A Bell for Adano (25 page)

Livingston glowed but said: “I haven’t done anything, Major.

“Don’t hand me that stuff,” the Major said to Livingston. Then he turned to the others. “Listen, every time I try to get anything out of the Army, they tell me to put it in writing. Now Livingston here... “

“That reminds me,” Livingston said. “You said you had something on your mind this morning.”

“Matter of fact, I have. Since you’ve been getting all the results, I thought maybe - “

“Want to go in the other room?” Livingston asked politely but importantly.

“Nothing hush-hush,” the Major said. “Might as well tell you right here.”

And he told about Adano’s seven-hundred-year-old bell. He told how it had been taken away, and about what he had done to try to get another. Two drinks had made his mind relax, and he told his story beautifully.

He made the town’s need for a new bell seem something really important, and he made the bell seem a symbol of freedom in Adano. He made it seem as if the people of Adano would not feel truly free until they heard a bell ringing from the clock tower of the Palazzo. And not just any bell. He described what he thought was needed in the bell: a full, rich tone; no crack of any kind; and a touch of history that would mean something to the Italians.

His story was nicely told and his audience was just right. The Navy has a quick sense of tradition. All the folderol -saluting the quarter deck, the little silver buck to mark who should be served first in the wardroom, still calling the captain’s court of justice going before the mast, the marvelous poetic orders like: “Sweepers, man your brooms: clean sweepdown fore and aft” -these things made Navy men able to grasp the idea of the bell, and be moved by it.

Major Joppolo finished: “And that’s all it was, Liv ingston. I think I want to get this town the right bell more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”

Commander Robertson was the first one to speak: “Seems to me we ought to be able to find a bell,” he said.

“Lots of bells in the Navy,” said Robertson’s communications officer.

“It’s got to be just the right bell, though,” Livingston said.

“Yes,” Major Joppolo said, “that’s the important thing. It’s got to be the right bell. I wouldn’t want to give these people anything but just the right bell.”

Commander Robertson stood up and said: “Let me think, seems to me,” and he walked around the room.

Then he said: “I think maybe I can get just the kind of bell you want, Major.”

Major Joppolo said: “Do you really think you can?”

The Commander said: “I think maybe.”

Major Joppolo said: “If you can, I’m going to switch over to the Navy.”

The Commander said: “How would this be, Major? There’s destroyer, she’s named for an Italian-American, the U.S.S. Corelli, you know her, boys. Well, all destroyers have ship’s bells, they have to be loud and clear so that the men can hear them all over the ship, to tell the hours of the watches. I don’t know about you boys, but I think the sound I love better than anything in the world is the sound of the bell aboard the Stevenson. Of course we can’t ring it all the time while a war’s going on, but I don’t know, the sound of that bell means the whole ship to me. I think a ship’s bell could get to be that way for a town.”

Major Joppolo was looking out of the window. He was thinking. “Maybe it could,” he said.

Commander Robertson went on: “There’s a reason why the Corelli’s in on this invasion. You see, the Navy thinks about that kind of thing. There was something about Captain Corelli, the guy it was named for, he did something in the last war over here in the Mediterranean. Italy was our ally then, you know.”

Commander Robertson’s communications officer said: “We were talking about that the other day. Bradshaw seemed to know all about it, what’d he say, Red?”

The officer addressed as Red said: “I didn’t listen very carefully, it was something about going to the assistance of an Italian ship that was being attacked by a U-boat.”

“And was probably running away from itl” the communications officer added. “I guess the Navy had Corelh over here because he was a wop.”

Commander Robertson said: “There’s a good tie-in there, Major.”

Major Joppolo said: “Maybe it’s all right.” Lieutenant Livingston, who didn’t want to miss out on the credit which Major Joppolo had been handing out, said: “Do you think we could get the Corelli to give up her bell? You said you liked your bell so much: would you give it up?”

Commander Robertson said: “For a thing like this, if it was put to me in the right way, I think I would. The good thing is that Toot Dowling, he has the Corelli, he was in my class at the Academy, he used to substitute for me in football. Hell, I’m sure I could persuade him, if I could just find him.”

