by Derek Hansen
Friedrich knew he had to go on the offensive to contain the partisans but lacked the force to do the job. Reluctantly he sent a request to headquarters for reinforcements. He never thought for a second that they’d send Dietrich Schmidt once more. After all, his first foray had ended in disgrace. Perhaps they sent him because he had previous experience in the area; or because he’d let it be known that he had a score to settle; or because High Command felt an elite corps was necessary to secure the road and their supplies. Perhaps it was just one of those curious decisions that armies the world over feel obliged to make that defy any rational explanation. Whatever their reasons, it was a decision destined to cast a shadow over the remainder of Friedrich’s life.
The cable from High Command was curt in the way all orders are and told him only to expect Obersturmbannführer Schmidt and a company of one hundred and fifty soldiers and vehicles. It gave no detail of what armaments they were bringing, only that they were due one week from the date of the message. Friedrich groaned inwardly. Obersturmbannführer Schmidt! They now shared the same rank! Friedrich had no doubts that once more Dietrich would take charge of the operation and there’d be little he could do about it.
That day he received a second cable. It was from Como, advising him that a large shipment of arms was being diverted through Menaggio three days hence owing to partisan activity around Como. The cable stressed the vital nature of the cargo and the need to secure the road. Friedrich shook his head in wonder. Why did it take a week for reinforcements to arrive, and why couldn’t they delay the shipment if it was so vital? But he already knew the answer. Two different commands, two different imperatives. Nobody would have informed Dietrich about the arms shipment and the organisers of the convoy wouldn’t know about the pending reinforcements.
That night as Cecilia cooked and shared his dinner, he told her all about the reinforcements, the convoy, and how he’d had to compete with Dietrich for Christiane’s affections. He told her all about the fateful dinner. These days he told her everything, as if sharing his knowledge helped him understand it better. He was rather surprised when Cecilia announced that she had to return home to the Villa. He hid his disappointment, sent a message for his driver and kissed her goodnight.
Poor Cecilia. Once again she was torn between opposing forces. But what could she do? She was desperately in love with Friedrich and wanted nothing to do with anything that could put him at risk or add to his troubles. By the same token, the partisans depended upon her for information. How could she not pass on what Friedrich had told her? They’d want to attack the convoy and then fade away to the north before the SS troops arrived. They couldn’t rely upon Cecilia to help them outsmart the SS twice. Besides, the SS would want revenge and there’d be no limit to their savagery. The partisans had to be given the chance to fade away before they arrived.
Cecilia went looking for the Signora the instant she arrived back at the Villa and found her in her office.
‘Signora …?’
The Signora pointedly ignored her until she finished the column of numbers she was adding. Her attitude changed the moment she saw Cecilia’s face.
‘Come in, come in child. Sit down.’ She lifted a bundle of folders off the only other chair and placed them on her desk.
‘Signora …’
The Signora could see that Cecilia was clearly distressed. Her attitude softened. Time, the great healer, had begun its work. ‘It’s all right Cecilia. Tell me, you have been talking to the Oberstleutnant and you have learned something you want to tell us, yes?’
Cecilia nodded.
‘Ahhh … Cecilia.’ To Cecilia’s surprise, the Signora reached over and took both her hands. ‘Perhaps we were too hasty in our judgement of you. I have spoken to Guido. But I suspect Guido is the least of your problems. First you must tell me what you know. If you have information you know we must pass it on to our men in the hills. We are their lifeline. Without us, without the courage of people like you, the Germans would have captured or killed them long ago. So tell me what you know and then we’ll talk about your other problem.’
The Signora was calm and reason itself. Cecilia had never expected to hear a kind word from her ever again and her tone and attitude implied forgiveness. Her uncertainty and doubt evaporated in a wave of gratitude. She wanted to reach out and throw her arms around the Signora and hug her. Instead she told her everything she knew.
The Signora listened attentively to every word, asking questions to clarify detail, gently but skilfully drawing out every scrap of information.
