Pasta hung from every chair, shelf, and rack in the room. Flour and egg shells piled up on the large wooden table at the center of the room. Ma was directing her four daughters through the process of pasta making. Her orders rang through the house above the girls’ chatter and the hum of the radio that Papa had bought just before the war started. Her Italian words flowed thickly out of her mouth and surrounded Lucy’s ears as much as the car the open shutters let in. The four girls, of whom Lucy was the youngest, followed Ma’s orders as they formed various shapes of pasta. They made spaghetti, fusilli, fettuccine, ravioli, and gnocchi. They usually made countless others, but with the limits of the war, these five types of pasta would have to last several months. It looked like a lot of piles and rows all over the place, but with six mouths to feed two times a day, the pasta would dwindle fast.
But this morning, the girls didn’t worry about whether the pasta would last. And although Ma silently counted and recounted how many eggs they had used, she joined in on the joyful chatter. The brightness of an August morning and the freshness of the air after the rain created a warm room that left beads of sweat on Lucy’s forehead. Her neck was spared today because she had braided her hair in two halves. Her bare feet enjoyed the brief chill of the wooden floorboards the sun had yet to hit.
Each pile of pasta grew from small hills to steep mountains until the table seemed to disappear underneath all the shapes of pasta. Ma neatly rolled up the string pastas while the two older girls, Cesidia and Nella, wrapped up the shapes into their own packages. The younger girls, Clarice and Lucy, were tasked with sweeping the flour off the floor - there was quite a lot despite the girls’ every effort to not waste what limited flour they had.
Once they had cleaned up, Ma put on the first pot of the new pasta and the girls waited patiently for permission to play outside. They all sat at the table with fingers tapping the wood and feet swinging in the air. Ma continued cleaning what Lucy could only think was imaginary dirt. She seemed to ignore the girls and kept her back to them. They silently waited, letting the radio hum became the loudest thing in the room.
The air continued to flow in and around the room. The clatter of plates died down, and Ma finally turned around and wiped her hands on her apron. But as she went to speak, the noise the girls heard wasn’t her voice but the roar of engines and the beeping of horns. In a tiny town with very few cars, this interruption was unexpected. The girls looked at Ma with large eyes and apprehension. Ma ran to the window, her long skirts brushing against Lucy as she moved past. She leaned out of the window and gasped. She ran then to the staircase and to the front door. She threw her apron and it landed on the ground.
“Girls, stay inside!” She screamed from halfway outside. Lucy and Clarice stopped short at the top of the stairs. Cesidia and Nella had run to the window and were already looking out, Lucy and Clarice squeezed into the corners next to them.
Ma had run out and met Papa at the end of the walkway. He had come up from the fields with the rest of the men after they had seen the trucks coming up the mountain. Papa pulled Ma back from the road but neither came back inside. Everyone was poking their heads out of their windows. None of them seemed to know what was going on. Lucy had no idea who these men were, but as they drove their vehicles slowly up the Pellegrinis’ street, Lucy could see the immense size of them. The tops reached above the roofs of single-story houses. The wheels scratched against the stone ledges and even outside walls of the homes that stood closest to the street. The colors of these tanks strangely fit in with the color palette of San Donato. If not for the foreign language they were shouting and the alien clothing they all had on, Lucy though they could’ve fit in here. But everyone’s reaction to their arrival told Lucy they’d never fit in even, if they tried.
“Germans,” Nella whispered, almost too quiet to hear aloud that Lucy thought she might have read Nella’s mind instead. How did Nella know they were Germans? Lucy could hardly tell the difference between these men and the men who had left San Donato to go fight in the war.
“What are they doing here?” Lucy asked. None of her sisters had an answer. And from the looks of Papa and Ma’s faces and the grips they had on one another that made their fingers white, Lucy thought they didn’t have an answer either. All she knew, from the knot that was quickly growing in her stomach, was that whatever reason why the Germans decided to come all the way up their tiny mountain, it wasn’t good.
