Legacy of Sorrows (5 page)

‘I'll go to Bologna and join the partisans there. This war should not last much longer now and I want to be involved in the fighting when the
tedeschi
eventually surrender.'

‘Will the partisans take me as well? Those German bastards murdered every member of my family and I want to kill as many of them as possible,' I said, lifting my shotgun to emphasise my point.

Italo looked at me closely. ‘I'll take you along with me to speak to them, but I honestly don't know if they will think you too young to join them. How old are you?'

I stood up to my full height and said in as deep a voice as I could, ‘I'm fifteen years old and I can fight as well as anyone. Just give me a chance to prove it.'

Italo smiled, then said, ‘Well then little tiger, we'll rest and settle down here until it's dark, then we'll head along the road to Bologna. If we see any vehicle lights, we'll leave the road and hide. There won't be any night patrols out after what's happened here so we should be fine. As far as I know, Bologna is still in German hands, so we'll have to be careful entering the city.'

And so, I left my childhood behind on the verdant slopes of Monte Sole. It seemed to me that my rite of passage from childhood to adulthood had been almost instantaneous. My nightmares continued, but gradually became less intense and easier to bear. However, in my quite moments, I can still hear the sound of screaming voices.

The partisan band was based in the mountain region near Bologna and they were always looking to recruit new members, although they took great care over selection in case of infiltration by fascist agents. When they found out what had happened to my family they had no problem in accepting me into their band, and as Italo had already proved himself with the Stella Rossa, we both joined together.

I was with the Bologna 8th Garibaldi Brigade of partisans until the war ended in April 1945, some seven months after I joined them. They never found out that I lied about my age, although they may have suspected it. I was involved in several operations against the Germans and never once did I show any mercy towards them. During that time, I was constantly on the lookout for a tall, blonde SS Sergeant, but our paths never crossed during those eventful months.

The partisans taught me how to handle all different types of weapons, and I proved to be a quick learner. I did find out though, that the German
rastrallemento
on Monte Sole had lasted for four days, and that the final death count numbered over eighteen hundred people, including forty-five children under two years old. One of them was my Lisa.

I had never felt hatred against people on this scale before, but I now experienced an overwhelming compulsion to eliminate every German I laid eyes on. Over the next few weeks I became eaten up with a desire to kill Germans and not to stop until they were all dead or they had killed me. My company commander noticed that I was being eaten up with hatred and took me aside.

‘Bruno, I realise that you have every right to hate the Germans and to want revenge for what they did to your family, but you must be careful. Many good men have felt the same as you do and threw caution to the wind in their attempt to get at the Germans and ended up dead. Don't let this hatred consume you to the point that you lose your sense of reason. You are no good to me or to our cause if you continually burn with this anger. It could threaten us all. Do you understand what I mean?'

I nodded my head in agreement. ‘I'll try to change. Italo has already spoken to me about it. He told me to let my anger simmer and not continually boil over.'

‘Good lad that Italo, that's sound advice. Make sure you take it to heart.'

Life in the partisan camp was very structured and based on strict military discipline. We had our own cooks and medics as the regular forces would and everyone was always very busy working around the camp. We even had our own ranks and a distinct military structure that was necessary for efficient organisation. The only official activity that I detested were the political lectures, usually from the communist commissars, that all partisans in our band had to attend. Even though we were called a Garibaldi Brigade, the name was not an indication of our political affiliation, though most Garibaldi Brigades were communist. If anything, we were mainly non-political and we took these mandatory lectures in a light-hearted manner.

The only reason that our leader allowed the communist commissars to operate in the camp was because of his agreement with the Italian communist partisans under the control of General Tito in Yugoslavia to supply us with arms. The payback was Tito had agreed to do so, through the local network of Garibaldi brigades, if he allowed the politicisation of the band with commissars attached to carry out the work, and for us to be absorbed into the communist network of Garibaldi Brigades fighting in Italy.

There was another unofficial activity that took place in the camp on an irregular basis, and that was the visits that took place from some local prostitutes from Bologna. When I first saw them I wondered why they were there, however I soon came to understand that their function was to boost morale. One night, during a visit from these girls, I found myself sitting alone at a camp fire when Marisa, one of the prostitutes, sat down beside me. I found her to be very friendly and extremely talkative, and before too long the inevitable curiosity on my part turned into active participation. The experience of losing my virginity that night was one I shall always remember. Marisa treated me with tenderness and understanding, and as for my part, I felt that I had passed that night into the ranks of manhood.

The autumn turned to winter, and a cold winter it was that year. The snows came early to the mountains, and perceptibly changed from a serene white dusting that covered the countryside and the mountains around us to deep snowdrifts that hindered all movement on the mountain and the surrounding area. Gianni reasoned that if the snow impeded us moving around, then it would also impede the Germans. He decided to give some of the men with families in the area some leave time, which was gratefully accepted, but left the camp much quieter than usual.

Not having much to occupy me, I found myself dwelling on the massacres and on my family. As I focused more on my dead family and friends, I experienced a tremor in my
hands which quickly spread to my whole body. I found myself shaking like a leaf from head to toe. I felt tears well up within me like a pent-up force and suddenly erupting with a passion and fury that surprised me. Some of the partisans heard me scream out and came running over to me. I found myself being held down by them as I continued sobbing, violently shaking and screaming out to the heavens. The partisans were concerned in case I hurt myself and they held me down until I became calmer. After about ten minutes I began to relax and returned to normality. I later realised that this episode was the result of all the horror I had experienced for such a young person, even though it was a delayed reaction. I had become a closed book since the events and even when I had witnessed the second massacre, I had shown no sign of it having affected me in anyway. I was told by the camp medic that what I had experienced was a healthy sign, and was probably the first stage of emotional healing. These days, you would probably call it post-traumatic shock; however, in those days, the older men called it shell shock: a delayed reaction to a violent traumatic experience.

