by J. R. Sharp
The troop transport was on its way to unload the bodies. There would be a mass grave for the fallen soldiers, but no one would lose sleep over their demise. There would be retaliation for what they did, but the longer it took the Germans to figure out what happened, the more time Gino and Giacomo had to escape and the resistance had to prepare.
All the uniforms and supplies recovered from the barracks went north for use by the rebellion. After the bodies were disposed of, the troop transport would also make the trip north. It would have to go by night, using the back roads so as not to be detected.
Enrico made his way back to the bar to continue his undercover work. Before he left for the barracks cleanup, he locked the back door to prevent anybody from entering his domain. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any way to close the main entrance to the bar from the hotel lobby. A cautionary glance determined the backroom door remained in the same position as he had left it. It wouldn’t be the first time he came back from an errand to find that someone had been looking for something in the bar.
He lowered all the chairs from the tables so the afternoon crowd would have a place to sit. Most patrons would see the chairs on the tables and not even bother to come in. As he finished lowering all of the chairs, he made the familiar turn into the back of the bar.
In the back room, nothing was amiss. He changed into his bartender clothes and went about his daily duties.
***
Lieutenant Muller ordered the corporal to stop well short of the hotel. The long road to the hotel led up a winding hill. The hotel was perfectly placed to see anybody or anything coming well before you pulled in with your car. The lieutenant had frequented the hotel on many occasions and was well aware of how not to be seen.
“Go see if the truck is parked anywhere near the hotel. Stay to the right of the road and close to the woods,” he ordered the corporal. “Leave your rifle. Take my pistol in case something isn’t right.” He handed his Luger to the corporal. “Open the hood of the car. We want to look like the Fiat isn’t running.”
The corporal slowly ascended the long gravel driveway. As he came to the opening of the narrow road, the immense wooden doors of the Hotel Roma were the first things that came in sight. He veered deeper into the woods. Only a couple of vehicles rested in front of the hotel. None were the work truck. He knelt to make himself more undetectable as he looked to the right of the massive building. It was three stories high with massive pillars. Just about every window was slightly open to allow in air. As he moved toward the hotel, the road opened up to the right. He peered through the bushes, but he only saw a beer sign that read Carlsberg, which happened to be the corporal’s favorite beer. He decided he’d had enough of the hiding and stood. There in plain view was a newer section of the hotel. It wasn’t as tall as the main building but still impressive with its high windows. The windows were not covered; if anybody looked out into the courtyard, he would be seen. The soldier crouched for the final turn. The end of the building came into view and so did the parking lot. He saw the work truck parked at the end next to the woods. That was enough for him.
He backed out of the wooded area to make the short walk back to his superior.
“The work truck is parked at the bar. I saw nobody outside the hotel,” reported the corporal as he handed the Luger back.
Lieutenant Muller slammed the hood of the Fiat shut and got in.
“Go to the main entrance,” he ordered. “We don’t want to spook anybody that might be in the bar. We’ll enter from the main lobby. But before we go into the bar, we’re going to make a quick phone call.”
***
Enrico was doing inventory on the most important items at the bar when he noticed the Fiat roll into the main road and park by the main entrance. Three men exited, a German officer and two enlisted. The three reached the front door and the bellhop was there to greet them.
“Good afternoon, Herr Lieutenant.”
Without a word, Lieutenant Muller walked to the front desk. As the bellhop closed the door, he noticed only two visitors where there were three a moment ago.
Enrico saw the soldiers from the bar. One of the enlisted headed to the back entrance. Now he was concerned and needed to make a call before his day ended badly. He dialed the number he used just hours before and would hopefully get the colonel on the line for help.
“Let me see your phone,” Lieutenant Muller ordered the front desk clerk.
The clerk handed the phone to the soldier before escaping to the other side of the desk.
Muller dialed Colonel Specca’s outer office number. “Sergeant Lucciano, let me know if the colonel’s phone is ringing.”