The tanks and then smaller vehicles paraded up the hill and turned into the piazza. Lucy’s neighbors started to follow - despite the dread that hung in the air as heavy as sausages hung from the ceiling, there was still an urge of curiosity to find out more Papa and Ma didn’t move at first. Ma gripped Papa even tighter; Lucy was sure her fingers would break off. Papa leaned downward and whispered something into her ear. Her eyes shot a look of fear in response but Papa only nodded, pried her fingers off of himself, pushed her lightly towards the house, and turned to join the people who had started following the tanks to the piazza. Ma stood in the walkway for a moment, her chest puffed with a boiling anger. Her shoulders dropped though, and she turned around and came back inside. The girls watched, still standing by the window, as she walked up the stairs. Ma kept her head down and walked past them to the sink. It was unlike her not to start handing out orders. The girls silently watched her while also keeping an ear out for any noise that might come from the piazza. They were all too scared to ask what was happening and where Papa had gone. As scary as it was when the Germans flew their planes above their village at night, Lucy would rather they had stayed in the air. Now that they were truly in their town, there was no telling what they might do. Would they take Papa away? Would they take everyone away? To where? And why?
Lucy’s mind filled with questions. She didn’t ask any of them because she knew Ma either wouldn’t know their answers or she wouldn’t tell Lucy that she did. Lucy only waited with her three sisters as Ma hastily washed dishes that weren’t even dirty.
“No one’s playing outside today,” Ma snapped even though no one had asked. The desire to go outside had disappeared from all four girls the second those tanks had arrived.
They continued to lean out of the window though, but they couldn’t see or hear anything. It felt like ages before there was any movement. Papa finally turned down their street with a few other men. They were talking empathically, their hands flying all over the place. They all walked at a pace nearly running and broke off at each of their houses. It seemed that they left off mid-conversation but no one cared as they rushed into their homes. As Papa made it to the Pellegrinis’ door, the rest of the town had begun to leave the piazza. Women who had gone were crying. Teenage boys were sullen and white-faced. They all were walking home without a sense of direction of what to do next.
Papa shut and locked the door before he slowly came upstairs into the main room. The girls stared at him and Ma stopped washing the dishes, but didn’t turn around to face him.
“Ragazzi, go upstairs,” Papa ordered sternly. Usually, he came in with a smile on his face and hugged each of them. But today, the girls didn’t hesitate to follow his directions. Lucy followed her three older sisters upstairs. They all went into Cesidia and Nella’s room and shut the door. Nella immediately laid on the ground and pressed her ear against the wood. Her sisters followed suit. Lucy let her braids fall against her face and ignored the itchiness as she strained to hear what Papa might be telling Ma. She could only make out a few words here and there.
“...boys, thirteen to twenty-five…,” Papa said with an anger Lucy had never heard.
“My God! They can’t!” Ma exclaimed loudly before lowering her voice.
The girls looked at each other, unsure of what they meant.
“They can, Loreta,” Papa replied. “And we can’t do anything. Thank God our girls are safe.”
“Vincenzo!” Ma gasped before Papa shushed her.
Nella stiffened beside Lucy at the sound of his name. Vincenzo was her beau. He was sixteen like Nella was.
“No, no,” Nella shakingly whispered.
“What?” Lucy asked. “Why is Vincenzo-”
“Sh!” Cesidia elbowed Lucy as they began hearing Papa and Ma’s voices raise.
“They can’t force him to go,” Ma said.
“Yes, they can. And they are. They’re not leaving here without all of these young men.” Papa’s fist hit the table with a force the girls could feel from upstairs. “Just pray they don’t change their minds and take all men, Loreta.”
“Luigi! No, you’re far too old!” Ma was in tears.
“They might not think so,” Papa replied.
“Oh my God, oh my God. Why can’t they leave us alone?”
“They’re desperate. They know the Americans are closing in.” It was 1943, and while the Germans had been winning for a while, it seemed that the tide was turning. They needed all the bodies they could get to win this war and so they had begun turning to small towns across Italy and other countries for men. San Donato had assumed they would be safe on their remote mountain. Now, they were taken by surprise and unprepared.
“Thirteen year olds? Luigi, they’re just boys!”
“Not to the Germans. They’re men enough.”
“My God!”
“Loreta, we have to tell Nella,” Papa said. “Nella! Please come here.”
Nella had tears already in her eyes. She silently got up and walked to the door. Lucy watched as she left the room, so slowly it seemed that she’d never make it downstairs. Lucy had gathered enough information to figure out that for some reason, Vincenzo would be leaving with the Germans. Nella and Vincenzo had only recently decided that when they both were eighteen in only a year and a half, they would get married. Now, Nella was about to find out that he has to leave and might never come back. Lucy pressed her ear against the floorboards once again.
“Nella, the Germans are taking all the young men away to fight,” Papa started.
