Memories Of Our Days. Chiara Cesetti

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СКАЧАТЬ for months, it was about time that we did our bit. This war will be short, you’ll see, short and victorious.

      -Uncle Rudi!- Antonino’s joyful voice made them turn to the door while the child was running towards him. Rudi stood up, took him in his arms and started to jump around, singing.

      -We’ll win, we’ll win, we are at war and we’ll win…- a cloud of white dust at the bottom of the road showed that Giovanni was coming home too in a hurry in his horse-drawn buggy.

      1 Chapter III

      1917

      The war that according to Rudi would have been brief had been going on for the last two years , it wasn’t brief, neither easy, nor victorious. It was not anymore the exciting adventure that many people had faced with enthusiasm at first, but it was a different campaign every time, painful and hard, which was fought with unknown and deadly weapons against which you did not need to sharpen your sabres. Many young men volunteered to go to war, many others had been called back to duty and women were taking care of the work in the land, even the most strenuous ones. During the summer well before dawn you could see groups of women from the nearest village, with their heads covered up with white scarves to protect their faces from the unforgiving sun rays and they worked all day in the sun, scything the wheat and arrange the bundles in long rows.

      The lunch break was a relief. When the heat in the Maremma would become unbearable, they stopped working and the break, even if it was short, was a relief. They would sit on the ground or on the sheaves, and they would eat their food which was distributed. Many of them would hide the bread in the big pockets of their aprons because in the evenings, at home, their younger children were hungry, if the other ones were slightly older and working already. Once the season ended, the fields were left so you could see groups of women and children were picking the fallen spikes of wheat off the ground with their sacks tied across their shoulders.

      The more spikes, the more wheat, the more flour, the more bread.

      Bread.

      Bread for them and for their children and for the old people who did not work anymore.

      The bread that men did not bring home because they were stuck in the Karst Plateau.

      That was in in winter, once the olive harvesting was over. First they were picking from the trees for the owner then, if the owner allowed them to, they were picking olives for themselves off the ground, to get a couple of litres of the precious olive oil.

      When the war broke out, Rudi joined the army, but Giovanni stayed at home. He was thirty-five and his position as the head of the family spared him from joining in the war. In the last two years the financial situation of the Barrieri family had improved indeed. The army required great quantities of horses and food and he doubled his livestock. Many pieces of land were fallow because nobody was working them so they were up for sale and Giovanni bought them without making the most of the situation because he was happy to help people if he could, he did not take advantage of people’s misfortunes. At home, in some parts of the year, when the work in the land had stopped and people did not know what to live on, there were women coming and going offering the most diverse things they could do, bringing a basket full of chicory or wild fruit as a present, hoping to get something in return.

      Giulia, Maria and Ada knew those women, they knew their stories and they would always send them back home with food to eat for their dinner. Before accepting what they offered, many of them would say that they had come over in case there were some things to do but their eyes would say thank you before getting the gift in their hands because the words that went with that were not words of pity and would not demean them:

      -You’ve just come at the right time, I’ve just prepared this- they said handing the packet over- Take it, please, I’ve just made too much of it and it would rot..

      -Giving without humiliating- Giovanni stressed that – because humiliation is worse than poverty- The three of them had learnt that.

      That morning Ada woke up with her usual headache. It would happen often and when that occurred, the best way to look after it was to stay in bed, in the darkness, in peace and quiet for a few hours until the pain would alleviate and only then she would manage to get up, still daze and pale.

      Dr Marinucci, the elderly family doctor, always felt that the cause for this was her nervousness. –It’s anxiety, it is not a serious condition. Ada is a strong and healthy woman. She should have got married…-

      She did not leave the house and stayed with her father and her older sister instead. She was only two years younger than Maria and she looked less resigned. Compared to her thinness, Ada’s body looked almost plump, more feminine, with her large breasts in a corset which made her waist thinner and highlighted her round hips.

      She moved around the house with quite some energy which was too much at times as if she was jerking, showing an agitation out of control and some kind of permanent unhappiness. In these days she could work for hours without feeling tired, she cleaned the house from top to bottom, she washed curtains and covers, she rubbed out old stains frantically. She was extremely generous. In a burst of affection she would take the kids’ breath away when she would hold them in her arms against her soft bosom and would smother them with kisses. Antonino couldn’t stop laughing, Clara tried to escape from that torture and the little ones, Agnese e Luciano, were mesmerized, laughing and crying, not too sure if that little pain was worth putting up with.

      The first of November was dull day and the sun was just a dull light behind a cloud that was slightly fairer than the others. Maria was still in bed and Ada, once over the worse part, was not sure whether to get up or not. The house was unusually quiet got her to do downstairs. Antonino and Clara were at school and you could not hear the voices of the little ones.

      She got up and got dressed. The fire was already on in the kitchen to warm up the air. Giovanni was in his work clothes and was sitting with his arms resting on the table in front of the open newspaper. Giulia was sitting in front of him, she was pale. Her face which was usually stern but not worried, was furrowed by a line on her forehead showing deep concern. Her blank eyes were following a far away thought . Maria was moving about quietly, busy making something to eat for the children, who were sitting on the ground and were talking in a low voice, feeling the worry in the room. Ada, stood at the door, and felt that unusual atmosphere.

      -What happened?-

      -How are you, Ada, are you feeling better?- Giulia asked, fighting hard to come out of her thoughts.

      -Yes, I am feeling better. What happened?-

      - ….things are not looking so good….- said Giovanni

      -Which things….-.

      -The war…. The news about the war is not good…. Rudi wrote a letter…-

      -Rudi?...what does he say…? Where did he write from…? how is he…?- Ada rested her hands clenched in a fist on her stomach and her voice was now panicky.

      -He wrote from the warzone-, Giulia answered, thinking now about the current situation and looked as if she was in control again –He says he has fought in Caporetto and now he is at a field hospital….at least up until ten days ago when the letter was written…here, read it..-

      Ada took the pieces of papers in her hands and saw that Rudi’s handwriting, usually with big characters, looked unsteady and crooked. She started to read silently, quickly:

      ‘ Dear Giulia and dear all,

      As СКАЧАТЬ