“It’s ringing right now,” answered the sergeant, who was perplexed but always did what he was ordered.
“Answer it,” the lieutenant ordered.
“This is Hotel Roma,” responded Enrico.
“The colonel is not in his office right now; can I help you?”
Lucciano heard the distinct buzz of the other phone being silenced. He huffed with frustration before heading back to his mundane duties.
After realizing there was no one else to call for help, Enrico hung up. He grabbed his towel and wiped down the bar to look busy for his guests. Before he could look like a bartender with purpose, the door opened from the back, revealing a corporal.
“How can I help you, Herr Corporal?” asked Enrico.
The corporal pointed to the main entrance of the bar. Enrico turned to see what or who was coming into his drinking establishment. It was the lieutenant he had seen here with the colonel and major on several occasions.
“Herr Lieutenant, will the major be joining us or just you three for an early drink?” asked Enrico.
He moved toward the glasses to serve his guest and heard the lieutenant speak.
“Where are the Italian electricians?”
Enrico faced the inquisitive officer.
“What electricians are you talking about? I have been in the bar all day and haven’t seen anybody but you so far.”
The lieutenant threw something on the bar. Enrico looked down to see Colonel Specca’s military hat.
“We know you just tried to call that traitor, Colonel Specca. Now, where are the electricians?” asked Lieutenant Muller, pointing the Luger at Enrico.
Enrico’s hands were already up when the corporal moved behind the bar and went into the back room to look around. Nobody said a word. After a few minutes, the corporal emerged with the clothes Enrico had changed out of earlier.
“Why are these clothes wet?” ask the lieutenant, waving them with his free hand.
“Those are the clothes I use to help wash the outside of the hotel. Sitting on a hill, the hotel gets dirty. I don’t know what you want from me. I am the only one here and I have never seen that hat before today. The person I called was my distributor. Look, I have my inventory sheets out and I was ordering more alcohol,” lied Enrico.
“Come here,” ordered the lieutenant.
Enrico did as he was told. As he moved toward the back door, he could tell the situation turned from bad to worse.
“Where are the Italian soldiers that use the truck parked next to your bar?” asked Lieutenant Muller, pointing the gun at Enrico’s head.
“That truck has been there all day. They come here to do work on the hotel all the time, but I haven’t seen them. When I rode my bike to work this morning, their truck was parked there. Like I said earlier, I am the only one that has been here all day.”
The bellhop was reading the newspaper when he heard a loud noise. He raised his head and looked toward the bar. As he got up, through the front windows he saw the three German soldiers walking to their car. The back door was wide open, but there was no sign of Enrico.
“Enrico!” yelled the bellhop. There was no answer, so he walked to the open door and looked down to see Enrico on the ground, motionless.
Chapter 22
THE SUN WAS SETTING when Gino opened his eyes. Without even moving he cou
ld tell his body was nowhere near pain-free. Every time he took a breath of fresh air, his chest felt like it would explode. As he lay on the wooden cot, he took account of his surroundings to better assess his predicament.
The sun came in from a lone opening, which was grated with metal rods. The small window was the only source of light. The walls and ceilings were made of granite and stone; so was the floor. As he scanned the rest of the room, Gino noticed a door past his feet. It was open, allowing a cool breeze to flow. There was a small wooden basin near his head—an old wine barrel converted to supply water instead of spirits. A washcloth hung from it. When he tried to stand, the pain immediately intensified. He sat for a moment with his feet resting on the floor. For the first time since the beating, he could open both eyes but not without pain from the side of his head. As he rubbed his head, he felt the large lumps on his skull. There were bandages around his chest and head. The German uniform he had been wearing was in the corner of the room. Other than the bandages, underwear was his only clothing.
