History (46 page)

Only later, he confi to Ace some details of the encounter, in which Carlo-Pyotr had played such a terrible role that Nino himself seemed shaken by his friend's description. "And to think," he remarked to Quat tro, as they spoke together in low voices, "that night we ate at Pietralata, you remember? . . . he said he rejected all violence . . ." In Ace's view, anyway, Pyotr's action was justifi In fact, as Nino had sensed from the beginning, Pyotr-Carlo, in addition to being wanted by the police, was a Jew (neither Vivaldi nor Carlo was his real name) and he had decided to join the band after receiving word that his parents, his grandparents, and his little sister, hiding under false names in the North, had been discovered (certainly through some anonymous denunciation ) and deported by the Germans. But still, in spite of all this, Qua ttro, merely at recalling the scene of the clash, felt his blood run cold, and you could see the skin wrinkle on his bare forearm.

The news that the three Germ were roaming around that part of the mountain had reached Quattro and Pyotr early that morning, when they had stopped for a fresh supply of provisions at a friendly peasant's. The neighborhood families, spreading the word from one to the other, had been warned to hide their livestock and food stores and to be on guard, because the three characters were "hunting provisions" among the little houses with the usual brutality of the Nazi troops, who made themselves hated wherever they passed. It hadn't been hard for Quattro and Pyotr to pick up their trail, thanks especially to the presence of Quattro, who was a native of that countryside and knew every place and every person in it; and

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they had decided to keep watch, hidden on the Germans' path, to take them by surprise at the right moment. TI1e wait had lasted longer than they had foreseen, because the three men, exasperated by their meager haul, had taken successive diversions, becoming more and more drunk on wine. Finally, from the hiding place in the underbrush, Quattro and Pyotr had seen them appear on the trail, preceded by their drunken voices, which were singing in Italian, half-swallowing the words, a popular song of the time:

"Sea, why do you invite me To dream tonight . . .
"

They were singing together, a jolly chorus, their cheeks flushed, their jackets unbuttoned; the youngest and fattest, the one with the sack on his shoulder, had actually taken off jacket and shirt, remaining naked to the waist. Quattro was the first to shoot, from a very short distance, hitti with deadly accuracy the one who seemed the oldest: a thin, balding man of about thirty, who clutched both hands to his chest with a hoarse, stupefied cry; and, after a strange spin in the air, he fell, face to the ground. Immediately, with a convulsive, instinctive movement, his companions grabbed for their revolvers; but they didn't have time even to draw them from their belts before the volleys of Pyotr's machine-pistol, from his posi tion a little farther on . For an imperceptible space of time, the Germ eyes held the eyes of Quattro. One man sank to his knees and advanced perhaps a yard, kneeling, murmuring incomprehensible syllables. And the third, the bare-chested one, who was still absurdly carrying the sack by its rope in his left hand, let his grip relax with a strange slowness; and in a sudden shout of panic he took a step to one side, his hand to his abdomen. But an instant later, at a fi volley of shots, both fell, near the fi man.

No further sound came from the three inert bodies lying on the trail; in that petrifi pause, however, from a bush towards the opposite slope a kind of blood-curdling imploration echoed, of extreme terror, like the cry ing of a newborn infant. It was the imprisoned pig, who, hit by the last volley, had rolled or had dragged himself into the bush, and from there was emitting those spasmodic human-sounding screams, usual with animals of his species when they sense the end is near. Then silence fell immediately, and Quattro stepped out onto the trail. Two of the Germans seemed already dead; only the oldest, the one Quattro himself had shot, was still jerking weakly; and at that point he tried to move his face from the ground, spitting a bloody saliva and murmuring "Mutter Mutter." Quattro fi him off with a revolver-shot in the head; then he turned the

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second man over, and found him wide-eyed and lifeless; while the last, the one naked to the waist, lying supine, whom Quattro believed already dead, grimaced at his approach, and painfully raised one arm.

