A Bell for Adano (8 page)

Erba said: “The number does not matter. The proclamation says it is necessary to be clean. It says the people must be clean with water, and even the streets must be clean. Our streets, which have been the same since the time of - who was it the time of, Afronti?”

Afronti roared: “Since the time of Pietro of Aragona and of Roberto King of Naples.”

Erba said: “The streets have been the same. Now the proclamation speaks of being clean with water. There is much sameness which has accumulated on the streets since the time of those men of whom Afronti speaks. This being clean takes much water. My cart is on the other side of the bridge, Mister Major

Major Joppolo said: “The cleanliness is very important, Erba. Let us make Adano the cleanest town in the whole province of Vicinamare.”

Erba caught the challenge. His eye brightened. “We will do this thing, even if the sameness has piled up since the time of Jesus, Mister Major.” Then his eye went dull again. “But my cart is on the other side of the bridge. You have said it may not pass.”

The Major said: “Let the next one speak. You. Your name.” And he pointed at the third man with his pen. Erba said: “Thank you, Mister Major.”

The third man jumped up. He was quite fat but comparatively handsome. His hair was plastered down with something off the axle of his cart, and his black coat was the newest looking of the four. “Basile Giovanni, Mister Major,” he said.

“You wish?”

Basile spoke gravely and slowly. “Mister Major,” he said, “the worst of all the things about the carts is the food. You can see, Mister Major” - and he ran his hands down over the size of his belly - “that I am a man who can speak of food with understanding. This matter of the carts does not hurt me. I am like a man with money in the bank, I have something to draw on in hard times. But there are others in Adano who are not so lucky. Galioto Bartolomeo is so thin that you can count the several teeth of his mouth even when his lips are closed. The nine children of Raffaela who is the wife of Manetto have big bellies, but their bellies are big only with the gas of hunger. Shall I name others who are very thin?”

The Major said: “No, go on.”

Basile said: “I am the one to tell you about the food and the carts. You have not seen my cart, have you, Mister Major?”

“I may have. I have seen many of them

Basile said: “I think you would remember my cart. You know how all the carts have pictures painted on the panels of the sides? Scenes of the Saints, scenes of the history of Adano, scenes of the fine accidents we have had in the province of Vicinamare -”

The Major said: “I tell you it is not necessary to describe these carts. I have seen many of them. I am getting sick of the carts

Basile said: “But Mister Major, you have not seen my cart. On my cart there are four scenes. They are all from the Holy Word, and they are all concerned with eating. There is the miracle of the loaves and fishes. There is the last supper. There is the widow’s jar which never emptied no matter how much food she took out. There is the wedding at Cana where the water turned to wine. Now, all the people in all these pictures are fat people. I do not believe that this is sacrilege, even though Jesus himself is fat on my cart. It is simply that I told Lojacono Arturo, who painted the cart, to make all the people fat, like me and my Elisabetta, because mine was a cart for food, to make other people fat and Jovial, though they might have a certain amount of hard breathing.”

The Major said: “This is a waste of time.” But Basile could see, and the other two could see, that the Major was nearly persuaded by this time-wasting talk.

Basile pressed on: “How can I drive my cart now, even in the country? How can I put my fat horse, whose name is General Eisenhower in honor of our deliverer, between the shafts, and put my fat self on the seat, and drive around with my pictures of fat and holy people - when the people of Adano are starving, Mister Major? This fills me with shame, even though I cannot bring the cart into town.”

And then, with great craft, Basile said: “There is nothing in all the proclamations, even though it takes you a week to read them, which says that the Americans came to Adano in order to make people die of hunger. And there is nothing in all the proclamations which refers to such things as the dead mule of Errante Gaetano. Why then do we have this thing of the carts?”

The Major said to himself in English: “Damn.”

He reached for the field telephone, cranked the handle and said: “Give me Rowboat Blue Forward.” While he waited for an answer, the Major said to Basile gruffly: “Sit down.

“Hello. This Rowboat Blue Forward? Captain Purvis, please...

“Purvis? Joppolo. Listen...

