“ ‘A drop of rain never hurt anyone…’ A drop? After eight days of continual downpour – of monsoon proportions – the weather had become a more significant influence on the outcome of the operation than the strength of the enemy. The difficulty of moving troops burdened with heavy loads over such terrain had already been recognised: by 1 October the situation, aggravated by endless torrential rain, had become almost impossible. All attempts at transferring stores to staging posts up the valley were abandoned when an increasing number of men had to be returned to Sugar Beach, requiring medial treatment for exposure, exhaustion and trench-foot. The prevalence of trench foot was admitted with chastening apology. It was almost a matter of shame that such a condition could immobilise a modern fighting force within a week, providing convincing testimony to the suffering, fortitude and tolerance of First World War victims, who had had to wallow about in such conditions for months on end and considered such deprivations the very least of their problems. Imagine the white pulpiness of skin after lengthy immersion in water, which we have all experienced, then try to visualise that skin adhering to one’s socks and coming away with the garment’s removal. It was a sight sickening to observe, let alone be afflicted by. Why I was not a victim is beyond my understanding.”

Excerpt from “Raiding Support Regiment: The Diary of a Special Forces Soldier 1943-4” by Walter Jones explaining his experiences during the attack on Sarande

During the whole of this time we experienced torrential rain both night and day. I had never seen anything like it before, tough I served in Burma during my subaltern days and know what monsoon rain was like; every valley became a torrent, and the soldiers were wet through all the time. There was no cover to be had, for there were no houses so it was impossible to dry anything. The men had one groundsheet each and one blanket. The blanket was permanently soaking, and the groundsheet was used in an attempt to provide cover, but this could only be done by attaching it to two boulders, and invariably the weight of water soon collapsed the ‘tent’. The men’s boots were soaking also, and soon began to break open owing to the rockiness of the mountains and their dampness.

The expedition had been mounted in a hurry, and as if for a raid of three or four days duration. Only twelve mules had been sent. And these, apart from being totally inadequate in number, soon ran out of the fodder which had been provided. The hills were so steep and rocky that the mules were unable to negotiate the worst places., and every man of the two Commandos who was not actually manning a forward post had to be used as a porter to carry boxes of rations or ammunition up to the hill positions. This was a most punishing ordeal, and I had 200 cases of exposure and trench feet in the first ten days. As my fighting strength was only 650, this was an alarming proportion.”

Excerpt from “Commando Crusade”  by Major-General T. Churchill.

“It started to rain and rained for nine days. About the third day we were detailed off to unload a landing craft putting stores onto the beach. It was miserable work as it was sheeting down with rain. We got finished after dark. Pat and I found a cave just off the beach, not really a cave, more of a depression, a hole really, but cosy enough once we had pulled our capes across the top to form a roof. We’d just got settled when we heard Johnny Wisdom, our Lieutenant, calling: “Sanderson, Patterson!” We debated whether to say anything. It might’ve been another landing craft to unload. In the end we called out to him and he came over to our ‘cave’. He’d brought us some cigarettes, a pack of twenty, and some matches. We managed to drop the matches early on and chain smoked the rest of the cigarettes rather than wait for more matches the next day.

We were up and down these mountains. We had casualties from trench feet and exposure. Then, when it stopped raining, we were short of water. After we’d been there about five days I was feeling a bit groggy so I went to see the ‘quack’ and he put me on ‘light duties’ and I wondered how I could manage that in a heavy weapons troop. By this time I was carrying the barrel of the gun which was heavier still.

On the ninth of October, exactly a year after the bombing of HMS Carlisle, the attack was due. As we moved up to our jumping off point, I just couldn’t go any further and I collapsed. They left me on top of this mountain with some water and emergency rations. The next morning, drifting in and out of consciousness, I heard the noise of the attack. The day after that they brought a stretcher up for me and took me down to the beach into an aid tent. I was a bit delirious by then so I’m not sure about this, but I thought there was a German doctor in the tent. For some reason he had some bottles of beer and wouldn’t let me have any. I was annoyed about this as it didn’t seem right. I was put onto a landing craft and then a hospital train and was taken to hospital in Brindisi. I had malaria. I lot of chaps came down with it. I hadn’t realised how rife it was then in Italy. I lost a lot of weight. We were put on a special diet: American tinned chicken and jelly and custard — queer stuff. I got up one day and the Sister told me to get back into bed again. I was in about a fortnight.”

William Sanderson of 40 Commando’s recollection of the attack on Sarande, Albania, from his entry to the BBC’s “WW2 – Peoples War” project.
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“As the days went by, I seemed to lose all interest in things and gradually I grew feverish, then I’m afraid I began to ramble and have absolutely no lucid recollections of anything that happened after the above until I came around to find myself in hospital in Bari. I have vague memories of bright lights and a blaring wireless, sweet tea and Guinness and the pleasantness of tobacco. However, as I said, I found myself in the 98th General in Bari. They had three attempts at proving I had malaria but finally they succeeded and I had to undergo the treatment. In my ward were several commandos who had been on the Albanian job and who had all contracted malaria, what a place that had been for us. The doctor told us, our own M.O. I mean, that the whole population of Shen Vasil, 100%, were suffering from the fever. I myself had seen women collapse in the streets and sit or lie moaning until they could find the energy to carry on again and our M.O. was unable to do a thing about it, he scarcely had enough in the way of medical supplies for his own men.”

Diary entry from  October 1944 from Sgt Observer Frederick Sidney Williams, 212 Bty, 111 Fd Regt in his family’s memoirs “Our Fred’s War”.