects of the change in altitude and breathing became labourous.  Arms became sore as we tried to change position from carrying the jerries but with only one man resting from the carry, it seemed pointless.  The closer we got to the summit, the more we realized that the boots we were issued were made for posing in, they were in no way a working boot.  Some of us had the nails that were used to secure the tread to the boot penetrate upwards causing the wearer great pain everytime they stepped down.  The rest of us were feeling the hot spots on our heels as the leather refused to bend and form while constantly rubbing our ankles with shear agony.  We all made it to the top where we quickly finished our water and took a look at the scenery from the vantage point.  It was amazing and a feeling of pride swept over us as we realized that those before us had looked over this country side numerous times, many never returning back to their homeland to enjoy it’s beauty.

We started to make our way down the mountain and by now, every step I took was starting to hurt more and more.  I felt the boots rubbing deeper into my ankles wearing away the skin, my walk became a limp and quickly developed into a hobble.  I felt the blisters pop and continued to climb down the steep slopes of the mountain, I knew I was in for trouble as I had done numerous marches throughout my military career, even through the tough terrain of the Chilliwack Mountain Ranges and had never had any issues with my feet.  The boots rubbed harder and deeper until I could bare it no more and stopped to try to fix the socks that I figured had slipped off because I could feel the coldness of the leather.  I took off my right boot and saw that the sock was soaking and covered in blood from the raw ankle which had started to bleed.  I quickly put my boot back on before anyone noticed as I was afraid of being sent home with an injury, a fate that I deemed much worse than sore feet.  I continued to walk and became relieved as I reached the flat terrain heading towards camp and thought that my feet wouldn’t hurt so much as I was now on flat ground.  The pain continued and as I got closer to camp I realized that my lip had also started bleeding from biting down on it in an attempt to mask the pain that was piercing through my legs.  

I finally made to our tent and had about an hour of downtime before dinner and my first priority was self first aid to help my feet.  I removed both boots and when I went to pull off my socks, I let out an uncontrollable scream, my socks had stuck to the raw flesh of my ankles fusing them together.  The guys in my tent quickly got the rubbing alcohol as that was what we had been issued, unfortunately moleskin hadn’t been invented in the 40’s so we were forbidden to use it.  I wasn’t alone though, a few others had gotten blisters, Boucher and myself were the worst off.  We administered first aid and made our way to the meal line and attempted to hide our walk which had now become a waddle.  

The next few days were a blur, literally, as the pain had become excruciating.  We continued to learn hand to hand combat by an instructor who can only be described as crazy.  We would be forced to sit on our hands and fight the natural fear of panic as a rubber hose would be thrown around our necks and squeezed tight until we passed out.  Our minds were forced to fight the fear as our brain starved of oxygen and our bodies finally gave up as each of us started to pass out.  

Day 3 our feet were so bad that a medic from the base had to come and view us.  Infection had quickly set in and me and Boucher were in a bad state.  Thankfully the medic advised the production crew that moleskin and our own personal boots would have to be issued if they expected the soldiers to continue with the documentary.  We were given our boots and it felt like I had finally found a long lost friend as the boots had that familiar form of my feet and the fresh padding of moleskin was a relief.  I felt so good that I knew I could continue with the training and I renamed Muscle Mountain to the modern name of Moleskin Mountain.  Later that day we lost a soldier who felt he couldn’t keep up to the physical demands that the training required, another would be sent home with an injury to his hands during a rope climbing mishap.

As the days continued, so did the training with more hand to hand combat with knives and weapon ranges.  It was amazing as we all got to fire numerous weapons including the MG42, Vickers, Thompson, Johnson LMG,  M1A1 Carbine, M1 Garand, KAR 98 and many more.  We also conducted night stalking and snatch missions that went well even if the plan did not, everyone adapted well and overcame the typical SNAFU’S of regular missions.

The second week started with mountain ops where we learned to boulder up rock faces without the security of ropes.  The bouldering got higher and higher as our confidence grew and what had first appeared to us as an unclimbable flat rock wall now became easy as we learned our grips and wedges.  We then learned to climb with belays and had quite the time as training had finally slowed so we could enjoy ourselves.  We also had survival training where we ate fresh elk cooked on a hot rock and slept quietly under the stars.  

