by E. Graziani
From the corner of my eye, I saw Pina nodding in an exaggerated fashion and repeating, “She is a child. She didn’t mean it. She is sorry. Please forgive her.” The short soldier continued to shout at me. His words were like bullets. Aurelia worked her way in front and tried to move me behind her to shield me from his wrath.
In a moment of pure instinct, I turned and ran. It did not occur to me that they could have fired at point blank range and killed me on the spot. My resolve to be strong and resilient had evaporated. All I could think of was to run to my mother. Mamma was at Vincenzo’s house. His house was in the valley beyond the village, hidden from view off the main road. It was the safest house in the village because of its location and my family was always welcome there.
Run to Mamma. The panic was rising up and my throat felt tight. My breath came in short bursts. My wooden shoes were slippery on the cobblestones and in my frenzy to get to the safe house I slipped and fell on my knees, scraping the skin. My destination was in front of me now and I burst through the door, letting my emotion pour out. Mamma was the first to reach me and scooped me up in her arms.
“Bruna!” she gasped. “What is it?” She held my face in her hands, and noticed the blood running down to my ankles from my scraped knees. “What happened?”
As I held onto her, I could see other people beyond the alcove in the adjacent room. Alfezio, Vincenzo and his family, Ida and Oreste, their son Dante, my brother Cesar and Mery. A horrible realization struck me. If the soldiers were following me, I would have brought them straight to all these people that I loved.
“They’re in town…” I finally choked out. I could barely form the words. “They have guns.” My breath wouldn’t steady itself as I gasped for oxygen.
Vincenzo stepped into the alcove to the door. Behind me I heard a thump and clunk as he locked it.
Cesar was close behind mother. He was already at my side. He took my hands and held them to his chest. “Bruna, just breathe,” he said calmly. “Look at me.” He grasped my skinny arms in his strong hands and tried to get me to focus as I gasped for breath. My big brother’s voice was comforting. “Stay calm now.”
I nodded and did as I was told. The cadence of his words was soothing. My sobs waned and I stopped gasping. I nodded to him that I was all right. That was when we heard the distinct clicking of boots outside. I will never forget that sound, like the ominous regular tolling of the church funeral bell.
There was a silent pause and then the locked door splintered and burst open, its wood unable to withstand the force of a booted foot. The German soldiers who had chased me were now positioned on the threshold, their rifles pointed into the center of the room.
One of them began shouting at us again, pointing his rifle. He stepped in as if he were entering an enemy bunker. The others spilled in.
A growly command came from a soldier with ice-blue eyes. He strode over to Vincenzo, who was closest to the door, and poked his ribs with the barrel of his gun, motioning for him to raise his hands. The old man winced and complied.
“Hands in the air!” Everyone finally understood. We all put our hands up.
“Please,” said Cesar raising his hands and trying to contain his obvious fury. “Don’t hurt the women.”
The one with the blue eyes marched forcefully over to Cesar and hit him in the stomach with the butt of his rifle. Cesar doubled over in agony, gasping in pain. Everyone cried out. The soldier then raised his knee and hit Cesar in the face as he was doubled over. Blood spurted out of his nose, but still he said nothing. His face was twisted and covered in blood.
“Please don’t hurt my son!” Mamma knelt on the floor and clasped her hands, begging for mercy. She looked at the soldier with the ice-blue eyes. Mery, tears running down her face, held onto mother’s shoulders, trying to pull her back.
“Stop, Mamma,” she whispered. “They’ll hurt you, too.”
I was helpless, trembling behind Mamma, holding onto her for fear that they would hit her.
A soldier who had walked in after the rest seemed different from the others. He stood taller and spoke calmly. He was cleaner and his uniform was fancier.
Two of the soldiers walked over, pulled Cesar to his feet and shoved him in the direction of the door. Fear overtook Mamma and she wailed. She threw herself at the feet of the soldier who had just entered and held her clasped hands up to him.
“Mercy, please, I beg you,” Mamma cried.
I cried silently, my hands over my ears, trying to muffle my mother’s words. But Mamma’s pleading fell on deaf ears. The soldiers began prodding all the men with their rifles, pushing them out the door. The calm soldier looked at the crying women in the room. We were all worried that we would never see Cesar or the other men alive again. I held on tightly to my mother.
“All you women,” said the calm one in broken Italian, “come with us.”
Still weeping, we did as we were told, not making eye contact, too afraid to even give the soldiers a sideways glance. I prayed that they would spare us. I prayed that the tall one wasn’t being calm just to trick us into submission. “Mamma,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face. My mother’s arms were like wings over my shoulders and Mery’s. She had regained her composure.
“Hush,” she replied under her breath. “Everything will be all right. They won’t hurt us. We are not important enough to them.” For the first time in my life, I didn’t believe my mother.
Chapter 18
At gunpoint from Vincenzo’s house, we women were led back into the piazza. Now the piazza was filled with women and children who had been rounded up from all over the village. The men, except for the elderly, were gone. I saw my friends with their sisters and mothers, clinging to one another.
“Bruna, look for your sisters,” Mamma said. “Help me find them.”
