In a former report (Lamed, A
Moment of Decision, January 2011), I described the escape from Ljubljana to
Trieste. This is a report about the escape from Trieste to Rome. The police in
Trieste ordered us to leave the city the latest in two or three days, towards
the interior of Italy, because the Germans are near. They can enter Trieste
almost any day. My school chum, Silvio Finzi, and I had to decide where we
would go. Italy is big! I suggest Rimini, a tourist town on the Adriatic. With
the logic that there, nobody will look or find us. The change (1943) of
relations between Germany and Italy made Italy a bitter place since they
assumed Italy to be the major ally. Italy joined America, England and their
Allies. Silvio has not accepted my suggestion that we should go to Rimini with
the following explanation: “I am for Rome.”
On July 20,
1943, Allied Forces bombed Rome and caused substantial damage. As a result of
international negotiation, Rome was declared “Citta Apperta” (open
city). No more bombing, soldiers will not bear arms in the city, only for
security service. Many Italians who were financially able came to Rome to wait
for the end of the war.
The decision
was we go to Rome. A few weeks later, Allied planes bombed Rimini and caused
tremendous destruction! In Rome, we found a room not far from the Basilica di
Santa Maria Maggione--a section mostly for middle class citizens. The owner of
the apartment was a postal employee, always ready to explain or help us to get
settled. Among other things, he was a connoisseur of opera. He convinced us to
see at least one performance. We agreed, but there were no tickets. Somebody
approaches us and asks whether we are looking for tickets. Obviously, at a
higher price, he could get us seats, second row balcony. Silvio and I decided
that this is not a bad occupation (scalpers). For start, we’ll get some
culture, and a few extra liras.
In Rome “coprifuoco”
was strictly enforced, ordered by Germans, meaning that citizens cannot be on
streets from 10pm to the next day at 5am. And so, Silvio and I took the
streetcar near to 5am and waited in line for the opera to start selling tickets
about 8am. All of us who sold tickets this way stayed in line some 3 or more
hours. Early morning can be cold in Rome. All of us drank coffee to get warm.
At one occasion, the famous opera singer, Beniamino Gigli, came early and saw
the “line.” He asked, “What are you doing here so early?” After it was
explained to him, he ordered coffee for the entire line (approx. 30 people).
Short explanation: because of Rome’s status as an “open city,” the opera had
two great seasons. As with other wealthy Italians, famous singers came to Rome
for safety. I remember some names – Pia Tassinari and husband, Gino Bechi, Tito
Gobi, Iwo Giglis, and many others. It was announced that soon the well-known
composer, Pietro Mscagni, would direct his opera Cavalleria Rusticana.
Silvio and I kept two tickets, first row, balcony. When Mascagni appeared, we
were surprised that he sat down to direct! This we had not seen before! He was
now old, and perhaps earned this privilege. There was another surprise. In the
King’s box was Marsha Kesserling, commander of German Forces in South of Italy.
The public did not know that he would attend. No incidents. Only our hearts
beat much faster!
There were 7
people in the family where we rented. All members except one let us know that
they support democracy, and expect a government led by the party called
Democrazia Christiana, and smaller parties. Only one member of the family, we
will call him Mr. Valeri, considered himself a fascista, and the war as a
struggle between Europe and The Soviet Union, etc. One evening, when he returned home, Mr.
Valeri invited us to sit down and have some conversation. He started with the
question – “How is it that the two of you are not working? You have an accent
and are not in the army.” We answered that we are “sons of Italians abroad”(figli
d’Italiani al Estero) and that our parents are in South America. Valery
simply replied – “Every young person must help the Germans and us in the
struggle.” And he added, “I will talk with my boss, specifically because you
mentioned that you speak German.” We were concerned, fearing consequences.
Valeri spoke with his boss and arranged when to go to the office. We came on
time and were told to wait. I went in first to speak with the owner. The
interview went more or less this way. (1943)
The Boss: “What is your name?” I answer, “Pancrazio
Feretti” (I had documents for that name.) The Boss: “You are not Pancrazio
Feretti. You should not be concerned. I have to know the truth. For others, you
can remain Pancrazio. (I decided that I have to confide to this young, elegant
person because much else was not realistic.) “Joseph Gottfried is my name,” I
hear myself say, as if I just open a box of huge secrets. The Boss: “I am Mario
Bedoni (real name), architect. This is my company. Not long ago came officials
from The Ministry of Communications with German military, requesting that I
organize a working unit of approximately 1,800 workers to do construction on
the railroad track from Naples to just a few kilometers north of Rome. We are
now in full operation. Valeri told me that Finzi and you speak German?” “Yes,”
I answered. Bedoni: “In the railroad
station in Rome we have a cantiere (building site). I have an engineer there
who leads the work and keeps contacts with Germans. If you accept to work
there, tomorrow go to the station Termini, to the office Bedoni. I will offer
the same job to your friend at the Civitavecchia station.” (a remark about 5
years ago, during a short travel through Rome, I phoned Bedoni’s old home
number. He answered and said, “I am in the same office; I still work as an
architect despite my age, well over 80.) The work in Termini did not last long.
