Crossword (4 page)

Sirmione, long considered the family home, simply could not
provide a steady livelihood for the newlyweds, and after a short stint as an
assistant to a saddle maker, it became apparent that the life of itinerants was
to be their lot, too. Shortly after Giacomo and Aletta were forced to follow in
their parents' footsteps, Giacomo made a decision. As soon as they could scrape
together enough money for tickets, they would sail for America and start a new
life there, in the land of golden opportunity. In less than a year they sold
their belongings, took their meager savings and booked passage on the S.S.
Philadelphia, leaving from Genoa. Aletta thought it a sign from God that the
ship was named "Philadelphia" since that was to be their final
destination. It was a large city with a sizable Italian population, and,
moreover, was home to Giacomo's uncle, Matteo, who wrote that he would help the
young couple get started. Matteo and his wife had never been able to have
children, and they emigrated to the United States in the hope that a new
country would mean a new beginning for him and fecundity for his wife. In the
former, events fulfilled his wish, but sadly, in the latter, their hopes were
dashed. Pregnant once, his wife lost the baby and almost died, all hopes of
bearing children gone.

Matteo, like most of his siblings, grew up learning the
leather trade, and was happy to have a family member who could help him in his
growing business. He and his wife treated the young couple like the children
they never had, and Giacomo and Aletta always showed them love and respect. It
was no surprise to anyone that Giacomo took over the business when Matteo
became too old to work, and, under Giacomo's tutelage, the business expanded
even further, continuing the tradition of fine Italian leathers and
craftsmanship. Larry, Pia and brother Paulo, looked on the loving older couple
as grandparents, and Giacomo, steeped in the Italian importance of family, was
glad to let their sponsors assume that role.

Giacomo Sabatini would have done whatever was necessary to
send his first born to college, but Larry was more than willing to let that
honor pass to his younger brother or even to his sister. At nineteen years of
age, South Philadelphia was too constricting for him, and the recruiting
posters for the Army too compelling. In spite of his parents' apprehension, he
enlisted, and it wasn't long before Giacomo was boring the neighbors with
stories of his son, the future general in the American Army. By skill,
determination and a character that was genuinely both gentle and good natured,
Larry overcame the prejudice that still lingered amongst some in the military,
even after Italian-Americans were no longer considered alien enemies, and rose
to the rank of sergeant before being transferred to the OSS.

When Mrs. Sabatini returned with drinks, the silence struck
her as odd until, with the quick emotional eye of a woman, she saw the
contentment on the faces of her family. She set down the tray and passed around
glasses of fresh made lemonade. "Larry, I'm making your favorite for lunch
- capellini, veal and red gravy. But it won't be as good as usual so don't be
disappointed."

"Mom, your cooking never disappoints."

She waved dismissively. "I didn't have time to simmer
the veal in the gravy. Still, it will be better than the alphabet food they
feed you, you know, those A, B, C or K rations. Sounds awful. How do you even
know what letter to order for each meal?" He laughed. She shrugged,
pleased, and walked back to the kitchen. Later, Larry's
"grandparents" walked from around the corner to join them all for
lunch, a meal that lasted hours, interspersed with stories and more wine than
he had drunk for many months. Afterwards, he walked Matteo and his wife home,
then returned to sit on the front steps with his father. Giacomo had not done
much talking during the long, midday repast, content to sit and listen, and
stare at his first born with love and admiration. He was not one for discourse
in a crowd, but here, one on one, he felt at ease and could open his heart.
Larry knew this about his father and purposely planned for the two of them to
be alone, comfortable on the front steps where they could talk to each other.
Conversation flowed easily, moving from banal everyday subjects - the business,
their health, how his brother and sister were doing - to matters of the heart.

