by J. R. Sharp
This wasn’t anything the colonel hadn’t heard before. All his men were involved with some type of smuggling or talking about revolting from the Axis powers.
“Exactly who is in the barracks, and why do they interest the major?”
The lieutenant wasn’t too sure what to say at this point because he was already running late to pick up Hilda.
“Colonel, I can’t say exactly who he’s interested in, but they are workers at the Hotel Roma.”
There were only a few soldiers left that worked in the hotel.
“Let’s go see if the major has made his way to the barracks,” ordered the colonel, going to the Fiat.
“Colonel, I have to pick up a guest of the major’s at the train station. If I don’t, he will be extremely mad. You can come, and after we drop her off, we can check the barracks.”
“Come get me after you drop her off. I want to make sure you get support from us during this operation.”
The German soldiers stood at attention as he walked past them, and the lieutenant climbed into the Fiat to pick up Hilda.
***
Hundreds of passengers were inside the train terminal. Most wore Italian or German uniforms, but there were a fair number of civilians, mostly women with children. This wasn’t a place to be confused or lost.
A tall, stunning blonde emerged from the lead passenger train holding a suitcase. The conductor immediately rushed forward and offered his assistance in getting down the steps.
“Do you have any other luggage, madam?” asked the conductor.
“Why yes. I have one other bag inside this doorway,” answered the German blonde, who was holding her nose to escape the strong smell of coal lingering in the air.
The conductor retrieved her second bag quickly.
“Thank you.” She handed him a small coin for his assistance.
After gathering her belongings, the blonde walked to the head of the tracks. This was her second visit to Rome. During her first visit, the Hero of Hannut met her as she exited the train, but not today. As she moved down the concrete peninsula with trains on either side of her, she remembered making a right toward the exit. Hopefully, there would be someone waiting. If not, she would have to take a cab to Via Tasso. There was always the possibility of his being busy, but she was a little upset her major wasn’t waiting.
She saw where most of the passengers were exiting the station and quickly followed them, finally emerging into the fresh air. Breathing deeply and exhaling the last of the coal, she scanned her surroundings, looking for a sign that she didn’t need a cab.
Lieutenant Muller’s trip to the railroad station wasn’t far, but with so much going on in Rome, getting close to the entrance was a challenge. Normally, everyone moved out of his way, but that was with the major’s sedan. Today he was driving the Italian colonel’s Fiat, which commanded little respect or fear. As he was about to abandon the Fiat for a faster pace in his military-issued boots, he noticed Hilda through the crowd blocking the station. She was easy to spot since she was almost as tall as the major. Most Italians barely topped a meter and half, which always made the lieutenant wonder how such little people had once conquered the world.
Hilda looked left and right for anybody or anything she recognized, but nothing caught her eye. She decided to get closer to the road; at least it would be easier for her to get a cab for the short ride to Schmidt’s office.
The lieutenant could no longer tolerate the slow-moving traffic. He moved the Fiat as close to the curb as possible and, after shutting down the Italian-made vehicle, he exited the car.
Hilda was about to hold her hand up for a cab when she heard her name.
“Fraulein Straus, it’s good to see you again. Major Schmidt is busy this morning and has sent me to get you. He will be meeting you later for lunch,” remarked the lieutenant as he bent to take her bags.
“It is good to see you again, Lieutenant, and I know how busy he can get. His job is his top priority. Where will we be going from here?” asked Hilda as she followed him to the Fiat.
“The major likes to eat right outside of the compound at one of the German bakeries. They serve lunch as well. I will drop you off there until he finishes this morning’s business. He might be at the compound right now. We will have to see,” replied the lieutenant, reaching for the passenger door. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
Chapter 19
GIACOMO HEADED FOR THE only place he thought would give them a shot at getting out of this madness—the Hotel Roma. After leaving Rome, he made the last turn into the hotel parking lot near the entrance of the bar. Enrico was outside smoking a cigarette with some of his other workers. As Giacomo slowly approached, the bartender said something and all the other workers went inside. Enrico was the lone person in Giacomo’s view as he stopped the car short of the bartender. He exited, glancing at his buddy to make sure he was still breathing.
“We heard there was some shooting at the barracks but didn’t realize how bad it was until now,” remarked Enrico as he looked into the car to assess Gino’s injuries.
Gino’s entire body throbbed from the pain. The wind had stopped blowing in his face, which meant the vehicle had stopped. He opened his good eye and noticed he was the only one in the sedan. As he sat up, he saw his giant friend in front of the sedan talking to what looked like the bartender from the Hotel Roma.
“How many did you kill, and did you recognize any of them?” asked Enrico.
Giacomo looked at the bartender for a second, trying to remember how many bodies were in barracks.
“I think it was four or five. It happened so fast I didn’t get a chance to count. We did kill Major Schmidt and Sergeant Braun.”
The bartender backed away for a second when he heard who they had killed. He turned and considered their situation. The shock had worn off slightly when he turned back to the large Italian, who was dressed in a uniform that wasn’t going to fit him anytime soon.
