by J. R. Sharp
Gino looked at Giacomo and turned his attention to the father. “We know the German army is looking for us, but how do you know about the Germans’ manhunt?”
“Our contacts in Rome say it’s only a matter of time before the Gestapo place you here. We’ve already spotted their vehicles coming down south of Rome. Finish eating, my sons; you are going to need your strength for tomorrow. Sister Caroline will be back in the morning. She’ll take you to your new hiding place. Make sure you’re ready.”
Chapter 23
SERGEANT LUCCIANO WAS TIRED of listening to the scuffling noise coming from the German officer’s boots as he paced. Lucciano wished his Italian colonel was back, but that wasn’t going to happen. Lieutenant Muller moved into the colonel’s office and was now in charge. The whole city knew of the massacre at the barracks, including the killing of the Hero of Hannut. And they were shocked to learn that Colonel Specca, the Italian in charge of Rome, aided the resistance by feeding rebels information and covering for them. The Gestapo worried more than ever that their grip on Italy was slipping. The Germans tightened their hold on Rome, sending in more troops to watch over the shifty Italians.
German guards were posted at the entrance of Lieutenant Muller’s office. He would soon be promoted as a hero—an example of German cunning and might. Every time Muller left the office he was followed by his new bodyguards. It was the sergeant’s job to also protect and control access to him.
A black Mercedes pulled into the parking lot below Muller’s window. A corporal emerged and entered the building. Seconds later he was in the foyer requesting to speak to the lieutenant.
“What do you want, Corporal?” asked the sergeant.
“I need to see the lieutenant.”
“Go ahead, but make sure you knock.”
Lieutenant Muller heard the corporal but pretended he was busy. He didn’t want his subordinates to think he was waiting on them. They waited on him. It was a trivial issue, but one taught to him early in his career by his supervisors. He heard the knock.
“Enter,” he called out a minute or so after the corporal’s knock.
“Lieutenant, I have news about the Italian rebels.”
There was a pause as Lieutenant Muller shuffled papers around.
“What is the news?”
“We are not too sure yet, but we have some eyewitnesses who saw the major’s car heading out of town toward the Province of Frosinone. We believe the two Italian assassins made their escape in Major Schmidt’s sedan.”
The lieutenant reached into his top drawer and pulled out a map. He laid it out and stood.
“Show me.”
The corporal pointed at the south region of Rome where the car was seen.
“Why would they be going south and not north? Most of the deserters are heading out of the country toward Yugoslavia, not heading south toward more troops.” The lieutenant paced, scratching his chin. “I have someone who will follow this lead. He’ll be calling me sometime today. Go back to the ghetto, Corporal, until you hear from me. Have at least three other soldiers ready to go south if we hear anything new.”
Instead of getting any new insights as to why the deserters would go south, he was thinking about Hilda—the look in her eyes when he told her that her future was destroyed. She was silent when she heard the news; the tears running down her face said plenty. She rose from the chair in his office and asked for a ride to the train station. Nothing was said until they arrived at the station.
“Please let me know if there are any services for the major.”
That was the final conversation he had with Hilda Straus. She was a stunningly beautiful woman, indeed, and to watch her so forlorn only agitated the lieutenant further. He wanted to slay the dragon for this beautiful princess.
The phone rang, disrupting the lieutenant’s musing about the nurse.
“Lieutenant, you have a call from the Hotel Roma,” yelled the sergeant.
He wondered why they called the outer office.
“Have the caller call this number, and close my door,” ordered the lieutenant.
With a nod, Lucciano did as he was ordered. As he closed the door, he went to his desk and raised the phone.
“You need to call the lieutenant’s personal number. He is waiting for your phone call.”
After lowering the receiver, Lucciano grabbed his cigarettes and strutted out for his mid-morning ritual of coffee from the bakery. Gilda Deluca went to the file cabinet next to the lieutenant’s door. She was putting files away but, more importantly, also listening to every word that was said.
“What news do you have?” asked the lieutenant.
“Lieutenant, they did leave toward the south. They were last seen about 130 kilometers due south of Rome. We have no other sightings past that point.”
The lieutenant looked at his map to see what exactly was located about 130 kilometers from Rome.
The only town at that distance is Cassino, but where in Cassino are they?
Nothing stood out, but he was getting impatient, and so was headquarters. They wanted the killers brought to justice—swiftly and publicly.
“Lieutenant, I have a contact that is looking in the area. I am waiting for a call or message if he finds anything. He has been reliable so far.”
“Pay him whatever he wants. I need those two deserters. Give me a call when you hear from him.”
The line went dead. Louie Costa put the receiver down and smiled. No more cleaning floors and tables for me, he thought. No more orders from that traitor, Enrico.
Louie pretended to be an innocent bystander and unwitting accomplish when confronted by the Nazis following the shooting at the barracks. He told them everything he had witnessed—suspicious truck transports, Enrico’s secret phone calls, men secretly coming through the hotel’s side exits at all hours. The Germans spared him, figuring he was of more use to them as a spy than dead.