When he went off to war, mortality was not a concept that
occupied much of Larry's thoughts. Like most people his age, death seemed a
distant and rather nebulous condition that might require some concern, but
certainly not for many years. War changes much in a person, forces one to see
things previously unrecognized, and time spent behind enemy lines sharpens that
focus even more. How tenuous our hold on life, how quickly things can change,
how unseen are the true dangers. Although not obsessed with death, nor
paralyzed by the realization that he might die, Larry was aware that death
awaits us all. Time and circumstance may vary, but the ultimate end of the
journey was the same for everyone. And so he told his father of his love for
him, and the great respect in which he was held for all that he had
accomplished for his family. Arm on his dad's shoulder he said, "Pop, you
really are my hero. I pray I could be half the man you are."

"No! What did I do but what any man would have done?
There's nothing heroic in that."

"That's just it. Not every man would have or could have
done all that you did to give your wife and children a good life. You never
complain, you never brag, you just do what needs to be done. It wasn't a
one-time act of bravery; you've been doing it since you were a boy. There's a
quiet kind of valor in that. We all appreciate it, Dad, we just don't say it
like we should."

His father shook his head, an attempt to demur, but the
tears welling up in his eyes and the set of his mouth gave witness to the
emotion he felt. Larry had never seen his father cry, not even when the letter
came from the old country telling him that both of his parents had died within
a week of each other. According to Aletta, the only time he shed tears was at
the birth of each of their children. Tightening his hold on his father's shoulder,
Larry reached over and gave his father a hug, both of them at a loss for
further words. They sat for a moment, then slowly lapsed back into the mundane,
reminiscences of his childhood, stories about friends and neighbors, easy
conversation that suited an idle afternoon.

Before long, Larry noticed a figure at the end of the
street. By its size, general appearance, bearing and many other subtle signs
that most of us evaluate unconsciously, but which Larry's training taught him
to apply by design, he recognized his brother Paulo. Larry motioned to his
father, then stood up, arms akimbo, and fixed his gaze on his approaching
sibling. Paulo glanced their way, oblivious as to whom the distant figures
were. However, as he approached, he let out a whoop and started to run, the
heavy brown leather briefcase he held causing a funny looking asynchronous
wobble to his gait. Panting from the run, he set down his load and embraced his
older brother. "Jesus, it's good to see you. You know I actually missed
you."

"Hard to imagine that." Smiling.

"When did you get in? How much leave do you have?"

"Ship landed this morning, and I've got about two
weeks, depending on ship traffic." He took a step back and looked him up
and down. "Paulo, you've grown a lot. I didn't think you were supposed to
grew any after eighteen."

"That's only an average. There's a lot of individual
variation."

"Is that what you learn in medical school? Sounds
really useful."

Paulo smiled; something that came easily to him. He wore the
khaki fatigues of a naval officer, but his days were spent at Jefferson Medical
College, at the expense of the United States Navy. After he was accepted at
medical school, he thought it his patriotic duty to join the armed forces, and
so one day, walking back from Jeff where he had just completed a large stack of
admission forms, he stopped at a recruiting center. The navy was only too happy
to get another Swabby, but they thought he could be of greater value as a naval
physician, so they patted him on the back as he signed on the dotted line, gave
him four weeks of basic training and ordered him back to Jefferson in time for
the new school year.

Although he shared Larry's good looks and jet-black hair, he
was several inches taller and had a lighter complexion. Sworn enemies during
their early teens, they had become friends and confidants by the time Larry
turned eighteen, and in the year before he went off to the Army they had formed
a relationship that Paulo thought would last for ever. Giacomo was pleased to
see his two sons so close, and decided to leave them alone to catch up. Picking
up the briefcase he had made with such care, he said, "You two sit and
talk. I'll call you when dinner is ready." He grunted as he lifted.
"Paulo, what you got in here, bricks. You going to be a stone man or a
doctor?" He limped up he steps. The two brothers looked at each other,
smiled, then started to quietly laugh.

"How many times has mom fed you so far?"

"Only once, not counting cookies and lemonade."

"You got off lucky, but wait, dinner's coming
soon." Paulo eased himself down onto the middle step, unbuttoned his shirt
and loosened his tie. "So what's it like in the Army? I guess you missed
out on the D-Day landing."