“No, now this is serious, Purvis. This thing about the carts. I’ve made up my mind. By one sentence General Marvin destroyed the work of nine days in this town. I know it may mean a court martial, but I’ve decided to countermand his order. What?...

“I know I’m taking a hell of a chance, but I’ve got to do it. We can’t let these people starve...

“I have to do it, Purvis. This town is dying. No food can get into the town if the carts don’t come. The town depends on the carts for water: there isn’t any running water here, you know that. The people can’t go out into the fields to work in the morning. Taking carts away from this town is like taking automobiles away from a country town in the States. You just can’t do it all at once. People will die. I’m not here to kill people.”

Captain Purvis evidently put up an argument.

Finally the Major said: “Purvis, I order you, on my authority, to start letting carts back into the town, beginning now. I take absolute and complete responsibility for countermanding General Marvin’s order...

“Listen friend, if we never took chances around here, this place would go right on being a Fascism. All right, the hell with you, it’s on my responsibility.”

The three cartmen sat through the telephone conversation not comprehending. To judge by their faces they seemed to think that Major Joppolo was devising some punishment for them. They had the habit of fear, and they thought that this man of authority would of course be exactly like the men of authority they had known for so long.

Major Joppolo hung up. He turned to the three cartmen and said: “You may bring your carts into the town.” For a long moment they did not understand. Then they stood up and began shouting and waving their caps.

“We thank you, we thank you and we kiss your hand,” they roared.

“Oh, Mister Major, there has never been a thing like this,” the fat one named Basile shouted, “that the poor should come to the Palazzo di Cittá, and that their request should be granted.”

“Especially,” shouted the loud one named Afronti, “especially without a wait of two to three weeks.”

“It was not necessary to write you a letter,” Basile shouted.

“The police did not even examine us,” roared Afronti. The slow one named Erba finally got out a sentence. It was one of the few beautiful sentences he ever managed to say, and one of the longest. He said: “When the people come and take water from my cart to drink for their thirst, I shall say to them: `Thank the Mister Major, my friends.”‘

Major Joppolo said: “Get out of here. You are wasting my time and the time of all the people who are waiting outside that door.” And he gestured impatiently at the men.

The cartmen went out, shouting and congratulating America.

Chapter
7

THE COMMAND post of the M.P.’s was housed in the Fascio, the one-storey building which had been the headquarters of the Fascist Party. It was simply a string of rooms facing on the Via Dogana, just off the Piazza. The walls of the. rooms were covered with pictures of various Fascist heroisms. Each room had a couple of desks, a filing cabinet, three or four uncomfortable chairs, and that was all. The building made a very convenient headquarters for both the M.P. s and especially for Sergeant Borth’s security detail, because the filing cabinets contained complete records on practically ev- eryone in town, both party members and anti-Fascists.

On the morning when Major Joppolo called about the carts, there were three men in the main office of the M.P.’s. Besides Captain Purvis, there were Technical Sergeant Frank Trapani, who kept Captain Purvis’s records and was more or less his secretary, and Corporal Chuck Schultz, who was the M.P. on guard.

Captain Purvis put down the telephone and said: “That Joppolo, I think he’s nuts.”

Sergeant Trapani said: “What’s he done now, sir?” “Oh, hell,” the Captain said, “he’s always talking about democracy like it was his mother. He ought to relax and have a little fun. Bet he’s never been drunk in his life.” Corporal Schultz said: “He can have this Dago wine.” He put his hands over his belly and made a face. “Jesus, last night.”

The Captain said: “Besides, he’s going to get us all in trouble.”

Sergeant Trapani said: “What’s he done, sir?”

An Italian stuck his head in the door just out of curiosity.

“Get out of here, damn it, Trapani, tell that wop to get out of here and stay out.” Captain Purvis did not speak a word of Italian, and it made him feel frustrated. Trapani told the curious one to move along.

“The carts,” Captain Purvis said. “Joppolo has the nerve to tell General Marvin he knows where he can stick the carts, he wants them to come back into town.”