“You both need to leave Rome, now. How injured is Gino?”
“He was beaten pretty bad; he may have some broken ribs, a broken jaw and I think his nose is broken, but it’s hard to tell with all the swelling.”
“There is a place down south that is safe and will take care of you both. Go to Cassino and find the monastery Monte Cassino. They will take care of Gino and give you a safe place to stay until he is better. I will let them know you’re on your way, and you must leave when he is better and head north to join the resistance. They need soldiers like you that aren’t afraid of the Germans.” Enrico looked toward the door to the bar.
Giacomo looked as well, and another supporter there nodded at Enrico’s gesture.
“I’ll gather some of my folks and hopefully get to the barracks before anybody else. We need to get rid of those bodies, or the Germans will take revenge on the whole city for the loss of their comrades. They will anyway, but at least we can delay the inevitable. Where is your work truck?”
Giacomo reached into the German uniform’s front pocket and handed Enrico a set of keys to the work truck. “It’s at the barracks.”
Gino was watching his friend, and he smiled and laughed when he noticed that Giacomo had ripped the back of the jacket and the pants were about two inches above his ankles. His period of joy lasted about a second until his mouth erupted in an agony he felt throughout his body. His ribs were either broken or bruised from the kicking he took from Braun, making the fetal position the most comfortable for him. As he drifted back to sleep, he heard the driver’s door open but was too weak to speak.
Giacomo wanted to do something for his friend but was powerless to ease his pain. As he started the sedan, he said, “Don’t worry, Gino. We’re heading to a safe place where they can patch you up. After we arrive there, we need to ditch this sedan. When you’re better, we’re heading north to join the resistance and possibly see our families again.”
Gino only mustered a slight smile as he drifted back into a painful sleep.
Giacomo
watched his friend close his good eye before putting the sedan in gear and lurching forward, off to their safe house at the monastery.
As the German sedan left, Enrico returned to the only home he’d known since the war started—the Hotel Roma.
“Where are the others?” the bartender asked his fellow German haters.
“They’re in the back room waiting for your instructions.”
“Get the car. We need to clean up a mess at the old Italian barracks. We’ll also need some shovels, buckets and mops.”
The subordinate made his way to the back room to get things moving. After a few minutes of discussion, the group dispersed.
“They’re getting our supplies while I get the car. We’ll be back to pick you up.”
Enrico headed for the exit, knowing he only had a small window to make his phone call. He only made this call when he was alone, with a number that was held in the highest secrecy. His instructions were to dial the number, wait for four rings, and hang up and dial again. If the phone was answered the second time, then this was his contact to the rebel movement against the German invaders of Rome. After the phone rang four times, he hung up and he dialed again.
“Hello.”
The bartender was brief. “This is the Hotel Roma. Is the colonel there?”
***
With Hilda safely in the care of the local German baker, the lieutenant returned to the colonel’s office to retrieve the higher-ranking officer. Muller’s two soldiers awaited further orders in the breezeway.
“Has the major come back?” asked the lieutenant.
“No sir, he has not, and the Italian colonel is waiting for you in his office.”
When Lieutenant Muller strolled into the office, Sergeant Lucciano was still not looking his best.
“Is the colonel in his office?”
Lucciano offered no reply, just a gesture toward the door. Without stopping for what was surely going to be an uncomfortable gathering in the outer office the lieutenant entered the colonel’s office. Colonel Specca held up his finger to keep Muller quiet as he finished his phone call.
“Okay, I understand. And how long do you need?” the colonel asked the Hotel Roma bartender.
“I won’t know until I get there, but it will be a while to clean that mess. I’ll start a fire to signal we have completed the cleanup and that we’ve left.”
“Do the best you can while I figure out what to do on this side of the city. We need to clean this quickly.” After hanging up, he looked to the window for some type of answer to this serious problem.
I need to hold the Gestapo here for as long as it will take, he thought.
The lieutenant was already sitting.
“Stay here until I get back,” ordered Specca as he left his office and sprinted down the corridor to Major Schmidt’s office.
Marta was in her normal position to greet or take requests for her boss when the Italian colonel walked past her.
“Can I help you?”
Before she could get to her feet, Specca was already in the major’s office.
“I am going to wait for the major here. Please let me know when he arrives,” ordered the colonel, shutting the door behind him.
***
The crew from the hotel pulled into the barracks. Nothing outside indicated any type of physical altercation. Enrico noticed a troop transport and the familiar Italian work truck parked in front. The whole area was still and quiet—too quiet.
“Louie, go see if the keys are in the troop transport. If they are, back it up to the front entrance of the barracks,” ordered the bartender.
Louie Costa had joined the group only recently. There was no doubt he was a German hater, but he was always looking for some opportunity for himself, which didn’t sit well with the other rebels. Enrico hated using him, but today they needed all available men to complete this clean-up.
As he approached the entrance with a Berretta at the ready, he ordered another sympathizer to stay outside and make sure no one came in while they cleaned whatever carnage awaited them.
