small bag in her hands, which she handed to Papa.
“Grazie,” said Papa.
“I wish we had more to give but we’re running low, too,” the old man said with a shrug.
“It is more than enough,” Papa said, even though he hadn’t looked inside the bundle yet. When he handed it to me, I didn’t look inside either.
“Do you have any news?” Papa said.
The old man looked at us and I noticed that one of his eyes was milky white. His other eye focused on us clearly.
“Some planes flew by several days ago and they dropped parachutes. I think there were many dropped, but it looked like one was late getting out of the plane. It landed somewhere over there,” he said, pointing a gnarled finger in the general direction of a meadow surrounded by steep, rocky hills. The hand shook slightly in the air.
“I would have gone and looked for it, but it is too far, and these aren’t what they used to be,” he said, gently slapping his knees.
Papa and Dominic exchanged looks. They seemed to have reached a decision, because Papa spoke.
“Did you tell anyone else about the parachute?” he said gently.
The old man shook his head.
“Do you know what color the parachute was?”
“I think it was yellow,” the old man answered. “But this one is completely useless,” he said, pointing to the cloudy eye. Then he pointed to the other one. “And this isn’t much better.”
“Enough of this talk!” the old woman said. “You sound like an old mule waiting to die! Should I put you out in the pasture?”
“You don’t make it any easier, woman!” the old man retorted. “If I can survive your cooking this long, I’ve cheated death for too long already!”
He shot a wink at us.
“Well, we don’t have time to go off chasing parachutes,” said Papa. “Thanks for the supplies, though.”
The old man reached out with a gnarled hand and shook Dominic’s and Papa’s hands. Then he and the woman retreated inside the house, muttering to each other.
Once we were out of earshot of the house, Papa turned to Dominic and me. He was smiling.
“This is too good an opportunity to pass up, no?”
We both nodded in agreement.
C HAPTER TWENTY
O nce out of sight of the farmer’s house, we circled around and paused briefly to decide the best strategy to find the parachute. We determined Papa would search the area nearby, as he could not move as quickly as we could, while Dominic and I covered the terrain along the far edge of the meadow along the base of the steep hills.
I walked with Dominic because I wanted to. After chasing him up the mountain the night before, I knew I could keep up with him. Besides, there was a bit of a thrill to the chase, and a part of me wanted to be the one who found the parachute and all the surprises that might be inside.
As soon as Dominic and I started walking, I asked him about the color of the parachute and why it was important enough for Papa to ask the old man about it.
“The Americans use different-colored parachutes to identify what kind of cargo is inside. I don’t know all the different colors and what they mean, but I do know a few,” he said. “Black is the most important and the most dangerous.”
“Dangerous?”
“Black parachutes, from what I’ve heard—I’ve never actually found one—supposedly have radio equipment and disassembled weapons. Rifles, pistols, machine guns, hand grenades.”
“They’re dangerous because they might explode upon landing?”
He laughed.
“No, no. Because if the Germans catch you with either a radio or a gun, they will execute you immediately. Especially the radio. They hate radios. Many Germans have been killed because of ribellí radioing their locations to the Allies, so they take revenge upon anyone they find with a radio.” His blue eyes blazed in the shade of the trees. “And if they find you with either one, radio or gun, it is not just you they will go after. Friends, family, children. No one is immune.”
“They assume
“Grazie,” said Papa.
“I wish we had more to give but we’re running low, too,” the old man said with a shrug.
“It is more than enough,” Papa said, even though he hadn’t looked inside the bundle yet. When he handed it to me, I didn’t look inside either.
“Do you have any news?” Papa said.
The old man looked at us and I noticed that one of his eyes was milky white. His other eye focused on us clearly.
“Some planes flew by several days ago and they dropped parachutes. I think there were many dropped, but it looked like one was late getting out of the plane. It landed somewhere over there,” he said, pointing a gnarled finger in the general direction of a meadow surrounded by steep, rocky hills. The hand shook slightly in the air.
“I would have gone and looked for it, but it is too far, and these aren’t what they used to be,” he said, gently slapping his knees.
Papa and Dominic exchanged looks. They seemed to have reached a decision, because Papa spoke.
“Did you tell anyone else about the parachute?” he said gently.
The old man shook his head.
“Do you know what color the parachute was?”
“I think it was yellow,” the old man answered. “But this one is completely useless,” he said, pointing to the cloudy eye. Then he pointed to the other one. “And this isn’t much better.”
“Enough of this talk!” the old woman said. “You sound like an old mule waiting to die! Should I put you out in the pasture?”
“You don’t make it any easier, woman!” the old man retorted. “If I can survive your cooking this long, I’ve cheated death for too long already!”
He shot a wink at us.
“Well, we don’t have time to go off chasing parachutes,” said Papa. “Thanks for the supplies, though.”
The old man reached out with a gnarled hand and shook Dominic’s and Papa’s hands. Then he and the woman retreated inside the house, muttering to each other.
Once we were out of earshot of the house, Papa turned to Dominic and me. He was smiling.
“This is too good an opportunity to pass up, no?”
We both nodded in agreement.
C HAPTER TWENTY
O nce out of sight of the farmer’s house, we circled around and paused briefly to decide the best strategy to find the parachute. We determined Papa would search the area nearby, as he could not move as quickly as we could, while Dominic and I covered the terrain along the far edge of the meadow along the base of the steep hills.
I walked with Dominic because I wanted to. After chasing him up the mountain the night before, I knew I could keep up with him. Besides, there was a bit of a thrill to the chase, and a part of me wanted to be the one who found the parachute and all the surprises that might be inside.
As soon as Dominic and I started walking, I asked him about the color of the parachute and why it was important enough for Papa to ask the old man about it.
“The Americans use different-colored parachutes to identify what kind of cargo is inside. I don’t know all the different colors and what they mean, but I do know a few,” he said. “Black is the most important and the most dangerous.”
“Dangerous?”
“Black parachutes, from what I’ve heard—I’ve never actually found one—supposedly have radio equipment and disassembled weapons. Rifles, pistols, machine guns, hand grenades.”
“They’re dangerous because they might explode upon landing?”
He laughed.
“No, no. Because if the Germans catch you with either a radio or a gun, they will execute you immediately. Especially the radio. They hate radios. Many Germans have been killed because of ribellí radioing their locations to the Allies, so they take revenge upon anyone they find with a radio.” His blue eyes blazed in the shade of the trees. “And if they find you with either one, radio or gun, it is not just you they will go after. Friends, family, children. No one is immune.”
“They assume
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