by Susan Toscan
“This is our way of relaxing. Have you tried snow, Mick? You know—cocaine? It’s good shit.”
Michael had heard soldiers discussing how to get cocaine when he was overseas, but he did not know that it was called ‘snow’. “I always thought that this stuff was pretty hard to come by. How did you guys get it out here?”
“Where have you been, man? You can find a dealer in any pub in Darwin,” replied a very happy young worker.
“Is it still illegal?” Michael asked, feeling a little naïve.
The men all laughed and assured him that it was still illegal—but only if you got caught selling the stuff. Michael was now very interested. Perhaps this would be easier to get than morphine.
He questioned the group further and was told what pub to go to and who to ask for. They suggested that he try it, and they demonstrated the technique of sniffing the powder through the straw. This seemed odd to Michael, but he followed their instructions. At first, he felt nothing. He looked at his companions questioningly. “Give it a few minutes,” they replied, and then Michael felt the rush.
He felt his head spin, and he was aware that he felt very relaxed, almost as if he were floating. It felt nice. He remembered that morphine once used to make him feel like that, but it didn’t anymore. This was much better—he didn’t feel sick—just very light—and there was no pain anywhere. And so cocaine became Michael’s drug of choice.
Fears of invasion
It turned out that Michael had left Darwin for Humpty Doo at the right time. Japanese planes bombed the small city in mid-February 1942. The exact number of people killed in the bombings remains vague even today, but it was believed to be about 250. However, that figure did not include any crew members from ships in the harbour or Aboriginal people living in outlying communities.
Michael would find out later that the small pub where he had been living had been badly damaged. There would be a series of Japanese bomber attacks on Darwin, Broome and far north Queensland over the next two years. Michael asked another worker at the mango farm who’d been visiting Darwin at the time of the bombing what it had been like.
“The planes came out of nowhere, Mick. They just appeared in the sky like a swarm of bees. Everything was on fire; we didn’t know where to go to escape the bombs. God, it was awful. Those nips are determined to get into Australia—they sure as hell let us know that! I’m not hanging around to get caught up in another attack. I’m heading south, just like most of the population of Darwin.”
Michael had no intention of running away; he did not care if his life ended with a Japanese bomb.
The war in the Pacific was in full swing. The Japanese were moving through Asia at a rapid rate, and there were fears that the north coast of Australia could face invasion at any time. The air raids were thought to be just the first step in the process of invading the country.
When Michael visited Darwin after the bombings, he saw that the town was a real mess. Buildings that he had known were simply not there any longer, just piles of rubble. There was a strong military presence, but it seemed that the general public had followed the advice to move away from the area. The possibility of Australia being invaded worried Michael but not because he feared for his own safety. He wondered how far south the Japanese might get. His family could be in danger, and he would be unable to protect them… He was useless. God, he felt frustrated. He had gone to Tobruk to fight to keep his family safe, and now the bloody Japs were coming, and he could do nothing to stop them.
Michael wished that he could approach the military to see if there was a job for him, but he was afraid that they would work out who he really was. The job at the mango farm was not challenging him enough, and even before the air attack on Darwin, he had been getting bored with it. He was earning good money, but he was ready to move on to something else. Even on his most depressed days, Michael knew that he needed more than this to keep himself motivated. He often thought about the stock of sheep that he and Steven had been building prior to their departure for Tobruk. He hoped that his partner would be able to continue with the venture. The business had had the potential to fulfil all of their dreams, and he really wanted Steven to have that success, even if he could not be part of it.
Michael stayed in the Darwin area for another six months, by which time his dependency on cocaine and alcohol had got completely out of control. He often found it difficult to turn up to work on time, and Bob and his father were getting very sick of Michael’s continued self-destructive behaviour. Bob had helped him as much as he could. He had begged Michael to get help.
“Look, mate, I’ll take you to see the doctor. You must realise that people do care about you and want to help you. We don’t want to lose you. You’ve been an exceptional worker, Mick, but we simply can’t rely on you anymore. You’re out of it most of the time now, and then you get drunk so often that you worry us when you’re around the machinery. We don’t know what else to do to help you. You have to help yourself. At this rate, you’re killing yourself.
Everyone liked Mick. He was a very intriguing man; he was obviously intelligent and kind, but there was a darkness to his character, and no-one was truly able to reach him. He did not make close friends, choosing instead to keep everyone at arm’s length. Mick would not talk about his past except to reveal that he had been a soldier and had been injured at Tobruk. His employers and co-workers thought that he was a sad waste of what had obviously once been a young man with a promising future.
Italy: A small act of kindness
Being part of the partisan army was a real eye-opener for Alessandro. He was now seeing the war from a very different perspective. When he had been forced to fight on the side of the enemy, he and the other soldiers were hated and feared by the Italian populace. The fact that his own people were afraid of him had made him incredibly sad. He was a proud man—proud to be Italian— at least he had been before the war. Alessandro felt that he had lost his identity when he was forced to fight for leaders he did not agree with and for a cause he did not understand.
