by Mary Contini
The door was slammed shut. He heard the key turn in the door.
The light was switched off and he was left alone.
*
On the fourth day, Margherita managed to get through to Olivia from Glasgow on the telephone. She was panic-stricken.
‘Olivia, Olivia, get Papà. The police have taken Tony and his father and all his brothers. I’ve been trying to call. Tell Dad to come. I’m here with my mother-n-law and my sister-in-law. They’ve wrecked the shops. Get Papà. Please. Let me talk to him.’
After that, Maria and the girls decided the best thing was to go through to Glasgow. They would stay with Margherita until they found out what was going on. They started to prepare.
Rumours spread. A picture of what had happened gradually began to emerge. Newspapers reported riots in other cities, all over the country, London, Manchester, Liverpool, Ayr. Reports said Churchill had given the instruction to ‘collar the lot!’ and that the ‘enemy Italians’ had been ‘combed out’. Internment of all Italian males between the ages of 17 and 60, or 16 and 70 (the reports were confusing), internment without trial, without a lawyer, without a tribunal, without rights.
The War Cabinet were expecting an invasion by Germany any day. They were obsessed with the thought of a Fifth Column, a group of dangerous enemies living within their midst. They saw no alternative but to ensure that all possible sympathisers were off the streets.
The locals in Cockenzie were also devastated and were trying all they could to break through the official silence. It was easier for them to get information. After three days, Anna got a hint from Alex Craig.
‘There are Italians in Donaldson’s Hospital in Edinburgh. Your dad and brothers might be there.’
A glimmer of hope like this was such a relief. At last she could do something. Immediately Anna made her way up to Edinburgh by bus. Marietta wasn’t fit to travel. Lena stayed with her mother and waited anxiously for Anna to return.
Anna got to the gates of the hospital, a large imposing Victorian building set in extensive grounds, early in the afternoon. She was barred from entering by two soldiers with rifles.
‘Stop. No civilian entry, miss.’
‘Where can I go to find out if my father is here?’
‘Ask over there at the sentry box.’
Anna went across, nervous. Even if he was locked up, at least they would know where he was, that he was safe. Just to know something would be better than this agony of knowing nothing.
‘Excuse me, Sergeant; I am looking for my father and my brothers.’
‘What’s their names, miss?’
‘Cesidio Di Ciacca, from Cockenzie. And Johnny, Giovanni Di Ciacca, he’s my brother. Alex Di Ciacca, he’s my brother too.’
She pulled out the family picture that they had had taken at the dance last August. It seemed like a lifetime away.
‘That’s them, there, there.’ She pointed to the images staring back at her.
The soldier looked down long lists of papers he had in front of him.
‘I’m sorry, miss. No Cesidio here.’
‘Are you sure? Have you seen him?’
‘Here he is. He’s on this list. He’s gone. You’ve missed him. He was transported out early this morning.’
‘Transported? What does that mean? Transported where?’
Anna slumped forward almost unconscious with shock. The soldier was embarrassed. This had been going on all week.
She shook herself.
‘What about my brothers?’
‘Nothing. I’m sorry, miss.’
‘Please. Check the lists again. Look.’ She pushed the photograph in front of him again.
‘They’re not on my lists. Now, move along. You shouldn’t wait here. Move along please.’
‘Where have you taken him? Where has he gone? Please. Please.’
The soldier lifted his gun. He pointed it over her head. His instructions were to avoid any scenes. Discourage any histrionics from the women. He shouted so loud that Anna jumped.
‘Move along!’
Anna’s lead had been correct but it was too late.
After more than fourteen days of waiting, crying, phoning, praying, a small card, marked with the censor’s blue cross, dropped through Maria’s letterbox. It read: ‘Mamma. In Saughton Prison. Am OK. No sign Papà or Dom. Girls, keep your heads. Love, Vittorio.’
The same day Marietta got a note from Alex.
‘Mum, frightened. In jail. On my own. Can’t see Dad. Ask Johnny to help me. Alex.’
The word ‘frightened’ was crossed through with a blue crayon.
Both mothers were grief-stricken. Each now knew they had one son in prison. But they had no clue as to where their husband or older sons were. What could be worse than prison? Why were the authorities not telling them anything? Were would this end?
When he had been arrested, Johnny had been taken to Donaldson’s Hospital very early in the morning. His name was on a list, another list of many lists.
After three or four days he still hadn’t seen his father, or his brother. Either of them might have been in the next cell, the next hall, the next building, but he never saw them. The chocolate had been confiscated when he arrived, along with his money and the gold chain he had round his neck. He hid the small figurine in his pocket. They didn’t find that.
At the same time as the War Office was detaining Italians without trial, the court rooms of Edinburgh were full of youths arrested for rioting and looting, being fined and imprisoned for stealing from the ‘enemy’. The newspapers were full of such reports. Everyone was on edge, in a state of near panic. It felt as if the evil of the European War was on their front doorsteps.
Nicol Bruce, Alfonso’s friend, bravely wrote to newspapers to decry the hooliganism and cowardly attacks on the Italians. He still didn’t know where any of his friends were or, if he did, he wasn’t saying.
