Chapter Five
October 10th
Vallinfreda
Wearing her favorite Sunday dress, Isabelle knocked on the door of her friend Patrizio’s apartment. She had a basket of flowers in her hand and a modest lunch of cheese and fruit in her knapsack. Her neatly braided hair was golden in the morning sun.
Today she and Patrizio would go to the cemetery to tend to his grandparents’ graves.
Every Sunday after Mass, the families of Vallinfreda would attend to their family crypts, but yesterday, Patrizio’s parents received a call informing them that his uncle Mauro had become gravely ill.
As his parents left to take the bus to Roma, they asked Patrizio to make sure the family crypt would be tidied and replace the wilted flowers in the vases.
“Si...Papa…replied Patrizio…Isabelle and I will take flowers and sweep.”
“Saluti a Zio Mauro.”
Patrizio opened the weathered wooden door of his family’s apartment. He was dressed in a hand-me-down grey suit and thin black tie. The waist of his trousers still fit; however, he had grown two inches over the summer and the trouser legs were now high waters with no extra material left to let out the hem. He had polished his well-worn shoes as best he could and hoped they still had a few more months left in them.
“Ciao Isabelle!”
“Andiamo!”
Isabelle loved the time she spent with Patrizio. He was her best friend and there was nothing they wouldn’t do for each other or any secret they wouldn’t share.
Climbing onto their bicycles they rode past the little church of San Michele Arcangelo toward the cemetery…Mass had ended and Padre Marino was standing on the little patio in front of the church. He waved at the children as they passed and shouted affectionately…”Attento!”
As they wound their way down the steep mountain road, they braked at the wooden statue of Santo Giuseppe, the patron Saint of Vallinfreda, which overlooked the valley. Reaching into her rucksack for a small bottle of water, she took a sip while Patrizio stretched his back…After blessing themselves and leaving flowers at the little shrine for their families, they rumbled down the small path to the ancient cemetery nestled amongst the pines.
Reaching their destination, they jumped off their bikes at the old stone fountain and refreshed themselves with the cold spring water that flowed from the brass spigot.
Running ahead toward his family crypt, Patrizio shouted
“I will sweep….then we’ll have lunch…I’m hungry!… We can place flowers in the vase later and then go home.”
“Bene!” Isabelle shouted as she lay a small woven blanket on the lush grass that covered the ground. While unpacking the lunch her grandmother had prepared, she heard Patrizio shouting…..“Isabelle…I can’t find the broom…It’s always here…Maybe one of the gardeners used it”
Isabelle shouted back…”Don’t worry…I’ll go to my family’s and we can use ours!”
She made her way through the graveyard monuments and until she came upon her family’s tomb. She pushed open the rusted iron gate open and entered the Bernardini family crypt. She was greeted by the fragrant smell of candle wax and roses her grandmother had left a few days before.
Her great-grandparents and even her great-great grandparents were interred here and she was always happy when her grandmother asked her to accompany her to pay her respects. She enjoyed tidying up the house of her ancestors.
Quickly glancing in the direction of the small altar, she made the sign of the cross before looking around the crypt for the broom. When she turned to face the corner near the statue of the Blessed Mother, she heard a moaning sound.
Terrified, she looked back toward the altar and in the dim light she saw a man propped up against the mausoleum wall.
He was dressed in leather sheepskins and was visibly hurt.
“Help me. Please….I’m very thirsty.”
“My name is Captain Mark Llewelyn. I am a British pilot in the Royal Air Force and I am hurt.”
“Please stay quiet”...she whispered…. I will help you… I will fetch you some water.”
Quickly glancing about, Isabelle spotted the small broom in the corner of the mausoleum and snatched it up. “I will be back.”
Breathlessly Isabelle ran over to the Rinaldi family tomb. She found Patrizio picking out long twigs of pine that had blown into the wire mesh of the crypt door. “Grazie. What took you so long?” Asked Patrizio.
“Nothing, I was just lost in thought.”
“Ok, well it won’t take me long. Meet you in a minute for our picnic.”
Isabelle ran back to the picnic blanket and snatched up her rucksack. She raced to the fountain and filled her small glass bottle with water and quickly returned to the man in the crypt.
As he brought the bottle to his lips, she asked…..”What are you doing here?”
