- SISTER, SISTER, WHERE IS THE EXIT? I got lost.-
- But dear boy, what are you still doing here? You want to die? Luckily, you missed! The entrance of the hospital is under fire the machine gun, the Germans have already killed two doctors.-
-Someone, last night, has cheated my suitcase, nun. I looked under all the beds, but in the end, I found it! -
- But go! ... Escape from the backyard! Move it! -
The nuns of the military hospital were protective with us twentysomethings, ambushed in hospitals not to leave for Russia.We wanted to live and not going to replace other twentysomethings dead and buried under the snow.And I didn't undestrand why we would have to go there to kill those poor people who were pretty quiet at home? I just did not understand. And then there was not to trust those two crazy people who had declared war. If the 'invasion of Russia should have organized the Boy Scouts, it would have had more success.Our train at the Russian border had to stop because the Russians tracks were more wide . I seem to hear our soldiers swearing, when they realized they had to get out and conquer Russia on foot . Besides, with the boots that did not take the water . And the the camion that were on the train ?-
-They do not start . Who's the idiot who did not put antifreeze ? - - It's me , but we are in September ... - YES, but we are not at the sea side, MORON!-
There would be laughable , if it were not so many guys died for nothing . Anyway I had to leave , and quickly, the hospital, unless I wanted to finish in front of the firing squad . The dorms were now deserted . Oh , No, right in the bed under the window that I had to climb over, there was one who was complaining so much.He was almost my age . I could climb him over and get out , but.... I couldn't! I loaded him on my shoulders , and , somehow , with the energy of despair , we found ourselves out of the hospital.I had my back to pieces ! How weighed !
Go Home , go home- , I shouted to him.
-House? Home ? far away ... away-
-Oh I don't know..., go to your friends, go ... wherever you want, but do not go on following me.- But he , grimacing with pain , was trailing painfully behind me . What was I supposed to do? Let him there ? I reloaded him again on my back and carried it to my house .
The ashen face of my father , when he saw him, made me understand the gravity of the situation . I brought home an American soldier and seriously wounded . There was shooting for the whole family . That night, my father and I dug a hole in the back field . Pointing to the shovel and wheelbarrow , my father said to me , with tears in his eyes but firm : " If he dies you have to do all alone , your mother and I we are leaving tomorrow ." The only thought that crossed my mind at that time was that the wheelbarrow was very small and the American soldier very tall .And I did not know how much could last rigor mortis .
The American, against all odds, did not die. He stayed two years with me, in my home.In the poor room with private latrine in the yard. A string always tied to the window of the floor, ready to escape . I told my neighbors that he was my cousin, who could not speak because he had been operated on his vocal chords. Nobody suspected.Either Carlone, a neighbor of mine, a fascist huge, who was not considered at all in the party but who gave a lot to do to unmask the enemies, to no avail. He was keeping under control, with great commitment, our yard as though it were his private fiefdom. But I do not worried him, because I was not counting anything, it on the one hand, it on the other, for I was absolutely harmless. And then that dumb guy , my cousin said, whose capture could be his redemption within the party, was walking under his nose without raising in him an alarm. I did not give trouble to anyone because my philosophy was: live and let live, give a hand if you can, dodging rough edges.At last I found a contact with the US military and took him to them. I sweated cold until I handed him to HIS allies. HIS allies became OUR allies shortly afterwards.As For me,that I used to buy petrol for my motorbike on the black market, also the liberators were a rough edge to dodge. Americans were not soft on those who violated the rules.So, that day that a military jeep came screeching into the courtyard, I entered scoured in the latrine.They were four, in military uniform.They noticed my move and knocked vigorously at the toilet door, shouting: SACCANI UMBERTO!!??? I knew! They were looking for me! I went out with my hands up. Yes, it's me, Saccani Umberto. A curt order of the highest-ranking and all four snapped to attention, clicking their heels and doing the salute. You!HERO! Gleefully they took me by the arms and legs and hoisted me into the jeep. I was resisting, when I saw my father who had a proud smile from ear to ear. At long last with his head held high. He made me sign with his hand, "Go! Go! "We left the yard at high speed on the jeep discovery. The Carlone that, in the meantime had become a devout pro-American, had been watching everything from behind the window. His wife, known gossip of the courtyard, apostrophes him in a bothered voice: -he was an harmless boy eh???!!! They greeted him as a GeneraL. .You have never understood anything and you will never understand anything!- And Carlone remained speechless behind the window, thinking to himself:
Maybe, I missed something...
The story really happened. The American was a South African soldier of Albertville, the American coalition. His name could be "kenfrish Ceril ". I'd like to be able to find him or at least his sons. My father desidered it so much.He talked so much about him who has been his friend for two years. I wonder if any of Albertville enter this site and recognizes the name and the history.