Miss Dennison agreed to manage the Elm Row business until the men were released. She knew there was stock locked safely in the warehouse. With food shortages and rationing, there would be a good market for the produce; she could keep her job and some income for the family. Mrs Glen and the girls moved to Elm Row to help. They boarded up the ice cream shops, instructed the lawyer to try to sell them and waited to see what would happen.
Maria was grateful and trusting of the women. She and the girls packed a few bags and prepared to travel to Glasgow, queuing up on the railway station platform, as many people did, coming and going in and out of their lives, during wartime.
In Glasgow, the desperate search for information continued. They went every day to the Consul’s office, wrote letters to the police, Church and the authorities but still there was no news. They scanned the newspapers for information. The Brazilian Embassy was handling news for Italians in Britain so Olivia and Gloria took it in turn to wait there every day to see if any news would come through.
A sense of hopelessness took over. Exhaustion and depression took hold.
In Cockenzie, Marietta had left for Peebles, leaving Jimmy Caulder in charge of the shop. The minister, Mr Osborne, eventually managed to prove that she was a British citizen, thankfully, and got her a withdrawal of the Evacuation Order. Soon, she and the girls were allowed home.
But there was no respite for the gnawing worry of not knowing. They counted the days. One became two, two became twelve and twelve became twenty. They started to give up hope. Not knowing anything about their husbands and their eldest sons was insufferable. They started to despair.
In Saughton prison, after a couple of weeks, the Commandant gradually realised that he was actually holding a bunch of harmless shopkeepers. There was nothing much he could do, but the regime did become slightly less strict. The men at least were allowed to have open cell doors, move around and talk to each other.
Vittorio and Alex were in Hall C with about a hundred other men, mostly young like themselves. They were all born in Britain, all with an Italian parent. They had been arrested under th
e 18b Regulation of the Emergency War Powers Act and were in limbo. They had no rights to lawyers or home visits, they just had to wait until they were told what was happening to them.
They were all afraid for their lives and worried about the fate of their mothers and sisters outside alone, and their fathers and older brothers, wherever they were.
Seven or eight boys were sixteen, like Alex. Olivia’s classmate Eduardo and her friend Vera’s brother Ernie were there. The older lads tried to look after them. They should not be in prison. They applied to the Commandant to try to get them released, but no one was going anywhere.
Gossip went around that some Italian girls had been arrested and were housed with the local female prisoners. This made some of the men angry; but there was nothing they could do.
Maria and the girls had been allowed to visit Vittorio before they left for Glasgow. He was thinner, but looked well enough, though slightly odd in his prison uniform and with a shaved head. He was still trying to reassure them.
‘Mamma, I’m sure it’s not so bad. I’ve heard that Domenico and Papà are in a different prison because they are classed as aliens, not under this 18b thing, like me. It’s seems to be only those who were born in Britain that are in this group. There’s about a hundred of us. The guards are OK. Now that they’ve realised we’re not dangerous criminals, just shopkeepers, they’re a bit more lenient.
‘Olivia, you look after mum and the girls. You’re the oldest in the family until Papà, Domenico and I get back. You can tell Vera that Ernie is all right.’
He went on to tell them who was in the prison, who looked well, who had escaped detention.
‘Tell Miss Dennison to carry on as best she can. If she can, tell her to sell the cars. Even if we get out of prison we’ll not be allowed to drive.’
When they left, embracing and kissing each other, they felt better. It was such a relief seeing him, knowing he was all right. If only they knew where Alfonso and Domenico were, they could cope better.
They would have been devastated if they had known the truth.
When they left, Vittorio broke down and wept. He was incarcerated and trapped; his freedom had been taken away and he felt angry that his father and brother were not accounted for. He was terrified he would never see them again. How could he let his mother know how he felt? They all had to hide their feelings now, or they would go mad.
30
15 June 1940
After four days incarcerated alone in a cell in Donaldson’s Hospital, Alfonso found himself in a queue with several of his friends, climbing onto buses. It was very early in the morning, three o’clock. It seemed everything was done under cover of darkness.
He was shocked to see so many of them. He anxiously searched for a glimpse of his sons but could see no sign. He had heard nothing, seen no one for four days. His heart pounded. He caught sight of his brothers, Giovanni and Emidio. Poor Emidio. He’d barely been back in the country a year. If he’d known this would happen he’d have stayed in Italy. At least they were together. He hoped to God his sons were together as well.
He had been frantic with worry, especially about Maria and the girls. He struggled to push the images of the rioters from his mind. Having seen so many of the Italian men and boys arrested in the police station, torturous thoughts that all the women and girls were alone haunted him. In waves of despair, he implored the Holy Virgin to protect his girls.
Seeing his brothers gave him the illusion of ordinariness, though there was nothing ordinary about being driven in buses under armed guard from his home town. They were forbidden to talk or look at each other, but as the men recognised each other they gave terse nods of acknowledgement. Instinctively they knew it was safer to give their captors least cause to react, not to let them know what they were thinking.