“My plane had engine trouble and I had to bail out.”
He took several gulps before asking, “Who are you little one?”
I am Isabelle.
Chapter Six
October 10th, 1943
Jurgen Wolf rubbed his eyes, fatigued from a long day at his desk dealing with the mundane administrative duties assigned to him by 10th Army command.
“This is not how I envisioned serving my country,” he thought and tossed aside his pen.
Putting down his reading glasses and leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes and imagined his wife Heike’s face and thought of his children Mathias and Ana.
For a moment the war seemed far away as he savored the memory of his family.
“Someday Heike,” he thought “I will be home.”
Suddenly the sound of motorcycles and vehicles startled him and awoke him from his reverie.
Looking out his office window at the Piazza, Wolf saw with horror the dreaded regional Gestapo commander, Col. Roland Stresser stepping out of his car, surrounded by his elite and deadly squad of zealots.
Wolf adjusted the Iron Cross around his neck and smoothed his tunic. Straightening the campaign battle ribbons on his chest, he braced himself for an unpleasant visit. A few moments later, the door to his office burst open and the Gestapo commander strode in.
Wolf rose slowly from his desk and stood at attention.
“Heil Hitler!” barked Stresser as he raised a stiff-armed salute.
Wolf returned the salute in the traditional military way.
“You do not salute the Fuhrer? remarked Stresser…This will be noted!”
Wolf glared back unflinchingly at the diminutive Gestapo Commander.
To Wolf, Stresser was a cruel and sad reminder of what his country had become. He hated the Nazis and everything they stood for…yet he was a professional soldier and futilely hoped that someday reason would replace this insane madness.
“There have been reports that an Allied Reconnaissance aircraft has crashed nearby. The pilot is unaccounted for” said Stresser as he slowly walked around the small office.
Stopping momentarily to stare at the photo of Wolf’s family, he asked…
” What are you doing about it Wolf?…Where is the pilot?…I understand the camera is missing…did you know that?”
“Struggling to restrain himself from jumping over his desk and strangling the pale little man….Wolf calmly replied…”Additional patrols have been mobilized.”
“Find him now!”
“Ja vol…Herr Colonel.” He replied tiredly.
Abruptly turning on his heels the Colonel strode out of the office.
Wolf breathed a sigh of relief as the sound of Stresser’s boots echoed down the hallway.
A moment later, Lt. Schertel quietly tapped on the office door and entered offering a cigarette.
“Nein, danke Klaus”
“What have we become?” he remarked to his adjutant as he sank into his chair.
“I fear we will never see our families again.”
Chapter Seven
Patrizio’s voice called out in the distance from his family’s crypt,
“Isabelle….I’m almost done here…I’m hungry!”
Panicked, Mark froze and asked, “Who is here with you?”
“Oh, that’s just my friend Patrizio.” replied Isabelle.
“You didn’t say anything to him, did you?”
“No, I didn’t have time.” I gave him the broom and I came right back.”
“Isabelle, listen to me very carefully. You cannot tell anyone I am here. Not your parents, not your friends and not Patrizio. No one must know that you have found me.”
Isabelle looked painfully confused. “But Patrizio is my best friend. We tell each other everything. We do not keep secrets from each other.”
“Isabelle, I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation.”
“Capitano Magellan,” started Isabelle.
“Llewelyn.” Mark cut in.
“Capitano Lew…Lew..” sputtered Isabelle
Exhausted, Mark conceded, “Look, just call me Mark, or Capitan Mark.”
Indignantly Isabelle lifted her chin. “I shall call you Capitano Mark and I understand lots of things and I know Patrizio will keep your secret.”
Changing tack, Mark asked, “Have you heard of La Resistenza?”
Eagerly Isabelle nodded her head, yes.
“Well, do you think La Resistenza goes around telling all of their friends and family that they are in the Resistance?”
Isabelle shook her head no.
“Ok then. This is like that. Think of this as your mission. You are like an operative in La Resistenza.”
Sheepishly Isabelle gave in and promised she would keep Capitano Mark as secret.
Mark offered his hand so they may shake on it. “Deal?”
What is a deal?
“It means we trust each other…Yes?”
“Deal.” She replied.