After Enrico and the colonel were executed, Louie was offered the job by the hotel manager, but not until he cleaned the Enrico mess. The Germans were able to retrieve most of the uniforms and weapons after Louie transported the items to their headquarters outside Rome. No one suspected he was working for the Germans.
The lieutenant again paced the office. His right hand in his pocket rubbed the Iron Cross once worn by a German hero.
Chapter 24
GINO WAS IN THE fetal position in the single-window room that had been his home for the past four days. He dreamed of Pordenone, and of his lovely Catherina dancing in front of him, without a care in the world. They were both young, without responsibilities, and best of all, there was no war in the dream.
Giacomo wiped his eyes clean of sleep as he entered his friend’s room. Sister Caroline had woken him up moments ago.
“We need to get ready to leave. Sister Caroline is already here. There is some food if you want to eat. How is your pain?” Giacomo asked as he put the candleholder down next to the cot.
Gino slowly rose. His pain subsided when he stood.
“It’s still there,” he said, holding his ribs, “but I can move enough to get out of this place.”
Giacomo smiled slightly as he exited.
“Is he able to walk?” asked Sister Caroline.
“He’s fine and able to walk. How far do we have to go?”
“We need to walk down the hill into town. Once we get into Cassino, there is a place the church owns that will be your new home until you’re picked up tomorrow. We believe you were seen coming to town, but we are not too sure. It’s still dark outside, so we need to get going before the sun rises.”
“I’m ready,” said Gino, joining them. He stepped toward the table that was their makeshift eating area. As he grabbed some fruit, he noticed the nun wasn’t wearing her usual clothes. Instead, she was wearing brown pants, boots, a brown leather jacket, and a white shirt. Her hair was brown and hung midway down her back. She wore some type of holster around her waist. It was all too hard to see with only candlelight.
“Sister, you look different this morning,” remarked Gino. He took his first bite of breakfast.
“If I’m dressed like a nun, people will notice me. This way, we blend into the dark. We need to move soon before the sun comes up.”
“What about the car?” asked Giacomo.
“We won’t need the car. They’ll be back today to come get you. Besides, it will give you away quickly. Father Rossi will take care of the car. Get all of your belongings and let’s go.”
The men looked at each other blankly; they had no personal belongings except for what was in the gunny sack. Giacomo handed Gino his Barretta with the extra ammo.
“We’re ready.”
Sister Caroline led them through the doorway with a candle in her hand and turned left to leave this section of the monastery. Gino followed the lit candle, his partner directly behind him as they exited the secret room. As Giacomo shut the door, Gino noticed it was hidden behind a religious pennant that stretched the length and width of the door. He turned to find the sister well ahead of him. All he saw was the glowing candle. The ancient walls were full of paintings done centuries before. Most were portraits of people he wondered about only briefly. There was no time to ask who or what the portraits depicted; there was only constant movement toward the exit. They passed many windows about the same size as the one in his room, each window at the same height and evenly spaced. This floor was about six feet below the ground—not the basement but the floor just above. It was dark outside with not even the moon to show their way.
She slowed to let the two deserters catch up with her. They came to a set of steps on the right. She waited until they were right beside her.
“Ready?” she asked.
Both nodded.
“Once we get out in the open, we’ll be moving fast. If you can’t keep up, let me know and I will slow down,” the nun said.
She blew out the candle and knocked on the door three times. The door opened, and the three quickly stepped outside. As soon as they did, the door closed behind them.
Who shut the door? thought Gino.
His eyes adjusted to the darkness and revealed they were in the courtyard. Father Rossi stood next to the door, holding his hand out to Giacomo, who was also adjusting to the darkness.
Father Rossi shook their hands. “Peace be with you, my sons. Sister Caroline will be taking you to a safe place until they come for you. Stay with her and you will be safe; leave her and you will put all of us in jeopardy.”
The trio walked down the cobblestone road to the exit.
“Everyone good?” asked the nun. “We’re not taking the main road. It’s well traveled and will take too long. We’re going down the ancient path that only can be traveled by foot or horse.”
As he followed their leader, Gino could see the town and its few lights in the distance. The main road curved to the right, and they continued their journey straight. They made their way toward a dirt path leading straight toward the town and the Latin Valley.
The path was heavily wooded, with trees and tall bushes on either side. Most of the path was pitted and uneven from centuries of rain fall. There wasn’t much dirt—mostly rocks—under their shoes.
The nun obviously knew the path well, stepping sure-footed and with confidence. Gino felt weak and wobbly on the rocky path; he had trouble keeping up. Most of the journey was downhill, fortunately, better enabling him to keep pace.
The nun stopped abruptly and Gino nearly bumped into her. In front of them was an old man with a small donkey. He did not notice the three travelers while holding the rope reins of his animal companion. The old man and his donkey slowly made their way past them and up the same path, not even stopping to say anything. As they passed out of view, Sister Caroline and the Italian soldiers continued downhill.
“He brings our daily food supply from the village. We don’t think he can see anymore. It doesn’t matter; the donkey does most of the work and knows the path better than anybody,” she said.