‘You are a good girl, Cecilia. Now I must keep my side of the bargain. You have fallen in love with the Oberstleutnant—no, don’t say anything. That is clear not just to me but to everyone in Ravello and Menaggio. We have, of course, also heard of his tragedy. That has saddened us all. He is our enemy but he is also a decent man. But that has clear implications for you. He is no longer a married man.’ She paused as if that phrase triggered feelings she was trying to suppress, then continued. ‘Tell me, do you have any plans?’
‘If we are separated before the war is over, he will send for me. I know he will. I will probably have to move to Germany as it is unlikely that it would be possible for him to return here. Signora, I don’t want to inform on him any more! Surely I’ve done enough!’
‘Yes, Cecilia,’ the Signora said softly. ‘You’ve done enough. I will never ask you to inform again.’
‘Thank you, Signora!’ Cecilia couldn’t restrain herself. She stood up and threw her arms around the Signora’s shoulders and hugged her. The burden was lifted. She was free.
‘One more thing, Cecilia,’ the Signora said, once she was able to disentangle herself and speak. ‘It may be better if you spent less time at the barracks and more time here at the Villa. There are two reasons. The old man needs you. I believe he is heading for pneumonia. It would be foolish to risk losing the protection of the Villa Carosio now. The other reason concerns your welfare. Try to understand that you have become one of the most hated people around here. You are vilified wherever you go. People see you at best as a sympathiser, at worst as a traitor. Once this war is done, there will be no mercy for traitors or sympathisers, and few people know of your other role. There will be a period of time between the departure of the Germans and the discovery of your true role as informer and patriot which will be very dangerous for you. Even when people are told that you spied for the partisans, don’t blame them if they don’t rush to embrace you in their gratitude. Their memories of you parading with the Oberstleutnant and the hatred they felt towards you may take time to fade. Many will believe you played both sides and to be honest with you Cecilia, there have been times when that is how it has even appeared to me. No, don’t look at me like that. I have never doubted your courage or your honesty. The fact that you came to me tonight only confirms my opinion of you. But I’m telling you the truth. I’m telling you how people see things. The strength of your affection towards the Oberstleutnant has been your greatest asset. That is what has protected you. But it won’t protect you after the war. Cecilia, you must talk to the Oberstleutnant and make him understand. It is for your own good. People will find it easier to forgive if you leave him now. You should cease going down to Menaggio. You should remain as much as possible behind the walls of the Villa. If you must go out, go only to Ravello. Go and talk to Father Michele. It can only do you good if you are seen with him and appear to enjoy his protection. Everybody knows he sends messages to the partisans. Everybody knows his bells have a secret meaning. If you are seen with him they may take this as an act of contrition at the very least, and it will also help them accept that you have been working for the partisans all along.’
‘But Signora, you are asking …’
‘I know I’m asking a lot. I know he needs you. I know you need him. But you have to make this one last sacrifice. This time for your sake. Trust me, Cecilia, you know what I’m saying is right.’
Cecilia nodded. She thought of Friedrich be
aring his grief alone and her heart ached for him. The Signora was right. The Signora was always right. But she couldn’t give up seeing Friedrich yet, not yet, not while he needed her.
‘Talk to your mother, Cecilia. You’ll see she agrees. Do you think she’s not concerned? Do you think she’s not hurt by what people are saying about you?’
All doubt vanished. It was the Signora’s trump card and she’d finessed it to perfection. Maddalena was Cecilia’s greatest vulnerability. The arrow struck home. Cecilia would do anything to avoid causing her mother distress.
‘Either Piero or I will take the message to Guido. I want you to alert Father Michele. Tell him how important it is and that we can’t afford for him to wait until the evening before he rings his bell. At the same time take the opportunity to have a talk with him. Have a coffee in the square, or whatever it is they’re serving in place of coffee. Let people see you together. And Cecilia, you must smile and say good morning to everyone you meet. Ignore anyone who is rude to you. Spend time with Father Michele. He won’t mind. He owes you that and he knows it. Now run along.’