Isabelle took Mark’s hand firmly and gave it one shake signifying the solemn oath she had made. She would never reveal she had befriended an RAF pilot in her family’s tomb to anyone. This was a secret so big, that she could not even confide in Patrizio and release the burden of the story. But she had made a promise and she would not tell her best friend.
“Isabelle, cose fai?” Shouted Patrizio.
“I must go.” She told LLewlyn.
“I can give you some of our lunch. I will be back tomorrow to see you.”
“Please take my sweater, you can use it for a pillow” The marble floor looks very cold.”
“There is a fountain near the entrance of the cemetery where you can find fresh water.”
Before the Capitan could say thank you, she was gone.
Chapter Eight
Dr. Vittorio Bernardini opened the door to his home and was very tired after a long day at the clinic These past weeks had been exceptionally stressful given the recent influx of elderly influenza patients. The Italian Army had re-directed the supply of Penicillin to its military forces and the civilian population suffered from its scarcity.
Her Zio Umberto and Zia Marta had just arrived. They were her favorites and lived on a small farm outside of the village and would lunch together with the family on Sundays.
Today her uncle had brought rabbit from yesterday’s hunt and this afternoon her grandmother would make Coniglio Cacciatore while the family enjoyed a small bottle of Vino Frascati.
To Isabelle, her Nonna Paolina was a magician in the kitchen. She was able to make the most delicious of meals from even the most meager of ingredients.
She loved Sundays, but today she was filled with a sense of foreboding…”What to do about the Capitano?”
Zia Marta was in the kitchen with her sister preparing the pasta and her grandfather and uncle were outside enjoying an aperitivo catching up with the news of the week.
Later as they sat on the terrace enjoying the brisk fall weather and having lunch, her grandfather spoke with worry about the recent rumors of a downed British fighter plane and a missing pilot in the area. There was a German troop buildup in the valley, and he was especially worried of the Gestapo presence in the village.
“This pilot must be very important if the Gestapo commander himself has taken charge of the search.” said Dr. Bernardini as he poured a small glass of wine for himself and Umberto.
“Stresser is a dangerous man”…remarked his brother-in-law.
“He was responsible for the murder of innocent villagers last week in San Pietro because they were rumored to have aided La Resistenza.”
“That corrupt divalo Sindaco passes information to the Germans… I saw his car parked next to Stresser’s on my way here and they were talking. “
“His son Armando is not very nice either” said Isabelle as she sipped on a small glass of limonata.
“You’ve been very quiet all afternoon Passarota” said her grandmother.
“Is everything alright?”
“Si Nonna…”
“Isabelle, you are shivering; where is your cardigan?” her grandmother asked.
“I’m sorry Nonna, I left it at the cemetery, but I will go early tomorrow and pick it up on my way to school.”
“Here bambina” she said as she lovingly wrapped her own sweater over her granddaughter’s shoulders.
Zio Umberto changed the subject of the Gestapo as Paolina and Marta brought out the pasta and began talking about the farm. He mentioned that the young man who cared for their barn had abruptly left for Bari and didn’t know when he would be back.
“Now I need to find someone to care for the livestock and feed the chickens.
I am in the vineyard all day and Tino would help me in the barn, but now that he has left it will make my day even longer. He sighed.
Isabelle brightly said…”Zio, I would like the job!”
“Are you sure Isabelle?”
“But what about your school work?”
“I want to help and school is going wonderfully well.”
“And the farm is not too far… I would be happy to take care of the animals.”
“We cannot pay you much.” Replied her uncle.
“Eggs and milk will be fine.”
“Vittorio, Paolina…is this okay with you?”
“If she wishes”… replied her grandmother.
“Isabelle is a strong willed girl and I’m not sure we could dissuade her”…she said with a warm smile.
“Are you sure Passarota?”...asked her grandmother.
“Si Nonna…I want to help.”
“Very well we shall see you tomorrow.” Replied her uncle.
Chapter Nine
Isabelle awoke at dawn and quickly dressed for school. Normally she would go straight to Patrizio’s apartment and they would ride to school together, but today was different. She decided she would figure out later how to explain why she couldn’t ride with him. But now she must go to the cemetery and help the Capitano.
Taking a small blanket from her closet, she fashioned a shawl around her shoulders and fastened it with a clothes pin to keep her arms free to grip the handlebars of her bike.