Among other things, I have on daily basis worked with Germans on “work orders”
and the food distribution. Italians convinced the Germans that this was “hard
work” and that some food has to be given to the workers if they were expected
to work 8 hours. I was very busy with this operation because it was necessary
to check and authorize the working force, individually, to receive
supplementary provisions.
Promotion
One day the phone rings. I am to come to the main office without delay. When I
arrived, Bedoni asks, without introduction of the subject, “How do you speak
German?” I reply, “quite well.” Bedoni continues, “Here, I have a small office
with 5 people. This office keeps contact with the Germans. Until yesterday, the
group was led by a young Dutch lady. But, a few days ago, she had an incident
with Germans and they arrested her. I
don’t know why. The other 4 people in the group can write simple (German)
texts, but cannot have conversation. Do you think you can converse with
high-ranking officers?” I reply, “I can try.” He says, “If you accept, you will
get 20% more than in Termini.” And so, over many months, I spent 2-3 hours at
the Ministry doing the company’s business. Here and there problems, as in every
business. In all the conversations I have never heard the word, Juden,
or in Italian, Ebreo. How was this possible? Nobody in that environment
was bothered that 6 million Jews of Europe disappeared, but, as in Sarajevo, it
would be said, it would become ugly (gusto).
We had mostly dealt with German railroad units in blue
uniforms. One difficult and complex day, we were called to the Ministry because
it was alleged that food disappeared while it was under the control of the
company. A very dangerous accusation considering it was German food. Bedoni,
the Vice-President, the accountant, and I as the translator, arrived at the
designated time. Wehrmacht officers lead
us to a big hall with a long table. Enter more German officers. Quiet in the
room. One officer reads part of the accusation. The door opens and a tall,
decorated German colonel enters. We all get up. Without any preliminary
statements, he opens the dossier and reads the accusations in German. I am
sitting at the other end of the table. I am scared, but without any way to
disappear. The colonel asks who will
translate, Bedoni indicates – me. The colonel orders that I sit near him. I
would like to become smaller than a sand pebble.
So, the
company is accused, collectively and the company officials, personally, to be
responsible for the theft of provisions from German storage facilities,
designated for workers. Somewhat louder, the colonel asserts that this is theft
from the German people, and if it is confirmed, harsh punishments will result.
All of us understood the threat. The
firm’s attorney (also vice-president) rejects all responsibility and suggests
that there must be some bureaucratic mistake. He suggests that the Germans give
the firm 10 days to examine the accusation. After almost 2 hours, the colonel
ends the meeting by demanding that the firm provide an analysis and respond to
the accusations in 7 days. Obviously, a high understanding of German was
necessary. My level might not have been up to what was required, but this was
what they had and no problems arose, at least on that difficult day. We were
temporarily relieved. After seven days, we returned with the results, which
were accepted, with the understanding that from now on the food accounting
would be done by the Germans. We were given the understanding that very harsh
measures would result if such things were to happen again.
When I think
of the fear of being in the same room with so many German officers, I ask
myself, “Why me?” or “How is it that I did not become instantly bald?!” I was mostly concerned that one of the
officers might become curious about my accent or origin. Nobody suspected my
fears. To the contrary, Bedoni said that all went well and smooth. I got a bonus.
On March 23,
1944, a company of older German soldiers, mostly from South Tirol (Alto Adige,
Italy) marched near the center of Rome. They sang standard German military
songs. Suddenly, from window and doors of houses, partisans open fire and
killed about 24 German soldiers. Silvio and I were on a bus on a nearby street.
Soon, police arrived, who the German fascists called “botaglioni M”
(Mussolini’s battaglions). The entire
area was closed. Buses were ordered to empty and the passengers directed to
assemble for interrogation. We had one or two minutes to leave the bus or try
to hide under the seats. We were afraid of interrogation. We hid under seats. A
soldier opened the door of the bus and asked the driver, “Is it empty?” The
driver looked through the bus without getting up. He did not see us. The bus
was allowed to proceed from the area.
For the next
few days, as revenge, Germans executed 335 civilians. It was revealed that the
list of murdered people was “only” 330, but that a “mistake” was made in the
final count – the first known list contained 57 Jews. The location where the
execution took place, outside of Rome, is called Fosse Ardeatine. Each year,
Italy commemorates March 23.
“Rastrelamento,”
a kind of police action in which streets are suddenly closed and suspected
citizens are “collected” when the Germans and Italians were looking for
partisans. Obviously, those who had documents to live in Rome, and were not
suspects, were released and sent home. This was not done only to find “unwanted
elements,” but also to create insecurity of movements. Silvio and I were not
sure where or when such “Rastrelementos” would take place. The situation
got worse. We decided to go as early as possible to the Vatican, and wait till
dusk to return home. The Germans entered the Vatican as if it were a neutral
country.
One day while
walking through the Vatican corridors and speaking Serbo-Croatian, we are
accosted by a young priest who asked in our language, “Where are you two from?