“No, Papa, no, not Vincenzo,” Nella couldn’t hold back her sobs anymore.
“I’m sorry, amore. I talked to his father. We can’t do anything. He has to go.” Papa’s voice was shaking, too. “They’re leaving tomorrow. I told the Pizzis all the come here for supper tonight.”
“He’ll come back, won’t he, Papa?” Nella asked, knowing already that no one had an answer for her.
“God willing,” Ma cried. Lucy heard Papa stomping across the floor in the boots he hadn’t taken off and went back outside.
Cesidia jumped up and ran downstairs. Lucy and Clarice only sat up and stared blankly at each other, unsure of what to do or say next. At seven and eight years old, they had a limited understanding of what was happening, only that it had been affecting the entire world and now, beyond the rations, it had truly interrupted their own lives.
Ma, Nella, and Cesidia were all crying downstairs. Lucy and Clarice didn’t want to join them, so they just sat as they had become so used to doing: solemnly and silently.
* * *
That night, the Pizzis came to supper as Papa had said. Their presence wasn’t out of the norm, as both families had been friends since before their children were born. But tonight, they came inside without smiling or speaking far too loudly and over each other. Vincenzo, who usually walked in and twirled around Lucy and Clarice, came in and walked straight to Nella. She had been sitting on the couch all afternoon. Ma let her be and not force her to help with supper preparations. Her face was read and she had acquired a pile of handkerchiefs around her.
Vincenzo knelt down in front of her and she gripped him, burying her face in his shoulder. His back began to shake and his own face was buried in her hair. They were silent, though. Obviously crying but too sad to let any noise out. Mrs. Pizzi joined Ma in the kitchen as usual, but neither said a single word. Mr. Pizzi walked in and on finding Papa’s absence, turned and walked back downstairs and out the door. Lucy watched him walk across the street and into the barn. Papa had been in there all afternoon. He couldn’t still be working, Lucy thought. But she couldn’t blame him for not wanting to be in the house. Lucy wished she, Clarice, and the Pizzis’ two younger children, Gemma and Paulo, could play outside. None of them asked though, and so, they sat still at the table, staring at the whitewashed wall, hoping that time would move quickly. Ma, Cesidia, and Mrs. Pizzi worked as efficiently as ever and got the food onto the table.
Without being told, Nella and Vincenzo came out of their cocoon and walked, heads down, hands clasped together, to the table.
“Lucia, go get your father, please,” Ma said as she sat heavily down into her chair.
Lucy went outside towards the barn. The unusually cool August nighttime air blew against her face, but she couldn’t enjoy it. The darkness of the night seemed to grab Lucy as she left the small comfort of the house. She ran across the street as fast as she could get to the light of the barn before the darkness captured her.
“Papa! Supper’s —!” Lucy shouted as she opened the barn door.
“Lucia! Why did you leave the house?” Papa snapped at her as she ran in. His tall figure met her at the doorway. She stopped short before Papa pulled her inside and shut the door.
“Ma said—”
“The Germans are walking all around this town. Don’t go out alone again.”
“Yes, Papa.” Lucy looked up at him, trying her best not to cry.
“It’s alright, amore. Supper’s ready, I suppose?”
Lucy only nodded. Papa patted her on the shoulder and started towards the door. Lucy followed and she heard Mr. Pizzi get up from the bench he had been sitting on. All three of them walked swiftly back to the house, avoiding any confrontation with the outside world.
At the table, Lucy squeezed in between Clarice and Gemma. Papa sat at the head of the table, as always. He cleared his throat and folded his hands, getting ready for grace. He didn’t start speaking, though. Everyone waited for some kind of prayer, but there was none. Papa unclasped his hands, picked up his fork, and began eating. Lucy glanced over at Ma, certain she would yell at Papa for skipping grace. But she didn’t. She wasn’t even looking at him. She just stared down at her own place setting and began eating, too. The children slowly followed their lead. Everyone ate in an uncharacteristic silence, and no one made eye contact with anyone else. Supper was over as quickly as it had started. The children cleared the table as soon as Ma stood up — as was their typical cue to do so. Papa and Mr. Pizzi didn’t speak or even smoke their pipes. They just sat staring at the table as if studying the pattern of the wood. As they all silently began washing and drying dishes, Lucy heard Vincenzo get up and then watched him and Nella leave the table and head downstairs and outside. Papa didn’t yell at them for going outside, and Lucy thought that was unfair. She decided to bite her tongue so as not to start an argument. No one seemed to mind that they had left. They couldn’t have gone far away, Lucy thought.
