War in My Town (7 page)

My fourteenth birthday came and went, with only a bit of wild dandelion greens, some goat’s milk and cornmeal polenta for my celebration. Only Mamma and Mery were there. My other sisters were still away, working in the cities. More women were now working in the steel factories in place of the men who were off fighting at the fronts.

There was no domestic livestock left to slaughter, not even a rabbit. We had slaughtered the ones that we could manage without. Some cattle and chickens were spared for their milk and eggs. Naturally, everyone in Eglio and Sassi sold, bartered, or shared what they had. But when there was nothing left to share, we had to make do. It would be better for us soon, once we could harvest the vegetables we had planted in the spring. But for now, we ate chestnut meal. Chestnuts could always be gathered from the woods. I was getting sick of it.

The last time I had smelled the delicious aroma of bread was just before Alcide was drafted. At the time, we were only one year into the war and there were rations already. Mamma had managed to scrape together enough flour to bake a small loaf of bread. She asked Mery and me to save it for Alcide, since he was now the only one working and bringing in some money. My eyes were drawn to that little basket on the hearth. I knew that inside the neatly folded linen napkin was a heavenly, fresh-baked loaf of scrumptious bread. I also knew that I could not have any. Occasionally, I would sneak over to open up the napkin and look at the loaf, warm and fragrant. I would draw close to it and sniff the mouth-watering aroma. Then I would wrap it back up neatly, just as it was before, for Alcide. I had to keep reminding myself that it was for my brother so that he could remain strong.

I was beginning to hate Mussolini. I hated him because he was the reason for our misery. Everything had changed because of him and Hitler. I didn’t understand what Il Duce wanted for our country. I wasn’t sure what they were fighting for, but surely it could not be worth all this suffering. What was he gaining by having his people endure this agony for so long? I kept my thoughts to myself, of course. I knew that the fascist Blackshirts were everywhere, looking for enemies of Il Duce.

My mother told me there was an underground resistance movement against the fascists, but no one spoke out loud about it. Secret bands of partisans traveled with guns through the countryside fighting the fascists. I heard that there were partisans around Eglio, but I never saw them. Even though I couldn’t possibly understand what that meant, it gave me a small sense of security and a glimmer of hope, knowing that there were groups of people who were trying to make things better for us. The Italian Resistance was growing stronger and the widespread dissatisfaction with Mussolini among the people was increasing. Though many villagers supported the resistance, in general they were frightened by the fact that when the partisans sabotaged Nazi operations, the Nazis would retaliate by taking it out on the villagers.

To make things worse, the winter seemed to drag on endlessly. The drabness and isolation of it had taken a toll on us. I had spent most of the winter evenings reading to my mother and Ida by the light of a lonely little candle. Although a robust fire was kept burning in the hearth in the kitchen, I longed for warmth and good weather to be able to wander in the woods again.

Finally spring made an appearance, and I roamed the gentle slope from the fields above the village to gather up some greens. I had learned through trial and error that the farther away from the village I ventured, the more abundant the wild harvest. My old shoes were worn through to the insides and mud seeped through the holes so that it was hardly worth even wearing them anymore. It had rained heavily the previous night; the lightning and thunder still frightened me, but I was thankful that the bleak winter was over.

I looked skyward at the heavy clouds that had given way to a thin ray of sunlight on the mountains that morning. There was still a blanket of fog over Barga, one of the largest towns in the Garfagnana Valley that could be plainly seen from Eglio. The wildflowers grew once again on the hillside and the sun felt warm on my face. It gave me renewed hope.

As I approached the village I heard a commotion. Most of villagers were in the piazza and there was an uneasiness in the air. People were milling about and talking, some still in their wooden shoes from their barns. I looked for mother but didn’t see her.

I approached Maria the storeowner and Eva. “What’s happening, Maria?”

“Oh my goodness, Bruna…” she answered, agitated.

“It’s about Mussolini’s government,” said Eva, her eyes wide.

“What about it?”

“Bruna!” shouted Armida from behind a group of old men. She pushed her way through. “I just came back from your grandparents’ fields to tell them and your mother,” she said breathlessly. “We just heard the news over the wireless…Il Duce has been overthrown. The king had him arrested.”

“Is the war over then?” I looked from one person to the next, asking no one in particular, still clutching the dandelion greens. I smiled feebly and thought that that should be a good thing.

“It means,” said Alfezio, hobbling gleefully into the crowd, “that there is hope that soon this wretched war will end. There is hope that the partisans and the resistance will prevail.”

I spotted my mother and ran to her from the other side of the piazza. Mery ran ahead of her to hug me. “Did you hear?” she said, a great smile on her face.

“I did. Armida just told me. This means that now our boys and men can come home.” I felt an overwhelming sense of relief.

My mother, perspiring and dirty from the fields, reached us. All she could do was hold her daughters tightly among the buzz of the villagers. “Mamma, they’re coming home. Aren’t they?” I searched my mother’s face for reassurance.

“I hope so,” she said. But she seemed as apprehensive as everyone else.

“It means nothing,” said Oreste, our closest neighbor, to Alfezio. “We could be worse off than before. We are wide open now. Italy is open to any country who pleases to attack it.” Sadly, Oreste’s intuition proved to be right.

Chapter 10

Not long after, the new Italian government under King Victor Emmanuel surrendered to the United States and Britain. And exactly eight days later Cesar returned home!

Twilight was coming and the red sun hung low in the horizon as he strode up the dirt road. He looked as though he was returning from an extended walk instead of two years at war. I looked down the road to see if Alcide was behind him as he always was. But he wasn’t.

