On the first of May the train stopped at the foot of Etna. Over 1,000 German soldiers filled up the train station of Catania. The city is a famous spa where the well-to-do from the north used to spend the winter months. We loaded or gear onto trucks and headed for the beach, five miles to the south, outside the city limits. The wide beach gave us plenty of room to put up our one-man tents which stretched for over a mile along the foot of Etna. I started as the first one to shovel a foxhole next to my tent in case the English Air Force should pay us a surprise visit. Later on, when a order came from the captain, everyone else started digging. Here we camped at the most admired landscape of Italy with the aquamarine blue sea, the green cypresses and pinions on the shoreline. The snow-covered Etna completed the picture. Our captain, a Viennese reserve officer, and his sergeants kept us busy. The captain did not get out of his tent until the heat of the sun drove him out. He ran around half of the day in his bathrobe. The sergeants set up a program of exercising, marching, goose-stepping, and lectures about weaponry and weapon inspections.

"Rommel will win the war without us." we thought. He had already advanced to the gates of Tobruk, 1,000 miles from his starting point. He would not need more soldiers, but gasoline, tanks and ammunition. Since more than half of his supply was landing on the bottom of the sea, we probably would be stuck in Sicily.

We were just three days at our new location and cleaning our rifles when three English planes roared 100 feet above the water and raked our tent city with machine-gun fire. Most of the soldiers first thought the Luftwaffe had come to visit us. Some of our company ran up a little hill to get a better look, until they heard the machine-gun fire, but I felt secure in my little foxhole. Nobody was hit. Luck was with us in spite of our totally non-militaristic behavior. Only the fragments of the antiaircraft shells came down around us. But the Tommies went on to the airport and destroyed a few airplanes on the ground. Even some JU 52s were damaged, and those were the planes which eventually had to take us to the black continent. Well, this meant we would have to wait even longer to get to Africa.

In the middle of May spring was erupting all over Germany. The fruit trees in Potsdam were in full bloom, but here the temperature already soared above the nineties.

A USO group, consisting of German and Italian actors and entertainers, let us forget for a little while that we were stuck in Sicily. It was a heart-warming experience to hear German music and songs together with Italian arias, with the beach and the ocean as a background.

Our first sergeant had a mean streak. Whenever he had a chance he would make us exercise at the most impossible places and impose extra penalties for the slightest infractions. One day he ordered us to take a fully equipped march on a steep footpath along Mount Etna. The slope was covered with prickly thorned cactus plants. When he was in the back of the marching column, he complained that we were marching too slowly. So he passed the command through the row of sweating men to the front man to speed up the marching pace. But nothing happened. So he tried to work himself through the long line toward the leading men to give them living hell for not speeding up the pace. He had just passed me and tried to squeeze by the man in front of me when the soldier, with a sudden turn of his backpack, pushed the sergeant hard enough to make him lose his balance and stumble down the steep slope full of cactus plants. We helped him back onto the trail but had to abort the march and carry him back to the camp. He had heard that I was an eighth-semester medical student. So I had the honor of spending an afternoon pulling over 300 cactus needles from his exposed and non-exposed body parts. It must have scared him enough to eliminate his mean streak.

I was resigned to the fact that Rommel would not need us in the foreseeable future. His troops had already bypassed Tobruk, and the front line froze at the Egyptian border. A fierce battle around Tobruk had broken out. The tired soldiers of the Africa Corps had tried again and again to storm the bunkers of this important fortress and harbor.

The Sicilian women were heavily chaperoned. Dating with German soldiers could only take place in the presence of another family member. When, after three weeks, the first German soldier was found knifed to death by not following its rules in Sicily, the German Army command decided to establish a bordello in town for German soldiers and officers. For the job they needed a medic, who would treat the soldiers after they had intercourse. A condom was hard to come by. An irrigation with a mild silver nitrate solution had to be done, followed by an application of mercury ointment. For the irrigation the penis had to be clamped for three minutes and then the solution released. The soldier had to leave his "dog tag" at my desk before he picked up the girl and went to a room. I gave it back to him after he had his treatment. This effectively prevented gonorrhea and syphilis. To get a venereal disease as a soldier involved at least two weeks' hospitalization followed by three days in jail with bread and water only. The German officer insisted that this preventive treatment be done by a medical officer. After several days the German medical officer became tired of the job and turned it over to me. Officers had a better chance to buy condoms than enlisted men. Officers also had the priority of entering the bordello one hour before the enlisted men. The job released me from the daily exercises and gave me time to travel around in Sicily.

