I turned my story on the displacement of people Seravezza, ordered by the Germans in the summer of 1944, Capuans to Paul, so he did publish the book, edited by Circle Sirius Giannini, who will talk about the barbaric murder of the hero seravezzino Paul Amos.
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Metato front of where my family had taken refuge in the summer of 1944, between Pelliccino and the Hill one afternoon in July or next month, came a patrol of German soldiers under the command of an officer. In our language well enough that he spoke, told us that we had to go from there. "Come, come! Now! War! War! The Americans are close and in a few days there will be the first clashes "in the throes of an understandable fear we were all speechless. The order was mandatory. There was little to say and do, basically it was our survival. Where are we going? Dismay and bewilderment shone from the eyes of my parents. Below us, down the narrow valley, you could see the roofs of houses Riomagno, too close to the German positions for pxensare to stay there. Higher up in the middle of the mountain that stood before us, the leaves of chestnut trees could be seen the houses of Giustagnana and it was in that place that my father decided to go.
left the metato with the few things we had. I was given the task of taking the mattress from which, some years before when he was brought, at school, a collection of wool for the production of hosiery and socks for our soldiers in Russia, my mother took out a few punches. Oh! As the war seemed remote from us, which it won in the beginning no one dared to question. We had eight million bayonets and singing "win and win in the sky, land and sea ...". "They leave the submarines, the harbingers of many illusions and too much easy optimism. For us kids, children born of Lupa, and then finally become table table Musketeers, the game was closing in a very unpredictable and not as many times we were led to believe or hope. A Riomagno that we reached in a short time there was a lot of confusion with so many people running away from the area by climbing the mountain to reach the countries of the overlying Giustagnana, Minazzana, Fabbiano and Azzano. Loghetto reached the plains, while I rested, I walked past the two babies, a boy and a girl. The one with the pots and the other with the plates in hand. Eyes wide open and lots of tiny blacks expressed the great fear of which had to be prey. That look scared I've never forgotten. After resuming the climb we came close to the church Giustagnana, where he stopped on the edge of the trail, waiting for my father he returned from the town where he went immediately in search of a room where we can at least spend the night.
When he returned to face him enough to understand the negative results of his research. Moreover Giustagnana some time was crowded with refugees. All cottages located on the slopes, gear up as a shelter, had been occupied by so many people who had fled from their homes by the sea or from the immediate hinterland. "Tonight we sleep under a chestnut tree." And while my father uttered such words, was heard by two men with "jacket" (jacket, ed) on the shoulders and the pinnate attached to your belt, at the lower back, were returning home after working in the woods or in the woods, the only activity that could still play having been long since the quarries closed and all the companies in Versilia. "You can settle into a church, there are already other displaced people," said one of them. When my father returned to face him enough to know the negative results of his research. Nobody gave us a hand. Giustagnana gà da tempo era gremita di sfollati. Tutte le casupole, fatte di muri a secco e con i tetti di piastre erano state occupate da tanta gente costretta a lasaciare le loro case vicine al mare e nell’immediato retroterra. “Stanotte si dorme sotto un castagno!Quando ritornò bastò guardarlo in faccia per conoscere l’esito negativo della sua ricerca. Nesssuno ci diede una mano. Peraltro Giustagnana già da un po’ di tempo era gremita di sfollati. Tutte le casupole che c’erano in quel tempo lungo le pendici del monte, solitamente adibite al ricovero degli animali e degli attrezzi da lavoro con visibile soddisfazione. Per la buona notizia che ci aveva dato. In chiesa? Mi sdembrò una cosa incredibile da farsi. Ma non c’erano other solutions and I went there if we had not wanted to spend the night in the avesssimo.
it was me that shortly after, I crossed the threshold of the house of God at first glance it seemed that there was more room inside so it was the people who had occupied. Some small steps between materesassi and other things in an orderly arranged on the floor of the church, I saw that at the foot of an altar there was no one, was the only place left open. I heaved a big sigh of relief. Meanwhile, the last rays of the sun was disappearing behind the crest of Mount chute, beam penetrated through the stained glass windows, illuminating even the interior of the sacred edifice, which stood out sacred images and moving human beings affected by the disaster. For a moment I seemed to be the center of an unreal scene. Collection of dry wood and hastily lit the fire were fired the latest chips. And yet he felt the hunger that we lay it on the mattress on our parents. Four children: a nest. When I was about to close his eyes, a displaced person was suddenly struck by convulsions. I knew this man who Seravezza, every Sunday through the streets selling newspapers in the country. "Help, help ..." shouted members of his family. In a moment all the men who were in the church came to hold it. As soon as I heard say:. "It has calmed down" all of a sudden I fell asleep. Days spent Giustagnana remember them as the most troubled of my life. No one thought to dig pits for certain physiological needs, which is why when it was forced to submit to the nearby woods, you could not go back to church before they are passed from the canal to wash your feet well, so stank to have walked on excrement human in the land was full.
I could not stand the most to live in that place, the suffering was too great. I urged my parents to look for cottage where some move. Fortunately we found a little house across scalamata, located between Giustagnana and Fabian, is no longer used by humans, which is why some time was to be the undisputed realm of mice seen the thickness of their droppings several feet high that over time it was formed under the floor boards. After you repair the roof at our expense and cleaning up the little house that had a window, and seemed even better. There he spent a few days even my grandmother Marianna at the beginning of displacement was admitted to hospital in Valdicastello. My father took her there on his back, when we heard that inexplicably discharged from hospital, he had slowly returned to his home of Bridge, where he was assisted, I do not know how many days, from a good family that Landi had not complied with the order displacement, continuing to remain at home until in which the Germans decided to blow up the whole neighborhood. Without the help of the Landi family sure my grandmother would die of hunger and thirst. And in that little house that seemed Giustagnana of primitive man, so small as to seem to Snow White and Settenani, we stayed until the fall of the birth of the first chestnuts and mushrooms. It was in those days that Giustagnana came the black soldiers of the U.S. division of Buffalo.
Gather chestnuts in front of our hut was a dream that could not last and it did not last. When immediately after the arrival of American soldiers, my mother was wounded in the leg by shrapnel of the mortar with which the Germans welcomed the arrival of American soldiers, we had to rifugiasi in a fund of the village used for the storage of tools to work the land. In one corner was a pile of hay. My mother was a doctor wounded by American soldiers. So while nature gave her nutritious and tasty fruit, the war waged by crazy men who by force of arms they wanted to impose their similar ideologies and their own interests without any regard for the sacred and inalienable rights of man first and foremost that of freedom, continued to claim innocent victims. What a striking contrast between the world really amazing and wonderful and freedom suppressed in the most violent to be spregevoli che meriterebbero di bruciare in eterno fra le fiamme dell’inferno.
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