4 hours and 22 minutes in Cassino with Sergeant E.C. Nichol

Sunday, November 1, 2009

My time in Cassino did not go precisely as planned. I wanted to arrive from Rome early in the afternoon and have a chance to freshen up and relax at my hotel before walking to the Cassino War Cemetery to pay my respects to my other great-uncle lost in the Second World War, Sergeant Everett Clinton Nichol. Then I was going to wander into town and have a nice dinner before retiring to my private hotel room for a relaxing, early night.

The first problem started when the LP turned out to be uncharacteristically silent on the entire subject of Cassino, despite the fact that there's a well known monastery at Monte Cassino right up the hill from the town. In fact, I was so surprised that there wasn’t even a listing for the city that I think I went back and checked the index three or four times before finally admitting to myself that the beloved LP had failed me.

The monastery at the top of the hill, which I did not climb (grape vines in the foreground).

So I was on my own. Undaunted, I managed to locate the cemetery on Google maps and found some information that seemed to indicate it was only about 2km from the train station. Then I hit Google again to find a hotel and ended up making a reservation at Hotel Diana (which I accomplished entirely in infant-level Italian, thank you very much.) So I arrived in Cassino on the 12:51 train from Roma Termini and set off in the direction of the hotel. I was pleased when I came upon this sign, because it all seemed to tally with my memory of the Google map.

All according to plan

And that’s when things started to go awry. It turns out that the scale of the Google map in my head was perhaps more ambitious that I realized. And the Aeronaut was a might weighty, and the sun was a touch warm, and the sidewalk was ever-so-slightly non-existent. And on I trudged, with no map, and almost no language skills, and an increasing level of frustration. I stopped several times to ask for directions and each time I was directed further and further down the road and kept hearing phrases like “autostrada” and “lontano”. It seems that Cassino has a Via Raccordo Ausonia and a Via Prov.le Ausonia and a Via Ausonia Nuova. Naturally it turned out that the hotel was on the one farthest from the station down a busy highway. Finally I gave up. I’m sorry Hotel Diana, but if you had been in the same time zone as the rest of Cassino, I would have been happy to darken your door. Then I had another trudge through the area around the station and could not find one single hotel, which is extremely bizarre. Cassino must be the only hotel in Western Europe with no hotels near the station.

So I sat down and had a calzone and a beer and regrouped. I checked the departures list at the station and determined that trains to Naples were frequent that afternoon and evening. And I phoned the hostel in Naples and moved my reservation up a night. And then I hoisted the Aeronaut once again and headed off for the cemetery, which turned out to be easy to find and actually was about 2km from the station, as advertised.

The entrance to the cemetery

In some ways it was very much like the Beny-sur-Mer cemetery in France. It was quiet and tidy and seemed to be well-tended. And there were rows and rows and rows of gravestones from all over the commonwealth. Unlike Beny-sur-Mer, though, it’s kind of smack in the middle of the city, or at least surrounded by busy roads and some businesses and some semi-rural residential stuff.

The livestock next door to the cemetery

I didn’t have as much documentation to help me find the grave I was looking for as I did in France, but the Canadian Virtual War Memorial website has an excellent search function that made it really easy to determine exactly where I needed to look. Section 5, Row B, Grave 21.

And due to the foresight of my personal assistant (Winnipeg Division), I had another Canadian flag patch to leave at the grave site. Thanks Karen. I really feel it was important to leave something tangible behind.

Unlike Beny-sur-Mer, there was no cemetery register available and no book of remembrance to sign. The website says that frequent vandalism means these are only available when the gardener is present, and those hours apparently didn’t mesh with my schedule. I think it’s disgusting that something as simple and important as a register of war dead can’t be kept out for fear or it being stolen or defaced. I mean, really.

I wandered around and took some more pictures, and enjoyed the feeling of not having a 45 pound pack on my back. And I sat near the grave and tried to think about what it must have been like to be a 35-year old Saskatchewan farm boy-turned Royal Canadian Engineer landing in Italy in 1944. In fact, Sergeant Nichol enlisted in 1939 and was shipped overseas within ten months. He served in England, Sicily and mainland Italy before he was killed in action on May 23, 1944. And now you know almost as much about him as I do, which is sad; he should have been part of my life. It wasn't as emotional as my trip to Beny-sur-Mer, but maybe that's because it wasn't all new.

At least the views from the cemetery are really lovely, with Monte Cassino in the background, and other mountains surrounding.

Also unlike the grave at Beny-sur-Mer, which was for an uncle on my grandmother’s side of the family, this was my father’s father’s brother. Consequently, that was my name on the gravestone. It was striking. I actually pulled out the copy of my passport I carry around and held it up to the stone and looked at the names. Nichol… Nichol. It felt a bit weird, but it also made me proud and really glad I’d come. It was like I could feel how we were connected.

And then I shouldered my pack again and bid farewell to Uncle Everett and turned my face towards the station and the 17:13 train to Naples. I feel badly that the trip turned out to be a more of pitstop than a pilgrimage, but I’m still glad I went. I hope it’s not important how long I was there, but that I was there at all. That someone was there.

Once again, there’s really nothing I can say to sum up except thank you. Thank you Sergeant Everett C. Nichol. You make me proud to share your name.

Rest in peace.

Sergeant Everett Clinton Nichol

6 Comments:

Karen said...

Uncle Everett had a great smile and quite the twinkle in his eyes.

I had a gut feeling standing over that little box of Cdn flag patches at MECC that you really and truly needed more than just a replacement patch.

Another great post Pam.

Robert said...

A worthy pit stop.

Family connections seem sharper when one is far away from home.

45 lbs? Any gear updates?

Any items moved from 'on probation' to 'shoulda left it'?

Are there any items you should have brought instead? (Canadian Flags 4x7cm size?)

Keep on Truckin'

Rob H.

Anonymous said...

Thanks Pam you make me proud of you for having gone too!

Jen

John Bardos - JetSetCitizen.com said...

Touching post.

It is a good reminder of how good our lives are now.

For most of us, our biggest problem is a boring job that we can't wait to leave. It is good to think about all those that have given up their lives so that we can have this good life.

Bill Durrell said...

Being this blog is 6 years old, this may now be a dead end, but nothing ventured nothing gained! Everett Clinton Nichol was my uncle, although just as you unfortunately I never met him. My mom (Lois) was his youngest sister and was just a teenager when Everett was killed. Anyway I'm trying to figure out how we are connected...I'm not familiar with a PAM connected with Everett's brothers Ross, Fred, Don, Jim, Archie or Jerry? Anyway love to hear from you! Regards Bill

Pam said...

Hi Bill! Pam here. This blog might be dormant but I'm still here. As for the relationship, Everett's brother Fred was my grandfather. Everett was my dad's uncle. Not sure how we're related but it seems we are. Thanks for reaching out!

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