The communications officer said: “Wait a minute, I think I remember seeing something about the Corelli in that intercept that I decoded last night. Do you remember that, skipper?”

Commander Robertson said: “Yeah, that’s right, she was mentioned. That was all present whereabouts and future movements, wasn’t it? Can you remember what it said?”

The communications officer said: “No sir, I couldn’t possibly remember, there were too many ships in that thing. But I remember the Corelli was mentioned.”

Commander Robertson said to the communications officer: “Farley, would you mind going out to the ship and finding that order. I think we ought to tell the Major here whether there’s any chance of our helping him out. If the liberty boat isn’t at the dock, you can take my gig.”

“Yes sir,” the communications officer said.

While Farley was on his way out to the ship and back, the others talked about new things, but the Major did not enter much into the conversation. He was thinking. He was trying to imagine the sound of the new bell, and he could see the people crowding in the square to hear it for the first time, and he saw himself on the balcony, making a little speech, not too much, just telling them the meaning of the bell and saying that he hoped that they knew now the meaning of freedom...

Farley came back with the order in his hand. “It’s secret, sir, equal to British ‘most secret.”‘

“Okay,” Commander Robertson said, and he began to read the message to himself. “Let’s see, Corelli, Corelli. Here it is.” He smiled.

He looked up. “Major, I think well get you your bell.” Major Joppolo stood up. “Gee,” he said, “I didn’t expect action like this. If you think you could...” Commander Robertson said: “Leave it to me, Major. III get all the details from Livingston here.”

Major Joppolo turned to Livingston: “I don’t know how to thank you,” he said.

Lieutenant Livingston said: “Well, it’s all the Commander’s doing. But I’m glad it’s working out the way you wanted.”

Major Joppolo left quite abruptly.

Commander Robertson said: “If that bugger thinks the Navy is efficient, he’s really going to get a surprise this time. We’ll get him that bell within a week. The Corelli’s putting in day after tomorrow at that port just up the line, I never can pronounce it, begins with a V.”

“Vicinamare,” said Lieutenant Livingston, mispronouncing it.

“That’s the place,” the Commander said. “We’ll have time to run up there while these teapots are unloading here, and maybe we can bring the bell right back with us.”

“Do you really think you can get it?” Lieutenant Livingston said.

“From Toot Dowling?” The Commander laughed. “Hell, he’s a pushover.”

Chapter
30

THE IDEA of a party for Major Joppolo grew up in a peculiar way. It came up partly because of real affection for the Major. But it was also partly because Captain Purvis wanted to see if he couldn’t make some time with one of the daughters of Tomasino.

Giuseppe the interpreter stopped in to see Captain Purvis at the M.P. command post one afternoon. Giuseppe was just keeping his butter evenly spread. “How’s a thing, a Cap?” he asked. He called Purvis Cap because his tongue always tripped on Captain.

“Okay,” the Captain said.

“You like Adano?”

“Okay,” the Captain said.

“You like a little more fun?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“Why you don’t a go see Francesca no more?”

“There’s nothing there, Giuseppe, the family’s always hanging around.”

“I’m a no so sure. You don’t a try very hard.”

“Besides, I think the Major’s falling for the blonde. He’s a good guy, I wouldn’t want to mess him up any.”

“How you mess him up? You fool around a Francesca.”

“No, Giuseppe, I think the Major’s serious. I don’t know, he didn’t say anything, I just got a hunch. If I fooled around with those girls, it would be strictly for fish. No, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“You mean a Mister Major, he’s a fall in a love?” “I don’t know. Maybe. I think so.”

“What a for? Can he have a no fun without a fall over like a that?”

“Doesn’t look to me like you can have much fun with a whole bunch around, including you, Giuseppe, and having to eat that godawful candy, and the old lady sitting there. No, Giuseppe, if I play house with a little dolly, I like a little privacy.”

“Giuseppe’s a fix.”

“I doubt if you could.”

