War in Val d'Orcia

by Iris Origo

  Talk about separate peace proposals has almost completely died down, but it is said that General Messe, whose report on the battle of Mareth contained very clear accusations against the good faith of his German allies, might, later on, be chosen by the King to head a military dictatorship.

  MAY 2ND

  Within the last month a new factor has been introduced into Italian warfare: the day-bombing by the ‘Liberators’. Already after Cagliari, Naples and Trapani, the Italians had begun to realise that new daylight air-raids were different, not in degree, but in kind, from any experienced before. And now, Grosseto. On Easter Bank Holiday, at two p.m., a squadron of twenty-six Liberators flew over Grosseto. Having dropped some bombs on the airport, they then proceeded to fly very low over the main street of the little town, leading from the central square to the ‘amusement park’; this was already crowded, with the merry-go-rounds in full swing. Owing to the suddenness of the attack, the alarm did not sound until the planes were already overhead, so that the street was full of people in their Sunday best, and all the way down the street the crowd was machine-gunned. The planes then went on to the amusement park, and machine-gunned the tents containing the merry-go-rounds, where children were riding, [4] and even pursued some people who tried to escape into the surrounding wheat-fields, two cars racing down the road, and four children in a field, herding some geese. Then, wheeling back over the town, they again swooped over the square. There a small crowd had gathered round the parish priest, who was giving absolution to the dying under the church porch—and this crowd was machine-gunned once again. One of the bombs fell upon the surgery of the hospital, destroying most of the first-aid kit, so that as the wounded began to pour into the hospital, the surgeons and nurses found themselves without bandages, swabs or ligatures. Subsequently the wounded were moved to the hospital at Montepulciano; and their photographs (especially those of the wounded or mutilated children) have been published in the papers.

  These tales have done great harm. Yet I do not think that, when all is over, the dispassionate historian will be able to maintain either the Fascist thesis—that these air-raids have at last aroused the Italian people to hatred of the enemy—nor certainly the Allied one, that they have only awakened resentment against Fascism. I have met, of course, individuals who have bitterly felt one or the other of these emotions. But in the great mass of the nation, the keynote still appears to be a dumb, fatalistic apathy—an acceptance of the doom falling upon them from the skies, as men living in the shadow of Vesuvius and Fujiyama accept the torrents of boiling lava. All this, they seem to feel, is merely part of war—of the war which they did not, do not want. But they are not ready to do anything about it—not yet.

  MAY 3RD

  The prisoners of war have arrived—fifty of them, all British, from the camp at Laterina, near Arezzo. As far as public feeling is concerned, they could hardly have come at a worse moment. The memory of Grosseto is still fresh, and the keepers’ wives who live in the same building (an old castle half a mile from us) are prepared to barricade themselves in.

  Very quickly, however, these fears were dispelled. Antonio met the men at Chianciano station, helped them to get their kit loaded into our ox-carts, and started them on their twenty-mile tramp to the castle. He soon discovered that the Italian officer who is in charge of them is himself married to an Englishwoman, and is a bank-clerk who used to work in Threadneedle Street—and one of the prisoners, a Guardsman, has a Maltese wife. By the time they reached the castle the most cordial relations were established, and on arrival the men were delighted with their quarters: two large rooms on the ground floor of the castle, giving on the court, another big room (once the stables), a dining-room, a kitchen and a wash-room, with twelve basins and two showers—all freshly whitewashed and perfectly clean, if primitive. The thick walls of the castle, with high, barred windows, are a sufficient safeguard against any attempts to escape—and indeed, one of the prisoners, as he saw Antonio testing one of the bars with the carpenter, remarked humorously, ‘If you’re doing that for me, sir, don’t bother!’ Beds for the prisoners (double-tiered bunks, with straw-filled sacks for mattresses) are provided by the Italian Army—also the cooking utensils, and the prisoners’ food. An Italian lieutenant is in charge, with a guard of ten men (mostly very small Sicilians), and the prisoners are represented by their corporal—a stolid Yorkshireman named Trott, gardener, we soon discovered, to the Earl of Durham! At the end of the evening he came to Antonio to express the men’s appreciation of their quarters—and then, as Antonio asked whether they had any request to make, ‘Well, sir, if we could have a bit of a field in which to knock a ball about …’ This can be managed, and also a bit of a kitchen-garden, for them to grow their own vegetables. Their rations as a working-party are better than those they had in camp—four hundred grs. of bread a day, as opposed to two hundred, meat twice a week, etc. And they supplement their rations with magnificent Red Cross parcels (a five-kg. parcel a week for each prisoner) containing in each parcel a tin of butter, one of marmalade or treacle, cocoa, potted meat, dried beans or peas, bacon, fifty cigarettes and a cake of excellent soap—bounty at which we all gape. The fattore and keepers are much impressed by the men’s discipline and the order in which they are keeping their quarters: the experiment has started well.

