Read Online A Winter's Night by Valerio Massimo Manfredi, Christine Feddersen-Manfredi - Free Book Online

that you’re fine and then you’ve got to go. And if you don’t go, they’ll say you failed to report for military service and the
carabinieri
will come and arrest you. If you’re lucky they’ll send you to the front; they say there’s a special battalion destined for desperate actions. You’d be a goner in no time. If you’re unlucky, they’ll put you in front of a firing squad.”
    Gaetano lowered his head, tears brimming in his eyes. Clerice, who happened to be passing by, saw the scene and understood instantly what was happening. She whispered: “Oh Lord, oh most holy Virgin, no . . . ”
    In a matter of minutes the whole family was standing in a circle on the threshing floor around the two brothers.
    â€œWhat’s there to gape at?” said Floti. “It’s the postcard: it’s Gaetano’s turn to leave, but more will be coming soon. It depends on how many die at the front and need to be replaced.”
    Callisto looked at his boys one by one, shaking his head with a confused and incredulous expression. The storm clouds foretold by the umbrella mender were gathering over the Bruni home, blacking out the sun and unloosing a boundless disaster. There was nothing he could do to avert the catastrophe. All of the sufferings borne over a lifetime were nothing compared to what was happening before his eyes in that instant.
    When the day of Gaetano’s departure dawned, Iofa came to get his friend with his horse and cart: he wanted to be the one to take him to the train station, just as he’d taken him a year before to visit the notary in Bologna, the day they brought home all that wheat for the family. Gaetano wore a pair of fustian trousers, a white hemp shirt with a detachable collar, a cotton jacket and a pair of cowhide shoes stitched up for him by the travelling shoemaker. His brothers hugged him first: Floti, Checco, Armando, Dante, Fredo and Savino. Then his sisters, Rosina and Maria, who burst out weeping. Callisto, whose chin was trembling like a child’s about to cry, was biting down hard on his lip, and Clerice dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her apron.
    â€œDon’t cry,
mamma
, it’s bad luck,” said Gaetano, embracing her. “You’ll see, I’ll be back.”
    Callisto patted his son’s shoulder. “Watch out for snipers, my boy,” he said, “and never smoke at night because they can see the glow of your cigarette.”
    â€œDon’t worry,
papà
, I’ll make sure they don’t get me.”
    â€œWrite when you can,” Floti told him, but he immediately bit his tongue. Gaetano hadn’t picked up a pen since third grade. “Find someone who knows how to write for you.”
    Gaetano got onto Iofa’s cart and set off. Everyone stood at the side of the road, waving goodbye with their hands and their handkerchiefs until he disappeared from sight. Then each of them went back to what he’d been doing, still incredulous at what they’d just seen.
    Over the next two weeks, Dante left, then Armando, Checco and Floti, and then it was Fredo’s turn. Savino, who was only sixteen, remained. The same harrowing scene was repeated, in the same way, for each one of them.
    When even Fredo had gone, Clerice knelt alone in the middle of the deserted threshing floor and prayed for her sons.

CHAPTER FIVE
    Gaetano got out of Iofa’s cart at the station of Castel­franco. He took out the government voucher that authorized him to travel free to Modena and from there to Verona where he would have to report to the regiment headquarters.
    â€œHow will I know which train to take in Modena?” he asked.
    â€œThere are timetables that tell you which track to go to.”
    â€œBut I don’t know anything about any timetables,” replied Gaetano, terrified.
    â€œThen you show this ticket to one of the railway officials and you tell him: ‘I’m a soldier