Germans were launching massive counter-attacks on the beachhead, and this was confirmed by the B.B.C. By the sixteenth the news was better. Thecounter-attack seemed to have lost its steam; but on that day an order was broadcast that all Italian officers, N.C.O.s and men were to present themselves forthwith in uniforms at the nearest German headquarters. No one but a lunatic would have obeyed such an order, and, in fact scarcely anyone did; but what was more serious was another announcement to the effect that anyone sheltering or feeding prisoners of war would be dealt with under martial law, and I had visions of the superiora going before a firing squad as Nurse Cavell had done. It was obvious that I could not stay in the ospedale any longer and, for the first time I realised what Wanda had been trying to din into me, that a knowledge of Italian was going to be essential if I was to avoid being recaptured.
On or about the sixteenth the Gazzetta di Parma , Italy’s oldest newspaper, which had enjoyed a very brief period of editorial freedom after the Armistice, before once again being muzzled, published a statement by the Commandant of the S.S. in Parma. Full of gruesome bonhomie, he conveyed his felicitations to the population and especially to members of the Fascist organisations, and then went on to speak of a new period of prosperity in store for the Italian people. Next to this absolutely crazy announcement there was a notice to the effect that a curfew was imposed on the inhabitants of the entire Province from ten p.m. onwards, and that anyone who disregarded it was liable to be shot.
CHAPTER SIX
Back to Nature
The next day, the seventeenth of September, while we were having what was to be our last language lesson together, I told Wanda that I must leave the ospedale.
‘You are right,’ she said. ‘If you had not suggested it yourself I was going to tell you. I am worried for you but I am much more worried for the superiora. There are Germans everywhere now. But it will have to be tomorrow. My father and the doctor will arrange something. They are great friends.’
I was worried for everyone who was helping me. All I had to lose was my freedom; their lives were in danger. I was particularly worried about Wanda and all the other women and girls quartering the country round about on their bicycles bringing food every day to the prisoners who were still hiding among the vines wondering, like me, what was the best thing to do.
Our relationship had changed a great deal since we had first met. It had progressed far beyond the stage of giving one another language lessons. I had begun by thinking her a very good-looking girl and being flattered that she should take any notice of me. Then I had begun to admire her courage and determination; now I was in love with her.
These feelings were not entirely one-sided. Now, when we were alone together, we sat as close as we dared to one another on the seat in the garden, knowing that we were under observation by one or other of the suore but on several occasions I managed to kiss Wanda in one of the dark corridors on the way back to my room.
Early the next morning I received a visit from the superiora. She was in tears. Apparently the Germans had discovered that I was in the hospital, and a guard was already posted outside my door.
‘What is to become of you?’ she wailed.
I told her not to worry. If I was recaptured I would be protected by the Geneva Convention and she had done everything she could. I was sure she would not be punished for taking in an injured man whatever his nationality was; but when I got out of bed and opened the door to go to the gabinetto , there were two carabinieri sitting on chairs in the corridor armed with carbines, the tools of their trade; heavy-jowled, big-behinded brutes, rustic oafs, but none the nicer for being so.
‘Eh! Eh!’ they both screeched, uttering the depressing, minatory epithet that I had first heard what now seemed a
On or about the sixteenth the Gazzetta di Parma , Italy’s oldest newspaper, which had enjoyed a very brief period of editorial freedom after the Armistice, before once again being muzzled, published a statement by the Commandant of the S.S. in Parma. Full of gruesome bonhomie, he conveyed his felicitations to the population and especially to members of the Fascist organisations, and then went on to speak of a new period of prosperity in store for the Italian people. Next to this absolutely crazy announcement there was a notice to the effect that a curfew was imposed on the inhabitants of the entire Province from ten p.m. onwards, and that anyone who disregarded it was liable to be shot.
CHAPTER SIX
Back to Nature
The next day, the seventeenth of September, while we were having what was to be our last language lesson together, I told Wanda that I must leave the ospedale.
‘You are right,’ she said. ‘If you had not suggested it yourself I was going to tell you. I am worried for you but I am much more worried for the superiora. There are Germans everywhere now. But it will have to be tomorrow. My father and the doctor will arrange something. They are great friends.’
I was worried for everyone who was helping me. All I had to lose was my freedom; their lives were in danger. I was particularly worried about Wanda and all the other women and girls quartering the country round about on their bicycles bringing food every day to the prisoners who were still hiding among the vines wondering, like me, what was the best thing to do.
Our relationship had changed a great deal since we had first met. It had progressed far beyond the stage of giving one another language lessons. I had begun by thinking her a very good-looking girl and being flattered that she should take any notice of me. Then I had begun to admire her courage and determination; now I was in love with her.
These feelings were not entirely one-sided. Now, when we were alone together, we sat as close as we dared to one another on the seat in the garden, knowing that we were under observation by one or other of the suore but on several occasions I managed to kiss Wanda in one of the dark corridors on the way back to my room.
Early the next morning I received a visit from the superiora. She was in tears. Apparently the Germans had discovered that I was in the hospital, and a guard was already posted outside my door.
‘What is to become of you?’ she wailed.
I told her not to worry. If I was recaptured I would be protected by the Geneva Convention and she had done everything she could. I was sure she would not be punished for taking in an injured man whatever his nationality was; but when I got out of bed and opened the door to go to the gabinetto , there were two carabinieri sitting on chairs in the corridor armed with carbines, the tools of their trade; heavy-jowled, big-behinded brutes, rustic oafs, but none the nicer for being so.
‘Eh! Eh!’ they both screeched, uttering the depressing, minatory epithet that I had first heard what now seemed a