  MAY 7TH

  I have now been up to the castle, having tactfully kept away for the first three days. The men had just finished their evening meal, after their day’s work. I looked at their quarters and was shown the contents of one of their parcels, but only talked to the corporal and the cook. I found the first sight of them extremely moving, but do not think I showed it, said very little, and stayed only a few minutes. My best chance of being able to be of use to them is to be as inconspicuous as possible. The officer has already accepted, on their behalf, a parcel of books and some packs of cards (strictly speaking, forbidden, unless they have passed through the censor’s office) and seems to be well-disposed. But any local gossip might make trouble. Most of the men were captured at Mersa Matruh, about a year ago, and have been for nine months in the camp at Laterina, of which their chief complaint is intense boredom. All seem thankful to be here instead.

  MAY 13TH

  The last Italian troops on Cape Bon—with enemy troops in front of them, the British fleet behind, and bombed from the sky—have surrendered to the Eighth Army.

  The prisoners have settled down now. It is very odd to hear broad Yorkshire spoken in the fields and to see them marching down the road.

  MAY 14TH

  Arrived in Rome, for the birth of my baby. No one expects Rome to be bombed, but presumably there will be bombing of the coast towns and air-ports.

  MAY 15TH

  Yesterday afternoon the sirens sounded, and the alarm lasted about an hour. This morning we learn that Civitavecchia was bombed, just as three troopships, packed with troops bound for Corsica, were leaving the harbour—no doubt following upon ‘information received’. All three ships were hit and sunk; the soldiers, packed in the hold, were almost all drowned.

  MAY 16TH

  I have now heard, in one afternoon, the view of three members of the Opposition. Each of them holds a different view of what course should be pursued by Italy, when, and how. It is hardly encouraging.

  The extremists advocate immediate action by the King: deposition of the Fascist Government, followed by a military dictatorship and an immediate appeal to the Allies for an armistice. A petition sent to the King by the Young Monarchists of Piemonte reflects these views, and implores the King to act before it is too late. ‘Many Italians have still faith in the Monarchy, but every day their number is decreasing … From the Alps to Sicily (where your subjects are dying under fire from a people they have never felt to be their enemy) a single cry of acclamation would welcome the step for which we are all waiting … The war of imperialist Fascism is irremediably lost—and now the Fascists, in the hour of failure, are trying to turn what was only a party war into a national de
feat … Sire, separate the fate of this Nation from that of a single brutal, megalomaniac faction. Destroy every link between your dynasty, which gave unity and a constitution to our country, and those who have deprived her of liberty and of a right to citizenship among civilised peoples … We affirm, Sire, that against Germany the Army would fight again as it fought at Vittorio Veneto.’ [5]

  Thus the extremists of the Opposition (Monarchists, Liberals, and even some Republicans). The more lukewarm advocate a half-way measure: a proclamation by the King that he is no longer in agreement with the policy of the Fascist Government—thus throwing the whole odium for the continuation of the war upon the Fascists—even if this should lead to the King’s becoming practically a prisoner in his own country. It is difficult, however, to see how this would benefit the Italian nation at large.