The partisans, operating mainly in rural areas, had the respect of the people living in nearby villages. The villagers took great risks to help these brave men and woman. As poverty in the villages was extreme, the soldiers of the partisan army only took what they needed to survive. They were careful to protect the people who helped them.
The summer months in the mountains of northern Italy were mild. At this time of year, it was much easier for the partisan groups which were based there to survive as there were always berries and mushrooms available—and of course the weather conditions were much kinder to the soldiers.
By contrast, the winter months were extreme. The snow was so deep that it would cover a man up to his waist. Moving around on foot was dangerous and difficult. Partisan fighters often did not have enough clothing to keep warm, and death from exposure was common.
The mountain caves provided some shelter, but the men and women could not stay in one place too long for fear of the enemy finding them. The German soldiers regularly patrolled in search of the resistance fighters as the partisans were having a major impact on the German army’s efforts, stalling its progress through the mountain areas.
The partisans were constantly on the lookout and could only sleep on a roster system; at any one time, there were always more people on lookout than there were sleeping. The partisans all learned to survive on only a few hours sleep. As soon as it was light, they would hide in the heavy foliage of the foothills of the mountains as they undertook their scouting missions. They were constantly trying to stay ahead of the enemy army. By the time darkness fell, they would be huddled in a secluded place, planning the next raid.
To assist the partisans in knowing where to strike next, the villagers would update them regularly regarding where the Germans were. The local people and the fighters had set up a very efficient system of communicating with one another.
Alessandro was a scout; he went among the various underground groups w
ith news and information. He was also sent into the villages and bigger towns to get updates from the partisans’ contacts. When he was there, he often witnessed innocent people being interrogated by enemy forces. He had to keep a low profile, but he found it very difficult to walk away when he saw men and women beaten and shot because they refused to help the enemy. The look of devastation and fear on the faces of the onlookers made him more determined than ever to do what he could to advance the cause of the resistance movement.
On many occasions, after receiving information about their location, Alessandro had led raids on villages occupied by German soldiers. The partisans had to be sure not to leave any of the enemy soldiers alive. They feared that if the soldiers could get back to their unit to report what had happened, it would put the villagers in extreme danger. The usual practice was to attack the enemy soldiers in remote locations well away from the villages, but this was not always possible.
Alessandro thought fondly of all the people who had helped him, but there was one woman in particular who had shown him compassion with a small act of kindness that at the time gave him strength to go on fighting. He had been sent to a particular village to get information a number of times, and he often passed a young woman selling gelato on the street. He never had any money, so he would only smile at her as he passed by. One day, on his way out of the village, she whispered to him as he passed by, “Would the soldier like some gelato to take on his way?” Alessandro explained that he did not have any money, but she simply gave him the gelato and smiled.
This simple act was of great significance to Alessandro. He was reassured that he was fighting for all of the good, caring people in his country. His efforts, and the efforts of the other brave people in the resistance movement were making a difference. He knew that the people appreciated what the partisan army was trying to do for their homeland. Gelato had never before or since tasted as good as it did on that particular day.
Italy: The tattered army
Life in Cavaso went on. It was a struggle every day; the never-ending focus was getting enough food to eat. Savina’s family coped reasonably well. Their farm was self-sufficient, and they were able to produce enough fruit and vegetables to sustain themselves as well as help out their neighbours. In the final stages of the war, it was more difficult to maintain their food supplies as the German army was taking more and more from the village to feed its soldiers.
By the early months of 1945, the German soldiers occupying Italy were in complete disarray. It appeared that they were retreating, but they were disorganised and seemed unsure of where they were supposed to be going. The locals watched them as they stood around Cavaso’s village square in tattered, dirty uniforms, waiting for further orders. The soldiers were unkempt and underfed. They obviously did not want to be there anymore. This was not the arrogant advancing army that had marched into the village three years ago.
This gave hope to the people of Cavaso, but they were confused. They were getting no information from their local leaders about what was happening or about the whereabouts of their men who had been taken by the army. Savina had not had any word from Alessandro in the last two-and-a-half years, and she was anxious to hear any news of him. She did not know if she would ever hear from him again, and she worried about how she would cope if he did not come home.
New Year’s Day, 1945, was not a celebration for the partisan soldiers. They were hardly aware of what day of the week it was, let alone the date. It was freezing cold—it had snowed all night—and the soldiers’ morale was low. They had received news the previous week of a major setback to the partisan movement.