This left Enrico and one other sympathizer to go inside. He gestured for his partner to peek through the window on the right while he went to the left one. As he was about to look inside, he jumped at the sound of the truck being started. He smiled a bit—at least they could load the bodies in their own vehicle. Going back to the window, he saw four bodies stacked at the back of the barracks to his right. There was nothing to his left but an empty room with something red on the wall.
The transport was already being backed into position with the help of the sympathizer watching for other visitors.
“Come on. Let’s see what we need to get out of here as quickly as possible,” Enrico said.
As his partner opened the door, Enrico entered with his Beretta and ducked right to make sure there were no surprises. He determined the only breathing human was him.
“We’re clear,” called out the leader of the sympathizers.
His partner was already beside him. Holstering his Berretta, Enrico went left to see what secrets were held in that section of the barracks. As he peered around the corner, he saw some much-needed food, wine, and blankets they could all use. He also noticed a broken chair near the entrance and blood all over the wall and floor.
“That is possibly where Mr. Cartelli was beaten,” Enrico remarked.
A noise drew their attention to the front entrance of the barracks. Louie stood and stared at the pile of bodies next to the trapdoor.
“Okay, let’s get started. Search them for anything we can use. Take their guns, shoes and uniforms, and load them into the trunk of the car. Load their bodies onto the troop transport as quickly as possible. I am going to load as much of these supplies as we can carry from this storage area. If the Germans find out what happened here, this place will be torched,” ordered Enrico.
Louie and the other sympathizer went to the bodies. This first body was a large man already stripped down to his underwear. Louie grabbed the head and shoulders while his partner grabbed the feet.
“This one has a lot of bullet holes in him and is heavy,” remarked Louie, grunting his displeasure.
After loading the first soldier, they went back for the next one, who was clearly an officer. He was on his stomach, but Louie could tell he had been shot in the head. Not wanting to see the actual wound unless it was necessary, he unbuttoned the uniform from the back while his partner removed the dead officer’s shoes and pants.
“This one is as big as the other one but isn’t as fat,” remarked Louie as he struggled with the shirt.
As he worked one side of the shirt off the body, he pulled it to the right, but something was holding it around the dead officer’s neck. He reached to loosen the black-and-silver ribbon, but it broke off from the clasp and disappeared underneath the other bodies. Louie continued to strip the soldier down without looking for what had fallen from the soldier’s uniform. It was of no importance to him.
***
The Italian colonel had to move quickly to ensure no evidence could lead to what happened to the major from his office. As soon as he reached Major Schmidt’s desk, he searched every drawer, rifling through every single nook and corner of the immense desk. He found only a few pieces of correspondence that referenced any type of Italian rebellion.
With the speed of a man on a mission, he looked through a file cabinet and removed all documents referencing the Italian resistance or rebellion. The colonel pondered whether to destroy the files or alter them. Surely, the Germans would expect Major Schmidt to have some paperwork on the resistance. That’s why he was there.
Specca hated the major and the previous Gestapo watchdog before him. He was personally responsible for having the previous Gestapo colonel transferred but had miscalculated. He thought Schmidt would also be sent away. Major Schmidt made matters worse in the city of Rome, which bothered the Italian Royal Family, who were looking for ways to get out from under control of the Germans and for Italy to exit t
he war itself.
***
The Gestapo lieutenant became impatient waiting for the Italian colonel to return to his office. He glanced at his watch; it was already fifteen minutes since he left.
Where could have he gone? Something isn’t right here, thought Lieutenant Muller, getting up. Major Schmidt was missing, Specca had run off without a word, and there was word of smuggling involving local Italian soldiers.
“Sergeant Lucciano, get me Gestapo headquarters on the phone,” ordered the lieutenant.
The sergeant reached for the phone and dialed the local switchboard for an outside line to Germany. Muller stood next to his desk, watching him make progress in his quest for a higher authority’s counsel. The sergeant could get through a lot faster than anyone else in this city; the waiting time would be twice as long if anyone else tried to get Germany.
Knowing there was time to spare, the lieutenant went outside to get some fresh air and hopefully see the lanky, lazy Italian running around. As he lit his cigarette and scanned the office complex horizon for his intended target, the door opened. He turned to see the sergeant.
“Lieutenant, I have a Major Fischner from Gestapo headquarters on the phone for you.”
Muller tossed his cigarette and followed Lucciano to his desk. The lieutenant grabbed the phone and snapped his fingers, gesturing for the sergeant and secretary to leave so he could talk in private.
The door shut behind the office workers.
“Major, this is Lieutenant Muller from Rome. I believe I have a situation here, and I need some advice.”
***
The sergeant smoked his cigarette and looked through the window to see what was going in the office. Lieutenant Muller was nodding and listening intently. Having been pushed out of his office repeatedly in the past, the sergeant knew the call could take a while.
“Are you hungry?” asked Lucciano. Gilda Deluca nodded. “I’ll be right back. If the lieutenant asks, tell him I went to get some food.” The sergeant threw out the rest of his cigarette before heading to the German bakery around the corner.
