A story inspired by Castello di Brolio - Episode 18
For a story that was conceived during those long boring hours flying in a steel cocoon, striving to keep away the thoughts that the plane and everyone in it could just simply disappear as planes have in the past, it has come a long way.
Whilst I have always had a fascination in what happened during the second world war, not the battles or fighting, but in the more obscure events that took place, I decided to pen my own little sidebar to what was a long and bitter war.
And, so, it continues...
Whilst I have always had a fascination in what happened during the second world war, not the battles or fighting, but in the more obscure events that took place, I decided to pen my own little sidebar to what was a long and bitter war.
And, so, it continues...
It was clear, however,
that Marina was familiar with the man and very annoyed with the woman.
When I took a longer look
at the man, I realised he was not a man at all, but a boy in his teens, blessed
by the fact he looked older than he was.
My guess, about 16. I was surprised
he had not been conscripted into the war, there seemed very few young men in
the area.
Marina went straight over
to him and snatched the elderly rifle he was holding away from him, the glared
at Chiara
“Are you stark staring
mad. Enrico is not supposed to be out in
the open, hell, it’s been a battle to keep him hidden away. What will his parents think when they
discover he’s here?”
“Pleased,” Enrico
said. “My father said it’s about time I
did something to rid of the Germans, of the English too for that matter. None of you has any right to be here.”
Fervently spoken, and to
the wrong person, it would earn him a bullet to the back of the head. But I agreed with him.
“All well and good,”
Marina said to him, “but now there’s no easy way of doing that. We must be careful, and you must stay put
with your parents. What we’re doing
isn’t a game, you are neither trained or equipped to take anyone on, except
perhaps rabbits.”
Back at Chiara. “Take him home, and never bring him back
here. You don’t want to be the one who
has to tell his mother if he gets killed.
Now, both of you go now, before I shoot both of you myself.”
“This is not the end of
the matter,” Enrico said.
“And when you’ve taken
him back, come back here. We need to
talk.”
Chiara said nothing, just
nodded sullenly. I think she believed
the less said the better and did as she was asked, nodding her head in his
direction, and adding a few choice phrases in Italian to him that I couldn’t
understand. It also just occurred to me
that she had not asked Chiara the questions about the two men from the
castle. I guess that would have to wait
until the safety of Enrico was settled, and she returned.
“Make sure they’re safe,”
she said to Carlo, and he disappeared, leaving us alone.
“I thought all of the
young men had been taken away by the Italian Army.”
“Not all. We managed to hide a few away, but as you can
see, despite our best efforts, they don’t seem to appreciate the trouble they
could get into. We used to have about a
hundred young men from 14 through to 20 at the start of the war. Two have found their way back, casualties of
war, the rest, we may never see them again.
Enrico just doesn’t see the trouble he could get into.”
“It’s called youthful
enthusiasm. In the first world war,
joining up, or going to war, was a lark.
It was a little less so this time because most of the parents knew from
firsthand experience what it was like and tried to shield them. And if you didn’t join up, questions were
asked, and quite often jail, except for some who landed cushy jobs away from
the fighting.”
“You were not so lucky?”
“No, I was one of those
mad buggers who thought joining up to fight would be an adventure. That quickly faded when the enemy started
shooting at me.”
“And now you’re here, and
a spy to boot. That’s what they’ll hang
on you if you get caught.”
“Then I shall try very
hard not to get caught. Again.”
Chiara came back about an
hour later. It seemed to me it was a lot
safer to move around at night with the blackout, and I doubted Thompson would
spare any men from the castle to check up on the local farmers.
And while I was at the
castle, I didn’t hear anything raised about the local resistance, which I
thought odd at the time, but now I knew why.
Most of them had joined him.
Better that than be hunted down and killed.
Chiara still looked
sullen. A closer look showed she was not
very old herself, barely out of her twenties, and surprising that the Italian
army, or Thomson for that matter, had not rounded her up for ‘duties’ at the
castle.
There were a number of
the local women working up at the castle, but they were mostly staff, or more
likely forced labour, though I had thought we when I believed it to be a
British outpost would be fairer to the locals than either the Germans or
their own Italian military. It’s odd how
you tend to look at certain situations because of who you are, and the fact you
would not do similar things at home. The
Germans, however, we would always treat differently, because they were the
enemy, and because we expected the worst from them. At that moment, though, wouldn’t the Germans
think the same of us if the positions were reversed?
Best not to think about
that. My view of the war and the people
in it was clouded enough.
Chiara, however, clearly
thought the worst of me, and of those in the castle, and certainly didn’t think
I was as neutral as I appeared. A gun
always in hand, I was sure she would shoot me again with the least provocation.
We sat, both Chiara and
Marina with their weapons on the table in front of them. I wasn’t trusted enough to be given a weapon.
Marina’s first question
was directed at Chiara, “I’m told there were two men from the castle following
Sam, and that he told you about them.”
“He did. We did not see them. We didn’t take the path, because, as you
know, it’s not safe.”
It was a reasonable
answer. If the men at the castle were
unfamiliar with the area, as I’m sure they would be, because they hadn’t been
there for very long, and I doubt Thompson would want to advertise the
nationality of those at the castle unless he had to, they would stick to the
clearly-marked roads and paths.
I had on my way to the
castle, from a different direction. It
didn’t explain why I had not been met by the leader of the resistance as
arranged, but that was now explained, both by the former leader trying to kill
me in a roadside explosion, and then what I learned at the castle in the last
few days.
“Even so, there’s not
that much distance between the two, and it is possible to shadow them.”
“I keep well away from
them. Perhaps Leonardo saw them. He doesn’t have to worry about what they
might do because they use him to supply food.
Maybe he knows more.”
“Perhaps I shall ask him
next time I see him. We need to know who
from the castle is about and when so that we don’t get caught.”
“I’ll remember next
time. Is that all?”
“Yes.”
Chiara picked up her gun,
gave me an extra-long sullen stare. “I
don’t trust this one, Marina. You
need
to be careful.”
“I will.”
We waited a few minutes
until after she had departed, and then Marina said, “We should be going
too. This place is a little eerie at
night. There are far too many ghosts for
my liking.”
I shuddered, then
followed her out.
©
Charles Heath 2019
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