  Finally there are those, even among the Opposition, who are whole-heartedly against any attempt to make a separate peace. ‘Let us not conclude,’ they say, ‘a grotesque war with a still more grotesque attempt at peace, one that can only end in ignominious failure. By any attempt to break the Axis we shall merely precipitate the occupation of Italy by German troops—reserves which Germany will draw from the Russian front, thus strengthening the Russian position, and retarding the progress of the English and Americans here. Is that really what we wish? Moreover, we shall then learn, as Poland and Czecho-Slovacchia have learned, what it is to be occupied by a hostile and vindictive Germany; we shall become a battlefield, despised on both sides as traitors, destroyed by both combatants. No, there is nothing left for us now but passive endurance, until the final defeat of Germany.’

  The only point on which all are agreed is that in any case no move is possible until after the beginning of the next Russian offensive. As to the defence of Italy, it appears that there are only seven Italian divisions in the whole country, while there are thirty in Jugoslavia and Croatia. And so we go on waiting.

  MAY 17TH

  Last night another air-raid alarm, at eleven-thirty p.m. As there was a good deal of firing, apparently just above our heads, we went down to the shelter—the old dungeons of Palazzo Taverna, where Lucrezia Borgia was imprisoned—very deep and very damp. There we found an odd assortment of people: old Princess P., half blind, in a black woollen dressing-gown and shawl, with her daughter wearing three rows of pearls and carrying the family jewels, together with a large crowd of women and children from the surrounding slums; the sleepy babies wailing and the women reciting litanies. After half an hour we went upstairs again and waited until the all clear at one-fifteen. The planes appear to have been in the direction of Ostia. I trust that my baby will not select one of these nights for its arrival.

  MAY 18TH

  Today we learn that the planes dropped some bombs on the airport at Ostia, but not on the town, and flew over Rome (of which every stone must have been distinguishable in the clear moonlight) on their way there and back, dropping numerous leaflets. These are adorned on one side with a large skull and cross-bones, on the other by a map of Italy, showing how easily all the principal Italian cities can be reached by the Allies by air—with an appeal to the Italian people to throw off the Fascist and German yoke before it is too late.

  A good deal of family discussion takes place as to whether I had not better return to the country for the baby’s birth, but I prefer to remain here, within reach of a doctor and nurse. The bombing of Rome is problematical: the baby’s arrival certain.

  Meanwhile each day and night continue to be of an unequalled, indescribable beauty. Never have I seen a more lovely Roman May. The flower-stalls are piled high with irises and roses and madonna lilies, the fountains play, the cafés on the side-walk are thronged with pretty young women in summer hats ogling the tight-waisted young men who still, in astonishing numbers, walk up and down the pavements. In the Giardino del Lago the children sail their boats and watch the Punch and Judy shows and feed the swans, while an occasional plane swoops overhead. And yet the sense of menace is there. At night the streets, lit only by moonlight or starlight, are of an uncanny beauty—silent and deserted, with no eye to see.

  MAY 20TH

  The papers continue to publish accounts of objects containing explosives which are supposed to have been dropped by Allied planes, with the object of mutilating women and children: fountain-pens, pencils, watches, lipsticks, and even dolls and cough-drops!—and they publish photographs of children wounded by picking up these objects. Some are supposed to have fallen at Civitavecchia and Ostia, but I have never met anyone who has actually seen or touched one. Every child in Rome has been solemnly warned never, never to pick up anything in the street or it will go off with a bang—but on the whole the stories are received with scepticism. ‘It’s the Germans who have dropped them,’ is a frequent comment.

  MAY 24TH

  There is a lull in the air-raids and it is rumoured that negotiations are in progress, and that, if successful, they will lead to a coup d’état.

  MAY 26TH

  According to the same rumours, the date of the coup d’état is to be between June 20th and 30th. The bombing of Sicily and Sardinia continues with unabated vigour.

