by J. R. Sharp
Nurse Straus left his room with a smile. She thought, I am going on a lunch date with a Gestapo major. What a great day.
About an hour or so later she returned after the tailor and his son left laden with pinned fabrics.
“Are you ready to get out of this hospital?” Schmidt asked.
As the major turned to the door, she could tell he was still in pain when he walked. The cane was the only reason he could make his way toward her. What a difference a uniform makes in his appearance, thought Straus. When they exited, everyone stopped to look at the Gestapo officer dressed in all black and wearing the Iron Cross around his neck. Nurse Straus positioned herself on his left. She put her right arm under his left in a way that looked more natural than supportive.
“Thank you for coming with me. I needed to get out of the hospital. Shall we walk a little bit more before we find a place to eat?”
“Not too much farther. You don’t want to hurt yourself.”
As they continued down the sidewalk, everyone moved out of their way. This she had not seen before; she dismissed it as pedestrians feeling sorry for the recovering soldier.
“That looks like a good restaurant,” said the major.
Straus guided him to the eatery across the busy intersection. All the motor vehicles stopped moving. Straus and Schmidt crossed the street with no delays, which again she dismissed as drivers feeling sorry for the wounded soldier. Upon entering the eatery, everyone stopped to look in their direction. Straus was connecting the dots when the owner appeared from a side door.
“Can we get a table near the sun?” the major asked the nervous owner.
“But of course, Herr Major. Let me clear a table for you and your guest. Will there be anybody else joining your party?”
The major didn’t respond to his question but looked at the two guests being shooed away by a waiter. In a matter of seconds, the table was cleared and clean.
“This way, Herr Major,” replied the owner. Hilda couldn’t believe her eyes but guided her patient to his much-needed break and nourishment. After the major took his seat, Hilda went to hers, which was already being pulled out for her by the owner. After the menus were distributed, they were left alone.
“Does this happen to you all the time?” whispered the nurse. The major looked at his menu without responding. There wasn’t much said until the waiter returned to take their orders.
“What can we get for you today, Herr Major?”
“We will have two orders of Wiener schnitzels and two beers.”
The waiter wrote down the order and looked at Straus, who smiled and also requested a glass of water.
“Isn’t this nice to be outside and enjoying the cool weather? We should do this more often as soon as I get back to full health.”
Hilda smiled at Herman. She looked at the other patrons in the restaurant, who had not stopped staring at them. I don’t know if I can get used to all this attention.
Chapter 5
GINO SAT IN THE Naples Hospital electrical utility room working on fuses and other electrical connections that needed maintenance. This was what the army did with soldiers physically unable to fight for their country. Gino didn’t mind his new role, but there were times he wished he was back on the battlefields. Those thoughts quickly vanished when he remembered how miserable he was in battle; all he had to do was visit the wards at the hospital. He even visited other soldiers during his many smoke breaks, listening to their horrible war stories.
Most of the wounded had been injured in Southern France. This was Mussolini’s attempt to capture the riches of France—the spoils of war. Gino also heard rumors that the Italians attacked British troops in Egypt, which shocked him. The Italian army was already spread thin. This warpath seemed like suicide.
Gino was a father and husband now, and if he wanted to see his daughter, Maria, who was recently born, he had to avoid the battlefield and the slaughter of Italian men.
The utility room door opened but Gino continued working without stopping to see who was entering his work space. Wounded soldiers routinely wandered the halls looking for any activity to pass the time while recovering. This time it was a couple of soldiers Gino had befriended. They watched him work on the fuses until he turned to see who was in his work environment. He smiled when he noticed his two friends, Carlo and Luigi holding wine, Gino’s favorite beverage, plus bread and cheese—the main diet of most wounded Italian soldiers in Naples. It was about seven o’clock, which meant it was time to stop working and enjoy the evening.
Carlo’s left arm was removed after he was wounded in battle, and Luigi had only one leg. Luigi didn’t talk about how he lost his leg, and Gino never asked.
“I need to check out with the sergeant before we start drinking, guys. You know how he gets if he smells wine on our breath,” said Gino.
“Not to worry. I already stopped by his office and he told us to tell you that you’re off for the evening. That is, after I gave him a bottle of wine,” responded Luigi.
They all laughed because they knew the sergeant loved his wine.
In the back of the utility room was their makeshift meeting place—a table with some chairs Gino had acquired at the hospital. Carlo and Luigi put this evening’s offerings on the table and took their usual places. They shared a lot of time in this room, talking about politics, war, and families, and playing cards—occasionally gambling but never setting the limits too high. As Gino approached the table with the wine glasses, he asked if they’d heard any news about the ongoing war.
“You know what, Gino, it’s hard to get the truth from some of the soldiers since they don’t know what’s going on, but nothing new today,” replied Carlo.
“What about you, Luigi. Anything new today?”
“Nothing you don’t already know, but I did overhear some of the doctors talking about getting some wounded from Egypt in the next few days.”
