you’re spying . . .”
He nodded. “Just for having those things in your possession.”
Suddenly, I wasn’t so eager to find the parachute.
“Red parachutes usually have medical supplies,” Dominic continued.
“And yellow?” I asked.
“The best one of all for us: food. Coffee, sugar, flour, cigarettes, and even chocolate.”
“That’s why we’re going to try to find this one?”
“That’s why.”
We scrambled over a large rock pile choked with weeds, possibly the remnants of a misguided bomb. I was once again amazed by the devastation the war was having on the land itself. Like the people who inhabited it, nothing was left untouched.
As we picked our way through thick brush and the occasional rocky outcroppings, I was struck even more by the easy grace of Dominic Giancarlo. His long body moved fluidly, never seeming to bring down all of his weight on his feet, constantly springing from one step to the next. Supple strength and a mind accustomed to walking in the mountains gave him that ability.
When the going was easy, we walked side by side. When the rough path we were following narrowed, Dominic would lead the way. If we had to climb over a steep bank, he would climb over, then reach back and pull me up, his big hands wrapped around my forearm, his fingers like iron on my skin.
We talked as we walked, mostly about him, because he seemed to know a lot about me already, having spent time with my father.
Dominic told me about Roselli, about where he lived, and that he was the third child, with two older brothers. They, too, were in the mountains, he said, but were staying with a different group for the time being.
“Do the men in the mountains move around much?” I asked.
“Yes. I have been with my brothers at their hideout, and they have been with us. Our plan was to spread out and see where the best place to hide from the Germans would be, but the truth is, they’re pretty much all the same. Isolated areas of farmland where there is very little food and water, rough conditions, but, thankfully, few Germans. That last bit is the most important part.”
Dominic related to me the story of how he had managed, along with his brothers, to escape to the mountains immediately upon the Germans’ arrival. A young couple from Roselli had been on the outskirts of town late at night and heard the sound of the German vehicles approaching.
“What were they doing, the young couple?”
Dominic looked at me strangely, then raised an eyebrow.
“Oh,” I said, blushing.
He said that they had been able to warn the people of Roselli, an even smaller town than Casalvieri, that the Germans were arriving, and the message spread like wildfire.
“My mother woke us up.” Dominic smiled, remembering. “She was practically screaming at us to run. She scared the hell out of us.” He laughed, rolling his eyes. “My brother Antonio took forever to wake up. Momma practically broke off one of his toes trying to get him awake. He snores so loud it’s ridiculous. I think the men hiding with him in the mountains are ready to turn him over to the Germans.”
Now it was my turn to laugh.
“Anyway,” he said, “Momma threw some extra clothes at us and gave us all the bread in the house and sent us on our way.”
“She didn’t want to take any chances with her sons.”
He nodded. “Some of the other younger men in the village didn’t make it. They got caught on their way out, and went to the front two days later. Most of them are dead now.”
“Is your father in the mountains too?” I asked, realizing that he had not mentioned his father at all yet. Normally I wouldn’t have brought it up, but I wanted to know everything about this young man.
At the sound of the word father , Dominic’s stride hesitated. He stopped and looked me in the eye, then, as if coming to a decision, he answered.
“My father disappeared many years ago. From what people told Momma, he was just an unhappy man. Didn’t want to
He nodded. “Just for having those things in your possession.”
Suddenly, I wasn’t so eager to find the parachute.
“Red parachutes usually have medical supplies,” Dominic continued.
“And yellow?” I asked.
“The best one of all for us: food. Coffee, sugar, flour, cigarettes, and even chocolate.”
“That’s why we’re going to try to find this one?”
“That’s why.”
We scrambled over a large rock pile choked with weeds, possibly the remnants of a misguided bomb. I was once again amazed by the devastation the war was having on the land itself. Like the people who inhabited it, nothing was left untouched.
As we picked our way through thick brush and the occasional rocky outcroppings, I was struck even more by the easy grace of Dominic Giancarlo. His long body moved fluidly, never seeming to bring down all of his weight on his feet, constantly springing from one step to the next. Supple strength and a mind accustomed to walking in the mountains gave him that ability.
When the going was easy, we walked side by side. When the rough path we were following narrowed, Dominic would lead the way. If we had to climb over a steep bank, he would climb over, then reach back and pull me up, his big hands wrapped around my forearm, his fingers like iron on my skin.
We talked as we walked, mostly about him, because he seemed to know a lot about me already, having spent time with my father.
Dominic told me about Roselli, about where he lived, and that he was the third child, with two older brothers. They, too, were in the mountains, he said, but were staying with a different group for the time being.
“Do the men in the mountains move around much?” I asked.
“Yes. I have been with my brothers at their hideout, and they have been with us. Our plan was to spread out and see where the best place to hide from the Germans would be, but the truth is, they’re pretty much all the same. Isolated areas of farmland where there is very little food and water, rough conditions, but, thankfully, few Germans. That last bit is the most important part.”
Dominic related to me the story of how he had managed, along with his brothers, to escape to the mountains immediately upon the Germans’ arrival. A young couple from Roselli had been on the outskirts of town late at night and heard the sound of the German vehicles approaching.
“What were they doing, the young couple?”
Dominic looked at me strangely, then raised an eyebrow.
“Oh,” I said, blushing.
He said that they had been able to warn the people of Roselli, an even smaller town than Casalvieri, that the Germans were arriving, and the message spread like wildfire.
“My mother woke us up.” Dominic smiled, remembering. “She was practically screaming at us to run. She scared the hell out of us.” He laughed, rolling his eyes. “My brother Antonio took forever to wake up. Momma practically broke off one of his toes trying to get him awake. He snores so loud it’s ridiculous. I think the men hiding with him in the mountains are ready to turn him over to the Germans.”
Now it was my turn to laugh.
“Anyway,” he said, “Momma threw some extra clothes at us and gave us all the bread in the house and sent us on our way.”
“She didn’t want to take any chances with her sons.”
He nodded. “Some of the other younger men in the village didn’t make it. They got caught on their way out, and went to the front two days later. Most of them are dead now.”
“Is your father in the mountains too?” I asked, realizing that he had not mentioned his father at all yet. Normally I wouldn’t have brought it up, but I wanted to know everything about this young man.
At the sound of the word father , Dominic’s stride hesitated. He stopped and looked me in the eye, then, as if coming to a decision, he answered.
“My father disappeared many years ago. From what people told Momma, he was just an unhappy man. Didn’t want to
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