And what brings you here this early?” Surprised and uncertain, we reply, “From
Sarajevo. We are hiding from the Germans because we are Jews.” “I am from
Istria,” said the young priest, “I am studying at the Gregorian Institute.” He
listened to our story of hiding and offered us refuge in his quarters during
the daytime. His small room held nothing
except a bed, wardrobe, and books. He explained that his day started very
early, and that he was not free before 4pm. We accepted his offer and spent
many hours in his room, playing chess, reading Osservatore Romano (the
Vatican Paper) and some books, and listening BBC radio, the central source of
news.
The young
priest found some time to talk to us. We were careful with our interpretation
of events in the first century and later.
With assistance of the young priest, we had some access to originals and
copies of some documents from past centuries and how things were understood. In
peaceful times, what we saw, heard, and read in the Vatican, would have been
interesting (specifically, the theological changes and the history of power of
the leaders of the Catholic Church). But in the atmosphere of the time, it did
not look important. Keeping the head, that was important! Just before
Christmas, 1942, it was rumored that Pope Pius XII will soon speak. Both
Germans and Italians were concerned about the content. Would the Pope criticize
Hitler or not? Osservatore Romaro, in it’s own way described the
European tragedy, and indirectly accused Germany. On the designated day,
Germans came to magnificent St. Peter’s Square, surrounding it, as well as part
of the Vatican. I was curious. I wanted to hear and see. Thousands of people
all understood the German pressure by their presence, only a few steps from the
Vatican border. The Pope said nothing that could be considered against Hitler.
Here and there, a theological allusion on wars and the moral price paid when
violence rules. The Pope finished his
address. The balcony from which he spoke, closed. Remain the impression of the importance of
church’s pronouncements, around the world. Officially or not, the people took a
position. The Church explained the Pope’s declaration and understood as
necessary as a defense of millions of Catholics who are under Hitler’s control.
It was known how many priests were killed in Poland.
If it is
possible to say as a war goes on, in the office things looked normal. I later
understood, only on the surface. No official was what it seems to be! As the
Allies came closer to Rome, people felt the change in political and social
structure. There was talk of political parties, of democracy. It turned out that one of the people in my
group was the sister of Bedoni’s wife, named Ana. We went out a few times so
that Ana could show me parts of old Rome. Sitting in a park in the center of
the city, she read to me Italian poems. Interesting. Still today, I remember
some parts of powerful words of Leopardi.
Pictures of words! Ana invited me to her home, a patriarchal
environment. These people belonged to the elite of Rome’s social life. As in
Paris, so also existed in Rome a strata of citizens who maintain civilization
and society. Shortly before the Allies
came to Rome, it became clearer why Bedoni told me and Silvio, “You can tell me
…” First, the official who worked in my group was, in fact, a high ranking
leader of the Liberal party, the right hand of philosopher, writer, and leading
politician, Benedetto Croce. That gentleman explained to me how Free Masons
existed and were organized (secretly) during Mussolini’s rule.
Events moved
faster due to the military situation. One day, Ana told me, “My father was one
of the first Ministers of Justice in the new Italian government” (note – in
Southern Italy). I was able to find the list of ministers. My spelling may not
be correct, but it was either Dr. Azzarity or Azarity. Ana had a brother who was one of the leaders
of the Communist Party under Togliati.
She told me that at home, there is little political discussion because
her father is hurt that his son is such a fanatical communist. It all became
clearer to me. In part, the company was a hiding place (if needed) for some
politicians of that time. Perhaps some people remember the Allied effort
through the Monastery Monte Cassirio, South of Rome. The liberation of Rome was
considered a great defeat for Germany. The allied bombed Cassino almost without
pause. The Germans fought and suffered great losses. Sometimes in the night we
went on roofs to see the lights of falling bombs.
Finally, with
changing tactics and more forces, the Allies penetrate the hills on which the
Monastery was situated. The Allies
speed up the push to Rome. The city is expecting the “liberators.” I go out to
the streets. Here and there, a German truck, tank, artillery. It is my
imagination or reality. I am seeing for the first time, dirty, disorderly,
panicky Germans as they are fleeing? They asked, “which is the nearest road
north?” Many looked not much older than 16. They were exhausted after so many
losses on so many fronts.
Suddenly, quiet. There are no more Germans and the Allies
are waiting to clear the mines. Several hours go by. I was near a bridge when I
saw the first American tank with anti tank equipment dispensing a ribbon
indicating free passage for mines. Stores are opened. People are back on
streets. Some are saying – “Liberta” (freedom).
Next day, all
of us come to the office. The boss, Mario Bedoni, explained the activities of
the company. Under German direction, workers have already been released. From
this moment, the firm is terminated, and we in the office discharged. Most of
us received monthly salaries. Each of us thought of our futures. We said
goodbye to each other. Perhaps, for us in Rome, this may be the end of the
war. However, in the north of Italy, the
war has not ended. Silvio and I told each other, if we recounted these events
to most people, they would have a hard time believing us. But, two from
Sarajevo – and Jews?
(The last
chapter, from Rome to Naples, at some later time.)
Joseph
Gottfried
September,
2012