20 BBC Wynford Vaughn Thomas Springtime Anzio

It springs here at Enio, and under clear warm skies with the somehow unexpected sight of wildflowers carpeting the front line, we begin our fourth month ashore. Most people no longer live in foxholes. The men have used all the material to hand with doors, beams from wrecked farms and sometimes even steel girders to get a solid roof over their heads, and the inevitable

notices that are appearing outside the front door. The better whole seems to be a favorite with the addition, hawkers, bombs and shells strictly prohibited. The first prize goes to the sergeant of the Army Kinematograph Unit, who is built a complete dugout cinema. He calls it the An-Zio Ritz, beating 35 and emphatically no killing. We've also had a welcome visit from

and the men in one British division have formed their own concert party, and as the troops come out of the line they have a hot char and then a two-hour show from the wagons. The theatres are dissolved in bomb cracked sheds and the costumes are all homemade, but I can tell you that no actors have a more appreciative audience.

The other grand spring attractions are the mast pipers of the beach head, the beach head rugby finals and for one afternoon only a brigade point-to-point and a donkey derby. Our food standard is going up as well.

We've got a bakery going and the Americans have set up a donut factory and there's one machine turning out donuts within two miles of the front line.