He and his buddies slept in foxholes and on the ground when it was safe and somewhat quiet.  They were in Italy, somehow he found a flat roll mattress that he rolled up and tied to the top of his pack.  When he had the chance he would unroll the thin mattress and get a quick nap here and there.  Other soliders always offered to carry the mattress for him, but he wouldn't think of burdening them with it.  They assured him it would be no trouble, but my dad insisted that it would be too much trouble and that it would also be wise not to ask again as he grinned widely! 

He slept on train platforms and on the trains themselves.  He used that mattress any time he could for what seemed forever, but once he turned his back on the mattress and it was gone... forever.

- one of my fathers stories durning his tour in Italy, WWII

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