I scanned the piazza toward the valley overlooking Barga and then north over to Sassi. All I could see was more soldiers coming. More of them in their mossy green uniforms and dirty boots, some walking, some riding in trucks bearing huge artillery gunners. There were hundreds of them now, not dozens as Demetrio had first estimated.
I looked south, over to the steep incline toward the cemetery. That was when I saw Aurelia and Pina struggling with Nonna who was extremely agitated. She was waving her cane threateningly at the German soldiers, upset at having been pulled from her home at this hour of the day.
“Look, Mamma,” I said and pointed to them. They looked as bewildered and frightened as everyone else around them. “There are the other girls! Let’s try and get to them!”
“Are you mad?” whispered Mery. “They’ll shoot us all.”
“They’re busy gathering everyone up,” I said. “Besides, I want to help with Nonna and find out whether Nonno is safe.”
Very slowly and cautiously, we nudged our way through the crowd. Some of the soldiers were still coming into the piazza with newly rounded-up villagers, their hands hoisted over their heads. There was a low hum of whimpers and cries in the air.
We were just a few steps away from joining the rest of our family when the neatly dressed commander began to speak in German again. When we finally reached my sisters and nonna, we discreetly held hands and kept our eyes downcast, so we would not draw too much attention to ourselves. We also tried to keep Nonna calm.
The Italian interpreter translated what the commander was saying. “Listen, everyone,” he repeated. “You will not be harmed if you co-operate.” He looked at the crowd, making eye contact as if to assure us that he was being truthful. “The officers will take their positions in the homes they feel are suitable to their needs. Obviously, those families whose houses are occupied by the soldiers will need to stay elsewhere.
“The commander requires women to cook for the officers. All food in and around the village will be seized. The women will also wash the soldiers’ clothing.” He continued to scan the crowd of women. “Tho
se of you who are chosen will go with the soldiers. They will show you where you will be working.”
Then the commander took on a distinctively more severe tone. “You will not be allowed to leave here, and no person shall be allowed to enter the village. We have placed landmines on all southerly routes to and from Eglio.” At this, everyone looked at one another in disbelief. Now we would be totally isolated.
“Cooks, here!” shouted the short soldier. He waved his rifle toward the railing of the piazza closest to the bar.
“Those he selects will be in charge of preparing meals daily for the officers. You will gather in that area,” translated the Italian.
The soldier began selecting the cooks with the tip of his bayonet. Pina and Aurelia were amongst the first to be chosen and they hurriedly moved to the chosen spot.
“Washers, here!” The commander pointed to several of the older women, including Mamma.
Mery and I held our mother’s arms. “Don’t worry. You can let go,” Mamma said, as she wiped her cheeks with her hands, her eyes red from crying. “Do as they say. It’s our only hope.” She took our hands in hers and kissed them and then took Nonna’s hand firmly. “I’m just over here.” She walked away, taking my grandmother with her. I could feel the panic in my stomach rising.
“Cook’s helpers, here!” said the little one, snarling out another order. With this, he waved his rifle at us, along with some of the other younger girls and directed us beside the cooks. Several of my friends were in the group.
“You will help in the kitchen,” said the interpreter.
Mery started moving toward the area where he pointed his rifle. I felt as though I was rooted to the spot. “No,” I whispered almost imperceptibly. “No.”
“Bruna,” Mery hissed under her breath. “Move. Now!”
“No, I won’t. They’re going to kill us.”
“Didn’t you hear Mamma? Do as they say.” Mery grasped my arm roughly, forcing me over. I could see my sisters, silently trying to signal us toward them. That was when the little soldier who had previously smacked me on the head with his rifle strode over.
“You again? There!” Tap, tap, tap went the rifle barrel on my head. “There!” he bellowed in broken Italian. I shut my eyes and winced at the sharp pain of the cold metal making contact with my skull. I heard my mother cry out from the distance. Others around me gasped.
The commander, amused, walked over to observe the scene. He nodded to the interpreter to attend and he was there in a flash. The commander smiled slightly as he gave instructions in German. The interpreter turned to me and said calmly, “He does not want you to be afraid. He only wants you to peel potatoes.”
The commander nodded for me to go. Mery took hold of my arm. “Just do what I do,” whispered Mery. “Follow me, Bruna.”
Chapter 19
We were directed, again at gunpoint, to one of the larger houses in the village, the one belonging to the Ferrari family. The house was attached to Ferrari’s bar and ideal for the soldiers since it had a large enough space for all the officers to dine together. In addition, it had an excellent vantage point into the center of the village. Pina, Aurelia, and I were led to the kitchen.
As our group was ushered to the little courtyard in the back, I caught sight of some of the supplies lying randomly on the tables. The soldiers were shouting orders at some of the village men, directing them with crates and containers of food. Baskets full of meats, greens, and potatoes were lined up on the scrubbed tables. Lard and oil were stored in containers brought by the soldiers. We had seen nothing like this bounty in our village for quite some time.
On the huge stove and in the sinks were the bar’s pots, used to fix simple meals for the once busy village bar and osteria. They had sat idle for a long time because of the food shortage. I thought that if they were alive they would have forgotten their purpose.