‘Signora …’
‘I’m sorry, Cecilia.’ The Signora realised she had been too curt in her dismissal. She could never entirely forgive Cecilia but it was better that she appeared to. Besides, the girl was the main reason that Guido and most of his followers were still alive. She reached over and kissed Cecilia on both cheeks like she used to. ‘Goodnight, Cecilia.’
‘Goodnight, Signora.’ Cecilia left the tiny office light-headed. She didn’t know what made her happier; the relief of not having to inform on Friedrich, or the fact that the Signora had forgiven her and that they were friends once more.
Cecilia did exactly as instructed. But if she’d expected any immediate thaw in the way people regarded her, she was doomed to disappointment. Nobody returned her greetings or even acknowledged her existence. She was stunned. How long had this been going on? When she was with Friedrich they’d obviously concealed their discourtesy, either that or she was too blinded by love to see. The final insult came when Father Michele took her across to the café for ersatz coffee. Their waitress, Giuseppina Cerasuolo, banged her cup down so hard on the table half of its contents spilled over into the saucer. Cecilia was stunned. Giuseppina had always been her friend. When she’d needed to get a message to her mother, Giuseppina had been the go-between. Father Michele reacted angrily and insisted that Giuseppina bring another cup for Cecilia. But she was unrepentant. When it arrived, it was barely warm and undrinkable. There was to be no forgiveness for Cecilia that day.
When she returned to the Villa Carosio she rang Friedrich. She’d intended to ask him to visit her for a change, pleading the Count’s illness as the reason. But the moment she heard his voice she changed her mind. It was flat and dead, as it had been when Gottfried’s first message had arrived. He sent the car for her.
‘What’s wrong?’ she demanded as soon as they were alone. He looked at her with a sad, bitter, ironic smile.
‘Gottfried said once that it seemed as though Dresden had been chosen to bear the guilt for all our sins, for starting this disastrous war. Only now is the horrendous price becoming fully apparent. He has been unable to find any bodies. Oh there are plenty of bodies, but none that he can claim. The Heidefriedhof cemetery is full. They used bulldozers to push the bodies into deep trenches. Even that wasn’t good enough. There were too many bodies. So the SS have begun to burn the bodies in stacks over train rails in the Altstadt. Hundreds of bodies at a time. Gottfried said he saw seven pyres burning at once and still they kept bringing in more bodies by the cartload. It was supposed to be kept secret but how can anyone keep something like that secret? Gottfried was crying as he told me. There are too many bodies to bury. Imagine that. Too many to bury. Some of the bodies are already burned so badly the funeral pyres are only finishing the job. All of the people in the trains were burned beyond recognition. Even their jewellery and rings had melted. When they dug out the cellar beneath the house, it was empty. Perhaps they’d tried to escape and were killed as they ran. It doesn’t matter. There will be no graves and no headstones. They are all gone as surely as if they’d never existed. I ask you, what did they do to deserve this? What have I done to deserve this?’
Cecilia listened in horror. He didn’t get angry or raise his voice. He laid the facts bare and relayed them in a lifeless monotone. She couldn’t begin to guess how deeply his pain ran. She put her arms around his neck and her head on his shoulder.
‘What did they do to deserve this?’ he asked again.
They stood together holding each other while the minutes ticked away, until he abruptly turned from her. He changed. He became business-like and began to give instructions.
‘I think it would be wise for you to stay away from the barracks until the SS have been and gone. I will try to visit you at the Villa Carosio whenever possible but that may not be very often. Try to understand, Cecilia, that I am not asking this of you by choice. You must be patient as I must be patient. This war cannot go on forever. When it is over, perhaps then we will find a place as far away from Germany and Europe and world wars as it is possible to go. Perhaps then we will find some peace. Will you be patient for me, Cecilia? Will you do that?’