There was no dessert tonight. The children sat on the floor and quietly played with the toys Papa had made for the girls. Their parents sat at the table, saying nothing and just watching the candle in the center burn down. Vincenzo and Nella had yet to return. Lucy glanced out the window and noticed that the barn door was slightly open and the light of a lantern was shining through. They must want to spend all the time possible together. Lucy wished she could see Vincenzo though. If he really was leaving, she was losing a friend. She deserved to spend time with him, too, she thought. But he was Nella’s beau and even though Lucy couldn’t understand how what she felt was any different than Nella, she didn’t mind avoiding the tears she had yet to shed.
“We’re going,” Mrs. Pizzi said suddenly. Mr. Pizzi nodded and stood up, glancing out of the window.
“I’ll get them,” Papa said. He went outside and Lucy watched him walk to the barn and knock at the door. He waited a moment and leaned in before turning back to the house. Vincenzo and Nella followed just a moment later, arms wrapped around each other.
“When is he leaving?” Ma asked.
“Noon.” Mrs. Pizzi responded with a breathless tremor even one syllable couldn’t hide.
“We’ll come say goodbye before then, with Nella. If that’s alright.”
“Of course.”
“Girls.” Ma looked at her three other daughters for the first time since this morning. “You’ll say goodbye to Vincenzo tonight."
“Yes, Ma,” they all mumbled as Papa, Vincenzo, and Nella came inside. The Pizzis all gathered by the staircase but they couldn’t bring themselves to leave just yet. Vincenzo and Nella didn’t let go of each other until Mrs. Pizzi patted her son on the arm.
“We’ll be outside,” Mr. Pizzi said to him as he led his other children out. No one had said goodbye but Lucy was hopeful that at least Vincenzo would. He only stood at the base of the stairs, still holding Nella. He looked up and Lucy could see his eyes were even redder than earlier. He didn’t move, only looked at each of the Pellegrinis, as if to say goodbye through his glassy eyes. He ungripped Nella’s hands from his own, whispered something in her ear, and swiftly turned and left. The door slammed after him, and the Pellegrini were left in silence. No one tried to break it. They all remained silent the rest of the night. There was nothing to say and nothing any of them could do. They all said their prayers in silence and let sleep overtake them, hoping it would have the power to erase today’s events.
* * *
The morning won as it always did. The silence outlasted the night, too. As Lucy and Clarice awakened, Nella, Ma, and Papa were already dressed and ready to go.
“Cesidia, watch your sisters while we’re gone,” was all that Ma said as they started towards the door. She didn’t even look at them. Papa followed with Nella on his arm. The night had been awful to her: despite her attempts to hide her face, Lucy could see her dark circles surrounded by her red and puffy cheek. She seemed smaller and weaker than she had even just yesterday morning. How horribly fast everything changes, Lucy thought. If only they could have been left alone.
All morning, Lucy, Clarice, and Cesidia sat quietly. Lucy wondered if they would sit like this forever. After their chores were done, they had nothing to do. They wouldn’t dare go outside. They could see soldiers walking up and down their street with their guns in front of their bodies. Some of them walked up paths and looked into houses. Lucy was glad they were on the second floor. Still, she began to worry that they might try to come into their house. She didn’t know why she thought that they would, but she had heard stories of Germans doing just that in other places. She wished suddenly that Papa was here. What would Cesidia be able to do if soldiers came in here? Would they speak Italian? Would they hurt them?
Cesidia seemed to have similar thoughts. She was pacing around the room. She played with her hair so much that strands were falling out all over the place. She didn’t hide her nerves from Lucy and Clarice whose own nerves continued to grow.
It was 11:30. At noon, the soldiers would be leaving with all the town’s young men. Right then, Papa came running in— slamming the door and bolting up the stairs.
“They didn’t come in here, did they?” He fiercely shouted while taking stock of his daughters.
“No, Papa, No!” Cesidia nervously responded. The girls were relieved to see Papa but were alarmed at his question.
“Why Papa?” Lucy asked.
“They’re checking for any men who haven’t reported to the piazza. There’s several missing.” Papa responded with more information than the girls expected.
“They won’t come here, though?” Clarice always pretended like she was never scared, but Lucy saw a crack forming in her mask.
“Maybe. And if they do, you stand still and silent. Let them search everywhere,” Papa ordered.
