大象传媒

My new friend Antonio took me to meet his wife and family at his home, where he had a smallholding and a vinyard. His wife was obviously terrified when she became aware I was an escaped prisoner of war, especially as the house was situated on a main road and within the proximity of an aerodrome used by the German Luftwaffe with large formations of fighters and bomber aircraft.
A visit from enemy soldiers at any time - of which there were hundreds - was extremely likely, and the road in use by German military vehicles day and night made me realise the risks to which I was exposing them. As we entered the house, eight children who gazed at this stranger in silence surrounded me. Antonio told me with pride they were all his, aged between the eldest lad of sixteen years of age to a baby girl of eight months. A meal was prepared and arrangements made for me to sleep in a small capanno (hut)some distance away from the house. I told Antonio that should I be caught, I would say I had arrived during the night and never met him or his family. Moving about during daylight could sometimes be rather tricky, but on meeting the odd German soldier a greeting of "Buon Giorno" was sufficient to allay suspicion. Later I moved to another hut further away used for the storage of tools, and apart from a visit from the odd mouse or rat it sheltered me from from the cold and rain outside. On the other hand, I was always on the alert at night, for enemy personnel were often on the prowl searching for food from the smallholdings. Night raids by the R.A.F. on the airfield raised my biggest fear as they circled overhead until they were sure of their target and released their bombs. The destruction of hangars and damage to runways caused the Germans to take civilians for forced labour at the point of a gun, and I knew I could always be caught in the net. One of Antonio's relatives at great personal risk obtained an Identity Card for me under the noses of officials. This was essential as anyone could be stopped at any time and asked for proof of identity. My card was genuine, complete with photograph, but most of my descriptive details were false. The only occasion when I needed it most was during a visit to an isolated cottage where I was playing cards with two Italian friends. A couple of Germans arrived after dark and demanded they be given fruit and chickens. On being told there was nothing to eat in the cottage they shouted "documenti, documenti". The others produced their identity cards, but I did not have mine with me. I was trapped, but with great presence of mind, my two friends convinced the Germans I was the local charcoal burner from the hills nearby, and could not leave as it was passed curfew. The Germans then left. A near thing and how lucky I thought. But one of my companions was livid. "Look at your hat" He said, "who do you think you are, Al Capone " ? I had been given a nice trilby hat, with the crown "dented" from front to rear as worn those days by the British and Americans. My friend changed the crown into the shape of a "porkpie" which was how everyone in Italy wore theirs saying "We were lucky the Germans did not notice your hat, or we would have been in serious trouble". Only a small detail, but it made me more careful as I tried to blend into the daily life of the locals. My new family appeared to treat me as a novelty, in spite of the danger, especially the children who all called me by my adopted name of Giuseppe. After all, that's what my identity card said it was ! It occurred to me they provided good camouflage as I helped with work in the vinyard, or smallholding. What could look more natural ? On the other hand, there came a time when a child for company almost caused my downfall and capture. The eight year old of the family was very talkative, and unfortunately was what we would now term as educationally sub-normal. It was summer with a lot of work to be done, so the whole family moved into their wooden building used during the hot summer months when they worked in the vinyard from early morning to dusk. This was about a mile away from the main house on a hillside. I was shown how to tie up the vines, and was glad to be of help in return for their kindness to me. One day Antonio asked me to fetch some tools from the house on the main road, and take one of the mules to carry the load. Seeing me preparing to move off, the young eight year old wanted to come too. Antonio lifted him up on the mule behind me and off we went. It was a beautiful summer day as we made our way along the track towards the main road and the house opposite. We emerged from the trees and found to my astonishment a battalion of a few hundred German troops sitting along the roadside eating their rations. As we crossed the road, in a very loud voice, the lad said "Hurry Giuseppe, or they will capture you" Luckily for me, no-one in this large group of soldiery had understood his outburst in Italian. As we crossed to enter the gateway to the house, I felt the hairs of my neck stand on end, as hundreds of eyes were directed towards me as the old mule clip clopped over the tarmac. The youngster had obviously heard the family talking about me and put two and two together !! Once again, I'd got away with it. A few months later during the heat of the day I was resting out of sight under the shade of the grapevines I noticed a man approaching who looked familiar. I realised we had been in the same prisoner of war camp. He said he had met a well dressed Italian who promised to give him 1,000 liras for the number, rank, and name, of every escaped prisoner of war he could find. I "smelt a rat" as this seemed to be a typical plan by the Gestapo to re-capture the unsuspecting prisoners on the run. I agreed to meet him a few days on at a place far away from my hiding place. On the agreed day and time, I watched him approach the place where I lay concealed. Sure enough, as we met he handed me 1,000 liras as promised, and then went on his way - never to be seen again. The money came from a group of escaped Officers hiding in Rome, with the couragous help of the originator of the scheme, an Irish Monsignor - Father O'Flaherty- a resident in the Vatican. This heroic story was not known to me then, but revealed in a fine book I have, entitled "Rome 22" by Raleigh Trevelyan. Their bravery is recalled when I look at the remaining 250 liras among my souvenirs. This brief episode in my story was later dramatised in that brilliant film entitled "The Scarlet and the Black" with Gregory Peck in the leading role and the video I have of the same name. In conversation with Antonio one day I discovered the location of a British aircraft which had crashed on the boundary of the aerodrome, the crew of which( I had been told), had been given a dignified burial by the villagers. It seemed a good opportunity to seek out anything useful, like a silk map carried by aircrew for emergencies, but might have escaped the notice of the Germans. I found the plane but nothing of any use. As I prepared to leave this place I saw a large figure of a man watching intently. He greeted me with "Buon Giorno" but the accent seemed strange. Was he an informer and I was about to be betrayed ? Just then, the increasing roar of aircraft engines could be heard approaching from the south. I counted over 200 B17 American Bombers coming straight for us, obviously preparing to bomb the airfield and targets near Rome. The edge of the airfield was only about a hundred yards away when I fell to the ground under the shelter of a low wall. The bombs rained down shaking the ground like an earthquake, but accurate fire from the German gun batteries brought down three planes in flames. Several of the crews jumped by parachute to land in various remote areas. Knowning the search would soon be on for these Americans, I fled to my hiding place away from the vinyard. Months later I was to meet the stranger who was not an informer, but an escaped prisoner of war - an Officer in the Yugoslav navy.
