War in My Town (9 page)

Christmas Mass was a solemn event and our Christmas feast was simple: chicken, potatoes, greens, and some dried fruit for sweets afterwards. My family ate in silence, the specter of Alcide’s absence never far from anyone’s mind. At one point, despite putting on a brave face, Mamma’s eyes grew mournful. Alcide’s place at the table was empty, and so was Nora’s. It felt like a huge piece of our family was missing that year, even though there were six of us around the modest meal. Everyone knew Nora was safe, but no one could possibly guess what had become of our brother. This was too much for Mother to bear.

“Mamma, don’t cry,” pleaded Pina. “The fact that we don’t know is good, isn’t it Cesar? He could be alive somewhere, hiding.”

Cesar set down his fork and wiped his mouth. “I think so,” he answered without raising his eyes. “He can be strong and very resourceful.”

“Yes, Cesar is right,” said Aurelia, draping an arm around our mother. “He’ll be back. As loud and boisterous as ever.” She forced a laugh.

Mamma wiped her eyes. Even with this heaviness in her heart, this great sadness, she maintained her dignity and strength. She held up her head. “Wherever he is, I pray that he knows we are holding him in our hearts.
Buon natale
, Merry Christmas.”

“Buon natale,” we repeated. Outside, it smelled like snow, but in our kitchen, the fire in the hearth burned warm and bright.

Chapter 15

Snow fell on the mountain peaks like sugar dusting a
panettone
. In Eglio, food became ever more scarce in the winter months. Food rations had been in place now for four years and some of the younger children could not remember a time when the cupboards and pantries were full.

The war raged on, its tentacles reaching into every part of our lives. January gave way to the harsh winds of February, its skies cold and gray, and soon March with its heavy rain was upon us. The arrival of another spring was just weeks away and still there was no end in sight to the war. The hope that the Allies would soon bring liberation faded.

I was maturing and becoming a young woman before my mother’s eyes. Next month, in April, I would turn fifteen. My schooling would soon finish and in normal times, I would be searching for work. But times were not normal. So my friends and I kept busy, sewing, and gathering food from wherever we could find it. We read and told stories and talked of what we’d do when life returned to normal.

“What will you do first, when the war ends?” whispered Armida. It was just before Easter and we were seated in the front pews of our little church.

“Let me think,” mused Beppina, her chin resting on her hands folded over the back of our pew. Her blonde hair spilled out from under her headscarf and cascaded over her shoulders. We were in church but not entirely engrossed in our Easter novena, a special prayer said in the days leading up to Easter. “Maybe, I’ll go to Castelnuovo when the marketplace resumes. I want to buy new boots, the ones lined with fur. And they need to have fancy heels and shiny buckles. What about you, Zelinda?” Zelinda was Beppina’s older sister.

“Do you really need to ask?” she responded with a glare. “I want Alcide to come back safe and sound.” Her voice was impatient and her eyes began to well up. She looked up to the altar again, her hands clasped and continued to pray.

“Of course, Zelinda,” said Beppina apologetically, surprised at her own insensitivity. “I’m so sorry.” Beppina turned to Armida. “What about you?” she whispered with a guilty side glance.

Armida thought hard, her dark eyes narrowing in deliberation. “Well, of course I want my brother back, too.” Lino, her brother was stationed at the Russian front, along with Edo’s brother, Mario. “I want him home safe. Once he is home, I will go to the marketplace to buy a new dress to celebrate.” She smiled and looked at the cherubs painted on the ceiling. “Yes, a new dress. Mine are all in tatters.” She looked at the dress she was wearing and ran a hand over the hem, a patch of strategically place fabric sewn carefully onto the side of it.

“And you, Bruna?” asked Armida.

I swallowed and thought of my brother. And then to the turnips and potatoes I had for lunch. “Alcide, of course,” I said solemnly. “And after that, I’d want to celebrate by going to a restaurant.” My face almost reluctantly burst into a broad smile as I recalled the last time I had dined in a
trattoria
in Castelnuovo. My nonno and nonna had done business in Castelnuovo, selling their cheeses, vegetables, and fruits from their farm to the merchants. I would tag along sometimes and they would treat me to lunch. I remembered it well. The bumpy donkey ride on the narrow dirt road below Sassi was lengthy and daunting.

“Sounds divine,” sighed Armida. Then she suddenly turned serious and with a quick motion she turned around, kneeling hard on the wooden knee rests. We knew instinctively what that meant. The priest was approaching and it would not be appropriate to be conducting a frivolous conversation in church on Good Friday.

“Good evening, girls,” whispered Don Turriani. He was kindly and older with a ruddy complexion and a great red nose.

“Good evening, Father,” we quietly responded in unison. We assumed our reverent postures, kneeling with hands folded, our rosaries tightly clasped through our fingers.

“I must say, it is highly refreshing to see such respect from the youth of the parish,” he said thoughtfully, as he strode to the front of the church.

We smiled up at him. “Thank you, Father,” we said once more in unison. We watched as he proceeded to the vestment chamber. Edo Guazzelli was there, as usual, helping the priest in some way or other. He was on a ladder patching some water damage over the frescoes behind the altar. The winter had been a harsh one on the inside of the chapel as well as out.

Edo deftly stepped down from the ladder. Now that the re-plastering was finished, Don Turriani would re-paint the scene as he always did. This little church was his pride. I marveled that he had, in fact, painted the entire scene in the chapel, modeled after the frescoes in the churches in Rome. Still kneeling with hands clasped, I watched Edo while he put away the last of his tools. He went to the back room and exchanged a few words with the priest, after which he emerged with his jacket. As he walked toward us, he glanced at me and winked almost imperceptibly. I felt my face burn and I was sure it had turned a crimson red.