Quattro was about to shoot this one too; but then Pyotr burst from the brush onto the trail, saying with a twisted laugh : "No, wait. This one's mine." And Quattro off him the revolver, thinking Pyotr wanted to be the one to give him the coup de grace. But Pyotr rejected the revolver, and in determined, raging hatred, aimed a terr kick, with his heavy boot, at the man's fl -back face. After an instant's pause, he repeated the action, exactly the same, and again, several times, always with the same mad violence, but with a strangely calculated rhythm. Quattro, who had stepped back a pace, and was turning his head not to see, could still hear those kicks, in their grim heaviness, following one another at regular inter vals, as if marking an incredible time in an immense space. At the fi blow, the German had reacted with a stifl rattling scream, which sti sounded rebellious; but his screams had gradually weakened until they were reduced to a little feminine moan, like a question steeped in a name less shame. The thuds continued at more rapid interv after the moan had stopped. Suddenly, Pyotr, with his long, lanky stride, came to face Quattro. "He's had it," he announced, panting slightly, like someone who had completed a physical task. His gaze was still glaring beneath his swea ing brow, and his cleated boot was spattered with blood. Now they had only to strip the dead of their weapons and everything else that was of use-according to guerrilla regulations-then hide the bodies. Beforehand, when choosing the spot, the two had kept in mind the neighboring fi beyond the trail, with a broad ditch, its bed still muddy from the recent rains. And, fi of all, dragging the bare-chested one by the feet, they threw him into it. He had no face any more, only a shapeless, bloody residue; and, in contrast, the extraordinary whiteness of his fl torso looked unreal. Blood, which had fl copiously from the wounds in his abdomen, soaked the pants of his blue-gray uniform. His shoes, however, were not stained; but the two partisans didn't remove them. They also left his pistol and the rest, even his watch. With the other bodies, on th contrary, they followed the usual rules, and then they threw them on top of the fi covering the ditch with earth and boughs. Finally, Quattro saw to recoveri their loot, the pig, now silent, on its back behind the bush. In all, from the moment of the fi shot, the action had taken only a few minutes.

Immediately after the return
to
the hut, Ace and the others got busy loading the mule. A little later the girl appeared, Maria (known to Ace as

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Mariulina ), who among other things assumed the assignment of taking Useppe, on the mule, back to the rendezvous on the road. Ace couldn't go with him, being occupied with various urgent preparations, and waiting, moreover, for the arrival of the famous Eyeglasses. In saying goodbye to his brother, from the ground, he promised they would see each other again soon. Winking to him, secretly, as if to a guerrilla comrade, he confi that on one of the next nights he was to participate in a big action on the Via Tiburtina; and afterwards, perhaps, he would come and sleep with them at Pietralata.

The mule, Uncle Peppe, set off overloaded. In addition to Mariulina and Useppe, he was carr on his back a big burden of faggots and branches, under which, in reality, were hidden weapons, grenades, and ammunition, which Mariulina was to deliver, on her way back, to a vil lager, accomplice of other guerrillas. Useppe had been set in front, against Mariulina's breast; she sat astride the mule, her legs outstretched, like a horseman. She had a short little black dress, and some homemade black stockings rolled up above her knees. As she rode, her pretty round thighs were bared on either side, and they, like everything that could be seen of her fl were a pink-peach color, gilded by very fi dark freckles. On her face, she h::; her usual grumpy expression; and during the journey (ascent and descent of the trail, and path towards the paved road ) she spoke only

to the mule, saying to him, as the situation required : "Geeeeel" or else "Aaaaaah!'' To Useppe's various questi she answered, at most
yes yes
or no no, at times incorrectly. Uncle Peppe advanced calmly, also because of the huge burden he was carry and for certain stretches she would get down and pull him by the halter, shouting at him angrily : "Aaaaaahl" her reddish hair falling over her eyes, as Useppe clung tight to the harness to

keep from falling.

Useppe enjoyed the journey very much. He also had one leg on either side of the mule's back, like a knight of olden times. He huddled against Mariulina's breast, as if against a warm pillow, and under his little behind he had Uncle Peppe's hairy withers, also warm. Before his eyes was Uncle Peppe's dark brown mane and his two erect ears, neither a horse's nor a donkey's, which had between them, as ornament, a frayed green plume. For Useppe these, and other, even minimal, specialti of the mule were curiosities of the maximum interest. Around him he had the spectacle of the countryside with its lights, diff now from those of the morning. And if he turn to look up, he saw Mariulina's eyes, an orange color, wi black lashes and brows, and her face which, in the sunlight, was all covered with a down, as if she had a great veiled hat on her head. In Useppe's opinion, Mariulina was a universal beauty, to be gazed upon in awe.