At the house, rumours of events were discussed as relatives called in for a chat. Suggestions to me for a run through enemy lines or a place of sanctuary were many. One brilliant idea was that I should be smuggled into The Vatican with a funeral cortege with me as the corpse in the coffin !! I demurred, but was surprised to learn after the war that several such "funerals" had been attempted until the Germans had discovered the ruse. It was said that Allied parachutists had been seen in the hills at night who could get me back to our lines which I dismissed as unlikely. After the war it was revealed that our forces had indeed been operating in the hills. Perhaps it was the cold weather and change in diet which caused me to fall ill with a high temperature and another bout of malaria. Antonio was most concerned and with the help of relatives made up a bed for me in one of the barns some way away from the house, which was a wise precaution as should I have been found the rest of the family would have suffered unspeakable retribution. I crawled under the blanket feeling very miserable, but was surprised when I received a visit from Antonio with a doctor. After a short examination he left me with some tablets and advice to remain in the barn until I felt fit to move. This was another example of Antonio's concern and generosity towards me, He placed himself at great risk by getting a doctor who could have betrayed us all.
With the arrival of good weather came increasing air attacks by Allied aircraft with battles taking place overhead almost daily. One morning I found several leaflets printed in German dropped during the night. From the maps I could see that the Allies were advancing towards Rome again after the horrific battles at Cassino. One day the whole family were working in the smallholding at the main house when a large convoy stopped on the road. I saw two Germans speaking to Antonio at the gate, holding up a few tins pointing to the fruit and tomato plants. I retreated out of sight under the trees but they came towards me pointing to their lorry and the water pump. They wanted me to fill up the radiator. While they exchanged their tinned meat rations for fruit, I noticed they could not speak Italian. As I went to fill up the radiator Antonio and his wife were terrified that my identity would be discovered. The two Germans picked up their fruit after shaking hands with all the family (me included) and went on their way to join the waiting convoy under the trees. Almost immediately, Allied planes swept over the nearby hill at very low level to attack the convoy with bombs and cannon, causing severe damage and destruction to many vehicles. I often wonder if our visitors for fruit survived. More ghosts to march at night over my pillow !! The deep rumble of heavy gunfire heralded the approach of the Allies towards Rome, and a few weeks later, gun flashes lit up the night sky. Our forces were on the coast about twenty miles away and large groups of German trucks and tanks moved northwards through the village. It was during this period that I met a young German soldier with a rifle over his shoulder looking very tired and fed up. He stopped me and from his pocket produced two packets of tobacco. By sign language it was plain he wanted eggs in exchange for his tobacco. He would give me one packet for one egg. My immediate thought was would this German see through my disguise ? If so, would I be shot on the spot ? Keeping my sentences in Italian brief, I told him I would meet him at this spot and bring eggs. Antonio had four eggs which "were like gold" hidden under the floor and like me was desperate for a smoke. He was therefore pleased at the proposed barter. The following morning I went to meet this young German and sure enough there he was with two packets of tobacco in his hand. In Italian I said I wanted two packets of tobacco for one egg. "Nein Nein" replied the soldier. I produced two eggs from my pocket, and after a lot of shouting from the German, and my replies in Italian, eventually he agreed by giving me four packets of tobacco. Of went a hungry German and a delighted escaped prisoner of war !! I often wonder what he would have done if he had discovered my true identity. With the increase in air activity and the sound of heavy artillery fire growing nearer each day, Antonio and his wife decided to evacuate to the mountains overlooking the village. We gathered up blankets, kitchen utensils, bags of flour and what food produce we could take from the smallholding and other small items for living out in the open. The two mules were loaded with panniers with all their belongings, and everyone given something to carry. Antonio and his wife were in tears as they worried what would become of their home. We joined many other families making their way up the mountain, young and old adults clasping items of clothing and food with others carrying babies in their arms, all fleeing for their lives before the onslaught of battle which they thought would pass through the valley below. After a hard climb to the top, I was surprised to find a green plateau dotted with small trees and a spring nearby. As my association with the family was a well kept secret, I walked quietly away to a more secluded spot for the night, as fear of betrayal was very much in my mind as I watched this frightened crowd.
See Chapter Five.

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