by J. R. Sharp
“No, he didn’t have any guns when he was stopped, but he admitted later that he had smuggled weapons and ammunition in the past. The man, shall we say, perished before we got names from him. The only thing he told us was there were two farmers on a horse and cart he delivered to most of the time.”
“Why are you bothering me about this small-time smuggler? I have bigger issues to deal with,” replied Schmidt, getting ready to hang up.
“I understand, but there was some other information he told us that would be of use to you. The smuggler said he heard about two Italian soldiers in Rome who were smuggling bigger items for the resistance. The men work out of a truck full of tools. They are repairmen of some sort. He said they meet at a factory outside of Rome.”
Schmidt immediately knew this could only be the two electricians he had issues with, but he could not do anything to them unless he caught them red-handed. They were the only military electricians in the city and he needed them.
“That is good information. Thank you for the phone call, Major. I will be in touch.” Schmidt hung up with a huge smile.
***
Giacomo left the barracks to retrieve food and the work orders for today, and Gino decided to stay in the barracks and sleep in since it was still cold outside.
Since the incident with Major Schmidt, Gino and Giacomo had been cautious with their compound visits. They kept their work truck parked outside the compound and were more discreet with their visits and bribes to other Italian soldiers for information about German activities in the city.
Sergeant Lucciano loved his free cigarettes. If there were any issues, he placed a newspaper near the outer window of his office. This told Gino and Giacomo to stay away and call in for their work orders or come back at a later time. The chocolate-loving Gilda was also in on the messaging.
Gino sat in the empty barracks reading. The newspaper had the latest information about the horrible losses the Italians suffered in Russia. This wasn’t good for Mussolini and the other Fascist leaders. The newspaper reported the Italian 8th Army had been just about annihilated—more than 20,000 soldiers killed and 64,000 taken prisoners. Only 45,000 soldiers returned to Italy. Those who made it back were starving, weak and bloodied. Most Italians were asking for Mussolini and the army generals to resign or be jailed for their decisions to invade Russia. Gino knew firsthand what the soldiers were going through based on his own experience in Ethiopia. He felt fortunate not to have been sent to the bitterly cold Russian front.
Gino realized Giacomo had been gone longer than normal. As he put the paper down, he heard vehicles pulling in front of the barracks. He made his way to the door to see who was visiting them.
Major Schmidt stepped from his sedan and seconds later the barracks door opened. German soldiers stormed in.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” yelled Gino as the soldiers pushed him into the far corner of the room.
“Shut up, Private, and put your hands above your head,” yelled Sergeant Braun, the same sergeant who beat Giacomo at the gravel pit.
“Where is the other one?” barked the major.
“He went to get our work orders. I’m surprised he’s not with you. He went to your office building,” Gino said sarcastically.
Braun gestured to one of the soldiers restraining Gino against the wall and the soldier rammed Gino in the stomach with the butt of his rifle. Gino collapsed, gasping.
“Where are you hiding all the items you’re smuggling?” the sergeant yelled as he leaned over Gino.
Gino was still doubled over in pain and couldn’t speak.
“If I have to ask you again, you’re going to wish you never woke up this morning.”
Gino put up his right hand and raised his index finger to signal he needed a minute to recover. Braun came down with a right hook that caught his chin. Gino’s head hit the floor. As the sergeant prepared to strike again, the major stepped in.
“Let him recover or we will never find the items. Search the other rooms,” Schmidt ordered the two soldiers holding Gino.
The soldiers left Gino on the ground with the sergeant standing over him. There were only three other rooms in the barracks, including the bathroom. The two soldiers quickly went through the bathroom and the room on the other end of the barracks. After about a minute, a soldier gestured for the major to come see what they found.
Braun grabbed Gino’s left arm and neck to lead him into the room ahead of the major. There were shelves full of canned goods, blankets, flour, sugar, tools, and wine.
“Where did you get all this from?” asked the major.
“Most of these items are what was left over from the soldiers shipped out to Russia, but some items we acquired through our work as electricians. Nobody has any money anymore, so they pay us with goods.”
The sergeant shoved him to the ground.
“Go check the rest of the barracks for any hidden compartments in the roof or below the floor,” Schmidt ordered.
***
Giacomo was running late as usual, but this time it was for a good reason; he had gotten ahold of some great breakfast pastries for a change. Most of the Italian pastry stores had problems getting baking items because of the war effort; it was hit or miss.
As he neared the barracks, he noticed the German vehicles in front.
That can’t be good.
Giacomo stopped the truck and quickly made his way to the back of the barracks to hear what was going on inside. He heard a lot of talking. The side window would offer the best view of the entire barracks. He moved toward this viewing platform.
The major was looking at all the goods on the shelves. Giacomo heard the soldiers moving furniture.
“Private, you’re telling me all these items are from your dealings with the locals and you haven’t been smuggling them up north?”
“Major, we aren’t smugglers. We are Italian Royal Army regulars that were wounded, and now we serve our country as electricians here in Rome.”
The major gave the sergeant a quick nod.
“Stop lying to the major!” yelled Braun as he ripped into Gino’s chin with another right hook.