Gino poured wine for everyone and Luigi sliced the bread with his military knife. Gino watched Luigi and thought the rumors must be true about Italians attacking the British in Egypt. Italy is deep into this war and I need to get out of here real soon, or they will send me back to war with one lung, thought Gino.
“Any news on when you two are getting out of here and going back home?” asked Gino.
“I asked the sergeant when I dropped the wine off to him, and according to him there’s still a hold on sending folks back home. Which means I get to hang out with you guys longer, so let’s play cards and drink some wine,” Luigi said.
They all laughed as Gino took a deck of cards from the drawer and shuffled. They were playing La Scopa, and only two could play at a time. Usually the third drank, ate and kept score so there was no cheating.
“What about the rumors of the resistance movement?” asked Gino.
Nothing was said for about a minute because they all knew it was certain death if they were caught even whispering about such issues.
“All I hear is rumors, but nothing I would write home about. Now deal the cards,” said Luigi.
***
The next day Gino was working on the same fuse when he heard someone come into the utility room. He turned to see his sergeant behind him, drinking a cup of coffee.
“What are you doing, Private Cartelli?” asked the sergeant.
“I’m fixing the spare fuses so we have some extras in case we need them. What can I do for you today, Sergeant?” replied Gino.
“It looks like the Axis powers are making Rome their main headquarters and they’re looking to move some of our folks there to support our troops. I was thinking about asking for volunteers, but I remembered your family is from the north and I was wondering if you want to go there and help out. You’re a pretty good electrician, and they have requested electricians if we have them.”
Gino was relieved that the sergeant wasn’t here about his talking about the resistance, a military crime punishable by firing squad.
“When can I leave?” asked Gino.
&n
bsp; The sergeant smiled and told him that he would get back to Gino when the orders came.
***
It had been months since the sergeant mentioned going to the Rome. Gino had seen most of his comrades come and go while he was in Naples; they were either sent back to war or, like him, being used for work in another city or country. Carlo was the only one left, and he worked in the administration office across the street. Gino had even heard discussions about sending Italian troops to work in Germany as laborers. All he wanted was to get back home to his wife and daughter in Cimpello.
Gino went to work every morning, caused no problems and always told his sergeant what was going on with the usual bottle of wine. The hospital’s electrical work was never-ending and usually required him to repair old equipment with even older parts since most of the Italian factories were more focused on war than electrical production. The days ran together, which made for a lot of time to figure out how to get home.
It was impossible to get to Cimpello from Naples without being gone for a long time. The trains were unreliable; trucks and cars were owned by the army and forget about making the trip by bus. Now, in Rome, the trains ran north through just about every city, including Pordenone and Venice, which were close to Cimpello. Getting assigned to Rome was his ticket to getting home while still in the army.
Gino took matters into his own hands after learning most of the military workers were being shipped out from Carlo’s administrative office, which handled transfer orders. Gino decided he needed to talk with Carlo to help him forge orders to Rome.
It was card night, and around seven the door to the storage room opened. In came Carlo holding the usual bottle of wine and some food. Gino smiled and congratulated him on his ability to carry so much.
“If you think this is great, you should see me type,” remarked Carlo.
“They don’t let you type. You only have one arm.”
Carlo laughed and placed all the goods on the table. “Well, I type some stuff—mostly one-page memos and correspondence from one officer to another. But I’m hoping to move up in the administration world and start licking envelopes.”
The friends laughed and fell into their usual routine. When Luigi was shipped home, Carlo and Gino decided not to invite anybody else for fear of spies. There were a lot of untrustworthy individuals running around the hospital, so why take chances?
As Gino dealt the cards he said, “Carlo, I need a favor from you.”
“Sure, what do you need?”
Gino took a deep breath. “Well, remember when the sergeant said I could be going to Rome?”
“Yes, I remember when he told you, but that was months ago, and you haven’t mentioned it at all, so I figured you were happy here.”
“Well, if I were going to Rome, it would have already happened. I was wondering if you see orders coming through your office and how often are there orders to Rome?”
Carlo stopped looking at his cards and turned his attention to his friend. “Gino, I see all kinds of orders come through the office on a daily basis. We get and give orders for just about every city in Italy, including Rome. And I even see orders for other countries as well. Why do you ask?” Carlo knew what was coming.
“Carlo, do you type the orders, or do other people type the orders?”
Carlo put the cards down and raised his glass of wine. After he took a long sip he said, “Ask what you want from me, Gino.”
“Can you type orders for me to go to Rome?”
Carlo smiled and picked up his cards. “I wondered when you were going to ask me to get you out of here. How do you think Luigi left all of the sudden?”
Gino was so shocked by Carlo’s remark that they both chuckled.
“Come by my office tomorrow and we’ll check what’s on the board of empty billets that need to be filled. Rome headquarters has been requesting a lot of personnel lately due to the buildup of German soldiers.”
The next day during Gino’s daily trip to his sergeant’s office for his morning brief, he continued to the administrative department across the street. If he was asked why he was in the building, he would reply that he was checking for mail. Gino had been in the building before to shoot the breeze with Carlo every now and again. The main office had a huge lobby with wooden chairs facing all the clerks working at their desks. Most of the workers were women, but there were a few army wounded, including Carlo. He had finished college, which was why he landed the office job.
