[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.He asked me if I had crossed the lines; without a doubt he guessed it bymy uniform.I answered that I had and gave a sign to mean that it was forthis reason that I wore almost a soldier s uniform.The prince realized thecontrast between his elegant twill uniform and mine and seemed to wantto apologize; he softly said that, in any case, it was the only suit he had avail-able.I experienced both embarrassment and an impulse of sympathy for107 this man, above all for his adventurous journey from Rome to Pescara andthen to Brindisi, under circumstances in certain aspects similar to mine.And yet, although not against the principle of the monarchy, I didn t wishit for Italy s future (I thought that two courts civilian and religious ina single capital would inevitably clash).But the man who was in front ofme was now doing his duty, like his father the king, and he performed itdespite little applause and numerous insults, at the head of a people skilledin discovering scapegoats for their own cowardice.After the prince s inspection I found a way to have a tailor in the villagemake a uniform for me in the Nembo style (he had made a uniform alreadyfor Colonel Giaccone), without collar and with an almost sporty cut.*The training hastily continued.The soldiers, especially those who wereentrusted assignments with responsibility, became transformed into active,eager individuals.As fate would have it, I wouldn t stay with them.In fact, after Giaccone had transferred himself to the nearby village ofSquinzano to put together the rest of the regiment, another officer withwhom I wouldn t have been able to stay assumed command of our group.I didn t know whether he had been useful to the army or to the nation;certainly he was well-deserving in those days.He was tireless, gifted withinitiative, and thus useful to Italy.The voice of that commander stands outin my memory of the inactive period in Surbo: his shouting voice, hard onour heels from morning until night, reverberated on every drill, on all prac-tices, even at night after dinner during our fatigue when he gathered us of-ficers for the instructions on panels. Since that pressing voice has begunto fade, the Surbo elementary school building must remain dreamlike.He had paid in person.When he attempted to cross the lines, the Germanshad left him for dead on the ground in his own blood among his dead com-panions.But he had had an important assignment in the division where my sol-diers and I had been encircled on the Russian front.Shortly before the en-circlement the command had abandoned our troops on the line, saving it-self while most of us were annihilated.I didn t know how responsible that officer was for this episode; the inci-dent, however, was between us, and we both realized it.It was therefore im-possible to overlook.My friends and dead soldiers visited me with re-108 proachful faces, saying, You didn t forget about us? I began to be tor-mented because in refusing to stay I would be going against someone who,in those days, was useful to Italy, and it was not as though there weren t al-ready enough squabbles in the German-free zone, which abounded in quar-rels more than in anything else.Giaccone had arguments from Squinzano with all the artillery men pre-sent in Puglia, to tear away from them men and materials necessary to us;they were arguments with uncertain outcomes, even though the Ministryof War was on our side (it was a meager ministry back then).The colonelengaged in one battle after another with vigor, in the end stirring in us ad-miration, so difficult to do in Italians.Our group s commander helped himwith this: I saw it, and spent months without making up my mind, my soulturned into a mirror of my circumstances.Nor was it easy to abandon the soldiers who had come with me from thereorganization camp, as well as the two Antonios and Guatelli.A newfriend had been added in Surbo, Second Lieutenant Ferruccio Schiavi,whom we called by his Julian nickname Cèt.He had lost his father, an in-fantry colonel, in Greece, and although an only child, he had left his moth-er and crossed the lines to keep his officer s oath.He belonged to a limitedgroup who with their generosity compensated for the selfishness of many.Besides his generosity, which was his primary trait, he was innately courte-ous and brave, to the extent that I irrationally asked myself several times ifby chance, given his perfection, he wasn t destined to die, like Zorzi.Cèt,however, would not be killed: a different painful fate was in store for him.*One morning I was banished from the group after reacting harshly toone of the commander s words.It was in April.Colonel Giaccone sum-moned me into his office in Squinzano. You know, he said, that there are now many subordinate officers whowant to come fight against the Germans.I have to turn many down eventhough they are excellent.You know that, right? I know. You deserve to be sent to a port with the workers, like your group s com-mander.Instead I ll transfer you to the second group of the regiment. Thank you, I said. I wouldn t have gone to the port, under foreigncorporals, with the uniform of an Italian officer.I would have deserted. His face became drawn. You know that your words go against militarydiscipline? 109 I know.But I m not saying this for lack of discipline.And not even outof pride; at least, I don t think so.As a man it s different, but given that I man Italian officer I wouldn t have gone. Giaccone studied me in silence.Hehad stood out as a strict commander, made for the times; since the regi-ment had begun to form itself, he had demoted several men for minortransgressions and once demoted thirty noncommissioned officers simul-taneously.Not even an intervention from the head of the army s generalstaff had been able to make him back down.Still, I asked him, If you werein my shoes, would you go work under foreign corporals? He must havebeen asking himself that same question because he concluded, That senough.Present yourself to the command of the second group. I sprang to a salute and left the office.I did not tell him the real reason,beyond the recent squabble, for my disagreement with the commander ofthe first group; by that point I would keep it to myself
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
