Foot soldiers in Rome

Infantrymen’s time in Rome is no triumph

My Mother and Audie Murphy ch. 16

June, 1944. From Murphy’s autobiography, To Hell and Back:

There is no triumph in Rome. The city is only another objective along an endless road of war. During the long, bitter months on the Anzio beachhead, the men dreamed of entering Rome in celebration. They imagined drinking, swaggering through its streets, losing themselves in indulgence and release. But when the city finally falls and they do enter, the feeling is nothing like victory. They pitch their tents in a public park and sleep with a depth that borders on collapse, waiting for something like life to return to their bodies.

They move through Rome like ghosts. The grand architecture and ancient monuments hold no power to lift the heart. Murphy feels as if he has been briefly spared from death, but the sparing brings no relief. Joy is impossible until the war is truly over. On the streets, surrounded by civilians, he feels lonelier than he did in the mud and gun smoke of the front. The men know others are still fighting to the north, and their thoughts remain with them.

As the front lines move forward, rear-echelon troops flood into the city. Their clean uniforms and easy laughter provoke an irrational resentment. The infantry still carry the smell of mud, cordite, smoke, and decay. They look at the rested, polished soldiers and feel a gulf that cannot be crossed.

One night, the resentment turns into a brawl. Murphy and his men clash with a group of air corps troops in a café. Chairs break, glass shatters, and bodies slam across tables until the military police arrive and shut it down. The MPs warn them not to return.

Day by day, Rome becomes less meaningful. The men begin drifting back to camp earlier, choosing their own company over the city. They gather in small groups as dusk settles, sharing bottles of wine. The songs they sing together come from home, from childhood, from a world untouched by war. The singing softens something inside them—feelings that have been buried beneath survival. The tenderness is temporary. It disappears the moment the order comes to shoulder their weapons and move again.

They leave Rome for another training ground, not knowing what operation lies ahead. Rumor fills the silence, but certainty is impossible.

Their next destination is the coast of southern France. 

Ch. 17: https://mollymartin.blog/2025/03/25/playbill-from-irving-berlins-show/