We returned back to the camp where we were met by the medic who had to look at our feet once again.  The constant pain had become familiar to us and was now just a numb feeling with stabs of pain every once in awhile.  The medic decided that he needed to do a scrub on our feet which consisted of taking medical sandpaper and literally scrubbing the flesh.  Once that was complete, a finer sandpaper was used to smooth the skin and a finally touch of a chemical would cauterize the flesh and promote healing.  The medic provided us with the pros and cons of the procedure, the pros being a quicker healing process as the ankle would callous and heal quicker, the con was that it hurt likes hell and people have known to pass out from the pain.   I decided that it couldn’t be as bad as what I have been dealing with for the past 2 weeks.  I have never been so wrong in my life, the harder he scrubbed, the more I saw stars and screamed in pain and I was exhausted by the time he finished.

The Production Company gave us a day off to meet with the veterans of the FSSF who shared their stories and allowed us to hear the history first hand.  It was a moment that I treasured and felt a twinge of sadness as I realized that the numbers of our countries hero’s were steadily dwindling at an alarming rate.  My feet no longer hurt as I thought about the pain that these men had endured and still relived as they talked about their past.  

We had a final mission before our attack on La Difensa, it consisted of attacking a train bridge against an experienced enemy who had just returned from a year long tour in Iraq.  We discussed our mission in detail and needed a way to take out the sentries that our Recce’s had shown to be occupying the low ground under the bridge.  It would be too hard to send in a force to take out that threat as we also had two teams of sentries on both ends of the track and with only 13 men, we were already stretched way to thin.  We devised a plan where one man would dress up like a local and use that disguise as a means of getting close to the sentries and taking them out with a concealed sidearm.  It would be risky and his shots would signal the attack, after which he would go to ground and await for the teams to link up with him.  It seemed like it could work and now we had to find someone who could actually pull it off.  During the discussion, I noticed that every eye was staring right at me and Boucher was the one who had said that I was the only one crazy enough to accomplish it.  I had already earned a nickname of “Sgt. Suicide” due to the comments and cracks of humour that I made at the instructors expense, usually paying for it by running up a hill in full kit or being a demonstration dummy during hand to hand combat.  I wasn’t sure if it was a privilege to be chosen to be the one to start the attack or if it was because they felt I was expendable, either way, they had made an unanimous decision to feed me to the wolves.

We set off towards the train bridge where we split into two groups, one to attack the South side of the bridge, one to attack the North side.  When we got closer to our ORV, I changed into the civilian clothes that we had stolen out of the hut which housed all of our locked up forbidden modern equipment.  I split away from my group, leaving with a bunch of handshakes and good lucks and set off on my own.  I made it to the roadway where I grabbed a walking stick and made my way towards the base of the bridge.  I constantly kept an eye on my watch as we decided that the time to attack would be 1600 hrs.  As I walked down the roadway towards the bridge trying to judge my timings, I saw a discarded beer can that I grabbed and added it to my “costume”.  I subconsciously kept feeling the small of my back for the reassurance of the sidearm concealed there, a sure sign that I as a Police Officer would recognize as someone armed with a hidden weapon.  I had to force myself not to reach to the small of my back for fear of giving away my intentions.  One final look of my watched showed that I was 5 minutes out and would arrive beneath the bridge at the precise time.  

A vehicle containing the film crew passed by me without a second thought and I knew my cover was good as these were people who have seen me day in and day out for the past 3 weeks, didn’t seem to recognize me.  I saw the sentry looking towards the hills, searching for his enemy, he looked back at me and raised his weapon from instinct.  He obviously thought I wasn’t part of the mission as he lowered his weapon and turned his attention back towards the hillside.  The vehicle that had passed me had now driven over a cattle guard causing two loud bangs as the tires traveled over them.  Just then I heard both sides of the hill opening up with the sounds of smallarms, I later found out that my guys had thought the two bangs were me firing my sidearm signaling the attack.  I quickly ran towards the sentry and drew down just as he was turning towards me, after firing two rounds into the sentry and catching him completely off guard, I picked up his rifle and ammo and scanned for the other sentry.  We had won the firefight and the link up was complete, we were now placing charges on the tracks as well as the tresses.  The mission was a success as we started our long patrol back towards camp.

The time had come for a final briefing which consisted of a large map model of La Difensa.  We stood around the model discussing avenues of approach and possible routes to the summit when our discussion was cut short by some unsuspecting individuals.  Joe Glass and his comrades had surprised us with their visit and discussed the memories that they had when they first saw La Difensa.  We sat around in silence as once again these veterans shared their stories that were saved for fellow soldiers, even their own friends and families haven’t heard what they were telling us now.  Again it was an honor to be in the same room as these men and to relive a part of history, I just hoped that we had what it took to complete the final mission as no one wanted to let the vets of the FSSF down.