`My first goal was Syracuse, the pearl of Sicily, a town where old Roman ruins were everywhere. Beautiful, luxurious homes with luscious well-groomed gardens, the Roman amphitheater overlooking the town, and wide elegant streets made this a Mecca for many painters wanting to captivate the many colors of the Mediterranean landscape. I took a trip to the "Ear of Dionysis," a deep cave, where the acoustics permitted the Roman guards outside to listen to every whisper of the prisoners.

Dear Irmgard,

A couple of days ago out of the blue sky we heard the most beautiful dance music coming from the woods behind us. After I worked my way toward the sound, I discovered a 20-man air force band playing music so pure, so rhythmic that it could compete with the best dance orchestras of Germany. The band probably never received such an applause as it got from us. The distant glow of the fluorescing ocean, under the silvery moonlight, topped the lovely evening. Suddenly the Catania Airport guns roared to chase away English planes which were dropping magnesium flares tied to parachutes in search of a worthwhile bombing target. They took off without attacking. Maybe the flak guns had come too close.

In spite of the music and the "fireworks," we are all longing for the day of our trip to Africa. Why? Every day German wounded soldiers, covered with dust and dirt and worn out, were passing by and telling us about the repeated attempts to take Tobruk. On the British island of Malta, only 100 miles away, the Tommies dominate the Mediterranean air space and make the supplies for Rommel more and more difficult to get. While I am writing this letter, the sun is setting behind the mountains. The sand on the beach is still warm, but the cool wind comes up and chills the skin. The bats are flying to catch the millions of insects. Hundreds of lizards are rustling through the brush, looking for the settled-down flies. I am searching in the sky for the Wagon.

Yes, there it is! I extend the axis five times toward the horizon and I can see the North Star. It sparkles extra bright above the snow-covered Etna. There is Germany. That is where you are!

Dear Irmgard,

Yesterday, Sunday, I took the first train and traveled to Taormina, a town 25 miles north of Catania. The town is 800 feet above the ocean. Many tourists tell me they consider it more spectacular than Capri. It has a breathtaking view. The town spreads over the steep slope of the Etna mountain. Luxurious villas dominate the town and are built on broad ledges of the slopes. Everywhere are trees, plazas with green lawns and fountains. The Roman ruins give witness that the emperors 2,000 years ago came here in the winter to enjoy life 1,000 feet above me are numerous castles and chateaux. 10,000 feet higher is the top of Mount Etna. It is from here one could climb the mountain. But the commander told me already that he would not permit it. Taormina has dozens of ice cream parlors with the most exotic fruit flavors of unmatched quality.

The Sicilian's life-style has not changed one iota since the war started. There are no restrictions, one can buy anything, there is no rationing. The people read about the war in the newspaper but are not worried what could happen, even if the war would start on their own soil.

The electrifying news hit us that ten sacks of mail came back from Tripoli, where they were erroneously shipped. Hurrah! A parcel and two letters from you!

Every week they pick up a load of soldiers with JU 52s and ship them to Tripoli. With 1000 soldiers on the beach this will take a long time. In the meantime I have organized an entertainment evening for the battalion. With three other soldiers we composed many verses, wrote a sketch and planned organized musical numbers among our available talent. I also got permission to bring the famous Etna wine for the occasion into the camp. It turned out to be a great success with lots of laughter and kidding around. The sweet Etna wine put several soldiers into a deep trance. During the night one could often hear a sudden scratching to open a tent. Many had to clean the sand in front of their tents the next morning. I got an extra day off-duty for my effort and took the occasion to travel to Messina. This town had been by-passed by the German Army. To wear our shorts among the female population created a sensation. The women looked at us as if we were strange animals. A group of female students gathered at the university campus around us and wanted to know where we were stationed. With my little Italian I told them about our imminent departure for Africa.