Beppina and Armida turned their heads slightly to watch the handsome young man leave, and then their attention turned to me and my beet-red face.

“What’s the matter?” asked Beppina, her hand on my shoulder.

“N-Nothing,” I stuttered, my eyes to the ground.

“Shh!” hissed one of the women in the pew behind us.

Zelinda turned around and mouthed, “Quiet!” Then she saw me, flustered and red. “What?” she asked softly.

“Nothing,” I mouthed back. I felt a tingling in my stomach and my ears felt warm. I was becoming a young woman and Edo Guazzelli had winked at me. One of the most handsome young men in the village, winked at
me
. We had always been friends. And he was a friend of my brothers. We were all friends in our little village, but sometimes things changed. I had seen it before. He had winked at me and only me. I was flattered and confused. Nature waits for no one and young girls grow into young women, whether there is war or not.

PART FIVE

Caught on the Gothic Line
1944

By June 1944, the Allies had landed on the Normandy beaches, and all of France would soon be liberated. In September 1944, the Allies pushed into Eastern Europe, liberating Poland and other occupied Eastern European countries. It was the beginning of the end for Nazi Germany.

In Italy, the Allies had landed in the port of Anzio on January 22, 1944. The Allies then captured Monte Cassino, an important German stronghold, and in early June 1944, Allied forces entered Rome. The Allies continued to crush the Nazis in town after Italian town: Elba, Assisi, Perugia, and finally Florence. Gradually they tried to make their way northward.

Not wanting the Allies to advance farther north, the Nazis created “the Gothic Line.” It extended for more than 185 miles (300 km) and cut across the Italian mainland from east to west. It traversed Garfagnana, crossed Tuscany, and cut through to Bologna.

The Nazis used the natural landscape of the Italian Alps to their advantage, creating strongholds through the Apennine Mountains. They also used Italian villagers to build walls in pockets of the Gothic Line, made of wood, rock, steel, and reinforced concrete. Nazis also forced villagers to build machine gun nests, bunkers, anti-tank ditches, and deadly minefields.

Allied forces battled valiantly to break these defenses, but were unable to get beyond the Gothic Line. Meanwhile, Italian partisans tried to disrupt Nazi defenses from the mountains and the villages. Now Eglio, on the Gothic Line, found itself in the center of one of the last fortified Nazi fronts.

Chapter 16

SPRING 1944

Spring was a busy time for the farmers in Eglio. We continued to work just outside the village on Nonna and Nonno’s terraced hillside farm, abundant with wheat, corn and tender fruit trees. All able members of our family, those who were at home, were involved in keeping up our food supply.

When we weren’t working in the fields, we kept a constant vigil and listened to the wireless, hoping for further news about the war. On the radio, there were reports of the Allies making their way north from Anzio. After the long months of winter, they were advancing fast. We heard frightening reports of massacres and atrocities, of unspeakable evil being carried out by Nazi forces all over Europe. A mass execution took place inRome in March 1944 by Nazi troops as punishment for a partigiani
attack in the city. In spite of these reports, the people tried to maintain some form of normality in Eglio, but it was hard not to be afraid. We worried that something terrible like this would happen to us.

The British and Americans continued to move north from Florence in August, working their way up to Northern Tuscany through the Apennines. They finally came to the town of Barga, just below us, and set up a base there. I didn’t know at the time that this was called the Gothic Line.

Nazis outposts were falling and their regiments retreated farther into Northern Tuscany. Unfortunately for us, as the Allies got closer, the Nazis began moving into the mountains. Our mountains — where we grew our food, fed our livestock, and raised our families — were being used by the Nazi butchers to protect themselves.

There were whispers of further carnage as the Germans grew more frustrated and angry with the resistance fighters. In August, in the community of Sant’ Anna, Nazi soldiers brutally murdered the entire village in cold blood — almost six hundred all together — in retaliation for actions from partisan fighters. In the village of Patule, close to two hundred civilians were killed for the same reason. There was word that the men were hung with barbed wire. These horrific reports of Nazi atrocities, coupled with more bombings and gunfire in the distance, resulted in much anxiety in our village. The Nazis were almost upon us and we grew more frightened as each day passed.

The people of Eglio had a good vantage point and could see the entire valley. Evelina’s red blanket was well used, as Nazi troops were seen more often in and around Molazzana, a village more than halfway up the mountain between Barga and Eglio. Through the spring and summer, our village was under constant alert. Then, one day in September, our dreadful indisputable destiny presented itself.

As my family and I worked in the fields, a great ruckus came from the road — the sound of carriage wheels traveling at a furious pace on the pebbly surface. It was Demetrio. He had left earlier that day with his mule and carriage to go to Molazzana to barter some supplies. He spotted Mamma in the fields and he waved his hat, motioning for us to come down to the road. As we hurried down the hill to greet him we could see that he was upset. He stopped the carriage abruptly, dismounted, and ran to meet up with us.

“I just came from the cross roads to enter Molazzana,” he said as he breathed heavily and wiped his brow with his sleeve. “The Nazi soldiers are there. On their way up.” He gasped another breath. “And they are burying land mines all along the side of the road…where truck tires would go…on the sides.”

“Mother of God!” Mamma cupped her hands over her mouth.

“Those bastards!” hissed Cesar.

“Landmines?” My voice quivered. “Mamma, what will we do?”

“How many soldiers?” asked Aurelia, her eyes wide.

“Dozens from what I could see,” replied Demetrio. “Maybe more.”

I swallowed, though my mouth felt dry, like parchment. “Do you mean they are coming here to Eglio?” I felt sick to my stomach.

Mamma grabbed my arm and hugged me. “Shh. It’s all right,” she said, her tone less than convincing. I wanted to believe her, but common sense made me think otherwise. I felt my eyes dart from my brother to Demetrio to my sisters, searching for answers.