2 3 4 H I S T O R Y
. . .
. . .
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When the descent ended, they saw some Germans go by, in the valley, also leading a heavily laden mule. "Mule! lV ule?!" Useppe ex claimed, waving to them festively. "No, no . . ." Mariulina replied, fed up with answering him. "Inglish?" Useppe exclaimed further, echoing the remark he had heard his brother make at the passage of the airplanes. "Yes yes !" she answered impatiently.

The truck was already waiting at the crossroads of the highway. And after delivering Useppe to the tavern who scolded her for the delay ( "Are you stupid or crazy?" ), she, having deigned him neither a greeting nor an answer, shouted promptly to the mule : "Geeee!" and left them, going back on foot, beside the mule.

9

This time, Ninnari didn't keep his promise. Almost a year was to go by before he turned up again. After that splendid morn ing of Useppe's on the guerrilla war's fi cold and rainy days followed. The slum of Pietralata was a swamp of mud.

In the big closed room, the stink was terrible, also because the twins, with the cold and the scant air and their unhealthy diet, had developed diarrhea. They were wasted, had lost their gaiety, and cried and kicked, skinny, in their fi

The Thousand, suff the cold, had completely given up undress ing. They all slept in their clothes, and also during the day they spent most of the time wrapped in their blankets on their mattresses, one against the other. Males and females made love at every hour of the day, no longer caring who watched them; and among them intrigues developed, jealousies, scenes, in which the old people also took part. Promiscuity made them all quarrelsome : the gramophone's songs were constan tly mingled with yells, insults, blows, and tears of the women and the kids. There were also broken panes, which were mended as well as possible with strips of glued paper. Night fell early; after some disorders in the city, the Germ had advanced the curfew to seven
P.M.
Bicycles were forbidden to circulate after fi in the afternoon, and public transport (already greatly reduced, to tell the truth ) stopped at six.

And so, in the evening, all were imprisoned in the room. One of the pastimes of those evenings was hunting cockroaches and mice. One eve ning, a mouse was kicked to death before the eyes of Useppe, who cried : "No! no!"

Mice, already frequent visitors to that half-basement room in form

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times, encouraged to new audacity after Rossella's flight, now hastened more numerously to The Thousand's provisions, perhaps prescient of an imminent abandoning of the ship. In fact, The Thousand, fed up with waiting there for the famous Liberation that never came, were beginning to emigrate towards other shelters. 1l1e fi family to leave was Salvatore's, with his children Currado, Impero, etc., the result of an angry separation following a quarrel; but soon the same Salvatore invited those left behind to come share a fi abode, empty and cheap, obtained through some acquaintances of his in Albano. And so also Domenico and family, with Granny Dinda, Sora Mercedes, Carulina, and the others went to join the rest of the tribe.

The morning of the farewell remains marked in the memory by a chaotic disorder. Carulina was so nervous she cried, and she ran here and there, as the twins, as their diarrhea had worsened, were soiling themselves constantly. Their few diapers, which she stubbornly washed over and over again with every sort of ersatz soap and very poor soap powder, never dried; and hanging from the lines in the room, still with yellowish stains, they dripped their water onto the fl the provisions, and the rolled-up mat tresses. Carulina was assailed from all sides with reproaches and screams, and she also received a backhand slap from a sister-in-law. From some where in the distance came echoes of bombardments; and the grand mothers, frightened by that thunder, and sulky at the thought of leaving, invoked the Pope, the dead, and the biggest saints in heaven in very shrill voices, while Domenico cursed. I have heard all private cars were forbidden to circulate at that time; the young men of The 5I' however, thanks to their aptitude in underhand dealings, still managed to procure a little Balilla pickup truck, supplied with all the necessary permits, in addi tion to another three-wheeled motor vehicle sent by Salvatore. But, unfor tunately, when the moment came, these means of transport were insuffi to carry the departing company and their property (among other things, 1l1e Thousand had decided to take away also their mat tresses, previously lent by the hospital for the use of the homeless : since, even in their move, they remained, by right, homeless ) . . . And the preparations, the packing and loading, fi became a dramatic disease. The exasperated Domenico started kicking the mattresses, which, having been used to wrap up cooking utensils and bound with cord, had assumed gigantic dimensions; Peppe Terzo, Attilio, and their mother burst into a chorus of screams. And then the oldest grandfather (husband of the silent grandmother) started cry like a baby, begging them to leave him there to die, or rather, to bury him then and there at Pietralata, maybe drowning him in some marsh : "Bury me," he kept repeating, "bury me, that way I'll