When the bombs were not falling and we were not rushing to the shelters, life was pretty normal, if one could call that normal. At Easter time It seemed both the Germans and Allies enjoyed a short seize fire which we were told about, this allowed the whole village to prepare cakes, biscuits, coloured eggs and on the Easter Monday, we all spent the day in the foothills, just outside the town having the ‘Merenda’ a special Easter picnic. Children were running around and playing games, parents were picking chestnuts from the hundreds of trees in the area. Family groups were dotted all over the hill, each preparing for the festive occasion, spreading blankets on the grass and placing all the wonderful food for eating. Easter time was coloured egg cracking time, I knew how to hold the egg in my hand which avoided it being cracked, and I was good at cracking others eggs, there was a lot of crying with the younger children but all in all it was fun. You would never think that we were in the midst of a war. One early morning, about one am, the sirens went off signalling the approaching bombers, we ran to the shelter in time as suddenly, there was massive bombing not far from the shelter, after spending the night there, there was an eerie silence. When leaving the shelter the next day we saw that the large motor vehicle repair workshop was completely destroyed by the bombing, this because there where German trucks being repaired there. Something serious had happened and as we walked back home there were other areas besides the workshop that were destroyed, large holes in the ground every where as that night was the worst bombardment witnessed in Osoppo. Someone must have passed information to the allies about the German trucks being repaired there. The operation was recorded by the British and confirmed by the Americans. The Germans had left during the night, they left behindsome trucks and a few broken aeroplanes at the airstrip, all that became a playground for us until the Americans arrived.They actually built a playground for us. There was a large tent with lots of Coca Cola, hundreds of watermelons and ice cream. Also a small clinic where after a slight accident when on the motorcycle, I was treated for a cut on my finger, the scar is still visible today. They would take us to the local cinema on their motorcycles with side cars or by Jeep, our pockets bulging with sweets and chocolates. What a difference to the sour faced Germans. We would climb up on their tanks, go inside and make as if we were driving them with sounds of cannons being fired. We would sit with them at lunch where bully beef was always the main course. There was so much of it that we were given many tins to take home. My mother started to make different dishes with the bully beef. There was a salad with bully beef, sliced onions and olive oil, Pasta with Neapolitan and bully beef sauce, Ravioli filled with shredded bully beef and beans, Stuffed green peppers with rice and a sprinkling of bully beef. Oh yes, whatever food stuff you gave my mother, you could rest assured that it would turn into a feast. The Americans used to fetch us and bring with them chocolates and sweets for us to keep at home; it was like a continuous birthday party. Also the weather was very warm and the watermelons were consumed at an alarming rate. One of the children had found a few live machine gun bullets and would run alongside a wall scraping them, that would create sparks, he thought that was fun until his mother got hold of him and gave him a couple of good slaps. An American soldier, who spoke Italian sat us down and explained how dangerous ammunition could be and not to pick up anything if it was found, but to report it to them. By now the war had moved on further North and our anxieties with it, and even though it was still raging on, it was elsewhere. On Sundays in church, the sermon always ended with prayers thanking God, at our salvation, but I could not understand why God allowed it to happen in the first place. So many, that we knew so well, we would no longer see and company enjoy, beautiful Giovanna, little Dorietta, the man in whose house we resided and the many others, all gone forever. We often visited the cemetery and I would go straight to Giovanna’s grave, there was a photograph of her on her tombstone and I would stare at it a long time and remember her visits. She was truly beautiful. In May of 1945 the war ended and there was so much celebration, women whose faces you never saw behind their black veils, were suddenly visible, kissing, embracing one another, what was unthinkable before, was now acceptable. Osoppo went into a festive frenzy, for some it was the Church where they congregated to pray for beloved ones that were lost during the past few years and for some that prayed for their own salvation, most of the others celebrated in the few bars in the village. Business in those establishments was getting out of hand as husbands and bachelors took advantage of the prolonging celebrations to get drunk and go home late. That started little wars at home, but thankfully the celebrations did not last long and the village was soon back to normal. When it was grape harvesting time, we all went to the vineyards. Adamo’s family had a large piece of land with many grape vines. We picked the grapes, placing them in alarge wooden barrel on the back of the ox driven cart. When we got back to the house, the children from the nearby area would join us and jump in the barrel to stomp on the grapes. Soon, there would be grape juice flowing out of a hole on the bottom of the barrel which was collected and eventually turned into wine. We were brought up drinking wine, although for the children it would be watered down, it was said that it was beneficial for us, as it didn’t take long for the effect to put us to sleep.
Posted on: Mon, 31 Mar 2014 12:09:26 +0000
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