Cesar recounted how he and the other men in his regiment cheered when they heard that Mussolini and his fascist government had fallen. They abandoned their posts on the frontier and buried their uniforms so that they would not be captured by Mussolini sympathizers or by the Nazi army to be to be taken as prisoners-of-war. Many destroyed their rifles by breaking them in half over their knees so that they couldn’t be used anymore. Others threw them in the river, but Cesar said he couldn’t bring himself to do it. His rifle had saved his life so many times, he couldn’t destroy it. He emptied his gun of any bullets and he buried the rifle deep on the slope of a hillside. That way, no one could use it to kill anyone anymore. In eight days, hiding and walking on mountain paths and back trails, he was home, but many others still were not.

Mamma wiped the tears from her eyes, as she gathered up her son and held onto him. There was applause from everyone in the village, as had become the custom to welcome the soldiers when they came home. “I’m so happy you’re safe,” she said, her hands gently caressed his face as if he was a little boy.

The tears came again and Cesar asked if Alcide was home yet.

“Not yet,” said Mamma.

“Have you had any word?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She shook her head.

“He will be home,” said Cesar, convinced. “He’ll be here soon. He was stationed much farther on the Greek isles.”

“Yes, Mamma,” Mery added. “They will all be home soon.”

Cesar later told my mother and older sisters of the firefights in the harsh cold of the mountains in winter. He talked about the frenetic pace of the hikes the guards had to take in order to patrol the border. According to Cesar, the shortage of supplies and the inadequate quality of equipment made the soldiers’ jobs very difficult to carry out. He tried to keep the details from me by avoiding conversations while I was around. What I was able to gather was that many of his friends didn’t make it home and were buried there.

As the weeks passed, more of the men from the village returned home. Edo Guazzelli was one of them after only a brief time in the military at basic training. He had been stationed at the base in Modena, north of Florence, in the interior. Just as they were preparing to ship him out, Mussolini’s government fell.

There was still no sign of Alcide.

PART FOUR

A Divided Italy
1943 – 1944

When the new leaders of the country, Marshall Pietro Badoglio and King Emmanuel III, surrendered southern Italy to the Allied forces, the Nazis wasted no time in taking northern Italy with unparalleled efficiency. Hitler’s army seized control of Rome. Mussolini was freed from prison by German commandos on September 12, 1943 and became the “puppet” leader in the fascist-occupied territory with Hitler in control. Meanwhile the Allies controlled the south, attempting to defeat the Nazi regime that was gripping Europe.

Italy was now divided into two parts, with the Allies in the south and the fascists in the north. Nazi troops began to move farther into the central portion with Mussolini and his socialist republic. Now Tuscany was right between the lands occupied by the Axis and the Allies. Before long, there were German troops in the heart of the Garfagnana Valley, near the village of Eglio.

Italian citizens tried to cope with the pressures of wartime living, invasion, occupation, and the division of their country. Ordinary people continued to secretly fight in the resistance. They sought and killed fascist collaborators and hid Jews. But there were also many Italians who remained loyal to Mussolini and fascism. For the villagers of Eglio, in the path of the Nazi invaders, there was the ever-present danger of raids.

Chapter 11

When the news about the Allies landing in the south of Italy had come over the wireless, it had given us renewed hope that freedom from tyranny and chaos might be close at hand. “Italy will soon be liberated,” the villagers said to each other. Patiently, we waited. The Italian Resistance continued to fight for the cause. Meanwhile life in the villages went on.

The summer passed in a climate of apprehension and uncertainty. In its wake the mountain air turned colder. Autumn allowed the trees in the woodlands and peaks surrounding the valley to show off their brilliant hues of red, orange, and yellow. The tapestry of warm colors gave an almost warming effect to the crispness of the October mountain air. It was harvest time in Eglio.

The changes in Italy had been more than I, or any other young person, could understand. “Explain the part about Il Duce being Hitler’s puppet again,” I would pester my brother as we worked in the fields for the harvest. We siblings did most of the work in their fields, since our nonno was very ill now and Nonna was becoming increasingly confused. Hay had to be prepared for the animals and stored in their barn in the valley below the village for the winter.

“Hitler’s men brought Il Duce back to the north. The Nazis are strong here. Mussolini is our leader again,” said Cesar, swinging the sling blade deftly through the hay. “Meanwhile the Allies have taken over the south of Italy. This means that our country is divided into two parts.”

Though much had changed for the worse in our village that fall, life in the big cities was more dire. Because of the constant threat of looming air raids, people sought refuge in the country if they could.

Aurelia came home from her job as a cook in Pisa. When she returned, she and Dante, the son of our neighbors, Oreste and Ida, declared their engagement. They hoped to be married when the war was over. Pina came home from Livorno, where she too had been employed as a cook.

Both Pina and Aurelia told stories of Jewish families in the cities where they worked. Some already had had their rights and property snatched from them by Il Duce’s fascist government. When the Nazis invaded northern Italy, things got even worse for the Jewish people. They were rounded up and sent to concentration camps where many of them were murdered.

To protect themselves, Jews were forced into hiding. Some Jewish families were given refuge by loyal Christian friends or by former employees. Others were hidden in the many crevasses and secret passages in churches, monasteries, and basilicas by priests and nuns. They fled to the countryside where farmers hid them in barns or cellars. Some Jews concealed their identities by buying false papers and calling themselves Christians to avoid being captured by the Nazis. They attended church and took communion wafers to avoid suspicion. I was horrified to think that people would be treated like this because they were of a different religion. How could evil like this triumph?