Gino slowly rose from the cot but wasn’t able to gather enough energy to stand. He did, however, make it to his knees and toward the lone piece of bread and pitcher of water on a table. From the moment he took a bite of the bread, he had a good idea where Giacomo had taken him. This was holy bread, and the white pitcher must be full of holy water. For as long as he could remember, there was only one place which had white pitchers and bread that tasted this way. He was either in a church or some type of monastery. He was about halfway done with the bread and tilting the pitcher for water when he heard a voice.
“Good. You’re strong enough to feed yourself.”
He looked toward the door and could see a priest standing at the opening with a nun beside him.
“My name is Father Rossi, and this is Sister Caroline,” remarked the priest. “Sister, please find Private Cartelli pants and a shirt to wear, or we will have to cut his cot blanket to fit his skinny legs.”
The priest came in the room and sat on the edge of the cot. “Looks like you’re able to get out of the cot, but I guess standing is an issue.”
Gino nodded with embarrassment, figuring he looked ridiculous to the priest. He finished the bread and crawled back to the cot. The priest grabbed him to help him. The priest was strong. Most of the priests Gino had met were either small men or skinny, but this guy was tall and muscular.
“You’re still weak and not able to travel, my son. That is fine. You can stay here for as long as you need.”
Father Rossi got up and Gino asked, “Where is Giacomo? And where am I?”
Sister Caroline showed up with the clothes.
“Please get our guest more food, and thank you for the clothes,” said the priest. He faced Gino. “Don’t worry about your friend; he’s still here. He’ll be joining us later on, but right now you need to eat more and get your strength. You will be busy soon.” He placed the clothes on the cot, smiled at the soldier and exited.
Gino was getting ready to change when he looked up to see Sister Caroline with his food. She placed a tray of pasta, bread and cheese next to him. “Will you need help getting dressed?”
Gino blushed. “No thank you, Sister. I can manage myself.”
As he ate, voices caught his attention. He pressed his ear against the cold, damp wall.
I need to get out of this room and see who’s on the other side of this wall, he thought.
After finishing the meal, Gino dressed. Every movement was excruciating, draining the soldier. Once dressed, he reclined on the cot to sleep and recharge.
***
Sister Caroline was at the fireplace getting dinner ready for Father Rossi and their guests. Giacomo and mountain rebel leader Giuseppe Franco sat at the table with the priest.
“Sister Caroline, please check on our guest to make sure our young soldier doesn’t hurt himself.”
Giuseppe heard what happened in Rome and quickly left northern Italy to find those responsible. He needed fighters like Giacomo and Gino who knew the German enemy. Most of the freedom fighters were townspeople with little or no fighting experience.
The church was officially neutral on the current war, but in practice it supported local soldiers and despised the Nazis and Italy’s Fascist leaders. Even the Italian Royal Family was growing outwardly critical of the situation in Italy.
“Father Rossi, I can’t thank you enough for letting us stay here. I know that our being here puts you and the Monte Cassino Monastery at risk with the Germans and Mussolini. As soon as Gino is able to travel, we’ll be leaving,” said Giacomo.
“The father is doing what he was trained to do, which is to take care of his fellow man. Besides, where are you two going to go? The whole German army is looking for the killers of the Hero of Hannut,” said Giuseppe.
“He is right, my son. You wouldn’t last long out of these walls. You need to go with Giuseppe up north to join the rebel cause or leave this country. This war will be over in the near future. You both have already seen enough for ten soldiers. It is time to think about your families and break from the enemy.”
Giacomo sat looking at the floor. The German uniform was long gone, but not his spirit to fight the Germans. Since they arrived three days ago, the news from Rome got worse. Most of the rebels working at the Hotel Roma had either fled or were killed or captured. Giacomo thought about the Germans who had beaten him. He wanted revenge.
“Your friend is dressed and sleeping. He ate well, too,” the nun reported, carrying Gino’s empty plate. She carried the German uniform under her arm. Giacomo smiled when she tossed the enemy uniform into the fire.