Whatever normality was, I welcomed it. Although, when I look back on those times, I wonder how “normality” could be achieved for a now 14 year old orphan living in an armed camp high up in the Italian mountains, being trained to kill Germans.

The heavy snow had also disrupted our food drops, as the Allied supply aircraft wouldn't drop their loads in case the supplies were lost in the snowdrifts and never seen again. Consequently, we took to hunting the scarce game in the woods. I was surprised, at how easy it was for me to show my comrades my proficiency, thanks to my papà's training. I hoped that when it came to hunting Germans I showed the same measure of skill.

My first taste of action was just before Christmas on an operation we had set up just outside Bologna to ambush German military vehicles moving men and materials further north to set up new defensive positions. Our leader, Gianni Bellucci, who previously had been a Colonel in the Italian Army, was an excellent soldier and all the partisans under his command were highly disciplined. Gianni was well liked by his men and he in turn treated us all with respect. He put me to work with a group who were setting up a machine gun post hidden in nearby woodland, which had a clear view of the main road. My orders were to wait until the machine gun opened fire, and then I had to pick off any Germans trying to run or take cover in the undergrowth. I was given a heavy British-made Lee Enfield bolt-action rifle and, even though I was feeling very nervous over my first taste of action, I couldn't wait to kill my first German.

I didn't have to wait very long before I heard the rumbling sound of heavy transport coming our way. I saw a convoy of about ten trucks, all in olive green with military insignia painted on the sides, moving at speed along the main road in an attempt to put off any snipers lying in wait for them. As they approached us, the first truck hit a buried landmine and was blown over onto its side, which effectively blocked the road ahead. There was another explosion almost immediately after this as our men threw hand-grenades at the last truck and successfully disabled that as well. With the two trucks on fire, and blocking the road at either end, the German soldiers on board had no alternative but to seek cover where they could. As they dismounted, our men opened fire with their machine guns, and most of the Germans were cut to pieces. Some of them ran into the undergrowth and managed to return fire with whatever light weapons they had. That was where I came in. With shaking hands I looked along my rifle sights and fired as fast as I could into the
tedeschi
to great effect.

Eventually, after a short-pitched fight, the remaining Germans held up their hands and surrendered. There were about eight of them. They threw their weapons down on the ground and walked out into full view, with their hands on their heads. The problem was that, as we lived a frugal life in the mountains, we had no facilities for taking prisoners. Some of the partisans motioned with their weapons at them, and pushed them up against one of the remaining trucks under armed guard while Gianni had a discussion with some of the other leaders on what to do with them. There appeared to be no alternative to shooting them because we may have been recognised from our visits to Bologna and by letting them go free we could be putting our own families and friends in danger. We drew lots and three partisans were selected to execute them. When the soldiers realised that they were about to be shot, one of them fell to his knees and began to pray out loud. Another took out a photograph of his family and began to shout ‘
Kinder, Kinder!
' This visibly disturbed the partisan firing squad. They looked round at Gianni as if wanting him to change his mind. Gianni picked up his rifle and joined the firing squad; I suppose this confirmed again the kind of leader he was. Eventually they opened fire on the Germans and I watched them fall to the ground like rag dolls. This was the first time I had witnessed our side doing this kind of thing and it didn't sit well with me. It reminded me of the slaughter on Monte Sole. After all, we were the good people and they were the bad guys. It blurred the edges of our moral high ground and I didn't like it.

After the ambush, Gianni told me that I was personally responsible for killing about three Germans with my rifle and, even though I was pleased by this news, the execution I had witnessed rather spoiled it for me. I didn't really want to kill Germans in this way. I wanted to kill them in combat; otherwise I felt that I was no better than they were. I needed to believe in our moral superiority, although back then I would not have expressed it in those words.

I was very quiet on the march back to camp until Gianni came up and put his arm round me. ‘Bruno, listen to me. I wish we could fight a clean war under clean rules, but the Germans don't recognise our status as combatants. They see us as criminals, armed gangsters, and that's why they kill our families and friends and local villagers in an attempt to stop us. We couldn't take the chance in releasing those soldiers.'

Chapter 5

O
ne
morning in early February, Gianni called me aside. ‘Bruno, we need you to go on a mission to Bologna for us. It may prove to be very dangerous as the Germans are becoming very nervous over the partisan attacks and they are checking identity papers at random on the streets. Do you want to go?'

I immediately accepted the mission, ‘What do you want me to do, Gianni?'

‘It's less likely the Germans will stop a young boy, so, I want you to make contact with a local doctor; his name is Roberto Galassi, and he works at the hospital. Tell him we need more medicines as soon as possible, especially first-aid supplies, and to leave them at the usual place for our pickup in seven days' time. Give him the password “
vinciamo
” and he will know you are genuine.'

I felt so honoured to be trusted with such an important mission that I didn't give the danger aspect a second thought. I knew that if I was caught by the Germans I would probably be tortured before they killed me, as it had already happened to some captured partisans from our Brigade. They had been visiting their families in one of the villages nearby, when a fascist informer recognised them and reported them to the German authorities. The Germans came during the night and took them by surprise. They tortured the men for three days trying to find out about the partisan's future operations and where their base was before they shot them.