“Never mind. Giuseppe’s a fix. I tell a you something. These a girl, these a Tomasino’s girl, she’s a not, uh how you say uh -not a scrupulous. All a three, nobody’s a scrupulous. You know those a two little a babies in a house?”

“You mean those little girls?”

Giuseppe nodded. “Belong a sister. She’s a you know.” Giuseppe winked.

“You mean she takes in washing and that’s not all?”

“She’s a bad a girl. Rome.” Giuseppe nodded and winked at the same time.

“Francesca’s not a scrupulous. Tina’s not a scrupulous. You can have a some fun. “

“How? What can you fix, Giuseppe?”

“Fix a party.”

“There you go with a crowd again. Hell no, let’s have a little privacy.”

“How about a Major?”

“Yeah, I suppose we got to think of him. You know, Giuseppe, he’s a funny guy. Sometimes I think he’s an awful wet blanket, and sometimes I can’t help liking him. He was telling me the other day at lunch that the main thing he really wants around here is to have these Italian people like him. You know what I think we ought to do? I think we ought to throw a party for him. Or rather I think we ought to rig it so these Italians throw a party for him.” Captain Purvis never thought of Giuseppe as an Italian, because he spoke English.

“Giuseppe’s a fix.”

“I mean a real good party, Giuseppe. With people like the Mayor and that old sulphur crackpot, and some nice girls of course.”

“Giuseppe’s a fix.”

“And some wine. Couldn’t we get some champagne for a change?”

“Giuseppe’s a fix

“If we really had a big party, then a certain Captain and a certain young lady could do a disappearing act, couldn’t they?”

Giuseppe winked again.

“That’s what I hate about a small party, anyone goes out, everyone else notices it. We ought to have a big party for a change.”

Giuseppe said: “How many you want, a Cap?”

“Oh, I don’t know, you can get some of these Italians together and decide. I’ll put up whatever dough you need. We could have it down at the villa where my men stay, that Quattrocchi guy’s house. Lot of spare rooms down there with beds in ‘em, heh, Giuseppe?” And this time it was Captain Purvis who winked.

“When you want a party?” Giuseppe asked.

“Well, pretty soon, how about next Friday?”

“Giuseppe’s a fix.”

And so it happened that in his mail, two or three days later, Major Joppolo got a card, on which was written in Italian: “A Committee of the people of Adano request the pleasure of your company at a party in honor of His Excellency the Mister Major Victor Joppolo on Friday evening, July 29th, at Villa Rossa, 71 Via Umberto the First, at 8:30 p.m.”

Major Joppolo propped the card on the inkstand on his desk where he could read it, and often did: “…in honor of His Excellency... ‘

Chapter
31

THE MORNING the prisoners were released the sun was bright and Adano looked its best.

Major Joppolo’s street-cleaning truck had just swished up the Via Umberto the First and turned along the Corso Vittorio Emanuele, with the Chief Street Cleaner, Saitta, spick and span in his white suit, at the wheel. And now the paving blocks glistened from their rinsing, and the smell of wet horse dung was clean on the morning air.

It was a fine day for coming home.

The released prisoners came up the Via Umberto the First in a body. They were still in uniform, but their uniforms were dirty from sleeping on the ground, and many of them were unshaven and had long hair.

They stopped by at Zapulla’s bakery on their way up the street, and as they approached the square almost every one of them had half a loaf of good white bread in his hand. They sang and shouted: “Going homel Going homel” as they walked up the street.

They did not march. They had had enough of lining up for inspection and lining up for chow and lining up to shoot and be shot at. They were just a mob of boys going home as they walked up the Via Umberto the First. There was laughter in some of their throats and some of them were crying.

The war aim of most men is to go home. And so for these Italian boys the hateful war was fulfilled, and they were incredibly happy as they walked up the street.

Their eyes were open wide, like the eyes of small children who notice everything. They noticed that Mussolini’s pompous inscriptions were painted off the walls. They saw that the street was clean. The bread tasted better in their mouths than it had ever tasted before. They had hardly turned into the Via Umberto the First from the Via Favemi before their ears heard a woman sing. The horse dung was not even sour any more, according to their noses, but was new and sweet on the morning air.