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## Rifleman62 (18 Jul 2012)

Continued: 

We made our way to Italy and were taken to an old olive grove near the base of Difensa where we were issued with water and replica rations from the 40’s which consisted of canned ham or turkey and didn’t taste too bad.  We were told that we were now on our own and could use our time to conduct Recce’s or catch up on our sleep.  We sat around and discussed our next move and ended up doing what every soldier does while occupying a foreign country, we made our way towards the nearest town.  We left in a group of 5 as the others decided to get some sleep and started walking down a roadway, hoping it would lead somewhere.

A few kilometers later we ended up in a small town and observed the curious looks on the faces of the locals as they saw our uniforms.  Their faces lit up as they saw our bright red arrowhead shoulder flashes and a few came over to talk to us.  An elderly gentleman approached us and stared to talk to us in Italian, luckily one of us understood the language and could translate.  The elderly man explained to us that his brother was a scout for the Allies when they arrived and even helped the FSSF find a route up Difensa.  He finished his conversation with tears flowing down his face as he explained that his brother had died shortly after the attack.  We left feeling a little emotional as we realized that even after 60 years, the war was still affecting people.  I tore off my shoulder flash and ran back to the man that was still standing at the side of the road staring up at Difensa.  As I placed it into his hand, he placed his arm around my shoulder, pointed up at Difensa and said something that I couldn’t understand but knew what he meant.  I took a look at the mountain and the extreme rockface that we would have to climb and knew that we were in for a hell of a time.  I left the man still staring at Difensa and ran to catch up with the guys.
We found a little café and were enjoying an awesome cappuccino when we were approached by a little old lady who was asking what we were doing dressed in the garb that we were in.  Guglielmi explained our intentions and told her where we were camped out, she left and seemed really excited.  We continued to check the rest of the town and started to head back to camp.  We passed through a cherry orchard and grabbed some cherries off of the trees to bring back to the guys still at camp.

We spent the remainder of the day playing poker and using different ammo rounds as betting chips.   When night fell we were all half asleep when a vehicle had stopped at the edge of the grove and we heard a door slam.  Figuring it was the production company, we got up to see what they wanted and were surprised as we recognized the little old lady from the café.  She had brought with her a bunch of bread and cheese as well as a few bottles of homemade wine.  She was the first in a long line of locals who would stop by to ensure that we were well fed.  Come morning, when the production company arrived, we had a large selection of wines, beer, bread, cheese, cherries, and cured meats.  At first they seemed upset as we were only supposed to be eating rations as this was a “40’s era” production.  They seemed to calm down as we explained that soldiers are famous for living off the locals who supported the Allied cause and reminded them that during WWII, the locals quite often gave the soldiers food and drink.

The next day we decided to dedicate our time to the reasons we were there and started to send out Recce’s patrols.  We soon realized that it was pointless as we would just have to wing it and hope the guide we found would know the best route to take.  We all agreed that we would leave around 1700 hrs and have ample time to get into position and conduct our attack just before first light.  

Everyone started to get their kit ready and pack accordingly.  I spent my day trying to find a comfortable way to carry the tripod of the MG and finally decided that I was screwed either way as there was absolutely no way to carry the tripod without getting my body banged up.  I packed the MG ammo and a meal ration and grabbed as much water as I could carry , then I strapped the tripod across my back using a jerry-rigged sling.  We stepped off and started the long climb to the summit.

The first part of the climb was not so bad as we walked up a gradual slope that had little undergrowth and was to navigate through.  As we got higher, the climb got harder and the view was absolutely amazing.  Night fell quick and we had to close it up as it was getting harder to see the man in front of us.  We stuck to the wild boar trails that snaked all around the mountain, everyone considered the damage that a boar could do if it rushed the patrol.  We came to a place where there was so much deadfall and it took almost a full hour to cross about 50 meters, going over and under all of the branches that crissed and crossed.  We ended up losing one of the camera men in the darkness and all agreed that we had to press forward and continue the mission.  We all knew that in a wartime situation, the mission could not and would not be put on hold for one man, especially a cameraman.  

We pressed on until we made it to a ravine and started to climb upward, being near the rear of the patrol really sucked as we spent most of our time dodging rocks the size of soccer balls which had been dislodged by guys ahead of us.  We kept climbing and climbing and our bodies started to get tired.  We had to ration our water as we were starting to get short and took a short break to get our strength back as it was now 2300 hrs and we had been climbing for 6 hours now.  We all felt that we were getting close and started to watch our noise discipline as none of us wanted to tip of the Germans that we were close.  

