The End of the War

I collected this story straight from my mother Tina's mouth; therefore, the opinions here expressed are entirely hers, not mine.

I have deliberately altered the names of the persons named here for privacy reasons, except those who you can find in books of local history; instead, place names reflect actual geography.

Pievebelvicino (province of Vicenza, northern Italy), March 1945

Every day now the aircrafts of the Allies passed above our heads; approaching from the Brenner pass, they came out from behind Posina over Mount Novegno, following a route southwards above the mountains between Magrè and Malo. You could see fighter planes escorting flying fortresses, heavy four-engined planes full of bombs that, when coming back, were visibly nimbler and lighter. Each time, the air-raid alarm went off and there was an atmosphere of constant, unceasing terror; we lived with death next to us.

On March 20th, two days after my tenth birthday, I was at the stone quarry near my house, collecting primroses with my friend Silvia Eberle and my little three-year-old brother Remo, while my father Aldo was preparing to sow potatoes, with the help of our neighbour Ciscato, four cows tied to the yoke of the plough.

As it was now almost daily routine, we heard the factory hooters wail the air-raid alarm; we children ran to hide in the trees, as my father and Ciscato with the cows did as much in the field further down. Flying fortresses started to come, escorted by fighters; Silvia and I noticed that one of the big aircrafts was slower, swerving sideways and making an unusual noise. Suddenly, there was a big explosion on the side of the large plane, which started to quickly lose altitude and to fall towards the lower part of Mount Raga, seemingly heading straight for the Santerini hamlet, where Grandpa Vani, Uncle Bruno and Aunt Cornelia lived. We started all to scream, horrified; my father sprinted uphill, grabbed Remo and threw himself into a ditch, yelling we had to do as much. Ciscato, hindered by the cows, let them go and hurled himself into a briar, his apron over his head. The animals broke their yoke and fled, mooing wild with terror.

A few moments later, we heard a deafening explosion and we saw high flames, then we heard the detonation in succession of many bombs.

The aircraft had crossed the crest of the mountain where my grandpa's house was located and had crashed in Magrè, in Barona hamlet, right onto a farmhouse, which that day completely disappeared. Years later, a survivor told me that she was standing in her bedroom next to the wardrobe leaning against the main wall of the house; a moment later, the room was open-air and she was standing on a tiny piece of the floor: only the main wall and the wardrobe were left of the whole house, and she was safe by a miracle.

OOO

Meanwhile, the end of the war was drawing near. The woods were bright green, with its leaves starting to grow, when the German retreat started.

From my house, we could clearly see the State Road 46 "Pasubio", which from Schio goes uphill to Torrebelvicino, and from there goes on through Valli del Pasubio heading for the Vallarsa towards Rovereto and the Brenner pass. For many days and nights, the traffic of the exodus was very intense, while the tension built as everyone waited for the attack signal from the Resistance.

For us civilians, the orders were to stay indoors until the battle would be over.

On April 25th, 1945, Pievebelvicino barely escaped a massacre.

The air-raid alarm sounded and, as usual, people rushed to the shelter, a special tunnel they had dug under Mount Castello, located at a short distance from the rectory of the parish church, the ancient Pieve of St. Mary. The retreating Germans placed machine guns aiming at the mouth of the tunnel, which they even mined with the intention to blow up everything, slaughtering the inhabitants of Pievebelvicino.