Sergeant Trapani said: “It wasn’t a very wise order in the first place, I think maybe the Major’s right.” “Right?” Captain Purvis put his palm against his cheek in a gesture of amazement. “Why hell, man, General Marvin’ll shoot him and us too. What do you think this man’s army would be like if everybody just did what he wanted and went around countermanding orders every day? We got little enough discipline in our army anyhow without going around ignoring orders, especially from generals.” Captain Purvis had been commissioned just eight months. He was very military.

“Yes, sir,” Sergeant Trapani said. He knew what to say when his Captain started lecturing on discipline.

“Well, I got my orders,” the Captain said. “I got to go out and take the guards off the road by the bridge and the sulphur works. But listen, I’m not going to burn for this guy Joppolo. He’s all right, but he’s just too serious. Damn it, I’d sure like to see him high just once.”

Corporal Schultz said: “Last night, Jesus, I’ll never drink that stuff again.”

“Listen,” the Captain said. “I don’t want to get in trouble and you don’t either. We got to carry out this order and let the carts back in, but if General Marvin should drive back through this town, we’d all get hung for it. Just to cover ourselves, well make out a report saying just what happened, that General Marvin ordered us to keep the carts out, that Major Joppolo countermanded the order. You make it out, Trapani, and send it to G-one of the division.”

“Yes, sir.” Captain Purvis left.

Sergeant Trapani said to Schultz: “That’s a hell of a note, General Marvin’s liable never to came back here, and if he did he’d probably never notice the carts. But once you get the thing on paper, it’s just a sure way to ruin the Major. And he’s so right about these carts anyway.”

Corporal Schultz said: “Don’t bother me, I got a headache of my own this morning.”

Sergeant Trapani rolled a slip of purple paper, off a Fascist pad, into his typewriter. He wrote:

FOR Lieutenant Colonel W. W. Norris, G-1, 49th Division.

FROM Captain N. Purvis, 123rd M.P. Company, Adano. SUBJECT: Mule Carts, town o f Adano.

1. On July 19, orders were received from General Marvin, 49th Division, to keep all mule carts out of the town of Adano. Guards were posted at bridge over Rosso River and at Cacopardo Sulphur Refinery. Order carried out.

2. On July 20, guards were removed on order of Major Victor Joppolo, Civil Affairs Officer, town o f Adano, because carts were essential to town and town was in bad shape without same.

Sergeant Trapani read over what he had written. Then he said: “Schultz, listen to this, do you think this’ll get the Major in trouble?” And he read the report out loud. “I thought that part about the town needing the carts might make it okay for the Major.”

“What’s this Major to you?” Schultz said. “If he can’t have any fun, what’s he to you?”

Sergeant Trapani said: “Oh, nothing, I just hate to see a guy get in trouble when he’s trying to do right.”

Schultz said: “Well, then, why don’t you let the order get lost in Captain Purvis’s papers? Don’t bother me, God, I feel awful.”

Sergeant Trapani looked hard at Corporal Schultz. Then he stood up and went over to Captain Purvis’s desk and put the purple slip in the middle of a disorderly pile of papers which Captain Purvis touched only in adding to it.

“Good idea,” Trapani said.

“You’re Eyetalian,” Schultz said, “what do these Eyetalians put in their booze, for godsake?”

Chapter
8

EARLY the next week, Giuseppe the interpreter came to Major Joppolo in some embarrassment.

“I’m a sorry, boss,” he said.

“About what?” the Major said.

“Boss, you say you want a go out with a blonde a Tina. I’m a sorry, boss.”

“I never said any such thing, Giuseppe. What’s got into you?”

“Boss, you tell a me other day you want a see Tina’s old a man.”

“Yes, I do want to see him.” “I’m a sorry, boss.”

“Well, what’s that go to do with going out with the blonde?”

Giuseppe winked. When Giuseppe winked, his scar wrinkled up and his whole face looked weaker than ever. “Don’t a kid Giuseppe, boss.”

“Don’t kid your boss, Giuseppe,” Major Joppolo said sharply. “Now tell me, what’s this all about?”

Giuseppe said: “You want a see Tina’s old a man. Okay. Don’t you want a go out with a blonde a Tina?”