The fighters had received word that at the end of the previous year, another partisan group had been crushed by German reinforcements, and hopes for an early end to the horrors of this never-ending war were further denied. The sadness and frustration that followed this news was overwhelming. Alessandro and the other exhausted fighters were dispirited. They could do nothing on that cold, bleak day other than try to keep warm and pray for an opportunity to be able to make a difference. Given this recent development, it was hard to comprehend that the Allies seemed to be winning and that the enemy soldiers were retreating. There was still great danger for the resistance fighters; care had to be taken at all times.
The retreating German army was extremely dangerous, often taking out its frustration on innocent people. Many of the village families had also taken to living in the mountain caves, only returning to their homes once they had witnessed the army’s complete withdrawal. Often this was signalled by smoke rising from burning homes and businesses.
The enemy soldiers were intent on causing as much destruction as they could inflict on this already burned and bruised land. They had nothing to lose and also wanted to make things as difficult as possible for the Allied army. The Germans initially had the advantage over the Allies as they knew the mountain terrain and were better equipped for the guerrilla war that they had been fighting. However, by early 1945, they were exhausted. Their equipment and supplies were not being renewed. They believed that they’d been abandoned by their commanding officers and forgotten about in the retreat from Italy. They were as dispirited as the partisan soldiers.
The retreating soldiers were desperate men who wanted to go home as much as any other person involved in that godforsaken war. They were frustrated at the wasted years and lost lives. They did not have any idea of what the future held for them in a defeated country. Their economy, like that of the rest of Europe, was destroyed. Many men had no hope of finding jobs, and most of them did not even know where their families would be when, and if, they did get to return home. Life was miserable, their officers were demanding and morale was extremely low.
A few months later, when making a visit to a mountain village, Alessandro was approached by a farmer who wanted to get word to the partisans that his home had been taken over by German officers. A trusted contact in the village had set up the rendezvous. The farmhouse was to be used as a meeting place for all of the army officers still stationed in the area. The man’s farm was located just beyond the large town of Treviso.
The farmer was able to tell Alessandro that he had overheard some Italian-speaking soldiers. They had said that Rome had been taken by the Allies in June 1944 and that the Germans were retreating in panic, destroying villages, bridges and roads as they were going. The German officers were meeting to plan how to carry out as much destruction in the region as possible before they too joined the retreat.
This was a real coup for Alessandro. He knew that they had to find a way to stop the soldiers based at the farmhouse from having any further communication with other army officers in the area.
The resistance soldiers were confident that the end was in sight. They knew that their part in this war was more important than ever and that they had to do everything they could to make sure the Allies got through as soon as possible. They were desperate to free their countrymen from the tyranny of the past few years.
Italy: Raid on a farmhouse
It was unusual at this stage of the war for a group of German officers to be operating in such a remote location, and it was an opportunity that the partisan soldiers would not pass up.
The farmer was taken to the partisan camp. He was able to give the fighters a rough plan of the old farmhouse in which the Germans were meeting, which was isolated from the town. The partisans thought that the Germans would be confident that it was a safe and inconspicuous base. The farmer told them that a meeting of some sort was planned in one week’s time, and he gave them the date and time as well as some of the names of the officers who were to attend the meeting.
The partisan leaders gathered together to plan a strategy to attack the house when the German soldiers were inside. They estimated that perhaps a dozen or so officers would be attending the meeting as well as extra men guarding the perimeter of the farmhouse. For this attack, the resistance enlisted the most trusted and capable of their teams. The partisans were down to a doz
en good men, and only six were marksmen, but they were confident that they had the expertise to undertake this important task.
The farmhouse was typical of houses found throughout the rural communities of northern Italy. The barn was attached to the side of the house and was full of dried hay to feed the animals through the winter. The partisans knew that if a few men could get inside to start a fire, it would quickly spread to the house. Even though the farmhouse had a solid brick exterior, its interior was lined with timber, and the fire would cause severe damage very quickly, causing panic and forcing the officers to flee from the burning building. The partisans had just enough marksmen to place at strategic points around the exterior of the house, and they had saved ammunition for an opportunity such as this.
The farmer had also told them that the soldiers seemed quite relaxed. “From their conversations, it seems they believe the partisans have been defeated in this area. And because my farm is so remote, they’ve only posted a minimum number of guards at the gates.”
“Signore Barbero, you and your wife will be given a signal before we start the fire. On that signal, you, your wife and your daughters are to leave the house as quickly as possible by the back entrance. We will have disabled the guard at that entrance before we give you the signal. You and your family will have to run to the woods and hide there, as far from the house as you can safely get in the dark. Stay put until morning and then get to Treviso as soon as it is light.”
The partisans helped the farmer make his way home safely. It was important that he and his family knew when the partisan raid would be carried out in order to assist the fighters—and in order to escape from the burning house. It was a big request of this Italian family. They would lose their home, and Signore Barbero was very upset. He had known when he had approached Alessandro that there would be sacrifices made, but he had not realised that his family home would be burnt to the ground. But he and his family did understand that this would be the most effective way to strike at the enemy. They were willing to do this for their country.