Gino flew back with such force that his head hit the wall before the rest of his body. He tasted the sudden rush of blood in his mouth and felt it running from his nose. As he looked up, he saw the soldiers through the doorway of the office. They were moving the table hiding the access panel. He shook his head to get his bearings and was reaching into the back of his pants when the sergeant put both hands against the wall and kicked him in the stomach.
The major sat at the table in the middle of the office. He watched Braun kick the private into the fetal position before he opened a bottle of wine.
“Sergeant, stop so he can tell us the truth for once today.”
Schmidt found a glass in the top drawer of the desk. The captured private coughed from the beating.
“Sergeant, why don’t you take the private over there so we can properly question him,” said the major, pointing to the vacant chair in the corner.
Braun leaned down, grabbing a handful of hair with his left hand and wrapping the other arm around Gino’s neck. Gino grabbed the sergeant’s forearm to release some pressure on his throat and choked on his blood. The sergeant squeezed his right arm tighter as he moved Gino to the chair and pushed him into it. Gino shook his head again to clear it, but this time the room was spinning.
“Okay, now let’s see if you can answer the questions,” said the major as he sipped the wine.
Giacomo bent down below the last piece of window trim so he wouldn’t be detected. As he raised his head to see what was going on in the barracks, a soldier yelled, “Major, we found something underneath the table.”
He saw Gino bloodied and sitting on a chair.
He looks like he’s seen better days, thought Giacomo as he lowered his head.
He heard a familiar voice—the fat sergeant who had beaten him.
He had dreamed of getting back at th
e sergeant who gave him the beating of his life. If it wasn’t for Gino coming back, Giacomo’s corpse would be in that ditch of horror. Now it was his turn to save his friend and, for once, get even for the brutality of these Nazi soldiers.
I need to move now! Giacomo headed back to the truck.
The soldiers yelled from the main room of the barracks. Gino knew they’d found the hidden compartment underneath the table, but all he did was smile through his pain. The major got up and walked into the main room.
“Watch him until I get back. Make sure he doesn’t move from the chair!” ordered the major.
“It will be my pleasure, sir,” replied Braun, punching Gino in the stomach.
The major made the turn toward the table to see the two soldiers looking down into a hidden access door that was raised. The major went in between the soldiers and got down on his knees to look into the hole, but there was nothing there but dirt and some empty Italian-army-issue food boxes.
“This is all you found?” yelled the major.
“Yes, sir, and we searched the whole barracks.”
The major rose as the barracks’ main door opened.
Gino heard the door open and reached behind his back with his right hand. The sergeant turned as the Italian giant came in carrying a box of food.
“Is anybody hungry this morning?” asked Giacomo, pulling the trigger of the Beretta hidden in the box.
His first bullet hit the soldier on the major’s left in the chest. He fell back against the wall, motionless. The other soldier reached for the rifle leaning on a chair next to him. Giacomo fired his second bullet. This projectile also found its mark and the soldier crumpled.
Braun charged at Giacomo. Gino finally reached his Beretta. The room was still spinning when he stood to help his friend.
The major was waiting for his bullets when the sergeant came out of nowhere and tackled the big Italian to the ground. Schmidt grabbed the German Luger from his holster as the two big men wrestled.
Gino fell through the doorway and saw the sergeant on top of his friend. The major moved toward the two men with his pistol at the ready. Gino aimed at the smug Gestapo officer. The major suddenly turned his Luger on Gino, who fired first, hitting his mark straight in the forehead. The major fell to his knees with his eyes wide open, still holding the Luger.
Giacomo held Braun at bay in case he needed him as a shield, but Gino put that to rest. Giacomo sent Braun flying toward his three fallen comrades with one punch to the face. Gino stood now, and he pointed his Beretta at the sergeant.
“If you move a muscle, I am going to unload this gun into your body!” yelled Gino.
Giacomo grabbed his Beretta from the floor and rose to aim it at Braun.
“How are you doing, Gino?”
“I’m fine.”
“You two won’t get far before they find you and hang you like all the other Italian rebels. Let me bring you in and I’ll tell them the major went crazy,” said the sergeant, his hands in the air.
Gino had lost a lot of blood but still had enough energy to hold the gun.
“Do you remember me?” asked Giacomo.
The German was looking at both of them with his hands still in the air.
“Of course I do. You’re the electricians that did the work in the ghetto.”
Gino and Giacomo glanced at each other before turning their attention back to the shaking German filth.
“What will happen to us when you turn us in?” asked Giacomo.
“You will be sent to a working camp in Germany,” replied the sergeant.
Gino tilted his head from side to side.
“You don’t remember what happened in the ditch?” asked Giacomo.
The sergeant looked at Gino for a second and turned his eyes to Giacomo. He finally recognized the big Italian soldier from the past. Braun lunged at Gino. He didn’t get far before both Berettas fired. The sergeant’s lifeless body lay next to his comrades.
“We need to get out of here,” said Giacomo.
It was the last thing Gino heard before he collapsed.