“Will they hurt us?” Lucy asked.
“No,” Papa said, though Lucy wasn’t convinced. Papa sat at the table, hands on his knees. He seemed to be waiting. For what, Lucy was unsure.
Suddenly, the silence was broken by banging on the door. Papa jumped up and the girls’ eyes widened.
“Sit on the couch!” He hissed at them.
They sat down, sitting hip to hip, close enough to feel each other shaking. Papa came back up the stairs, followed by three soldiers.
“English?” One of the soldiers asked.
“No,” Papa responded. The soldiers, as if they had expected no one would know English, nodded to Papa and began walking around. There weren’t many places to look for hiding men, so they quickly went upstairs. Lucy could hear them stomping down the hall into each bedroom. They slammed open the trunks and flipped the mattresses. They came back down content with not finding anything.
“[the barn],” one of the soldiers said, pointing across the street. Papa nodded, understanding his request. The soldiers walked out and Papa followed them to the barn. Lucy didn’t move from the couch, but she could see through the window and watched as the soldiers and Papa went into the barn and came back out a few minutes later. They all walked back up the path towards the house. Why do they have to come back here? Lucy thought. She begged God to let them leave them alone.
Only Papa came up the stairs, though. He just stood at the top of the steps, sighed, and put his hands on his hips. His shoulders drooped and he stared at the floor.
The clock chimed noon. The sudden vibration of the clock made Lucy shutter.
“Come outside, girls. They’ll be leaving soon,” Papa said as he was already halfway out of the home.
The girls hesitantly got up from the couch. Lucy and Clarice followed Cesidia out. They stood next to Papa on the path. There was nothing to watch for yet, but they could hear a large commotion in the piazza. Some of their neighbors were coming back from the piazza and just like the Pellegrinis, none of them went inside. Ma and Nella appeared from around the corner. They were walking slowly with their heads down. Nella had a handkerchief in her hands that barely left her face. They made it to the path and joined the rest of the family. Nella sat on the stone wall, and Cesidia joined her, handing her a clean handkerchief.
The parade-like procession began. The huge tanks came out of the piazza. Even though they had fit on their way into town, Lucy thought they couldn’t possibly fit through again. They seemed bigger and scarier than they had the day before.
After the tanks and cars, the San Donato boys followed. They all had a small bag in their hands. Instead of the smiles in a typical parade, all of their faces were stone-like and turned towards the ground. Some of them looked up from time to time, but upon seeing their families or friends, they snapped their heads back towards the dirt road that their feet shuffled on.
Everyone was in tears, even people who didn’t know any of the boys leaving. Some were wailing. Lucy wished they’d be quiet. Their pain was released through the sounds they were making and prevented Lucy from ignoring her own sadness.
Lucy spotted Vincenzo who didn’t look up. Lucy looked at Papa but no one alerted Nella that he was passing. She had already said goodbye; one more glance at him would only hurt her.
The procession weaved itself out of town. People’s cries subsided, but no one left their pathways. They watched as the tanks and their boys got smaller and smaller. Even after Lucy could no longer see the army, no one moved. They all just stared towards the bottom of their mountain, for maybe if they kept their silent gazes, the boys would come back. No one waited to look elsewhere anyway for they knew the thin shield they had between them town and the war would be long gone. Lucy sat on the bottom step and let her gaze land on her bare feet. The nightmare would never be over, she thought. She wished she could just close her eyes and everything would disappear. If only the rest of the world could leave San Donato alone.
Papa finally stretched his back and turned towards the house. He avoided Lucy’s eyes as he walked past her, though he did pat her shoulder. Lucy thought his pat was permission to follow him inside. Even without the assumed permission, Lucy couldn’t wait to get away from the solemnity of the townspeople. She followed him silently. She felt Clarice close behind her, too.
The girls didn’t bother papa, who sat slumped at the table, tired and overpowered by the days’ events. Lucy and Clarice continued upstairs and found themselves in Nella and Clarice’s room. The fading sun was still shining through their window. They sat on the floor as they had just yesterday, though that seemed so far in the past now.
The typical evening laughter and playtime didn’t happen. As the sun set, the silence grew louder. No one had the energy or desire to break it. The war would be back, certainly to break it itself.
So, for tonight, Lucy and her family sat together with an emptiness in the middle of their suddenly uncomfortably large room. They sat still waiting for something, not sure of what, to interrupt their little world again.
**end Chapter 1**
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