She threw her arms around him once more and the floodgates opened. She cried like she had the first time she’d sat on the strange bed with Anna and watched the tiny figure of her mother retreat up the hill to Ravello. She cried for the hurt he’d suffered, for her fears, and for the love she felt for the tall German. But she also cried from relief. For the first time he’d actually said in as many words that his plans for the future also included her. She’d never doubted it, but it was wonderful to have her conviction confirmed. If that wasn’t a marriage proposal, what was? He waited until she’d dried her eyes and escorted her to the Lancia.
Once Cecilia had gone, he applied himself to organising an escort for the convoy. He needed the distraction and his country needed him. He shut Gottfried’s last call from his mind. He decided to lead the convoy himself in an armoured troop carrier armed with a heavy machine-gun. He’d arrange for another machine-gun to be mounted on the tray facing rearwards. If they tried to isolate him from the convoy this time, he would be ready. He put his latest acquisition, a heavy armoured car with a turret mounted 30 millimetre gun, at the rear. He spread the trucks carrying his troops evenly through the convoy. He’d instruct his mortar squads to set up within each and to fire through the canvas the moment any attack occurred. These first salvoes would be fired blind and therefore aimlessly, but he hoped they’d cause enough confusion and consternation in his enemy to give his troops time to disembark and take up positions. The plan was for the troop carriers to drive off the road or at least to one side and for the troop to engage the partisans while the convoy made a run for it. He thought that if the troop carriers kept as far to the left as possible and the convoy to the right, the road might stay open even if his troop carriers were disabled by Panzerfaust. He decided to commit all his troops and hold the Blackshirts in reserve.
He sat back and considered his plan. If they dynamited the road, they’d have no option but to stand and fight, but this was not a tactic the partisans had employed in his area. The heavy armoured car and its 30 millimetre gun would deter them from engaging in any stand-up fight. If they attacked at all it would be a return to their old tactics of hit and run. Perhaps when they saw the strength of the escort, they wouldn’t hit at all. Unless … unless they felt they had a force to match. Friedrich thought of the cannons left rusting in the high pastures after air drops. Had the time come when they had both the means to move and deploy them? If only he had a force strong enough to sweep the hills ahead of the convoy, he thought grimly. That was the only way he could ever be sure that the convoy would go through without incident.
That night, in the hills high above Ravello, Guido met with his lieutenants and discussed their plans. As Cecilia had suspected, the partisans saw the convoy
as the last chance to strike a telling blow before the SS arrived. And, by then, they hoped to be long gone. They made their plans carefully. They focused their attention on the heavy armoured car. The 30 millimetre gun had to be incapacitated as soon as possible. The question was, would it lead the convoy or follow it? If it led, they could isolate it by dynamiting a cliff face or dropping a tree behind it. Then they’d try to fix a mine to the rear of the turret. If it trailed, they’d drop a tree ahead of it. Either way they’d need two dedicated squads, one at either end of the ambush. If the Oberstleutnant decided to lead the convoy there was nothing Guido could do to shield him. He’d have to take his chances along with everyone else. Besides, Piero had made it perfectly clear that Cecilia would not be bringing him any more information from the Oberstleutnant so there was no longer a need to risk the lives of his men in making sure he wasn’t harmed.
Guido listened to his lieutenants discuss tactics and watched their excitement grow. Those krauts who criticise Italian soldiers should see us now, he thought. Under-armed, under-fed and under-estimated. Well, he’d give them something to talk about in Berlin. He decided to lead the attack himself.
Chapter Forty-three
Friedrich picked up the convoy at Albogasio, right on the border with Switzerland. For once he had no eye for the beauty of Lake Lugarno in the still morning air nor for the trout rising in their quest for tasty insects. He was surprised on two counts. First that each truck was sealed and guarded so that no one—not even he—could determine their contents. And, secondly, that there were only eight trucks. He couldn’t imagine what they were carrying that could be so precious, but precious it obviously was. Maybe Hitler the magician had one last card up his sleeve, a new and devastating weapon. But would it change the course of the war? No, it was far too late for that, but it could change the course of the peace. Whatever was in those trucks, Friedrich resolved to protect with all his might and even, if necessary, with his life.
