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. Sleeping in shirt-sleeves brings rheumatism, lieutenant.If you d like totake advantage of it.this one is even enough for more than two. I accepted, smiling, uncertainly. Well, there might be a few fleas. 32 Accept, Canèr said, who had taken a spot on the hay in a corner.Heraised his head: Don t forget the aches that you caught in Russia. Right, the blanket, my orderly, Morandi, added. Accept it, since thesemen are glaring at me because I didn t bring one for you. And with aless intelligible voice: It ll turn out that I ll become responsible for therheumatism you caught in Russia. A few of the men began laughing; I thanked the old man, who then tookhis place on the hay next to me and stretched out his big blanket over bothof us.Minutes went by; one could already hear breathing from sleepers.There was a question that I d been asking myself for a while: Where didthey end up, I asked the civilian, all the people from this area? What, he answered, you don t know? They went to Chieti, under thebishop s protection. The bishop s protection? I said in surprise. Sure.Who else can one get protection from at this point? It seems like we ve gone back to the days of barbaric invasions, Canèrmuttered from his corner.It was the first time that we came across this phenomenon of medievalproportions. But who s to say barbarians still respect bishops, Canèr added, after apause. Did you see how it went in Cassino.Who knows how manymonks and refugees died in February, in the bombardment of thatmonastery? It s the third time that Monte Cassino was destroyed, I said after awhile. The third time? the old man asked, amazed.Our voices soundedsleepy. Yes. I counted: First the Goths leveled it, fifteen hundred years ago;then the Saracens, one thousand years ago; now these others. Well, the monks will rebuild it again, the old Abruzzese concluded.*The following day, June 11, the battalion entered Chieti.It was Sunday, the Day of the Lord, and the statue of the town on topof its hill caught me while I prayed, as if I had a smiling answer from God.Rumors began: The motorcycle company has been in the town for aday. A day or two? 33 Since the day before yesterday: it captured a German rearguard at thestation. This was true.But the circulation of fanciful news wasn t missing either: They say that many landings have occurred. Where? In Livorno and Ancona. Really? Then the war is ending. What landings? How can you believe such rubbish? They ve landed, I m telling you. We rejoiced at a pleasant and bright drizzle that began to fall.As we passed along the asphalt road, we saw packages of TNT near theholes where they should have been deposited.Their yellow powder filledthe puddles.Evidently, the paratroopers advance guard had surprised someGerman detonation squads.We came across groups of civilians descending toward the countryside,loaded with belongings; they barely greeted us, each anxious to see what hehad left.Before passing among the houses the Sixteenth Battalion came to a haltand organized into columns.Behind us the Fifteenth did the same.After-ward we advanced at an even pace, forcing our way through the growingcrowd; the people cheered, shouted, broke out in unexpected applause.Our steps resounded on the asphalt. Italians! All Italians! They re oursoldiers, and they ve arrived first! People shouted in enthusiasm, threw usa few flowers, tried to touch our uniforms. See, I told myself, we were right to put this stump of an army backon its feet! Too bad that Antonio isn t here, after all that walking we did to-gether to join the army. While I marched, deeply moved, the long days of my journey in themountains with him came into my mind: the mercilessness of the sun andof God, all the hardships since the day when, with the armistice, Italy fellto its knees.34 Part Two This page intentionally left blank 1I LL RECOUNT BRIEFLY the days of our humiliation.When on the evening of September 8, 1943, the radio announcement ofthe armistice came, as it did in all of Italy, Antonio Moroni and I were inthe same battery in Nettuno, near Rome.The exultation of the Italian soldiers blended with that of quite a fewGermans; at dawn of the following day, however, the Germans attacked allItalian barracks and bases.It must not have been a big undertaking, because with the first attack,and actually even without attacks, our army in Nettuno, and in the rest ofItaly as well, dissolved itself into an immense swarm of disarmed men, eachon his way toward his home.It has been suggested, contrary to what wasgenerally believed then and is still believed now, that our army would nothave been able to withstand the Germans in Italy.If in fact we were far su-perior in numbers, their regular divisions, after the recent influx of newunits from other lands, had become more numerous, whereas the men inItaly s gray-green uniforms were in depots, in surveillance squads, in posts,in all useless territorial commands, in unmovable units designated as coastaldivisions.In short, they were not fighting troops.The greater part of theItalians in Italy s service were almost solely to satisfy the pride of our dicta-tor, and would not have been worth much compared to regular divisions.The Germans were stronger, even if at first a few of their units retreatedas though fleeing toward the north, even if small was the number thatachieved the disintegration (not the surrender) of large Italian forces: theGermans large forces had been kept wisely in reserve.The disgraceful collapse of the Italian army was due to that position ofinferiority, ignored by most; the forces were defeated because one by onethe men who were a part of them were no longer prepared to risk their lives37 in a war that was by now judged senseless, but instead waited only for theopportunity to return home.On the evening of September 9, Moroni and I went up from Nettunoto our barracks, to see how things were.We were filled with remorse for not having participated in its defense,but when at dawn sixty or seventy Germans attacked it, opening fire witha pair of anti-aircraft guns placed in front of its gates, the two of us, likemany other officers, were in our houses, sleeping
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