We stepped off once again and quickly found an animal trail that we followed until we reached a large cliff face that dropped about 100 feet into a gorge, word had been passed back “STEP LEFT AND YOUR DEAD”.  I wasn’t too sure what that meant until I turned the corner and saw that the trail was now about 2 feet wide with large boulders on one side and the drop on the other.  We had no choice but to boulder our way upwards over the large rocks that were now in front of us.  It was a small climb over the boulder which was only about 10 feet high and we were making excellent time climbing up it.  Danny Hassel was in front of me and it was now his turn to climb, I waited until I saw him crest the top before I began my turn.  Just as I started to pull myself over the top, I heard a huge crashing noise which sounded like the entire mountain was crumbling around us and looked up to see a boulder the size of a coffee table coming right for us.  I had two choices, to quickly pull my body up onto the boulder and dive out of the way or to drop down 10 feet onto the ledge and hopefully land on it, otherwise it would be a long painful bounce down the mountainside.

I quickly let go and dropped onto the ledge, feeling the tripod slam into my back which ended up pushing me into the safety of a depression within the rock.  I saw the boulder go flying off of the ledge and heard the unbelievable sound of it crashing down the ravine.  My first thought was that we were obviously compromised as the noise was so loud, I was sure that the people in the town miles away could have heard it.  My next thought was of  Danny who was directly in the path of the boulder and I was sure that he didn’t have time to get out of the way.  I quickly crawled back onto the rock face and when I reached the top, I saw Danny sitting off to the side in obvious pain.  We broke out the white light and saw Danny’s face which was bleeding and saw that a piece of his tooth was chipped off, when Danny raised his hand,  it resembled that of Mickey Mouse’s due to the swelling.  Luckily Danny turned out fine and there were no serious medical attention was required at that time because we would have had no way to extract him from the position we were in.  Danny assured us all that he was fine and being the hard hitting soldier that he was, demanded that we continue with the mission.  I was sure Danny had seen worse during his time in Iraq and Afghanistan and a quick shot of humor by me at Danny’s expense had the desired effect as we all had a good laugh and were now up and moving towards the summit where the Germans awaited.

We pressed on and continued to climb higher and at 0200 hrs we stopped for a break.  We decided that although we were close to our objective, we should start to conserve water as we were running dangerously low.  Little did we know that we still had 6 ½ hours of more climbing before we reached our goal.  We stepped off and once again continued our climb.  About an hour later, we reached the first of many cliffs that we would have scale in order to reach the top and we all felt that we were fairly close to the enemy and would have to maintain strict noise discipline in order to go undetected, we had no clue how wrong we were.

The first few rock faces were fun and easy and we started to employ all of the skills we had learned in Montana, except we were now doing it in pitch blackness.  The cliffs became increasingly hard and started to become very dangerous.  Frantic Films had hired a professional mountain climber/camera man who had scaled numerous mountains throughout the world and during our next break had voiced serious concern.  The cameraman advised that the climbing we were doing was considered extreme for professional climbers and the fact that none of us had any climbing experience and we were doing it loaded down with fighting equipment, no climbing gear and it total darkness was not only stupid, but suicidal.  A few of the members started to voice their concerns but were quickly reminded of those who went before us and what they accomplished.  There was no other option but to continue climbing and I felt that I would attack the Germans alone if I had to but we were all soldiers and knew what had to be done.  Everyone one of us stepped off without a second thought of quitting.

We came to some extreme vertical cliffs and started to climb just as the sun was starting to rise.  WO Boucher started up ahead of me and I could feel the sun on my neck as I followed behind.  I took a look over my shoulder to see our surroundings for the first time since night fell and what I saw was an amazing site.  I quickly climbed towards Boucher and met him at the top of the cliff where we both stared out towards the sunlit Liri Valley.  Neither of us said a word as the site before was unexplainable, here before me was a valley that held so much history and had so much blood spread throughout it’s soil over time that it was hard to believe how beautiful it was.  I stole a quick glance at Boucher who just gave me a simple nod and he turned to continue climbing.  We both knew what each other was thinking at the time but didn’t waste any words on it.  I quickly pulled out my camera and stole the image so I would be able to remember it forever but I knew the picture wouldn’t do it justice so I spent an extra minute by myself to absorb as much as I could.