Gino saw Carlo in the back of the room working at his desk. Usually when Gino walked to Carlo’s desk he didn’t pay attention to his surroundings, but today he noticed everything. He saw who had typewriters, where the bulletin boards were located, what type of documents were on the desks, and who was doing orders. As he approached Carlo’s desk, he saw a ring binder next to Carlo’s typewriter with the words Top Priority Filled Billets.
Carlo grabbed the cigarette from his mouth to put it out as he looked at Gino.
“Well, my friend, what brings you here today?” Carlo said, winking.
Gino remarked, “Checking the mail and seeing if there’s anything else that needs to go to the sergeant at the hospital.”
“Let me finish this letter and I’ll walk you over to the mailroom.”
Gino grabbed the seat next to Carlo’s desk, and Carlo pointed at the ring binder and went back to work on his typewriter. Carlo was good at typing with one hand—as fast as the two-handed personnel. Gino turned his attention to the binder and saw a whole page of requested billets for Rome’s headquarters. They needed administration support, construction laborers, maids, cooks, telephone operators and, of course, electricians. Carlo typed and smiled from ear to ear. When he finished, he grabbed the paper out of the typewriter and lit a cigarette as quickly as any person with two arms. Gino was impressed with his friend’s dexterity and followed him as Carlo carried the ring binder and paper he grabbed from the typewriter to one of the bulletin boards. Carlo hung the binder and headed for the mailroom like he had done a hundred times before.
Carlo put the paper in the out-basket on somebody’s desk as they left the big office space. They walked into the hallway and Carlo stopped to finish his cigarette.
“Which billet do you want?”
Gino looked around before he answered his friend. “The electrician billet will work for me.”
Carlo smiled. “Well, I was hoping that’s what you wanted because I finished your request and just put it on the order clerk’s desk. Let’s hope she doesn’t check for signatures, but they usually don’t because they’re doing so many requests every day.”
All Gino could do was glance at the desk and back at his friend. They smiled and continued toward the mailroom.
“It will take a day or two, but you should hear something from your sergeant soon,” Carlo said.
Two days later, Gino was trying to figure out why one of the hospital sections had lost power. Everything looked good inside, but with all the thieves in the city it wasn’t uncommon for them risk their lives stealing electrical wiring that had power. Sure enough, the wire had been cut from its routing point and taken. Luckily, Gino had rolls of it locked in the storage room. He needed to secure power to this section of the hospital before replacing the wire. In the breaker room, he pulled the fuse and headed to the storage room to retrieve the replacement wire. As he exited, he was met by his sergeant, who was standing at the doorway with a paper in his hand.
He looked disturbed. “Private Cartelli, what are you doing?”
“I’m fixing the power outage on the north-side second floor of the hospital. Someone cut and took that section of wire again. The power will be back in a couple of hours once I replace the wire,” answered Gino.
The sergeant seemed to calm down, but something was clearly bothering him. Gino didn’t say anything.
“Well, when you get done with the repairs come to my office. Your orders are in for Rome.”
As the sergeant walked away, Gino heard him mumbling about getti
ng someone trained just before they leave and why he hated the army. Gino waited until the sergeant was out of view before running to the storage room. He wanted to finish the repairs as quickly as possible in case something changed or the sergeant asked questions about his orders.
Gino finished the repairs and was at the sergeant’s office in about an hour. He was about to knock on his door when he heard the sergeant on the phone asking questions about orders. Gino couldn’t make out what he was asking, but he didn’t want to take a chance, so he went to the switchboard to seemingly fix an electrical issue. The phones went dead after Gino fixed the problem.
He was back at the sergeant’s office in five minutes. He knocked and the sergeant told him to come in.
“Damn phones never work around here,” the sergeant groused. “Private Cartelli, here are your orders to Rome. You leave tomorrow. Take this to the administration building tomorrow morning, and they will get you train tickets and some travel money. Good luck in Rome.”
Gino took the orders and thanked the sergeant for his help during his stay in Naples. As he left the office, the sergeant said, “See if you can figure out what’s wrong with my telephone line.”
“No problem, Sergeant. I’ll get right on it.”
As Gino left the building, he dropped the telephone switch he’d removed and headed to his room to pack for Rome.
The next morning, Gino went to the administration building with his one bag of personal belongings. He wasn’t the only soldier looking for train tickets. He lined up at the travel office. When he finally made it to the front, the travel clerk had his ticket and money ready for him. Before he left, he went to say goodbye to Carlo, but Carlo wasn’t at his desk. Gino didn’t want to raise suspicions, so he left the building and looked for the bus that transported the troops to the train station. The troops were already being loaded. When he stepped onto the bus, he noticed Carlo sitting in the back, smiling. Gino sat next to him but said nothing.
Carlo leaned over to whisper, “You think I’m going to stay here after you leave? I don’t think so; I’m headed to Sardinia and some new adventures.”