When we entered the courtyard, we saw an overflowing sack of potatoes propped up between two half barrels in the center of the yard. There were a few chairs and some knives thrown on the table in the middle.
“Pattat, pattat,” stuttered one of the soldiers, motioning toward the sacks with his rifle.
“Of course,” I whispered. “He means patata — potatoes. They want us to peel the potatoes.”
Eva was the first to cautiously walk to a chair and pull it up to the table. She picked up one of the knives and looked guardedly at the officers. Then she selected a potato from the sack and began to peel it.
Armida was the next to take a knife and begin peeling. Mery soon surrendered to their commands. I was the only one left. I stood in the courtyard doorway. I hated to think that we were forced to help feed these loathsome creatures. But I knew the choice was to cooperate or die. They would hurt me if I refused. The girls looked at me as they peeled.
“Come,” murmured Mery through clenched teeth. “Come here, now.”
I looked at the guards. One of them lit a cigarette and sat down. He took a long drag from his cigarette, blew out the smoke, and then loudly pulled back the safety lock on his rifle. The sound startled me and made me jump. The soldier guffawed loudly over my reaction. I took my place at the cutting table.
Late that afternoon, everyone went home — everyone who had a home to go to. Those whose houses were taken over by the German officers had to stay with others in the village. As for the men, there was no use hiding anymore. All were found. Those who were strong enough were made to work on building bunkers for the soldiers. They had to dig deep fortified holes in the Bora valley behind the village, the best place to avoid an enemy attack from Barga.
That night, Cesar made it home, too. I was so grateful that he was unharmed, though he was still bloody from the beating earlier in the day. When he entered our little kitchen at Poggetti, I hugged him for a long time.
He told us that the soldiers had taken him and other villagers to begin digging up the beautiful green Bora meadow, which opened to the valley behind Eglio. These ugly holes would become the foundation for the Nazi’s bunkers to be used for their protection.
Our family gathered around the kitchen table, but there was only chestnut polenta, a few potatoes, and some boiled dandelion greens for dinner. It was a paltry spread compared to the feast we had prepared for the Nazis that afternoon.
“They took the wireless radio from the bar, too,” Pina said in a low voice. She looked tired. “Someone said they took it up near the Palazzo.” The Palazzo wasn’t really a palace. The people just called it that because it was the biggest house in Eglio. The soldiers had taken it as their headquarters because it was in the middle of the village overlooking the valley, surrounded by other houses. Strategically, it was a good location to avoid shelling I would later find out.
“Now we have no way of knowing what’s happening in the world around us,” said Cesar.
“Just be thankful that we are all here, safe and alive.” Mamma’s voice had an unusual edge. “There are others who have suffered a worse fate.” With that statement, everyone around the table hushed and bowed their heads, continuing to choke down the meager dinner in silence.
Cesar was the first to finish. It didn’t take a man very long to finish this meal, especially after digging giant holes all day.
Chapter 20
So it went for days. Fear, dread, and the daily drudgery of having to cater to our captors drove our existence. We were constantly uneasy and afraid of infuriating the soldiers. We were free to move about the village, but we had to adhere to our dusk curfew and couldn’t leave Eglio’s boundaries at all. This had terrible consequences for those in our community who were sick and needed more medical care than the villagers could provide.
“Edo told me that his father is very ill,” Cesar said from his place at the table. “He’s weaker than ever and in a lot of pain.”
“Poor, Enrico,” sighed Mamma. “Your nonno is much worse, too. I shou
ld visit them again very soon to see if I can do anything for them.”
“Do you think that the German soldiers will let you go to their house?” Mery asked.
“I must go. We have to look after our sick.”
“I’ll go with you, Mamma,” I offered.
“I will, too,” echoed Mery.
It would have been so easy if the Nazis weren’t here. We would just take our sick people through the back roads to the hospital in Castelnuovo as we had always done. My mind drifted to simpler times, before the war, when fear was not our constant companion.
I looked from my empty plate to the window. It was dusk already and the setting sun reflected a soft lavender hue in the eastern sky. I wondered why the clear sky had signs of lightning off in the distance. Then there was a flash across the valley, toward Barga. Seconds later I heard the explosion and I knew it wasn’t a thunderstorm.
There was a great thudding crash and the ground trembled underfoot. The table shook and dishes rattled in the cupboard and thin streams of dust fell from the rafters overhead. Everyone around the table froze. I looked frantically from my mother to my brother and my sisters. Time seemed suspended. The entire household scrambled to the door.
Screams could be heard from the lower end of the village. Women and children were crying. Men’s voices were shouting, “Where did it hit?”
“Run everyone, run into the village and take cover,” came a neighbor’s shout from above. I could hear shouts in German, too, coming from the direction of the blast below us.
“What’s happening?” I cried.
“It’s coming from Barga, so it must be the Allies bombing us,” Cesar coughed through the dust. “They know the Germans are here.”
“Cesar! Take care of your little sister!” my mother cried out behind me. I felt someone take hold of my arm and pull me toward the walkway by the side of the house.
“We need to move, Bruna. Run!” cried Cesar. “Our house faces Barga.”