“Giacomo, we need you and your friend,” Giuseppe said. “You know how the Germans operate; besides, you’re not afraid of them. The Allies will want to know how to combat the Germans and how they’re organized. You saw their operations in Rome firsthand. You know the mood of our Italian soldiers. That could be a big help in ridding this country of those vile Nazis.”
Giacomo stood and took a deep breath to speak, but a noise came from the opposite side of the kitchen, from a hidden hallway leading to their room. At a knock, Sister Caroline looked through a hole on the adjacent wall and opened the door for a rebel carrying a submachine gun. He approached Giuseppe and whispered in his ear.
“We have to leave, Giacomo. I will return in two days,” Giuseppe said. “Gino needs to heal and ready for the trip north. Will they be safe here, Father Rossi?”
“They will be safe here, my son. Nobody knows about this section of the monastery except for a few that can be trusted. We have used this hiding place for centuries without anybody knowing its location.”
“Very well, Father. I need to go. Giacomo, in two days be ready. We won’t be coming back after that; it’s getting too dangerous down here.”
“We will be ready. If I have to carry Gino myself, we’re going north. We need to check on our families. When you finally meet Gino, he will let you know how much he hates the Germans. They killed his father, and his two brothers were killed fighting for them.”
Giuseppe nodded and shook Giacomo’s hand.
As the door closed behind the rebels, Father Rossi said, “I must leave now. There’s a service about to start, and if I am not there, people will gossip. Sister Caroline, please get our guests anything they need.”
“Thank you, Father,” replied Giacomo. Sister Caroline closed the door behind the large priest.
Giacomo went back to eating what was left of his meal as the sister cleaned the dishes left by the previous visitors. After he finished his meal, Giacomo moved toward the open cot located near the hallway entrance that led to Gino’s resting place. As he moved his head toward the makeshift pillow, his eyes felt heavy as he watched Sister Caroline go about her business. His thoughts drifted towards his wife and children before he fell into his afternoon slumber.
Giacomo awoke a couple hours later to a familiar face.
“Gino, I see you finally made it out of the room.”
&nbs
p; “It wasn’t easy, but I was hungry and could smell food.”
“Are we alone?” asked Giacomo.
“Sister Caroline heard me struggling in the room earlier. She was nice enough to help me out here, but she had to leave. Do you know how hard it is to shut and lock that door?”
“She’s probably going to tell Father Rossi you’re finally out of their guest room.”
Gino laughed but not for long. His one-lunged chest erupted into spasms of pain.
“You alright?” asked Giacomo. He rose from the cot and moved toward the table.
“I’ll be fine. The pain is only unbearable when I laugh or take deep breaths. Sergeant Braun did some damage. How long are we going to stay here?”
“We’re leaving in two days. The rebels will be back to pick us up. They’re planning on taking us north, and hopefully we can visit our families before we get involved with ousting the German scum from this country. Are you going to be ready in two days?”
“Just try and stop me. Besides, if I don’t go with you, who’s going to watch your back if you get in a jam?” Gino smiled before eating and drinking the wine, which was undoubtedly blessed before its journey down here. They startled at a knock on the door. Giacomo peered through the small wall opening and recognized their visitor: Father Rossi, holding a gunny sack.
“Looks like we’re making progress, Private Cartelli,” said the priest, walking in with the sack slung over his back.
“I’m not in the army anymore. You can stop calling me private. My first name is Gino, and thank you for all you’ve done for us. How can we repay you?”
“My sons, this country is going through tough times. We need men like you to get it back on track. You’re going to need these when you leave. Which is not in two days but tomorrow.” The priest handed the gunny sack to Giacomo. Inside were German Luger and Beretta pistols, clothing and other supplies.
“Looks like the Germans are hunting hard for you two. You’ve become legends in the resistance, and the Nazis want to make examples of you. I hear they’re checking villages, neighborhoods and churches all over. We will need to move you tomorrow. No doubt they’ll come snooping around here at some point.”