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. Sort of."

"Now there's a definite 'yes,'" he said
sarcastically. "It's that special unit you were transferred to, isn't
it?" Before Larry could respond, Paulo went on. "I know you probably
can't talk about it, and I don't want you to say anything that might get you in
trouble or make you violate a trust."

"Thanks. I know that, but actually I'd like ..."

The front door was thrown open and Pia emerged from the
house, stood at attention on the landing, one finger held across her upper lip
in imitation of a mustache, her right arm outstretched in a "Heil
Hitler" salute, and said in near perfect German, "And just what
secrets are you keeping from your sister? You are obviously both spies and must
be punished."

The brothers turned in unison to look up at their sister,
and as one, threw up their arms in surrender, both laughing. Paulo, through his
laughter, said, "You better watch that German before Mrs. Carlotti next
door reports us as enemy saboteurs."

"It wasn't that long ago that we really were classified
as enemy aliens. You boys haven't forgotten Proclamation 2527 have you? The
president signed it right after Pearl Harbor."

"Yes, I know, but Piccola, it lasted less than a year
before he repealed it."

"I know that, too. It would have been politically tough
for him at the next election, what with six million Italian Americans, and most
of them democrats. But I still didn't like what Roosevelt said to that Biddle
guy in charge of the internments. You know what he said?"

"I don't know," replied Larry, "but I think
my political activist sister is going to inform us."

"Damn right!"

"Don't let Dad hear you swear or he'll personally inter
you himself."

Ignoring the jab from Paulo, Pia finished her mini lecture.
"He said that he really didn't care about the Italians, that we were a lot
of opera singers. It was the Germans he was worried about. We're not six
million opera singers, we're a lot more than that. It's no better than calling
us all wops."

"Well, he was right about the Nazis," said Larry
in German.

All of the Sabatini children could get by in German and
French as well as Italian, especially Larry and Pia, the two oldest. Giacomo
and Aletta thought it to be to their children's advantage to speak several
languages, and passed on their knowledge, accumulated during years on the road
with their parents. Dinners at the Sabatini's were usually laced with
conversation in a polyglot of languages, and when the children visited their
father at work, they were just as likely to hear German or French spoken as
they were to hear Italian or English. In point of fact, there was a sizeable
German community in Philadelphia, and Giacomo, due to his fluency as well as
his craft, had managed to accrue a good number of wealthy German clients. Of
course, the war changed all that.

Larry's facility with languages was an important asset for
the OSS; however, it was a sword that cut both ways - his talents were
appreciated by his superiors, but he was often assigned dangerous missions in
Germany and occupied France. This shadow world where everything had to be
questioned and allegiances were sometimes mere expediency, he kept secret from
everyone except the officers who debriefed him. However, the emotional impact
of certain encounters was a growing mental burden, a consciously imprisoned set
of memories that cried for release but which he could not share with his
superiors. The medicos listened and applied their psychological salves, but the
realm of the mind was largely foreign to them, and it was obvious to Larry that
they were uncomfortable with what he had to say. A broken bone, an inflamed
liver, these were ailments they understood. His demons stayed with him, caged
animals whose distant cries were heard in the night. Terror that insinuated
itself into those quiet moments between thoughts. What he needed, he realized,
was an empathetic listener, someone to whom he could unburden himself and who
would listen without blame. Paulo was to be that person. But not now. Pia had
ensconced herself on the stoop with her brothers and appeared to be there for
the duration. Catharsis would have to wait; for now, the ambiance of family had
to suffice.

The afternoon slid easily into evening until Aletta opened
the door and announced dinner. She wore a beaming smile, ignited by the sight
of her three children together on the steps, a tableau that was to haunt her in
it's irrevocable loss. "Come on in, my children, we haven't all sat down
to a family dinner in a long time. Let us enjoy God's blessing." She
crossed herself and disappeared back in the house, knowing she would not have
to repeat her summons.