After a couple of hours winding along country roads, the buses turned off the road into a barbed wire encampment at Woodhouselee, near Penicuik. Standing lined up at the sides of the buses with their suitcases and bags, Alfonso and his fellow captives noted the heavy military presence; armed soldiers were patrolling the grounds. They were under military control.
At the sight of the row upon row of canvas tents, Alfonso was struck by the thought of Olivia visiting the camps in Italy. How could he have taken such a risk? What if Italy had declared war while she was away? What if she had been stranded? He felt overwhelmed by his own stupidity, his gullibility.
After the roll call they took their allotted sleeping areas, ten to a tent on straw mattresses. Now they were free to walk around. It looked as though a lot of the older Italians had been transported together. First he found his brothers. They embraced, relieved that they were all safe.
Zio Benny from Newhaven was there. He was nearly seventy. What was he likely to do to harm anybody? There was Donato Crolla, Ferdinando, Pia, Paolozzi, De Marco … The authorities had done a good job; he’d give them that.
Then he saw other friends from around the country, customers that he visited in his van. Ferrari, Kirkcaldy; Fontana, Carlisle; Felloni, Aberdeen; Fusco, Dundee; Togneri, Dunbar! My God, not a town had been missed, not a family overlooked.
Alfonso was overwhelmed by the scale of the arrests. It appeared that they had lifted everyone.
When Alfonso saw Cesidio, he rushed towards him, embracing him warmly.
‘So you’re here as well, Cesidio? Did they come to your house in Cockenzie?’
‘Yes, Alfonso, they lifted me and Alex. I don’t understand. He’s just a boy.’ Cesidio broke down. ‘Alfonso, I don’t know where he is. They took him from the car in the centre of Edinburgh. That’s the last time I saw him. He was crying, he was so frightened.’
Alfonso felt anger welling up. This was so very cruel.
‘What about Johnny?’
‘They left him behind with Marietta and the girls. I don’t know what’s going on.’ Cesidio looked at his friend. ‘Where are your sons?’
‘They lifted Vittorio and Domenico with me, but I haven’t seen them for four days.’
‘Alfonso, can you not do something? We’ve had no chance to get word to the women. Do you think they know we’re all right? They’ll be worried sick.’
‘I’ve tried, Cesidio. I’ve tried. I keep demanding to talk to the camp commandant. They won’t tell me anything. I don’t know what’s happening any more than you do. I’ve heard we’re going to the Isle of Man. Someone said we’re going to Liverpool.’
Achille Crolla came across. They embraced.
‘Cesidio, I’m sorry. I heard they lifted your Alex? They took my Ernie as well.’
Cesidio and Achille held each other. Both their youngest sons were just sixteen.
‘Please God they’re together.’
They were all becoming more angry. Where in hell’s name was the Italian Government now? Everyone demanded answers from Alfonso. He couldn’t help them. He knew no more than they did. His contacts and friends in the Council and Consulate had disappeared into the ether. Most likely they had all been arrested as well.
They were all in the same boat.
Between bouts of fury, they held their own council, trying to be strong for each other. Sitting eating stale bread and jam, their first food for twelve hours, they were terrified of what was happening at home, and of what was ahead for them.
News that the rioting had been all over the country, not just in their own towns, was a bad sign. The whole of Britain had come out against Italy. They were all shocked that the anti-Italian feeling was so strong. There hadn’t been rioting like this when Germany had declared war last September. Why was there so much fury against them?
The next day, more busloads of men arrived, this time from Glasgow. Cesidio’s brother Louis showed up. He had his young son, Harry, with him, a boy the same age as Alex and Ernie.
‘How did you get to keep Harry with you, Louis?’
‘Just a stroke of luck, by the looks of things. They told him to come with me and that was that.’
They didn�
�t understand. There appeared to be no rhyme nor reason for who was in the camp. Some people Alfonso knew had been in the Fascio with him, but there were just as many, like Cesidio, who had never joined. There were teachers, doctors and a few lawyers, men born in France, Britain and Italy.
There were hundreds of men already there when they arrived, and buses and cars were bringing more all the time. Not just immigrant Italians, also Italian merchant seamen, German internees and German prisoners of war. Cesidio thought he saw the three German airmen who had come down in the Forth last year. As the camp filled up, new groups of internees arriving were housed in separate areas, so no fresh news was passed on. Hunger was becoming a real issue as more men were arriving while the allocation of food remained unchanged.
They had nothing to do but walk around aimlessly and talk. Were the Germans going to invade? Maybe they already had? What a fool Mussolini was to side with Hitler.
It was ironic that Italy had been doing a roaring trade between the warring parties for the last ten months and would have done very well by staying neutral throughout the war. Some men had heard that Churchill had offered plenty of incentives to achieve this end and was now furious with Mussolini for rejecting all chances to avoid this horror that he had plunged Europe into.
Many of the men of Alfonso’s age or older had sons fighting with the British forces. One of the men saw his son on guard duty at the gate. He ran shouting to alert him but was pulled crying from the barbed wire. He never saw his son again.
No newspapers, wireless or communication were allowed from the outside. The men weren’t even allowed to send a card home to their wives. Sitting day after day incarcerated in the camps, they felt betrayed.