They neared the village, the sky lightened, and the path grew wider. Gino had a hard time maneuvering over the last section but managed to not take a tumble as their path turned into cobblestone.
In front of them was the edge of Cassino. Gino smelled evening fires still burning and heard in the distance the cry of a hungry baby. They passed a row of homes that must have been hundreds of years old, each individually landscaped. Some had small stone fences, but most were flush with the road. One had a goat tied in front who couldn’t care less about the travelers—until Giacomo stumbled and kicked it. The goat bleated.
“What’s going on back there?” the nun admonished.
There was an intersection ahead of them. It was wider than the previous ones, which were more like alleyways than roads. The sister stopped at the last row house on the left. It was on the corner of the intersection and, if you looked out the windows, overlooked all four roads. She slid a large key into the lock. The old door creaked open and the three travelers quickly entered.
“Follow me,” the nun said.
They entered another room before the door shut behind them and the sister lit a match, revealing a small storage room.
“Stay here while I make sure we’re alone. Sometimes we have unexpected visitors, which would not be in our best interest right now.”
Gino saw chairs next to the lit candle she had set down on a small table that was on top of a small rug. He quickly sat to rest, lowering his head so he could breathe a little easier. As he took a deep breath, Giacomo sat beside him.
“I don’t know about you, but that was one hell of a hike. My chest is still burning.”
Giacomo laughed. “She can move. I was having a hard time keeping up, too. I tripped and kicked that stupid goat.”
“I know,” said Gino, snickering. “You almost gave us away.”
They sat in the light of the candle, not knowing their future. Sounds came from above, which they figured came from Sister Caroline making sure they were alone. The sounds approached before the door opened, revealing the nun.
“Okay, we’re in the clear and the only ones in the house. We’ll stay here until my brother picks all of us up.”
The Italian soldiers looked at each other before Giacomo said, “Giuseppe is your brother?”
“Yes, he’s my brother. By the way, who kicked the goat?”
Chapter 25
LIEUTENANT MULLER ENTERED HIS office as the sun crested. He made his way through the archways and the two guards came to attention and saluted. He returned their salutes before heading into the outer office. As he opened the door, he heard the phone ringing and rushed in to silence the ring. Sergeant Lucciano and Gilda were already at their desks waiting for the day’s events to start.
“Hello, this is Lieutenant Muller.”
“Lieutenant, the major’s car was spotted by some villagers going into the Monte Cassino a few days ago, but it hasn’t been seen since. We think the two deserters are hiding in the abbey,” replied the spy Louie.
The lieutenant pulled out his map. He already had Monte Cassino circled.
“Good. We’re leaving first thing this morning,” he said. “Sergeant, grab your hat and assemble my bodyguards. We’re going to Monte Cassino. We need to go to the ghetto and grab every German soldier there to come with us.”
After they exited, Gilda Deluca slowly rose from her desk to look through the office window. She saw the lieutenant and the other three soldiers get into his sedan. They pulled away from the compound and headed for the ghetto. She grabbed the sergeant’s phone and dialed a number she had dialed countless times before. The phone rang a couple of times before someone answered.
“Hello.”
“Lieutenant Muller just left and is headed to Monte Cassino.”
“Wait a minute,” said the person who answered, passing the phone to Giuseppe Franco.
“How many Germans will there be?” asked the Italian rebel.
“I don’t know, but he left here with thr
ee others. He’s going to the ghetto to get the rest of the German soldiers before heading south.”
“Thank you.” Giuseppe hung up. “We need to leave early and pick up our new recruits in Cassino. Hopefully, we’ll get there before the Gestapo.”
***
Sunlight came through the bottom of the only access to their storage room.
“You think we could get out of this room?” Gino asked.
“I’m sorry, sure. Let me show you around, but don’t look outside. The locals will see you and talk about the new people at the Abbey House. Most of our visitors stay at the monastery, but from time to time we use this place for other reasons. This is one of the other reasons,” responded Sister Caroline Franco.
As she opened the door, the sunlight blinded all three occupants momentarily. When their eyes focused, they saw the walls were made of old stones piled neatly in a staggered pattern. The floors were made from smaller cobblestones than were used on the roads. Gino counted three windows, each evenly spaced just like the ones at the monastery. At the top of the stairs was a door.
“This is the basement. It’s a left to the front door, which exits to the street adjacent to the one we traveled on last night. If you look out the windows you can see the intersection and all four roads. The main road leading into town is the road next to the front door, Via Monte Cassino. It’s used by everyone to get into town and to leave. That’s why we used the back entrance last night; it offers less visibility to the nosy locals. Everybody watches this house because of what’s going on in the country, so keep low at all times.”
Gino and Giacomo stepped back from the outer wall and lowered their heads. Caroline smiled and remarked, “You can relax; all the windows are covered except for the upstairs.”
For the first time, Gino noticed Sister Caroline carrying a pistol in her holster. It was smaller than the military issue Gino and Giacomo had carried.