***
Gino could feel the cool air hitting him in his face as they drove with the windows down. He was delirious and one of his eyes was swollen shut, but he could tell he was in the passenger seat of a German sedan. Something felt different as well. Looking down he saw he was wearing a German soldier’s uniform. To his left, his partner drove the sedan the major used on a daily basis.
“Where are we going?”
“Go back to sleep, my friend. We’re heading someplace safe and out of this crazy army.”
Chapter 18
LIEUTENANT MULLER COULDN’T SIT in the major’s office at Via Tasso anymore. He had been waiting well over an hour for his mentor. The only information the major’s secretary had was that Schmidt received a call from up north and left in his sedan. On a normal day, the lieutenant was supposed to be at the office at around 0800, but he was running late. Without the sedan, Muller couldn’t do most of his duties, which today included picking up the major’s companion, Hilda.
She was arriving from Berlin to join the major for a week’s vacation. The train was arriving late that morning, and he needed some type of transportation. For the major not to be in his office at this time of the day was unusual. There would be no walking for this Gestapo lieutenant, let alone using a bicycle, which was how he traveled to work that morning. There had to be another vehicle available for him to pick up Fraulein Straus.
He decided to see if Sergeant Lucciano knew the location of the major.
He’s probably at the ghetto moving people around, thought the lieutenant as he made his way to the Italian colonel’s outer office.
“Sergeant, have you seen Major Schmidt today?” asked the lieutenant.
Lucciano, who was doing his daily mundane work, gradually lifted his gaze to the lieutenant and replied, “No. Maybe he’s with the colonel.”
The sergeant did not have to stand and salute for the lieutenant like he did for the major; in fact, he found the junior officer annoying. Without asking, Lieutenant Muller walked to the colonel’s office to see if the major was there. It was empty.
“Colonel Specca is not in his office. He’s out,” said the sergeant as the lieutenant emerged looking frustrated.
“I need a vehicle to go to the ghetto and pick up the major’s guest later this morning. The major might be at the ghetto doing some type of work.”
A loud bang suddenly came from the sergeant’s desk. The lieutenant took a step back. Slowly, Lucciano rose from his chair holding a set of keys.
“These are the keys to the colonel’s sedan. If you so much as put a scratch on it, he will have you for breakfast. Make sure you bring it back before he goes to lunch at one.”
The sergeant tossed the keys to the lieutenant, who was already moving out the door to search for Major Schmidt.
Getting to the ghetto was a lot easier with the major’s office in Via Tasso. It was only about five kilometers west toward the Tiber River. When the major lived near Vatican City, it was such a long drive that the lieutenant would purposely get lost to avoid going back and forth all day long.
He headed to the major’s office, looking down the corridor to check if the colonel’s sedan was out front.
“Has he returned yet?” the lieutenant asked Marta, who didn’t even look at the bothersome officer.
“No.”
After her quick answer, he went to the Italian military sedan. Driving a Fiat 508CM was demeaning for a Gestapo officer, but it was better than walking or riding the bike.
The ghetto was quiet as the lieutenant drove toward the waterfront and train station. He slowed at several points along the way to see if he could spot the major’s sedan. He guessed that Major Schmidt might be making routine checks or stopping by the nearby Italian army compounds. There was no sedan in sight. After coming to a stop in the parking spot usually occupied by the troop transport, the lieutenant was met by one of his soldiers. After t
heir usual salutes, he noticed it was the corporal and not Sergeant Braun.
“Where is the sergeant?”
“He and some of the soldiers went with the major, sir.”
“Where did they go, and how long have they been gone?” asked the lieutenant.
“Sir, they left about two hours ago and were going to someone’s barracks. That is all I know.”
Muller immediately knew where the major went. “Grab another soldier and get into the car. We’re going to visit our local Italian electricians. Before we head to the barracks, we need to pick up a visitor from the train station.”
As the lieutenant pulled the Fiat into the German and Italian headquarters, he saw the Italian colonel yelling at Sergeant Lucciano. He was pointing into his face like he might a child who had misbehaved. Specca turned as the lieutenant pulled up with his car, which seemed to infuriate him even more.
“What should we do, Herr Lieutenant?” asked the corporal in the back seat.
“Nothing. I will handle the colonel. You two need to get out so I can get the major’s visitor. Corporal, come with me,” ordered the lieutenant.
The corporal quickly opened the passenger door to meet the lieutenant on the other side of the Fiat. Before they were past the Fiat, the sergeant who gave him the keys was nowhere to be found.
“What was the emergency that required you to convince my sergeant to give you my sedan?” asked the colonel.
The lieutenant and corporal exchanged salutes with the colonel before Muller responded.
“Colonel Specca, there is no sign of Major Schmidt or his sedan. My corporal has informed me the major took some soldiers to the old Italian barracks. Now, why did he take soldiers to the barracks? I don’t know, but my hunch is there are soldiers involved with smuggling or, worse, some type of revolt.”
The colonel crossed his arms to show he wasn’t thrilled about this news, especially if it involved Italian soldiers.
“What proof do you have this is true?”
“I don’t have any proof right now, but I do know he received a phone call from up north earlier this morning. He left his office in a hurry and hasn’t been seen since. I’ve checked everywhere but the old Italian barracks.”