The story of Tobruk dominates our thinking more and more. Hundreds of wounded soldiers are filing through the local hospital every day on their way to Germany. In between shifts three German nurses come at times to our beach to take a sun- bath. This offers me a good chance to strike up a conversation. They tell us that Rommel is in the process of building a highway around the perimeter of Tobruk. The defending South African garrison had so much ammunition from Italian stock available that they will not run out for another nine months.

Four days ago I had a chance to take the train and head for the center of Sicily. The small town of Enna rises 2,500 feet above sea level. 500 years ago Frederick II spent time in the castle above the town and probably did what I did: enjoyed the peaches, apricots, plums and cherries which were hanging from the trees in abundance.

Three days ago I was commandeered to the Catania Airport, where they needed a wireless operator. At least I got out of the bordello job. The comradeship among the Air Force soldiers is great. I feel at least needed, and I am working nights. I am still in good shape with my Morse code. The traffic among the wireless stations from Catania to Tripoli goes all night. During the day the sun beats on the hot sand and one can forget trying to sleep in a tent. So I swim daily in the warm ocean and enjoy the vacation-like atmosphere. I take a nap a few hours before I take the bus to go to the airport. I have no extra duty and can get busy with my Italian textbook.

Hitler is marching into Russia. This comes as a great surprise to us. When I was in Kassel and had to transmit wireless instructions for troop transports to Poland, I had no inkling that a war with Stalin was imminent. What will that do to our outlook for peace? I do not dare to think about it. We now have a two-front war.

The sirens are howling through the night. The Tommy is visiting us on my birthday. At least I made it to my twenty-first birth-day. The Italian antiaircraft is firing away as if they were getting paid for their effort. Even my friends in Tripoli have no messages for me tonight. On my table is a cold bottle of champagne and I am toasting with you that one day not too far from now, when the war will be over and we can celebrate a "Wiedersehen."

Several days ago my mother broke the sad news to me of my grandmother's death. That brings to an end the memory of the lovely times I had in Karlshafen. Even during my time in the "Arbeitsdienst" she used to send me hand-knitted socks and a special bottle of schnapps to rub onto my blistered feet. Several times she paid for a railroad ticket to join her

One evening I was invited by the three hospital nurses to a moonlight party. They had rented a during the Easter vacation. I could ski while she was enjoying the sun small boat for a trip along the coast. I brought the accordion with me and entertained them with German and Italian songs. The full moon with the gentle waves of the ocean gave a perfect setting. We passed the Grotto of Odysseus, where he once landed in the "Land of the Cyclops."

My Air Force friends are planning a trip to Palermo, but my company commander said "no." Thank heaven, he is leaving us for reassignment in Austria. We had to watch him almost daily taking a sunbathe in the nude at the beach......

Dear Irmgard,

The beach gets more and more empty. My days at the Air Force job are counted. Today at noon the thermometer reached 109 degrees and I was hanging on to my water bottle all day. I estimate that 10 liters were not enough. I spent three to four hours in the ocean. The heat gives me a taste of Africa......

Dear Irmgard,

It looks like this will be our last evening in Europe. Yesterday the Roman Opera came to Catania. In the local open-air theater, close to the center of town, the Roman Opera orchestra made its debut with "La Boheme." All the townspeople filled the theater to capacity. Small houses, built on lava, surround the theater. An early moon just showed its face besides Mount Etna. Every window and every balcony was filled with spectators. Some still had their laundry hanging from the balustrade. Mothers were holding their babies, children everywhere. People were even hanging on the lampposts. This opera seemed to be one of the Italian favorites by the Sicilians. Puccini's melodies started to fill the air with great acoustics, reverberating from the surrounding houses. The opera singers were superb. Sometimes the crowd fell in with the singers. It was a great evening and for me a farewell to Italy. What will the future bring? "Italy, you keep on singing and we have to go on fighting."