Quietly walking into the kitchen, she opened the small refrigerator and packed some of the leftover rabbit and pasta along with an apple. She spied the nearly empty bottle of vino Frascati with the cork sitting next to it. She quickly recorked the bottle and tucked it away in her knapsack with the leftovers.
Silently she let herself out of the house, softly shutting the heavy front door behind her. Jumping on her bicycle, she rode down the steep hill toward the cemetery at the outskirts of the small town.
Chapter Ten
The sun was beginning to rise over the mountains casting a golden glow over the countryside. The crispness of fall was beginning to set in. Arriving at the cemetery, she walked her bicycle to toward the family crypt.
Propping her bike against the one of the stone walls, she ran to the front gate and as she entered, she called out…Capitano Mark? But heard no answer.
She looked around the empty crypt and began to panic. Suddenly, Llewelyn appeared in the doorway.
“I went to look around the cemetery…but my ankle is in rather bad shape and I’m in quite a bit of pain, so I didn’t get far…I hope I didn’t frighten you.”
“No Capitano…but please sit down… I have brought you some food.”
Mark quickly devoured the leftover rabbit and pasta and savored the bit of wine she had brought with her.
“Let me see your ankle.” she said.
“My Grandfather is a doctor and sometimes on Saturdays I help him in the clinic…I will be a doctor just like my grandfather, someday.” She said as she examined his sprained limb.
Mark’s ankle was badly swollen, and the skin abrasions had become infected.
“You will need penicillin to keep this infection from spreading.”
“I will bring you some…But for now Capitano, you need to stay off your feet.”
“You sound quite the little doctor…but I will follow your advice Doctora Isabelle!” He laughed and Isabelle joined in.
Suddenly Mark brought his finger to his mouth, signaling Isabelle to be quiet with a low…shush. “Listen!”
The sound of soldiers’ voices and barking dogs filled the air. The Germans were searching the cemetery.
Terrified they waited in silence as the soldiers’ footsteps came closer to the crypt.
“Isabelle go now…do not worry about me!”
“No, I will stay here with you Capitano.” She said stubbornly.
Suddenly, the old metal gate squeaked opened and Isabelle urgently whispered…“Capitano hide now!.”
Throwing her blanket over him and propping her rucksack against the lumpy form of Llewelyn hidden behind the small altar, she quickly grabbed the broom. She began sweeping and singing her grandmother’s favorite song when a soldier entered the dimly lit crypt.
Surprised at seeing the little girl, he shined his flashlight on her face.
“Who are you?”…He brusquely demanded.
“I am Isabelle Bernardini and this is my ancestors’ house.”
“What are you doing here?” she replied.
“I could ask the same of you little girl.”
“We are looking for a British Pilot…Have you seen him?”
“Why would there be a British pilot in my family crypt?” she answered boldly continuing to sweep.
Her knees felt like rubber as she tried to contain the terror in her heart.
The corporal started to enter the crypt … Isabelle looking down at his muddy boots and quickly said….”What are you doing? You cannot come in here…I have spent all morning cleaning and you will track in mud…Please! Stay outside!”
He laughed at her as she stood in front of him defiantly with the broom held across her chest. She was gripping it so tightly she thought she might break it in two.
“Please do not come in or I will hit you!”
He continued to laugh as he quickly shone his flashlight around the crypt… Shaking his head and laughing, he strode away and shouted to his sergeant, “There is nothing here.”
The sounds of the soldiers began to fade away, Mark lifted the blanket and climbed out from behind the small marble altar and said…“That was a very brave thing you did Isabelle…Thank you.”
“Capitano, I must go now or I will be late for school.”
“We must leave this place as the Germans will be back again. I heard my grandfather saying the Gestapo is in Vallinfreda and they are looking for you.”
“How can ever I thank you enough for helping me?“
“Don’t worry Capitano Mark…I will be back tomorrow morning; I have an idea.”
As she lifted her rucksack over her shoulders, she said “Capitano please keep the blanket” and handed him her makeshift shawl… “This will keep you warm. It is supposed to be colder tonight. My Nonna was asking about my missing cardigan.”
“Isabelle wait ….Thank you” he whispered as she darted out toward the entrance of the cemetery and jumped on her bike and peddled up the steep grade toward the village. Hopefully, she would not be late for school
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