大象传媒

We were in 1944-1945 and being born in September of 1934, I was 9-10 years old. I lived with my family in Lugo di Ravenna, a town situated between two small rivers, the Senio and the Santerno. The Allied forces, who had come to our aid to liberate Italy from the German troops, were stationed in the Senio area; the Germans were in the Santerno area.
Lugo was in a neutral zone and was very dangerous because it was very exposed to attacks with grenades, bombs and raids from both armies. It was a bad life, with little food and always lots of fear.

I remember many episodes which happened during those long months of fear. A few years earlier, before the war had started my dad gave me a piano and I had started to be passionate about it, and to play a few short pieces.
In 1944, the lessons came to a halt due to the war and my piano was put aside in a hidden corner of the house. On an October day, some German soldiers knocked at the door. They had parked their truck close to our door and had started to load it with our furniture, including a sofa, armchair and chairs.
At a certain point, several soldiers started to move my piano, to load it on their truck. As soon as I realised that they were taking it away, I started to cry, louder and louder. I was desperate, and the Commander was moved to pity, in his broken Italian, he let me know that if I played a nice piece of music well, he would leave me the piano. I hadn鈥檛 played it in a long time and my hands were rigid, but I wasn鈥檛 scared. I began, and played a Beethoven piece perfectly, and this soldier was very moved, he hugged me and they all left quickly, with their truck half loaded with our belongings. The piano remained mine鈥�

The situation became worse each day and my dad, to avoid the ever-more frequent visits from German soldiers, thought to close off the front door with a brick wall. To get out of the house, we went in the courtyard and, with a ladder, we鈥檇 climb over the surrounding wall, and passing by a neighbour鈥檚 roof, we鈥檇 find a way out.
My dad had built an underground air-raid shelter to protect us from the bombs and grenades that fell each day, and in this safe place, we accommodated many friends. There were 15 of us and each person had a chore to carry out each day. I prepared the sauce for the pasta, with a little onion and tomato puree; my brother was in charge of making soap and candles, as there wasn鈥檛 any electricity.

I remember a December night: the Germans managed to open a window and come in our house. They locked all of us in a small room, raided the whole house and took all of our things with them. We were all in our pyjamas, and the following morning, we found ourselves with no clothes or shoes. It was in the middle of winter, we were left in our pyjamas with little wood. They also took away all our food.
An interesting detail: in her drawer, my mum had a small quantity of medicine, among these were some boxes of laxatives. The appearance of the laxatives, called RIM, was appealing because they looked like jelly fruit sweets, and they tasted nice. The soldiers could not resist the temptation to taste these 鈥渟weets鈥� and the following morning, we found all the boxes empty. The consequences of this feast can be imagined鈥�

Months passed and the spring of 1945 finally came, which brought us the end of the conflict. I remember the joy of the day of the liberation of Lugo; the Allies entered our town onboard military vehicles and started to walk our streets. Children were given chocolate, biscuits, sweets and condensed milk; to adults, boxed foods of every type. And finally, we ate abundantly.
Opposite our house was a small bakery which during the months of occupation remained closed. Toni, the baker, opened his shop straight away and began to bring out wonderfully scented bread of every form. I remember that, at the sight of that beautiful white bread, after months of suffering from hunger, I was moved and felt like crying. Toni, with a stroke on my cheek, broke off a piece of that lovely gift for me.

The joy of those days for my brother and I, was not complete. Our parents were both in the hospital because, a few weeks earlier, they had been hit by grenade splinters, while they were out looking for food and clothes. But soon enough. They came back to us and we enjoyed the joy of being free, all together.

Until I die, I will have great respect and gratitude for the Allies and regret for all the young people who lost their lives for us.

Marisa Sozzi

(Translated by Melinda Barbi from her grandmother鈥檚 Italian version)

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