We continued up each vertical cliff which led to another and another and another.  It never seemed to end and as muscle fatigue started to set in, tempers started to flair.  I for one was guilty of losing my temper and unfortunately, it was caught on tape.  We had scaled this cliff for quite some time and came to a ledge that was big enough to hold 4 people comfortable WITHOUT equipment and we had to stop and try find a safe route up.  There were three of us on that ledge with about a 300 foot drop straight down and I had told those below us to hold up at the lower ledge as we would be at a standstill for a few minutes.  As we were all Soldiers and being the curious type, a few had decided to continue to our ledge to see what was going on.  Gug was looking over the edge at the sheer drop and the next man who came onto the ledge had inadvertently bumped Gug causing him to unwillingly take a step forward  I reached out and grabbed the weapon that was slung across his back and yanked to prevent him from slipping off the ledge.  It was t that point that the Irish came out of me and I couldn’t control my emotions and voiced my concern.  Later, while watching the show I realized that it was caught on tape and I was thankful that the producers didn’t show my entire tirade probably due to the amount of “F- BOMBS” that I dropped on that ledge.

We climbed about 6 more cliff faces towards the summit when Bird quickly dropped to the prone position and unslung his Rifle, hand signals were passed back to halt and be silent.  The signal that the enemy was spotted was passed back and we quickly and quietly got in an extended line.  We observed two German sentries who were checking their perimeter but appeared to have no interest in the area we were in, we later found out that they felt that part of the mountain was unclimbable therefore they didn’t put a sentry on that side of La Difensa, a mistake their ancestors had also made.  We could see an MG nest on the top of the bowl covering the opposite side of the mountain where they felt we would be attacking from, we were in a perfect flanking position.

Bird started the attack which was quick and fierce when all weapons started to open up and the Germans were caught completely by surprise.  I don’t have too many recollections of the battle as it was over in seconds when the last two German shoulders were completely overwhelmed and had surrendered without firing a shot.  We didn’t even consolidate after the battle, each of us went to our German counterparts and exchanged handshakes and hugs.  It was an awesome experience as our grandfathers had been enemies 60 odd years ago and here we were, only 2 generations later, embracing each other like long lost brothers.  We suddenly realized how thirsty we were as we hadn’t had a drink in about 4 hours, unfortunately the Germans had finished that last of their water about an hour prior to the attack and none of them wanted to walked down to their resupply point for fear of being captured.  They later revealed that they felt that they could fight the Americans without reservations but were worried about the Canadian soldiers as they had heard stories that we were all “lumberjack” types who were rowdy and looking for a fight and were considering this documentary a real battle.  We had a good laugh at the stereo type that they pictured us as and the laughs got louder as one of the Germans lifted a rock out of the ground and underneath it was a cleverly designed little hole containing 3 bottles of cool wine that was quickly passed around.

We all walked down the slope and shared stories of our past experiences as the producers let us go off by ourselves without the hovering of a camera crew, a time we all considered special as we talked as only soldiers would talk and joked as only soldiers would joke.

The following day, we went to the allied cemetery which was an emotional experience, especially for the young troops who have never been to a war grave before.  We noticed that the German soldiers did not attend and later found out that they felt that that was a time for us to be with our fallen countrymen and didn’t want to intrude as they felt that there might be some animosity if they tagged along, they had no idea how wrong they were.  We spent the night on the town buying each other rounds and shots and felt that common bond that only soldiers feel towards each other.  I knew that I had accomplished what I set out to do and was extremely grateful for the opportunity given to me.

Boucher summed it all up with a toast that explained the five memories of a Soldier that I would like to pass on.  A soldier has only five types of memories, those that he shares with everyone, those that he shares with family and friends, those that he shares with fellow soldiers, those that he shares with fellow soldiers who were there with him, and finally those that he shares with only himself.


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## Rifleman62 (18 Jul 2012)

Link to thirty- four out of thirty-five photos (one photo is of a  famous Cdn SOE couple):

 http://www.collectionscanada.gc.ca/databases/faces/001048-110.01-e.php?PHPSESSID=afs55gnq98gqsf2q4u1v9j5hh6&q5=First+Special+Service+Force&q4=&q2=&interval=20&submit=Submit

Maybe you might spot a relative.


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## wildman0101 (21 Jul 2012)

Grey,,,black16,,,hawk,,, and rifleman62... Bang-on. I served Pet 77 when the SSF was born. Even had
a bunch of Original 1st SSF (Devil's Brigade)there when we paraded. Mam I was so proud to be as-
sociated with that group of Veteran's. You had to be there to see it. Cheer's. OSONS, Scoty B


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## wildman0101 (21 Jul 2012)

P.S. Still got my original flash's. Cheer's


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