  MAY 27TH

  A. reports that a German tank corps is now installed at Chiusi. The children of the Principe di Piemonte, who were to have come to Chianciano for safety, are to remain in Rome. (The tanks, which had already arrived at Chiusi, have now gone away again.) Apparently one of the current rumours is that the Allies’ invasion will take place on the coast of southern Tuscany near Follonica—in which case the Val d’Orcia will be on their way, and our British prisoners will see their friends arriving.

  MAY 30TH

  The members of the clandestine opposition in Rome, passing from one secret meeting to another, attempting to find common ground in the points of view of parties as widely at variance as the Communist and the Liberal, the Republican and the Monarchist, are undoubtedly showing great courage. Belonging to the most varied categories—parish priests and Communist workers, ladies of the Princess’s entourage and university professors, Army officers and students—they are united by a common enthusiasm, which leaps (in a manner sometimes alarming to the dispassionate observer) beyond all intervening obstacles to the ultimate goal: the destruction of the Fascist regime. Meeting secretly in each other’s houses or in obscure little cafés, hiding their papers behind picture-frames, in books, in the soles of their shoes, there is in their doings a certain flavour of Mazzinian conspiracy. But the risks they are taking are real, and already arrests are beginning—mostly as yet among university students and intellectuals, and in Milan and Bologna among the Communists.

  The Principessa di Piemonte, for some months now, has been in touch with most of these groups, and is said to convey their aspirations to her husband and, sometimes, to her father-in-law. In this difficult task she has shown great tact and unfailing courage.

  Food in Rome is becoming scarcer: fruit and vegetables are practically unprocurable. A chicken costs three hundred lire. The milk ration is two hundred grs. per day (less than a cupful). Flour, ham, etc., can still be bought in the black market, but at a price far beyond the reach of the average purse. Yesterday a friend, who has six small children, sold twelve silver spoons and bought a ham. At the same time, small restaurants continually spring up, provide excellent meals (mostly consumed by high Fascist officials) at exorbitant prices—and then, after a few weeks, are closed by the police, only to open again elsewhere. It is generally expected that the harvest-fields will be destroyed by the Allies with incendiary bombs.

  MAY 31ST

  In the course of this last week, Churchill and Eden have both clearly expressed the Government’s determination to pursue the bombing of European cities ‘until the total destruction of the Axis powers’. Yesterday Mr. Attlee repeats this statement, in reply to a question in the House by Mr. Stokes as to whether ‘an increasing body of public opinion’ in England has not come to regard ‘the indiscriminate bombing of civilian populations�
�� as ‘morally wrong and strategically lunatic’. [6] Mr. Attlee replied: (a) That there had not been any such ‘indiscriminate bombing’; bombing has taken place only where, for military reason, it was considered to be the most efficacious, and (b) that the bombing would continue ‘in spite of any representations by the members of neutral nations’ (from which we conclude that some such protest must have taken place). Finally the BBC reports that yesterday’s German raiders over England bombed a country church in which a Sunday school service was taking place, killing twenty children, and machine-gunned children playing on a beach. An article in the New Statesman is quoted, stating that those of its readers who previously demanded the invasion of France or Italy, but now deplore these air-raids, are ‘severely confused’.

  JUNE 3RD

  News of fresh arrests—for anti-German propaganda—in Perugia and Bologna.

  JUNE 4TH

  The most recent rumours are even more contradictory than usual. On the one hand, it is said that the King is at last about to move: the coup d’état will take place, followed by negotiations for a separate peace. On the other hand, equally definite news is given that it is now too late for any such action, for already the German occupation (in all but name) has taken place. According to these accounts, there are already a quarter of a million Germans in Italy (spread all over the country, so that their numbers are not as yet generally realised). In Sicily and Sardinia large reinforcements have already arrived. Near Rome, Capannelle and Ciampino are being turned into large German airports; and in the province of Siena there is a German tank corps at Chiusi. Moreover, within the last five days the personnel of the German Embassy has been increased by one hundred and fifty members, and it is expected that the Gestapo will soon get seriously to work.