Chapter 13

Aug. 21, 2012

The War in Tuscany 1943-1944

War in Val d'Orcia

     A few chapters back, we mentioned sitting in a church in Siena and noticing that the upper windows were either plain glass or stained glass, in no particular order. It was surmised at my observation that missing stained glass windows and damage to the church must have been results from Allied bombings during WWII.

     And so it was. Subsequent research revealed that Tuscany played a big part in the war, with the Allied ground forces driving out the Germans in 1944. The action in Tuscany and this region was devastated by the war and by the German occupation, the vary place where we spent a week on a farm last June, driving the rural roads and visiting the many hill towns

     Looking out upon these vistas in the beautiful of places on earth, one could not image the horror that was occurring here in 1943 and 1944..

     We are reporting here on the Val d'Ocia, the valley of Tuscany, involving the towns of Pienza, S. Quirico d'Orcia, Montepulciano, Chianciano, Sarteano, Castiglione d'Orcia, Contgmano, Radicofani and Monticciello. Also, there were many small villages involved in between the larger towns.

     In particular, we will be visiting the villa and farms of La Foce, almost in the middle of the valley. And since it was a rather large estate, it was a regular site for Germans, Italian partisans, Allied prisoners of war, and escapees. All found something of refuge in this estate, including some 23 children harbored from the ravages of bombings in Turin, Bologna and Modena, their homes destroyed and sent here by their families for safe refuge..

     Many books exist about the war in Italy, but we will focus on one book in particular for the next two chapters – War in Val d'Orcia, an Italian war diary 1943-1944 written by Iris Origo, mistress of La Foce

     This book in diary form chronicles the brutality of the German occupation, the people who survived the brutality and those who did not.

     Two examples of man's inhumanity to man: . In June 29, 1944, German SS troops stormed the Tuscan village of San Pancrazio and systematically murdered 73 people.

     On Aug. 24, 1944, German troops entered the village of Paduledi Fucecchio and massacred 184 men, women and children. In all, it was estimated German atrocities murdered more than 15,000 Italian peasants, most in retribution from partisan killings of German troops, and some, for no reason at all.

     In Rome on September 26, seven German soldiers were killed by Roman population, and in retaliation, the Germans rounded up 6,000 Italians and sent them off to German concentration camps. It also was the day Allied forces for the first time bombed Florence, Pisa, Livorno, Verona and Bologna with serious loss of life and property events unravel surrounding the farms in the d'Orcia valley.

     She writes in her diary that the farms were in the way of the Allied 8^th Army and the German occupation. There were 57 farms in number within seven thousand acres inhabited by about 600 people.

    The farms relate to a central farm with the villa, La Foce at the center of its activity with a dairy, carpenter shop, oil presses, laundry, granaries, wine cellars. The villa is a 16^th Century house, with formal and informal gardens, field hands, carpenters, brick layers, nurses for the clinic, all live in homes nearby or on the farm, basically a self-sufficient village.

     It is this large estate, La Foce, which attracts Italian army and Italian partisan soldier escapees, political agitators, prisoners of war, young Italians escaping the German draft, Allied airman and peasants bombed out of their homes. The villa with all its self sufficient resources has the ability to house and feed hundreds of these people, some passing through and others hiding in the nearby woods. The Germans too towards the end of their occupation, take over the property as field headquarters, then make it part of a line of defense against the advancing Allied armies.

     In all the farms, Germans continuously confiscate cars, motorcycles, bicycles, cattle, chickens, ducks, personal belongings, guns, food anything they can simply take.

     A friend writes: “There is a good deal of bombing of towns and villages along the railway, and much indiscriminate machine gunning along the roadways. What will be left of this wretched country? Perhaps a few isolated houses in the woods and hills – all the rest destroyed. I don't believe that the wars of the past, even with the pestilence and famine that they brought, were as destructive as this one. We have struggled to keep our cars and our freedom of movement, then our houses and those we love—and no doubt we shall soon be thankful merely to save our skins”.

     Some diary entries:

     March 14, 1944.-- The local news is grim. Three young recruits who had failed to report to the Germans have been shot in Siena, in the presence of their comrades, as “an example.” At Piancastagnaio two partisans, who were caught in the woods, have been shot on the spot, and their corpses hung at the gates of the city.

     April 25 1944 – In the afternoon, we hear that the man who was killed was one of our workmen – a quiet peaceable man, hard-working fellow, totally unconcerned with politics, whose murder by the Germans seems to us inexplicable. What new danger is coming now? In the dead man's little house, which after 30 years of hard work and self denial, he had at last succeeded in owning, the widow is hysterically moaning and sobbing beside the bed of her boy of eleven, who saw his father killed.

     May 18, 1944 – The attack on the Cassino front has begun.

     May 19, 1944 – Cassino has fallen.

     May 22, 1944 – Every day now, whenever I go out of the house, I find a little group of famished people sitting in the farm courtyard; haggard women, with babies in their arms and other children waiting for them at home; thin, ragged schoolboys or old men, carrying sacks or suitcases—all begging for food to take back to Rome. We give them all that we can, but Antonio begs me to remember that we must also go on providing food for own population and for the two hundred partisans in the

woods.

     May 26, 1944 – Anti aircraft guns, stationed at Spedletto, bring down five Allied planes out of an unusually large bomber formation, which is attacking German columns on the road. Some of the airmen save themselves by parachute. From our terrace we can hear the firing, and see the little silver balloons opening and drifting down from the sky. One plane, laden with bombs, explodes as it hits the ground. We see great columns of black smoke soaring up, and long to hurry to the scene to bring first aid; but the Germans will be there before us.

     The Allied Armies, still advancing, have broken through the Hitler line.

     Next, Friday, Aug. 24, Part two of War in Val d'Orcia, the Germans are driven from Tuscany and the farmers return to find their homes destroyed and looted to the bare walls, farmlands ravaged, a way of life gone with the wind.

War in Tuscany

The most famous statue in the world

Michelangelo's Masterpiece The David

Chapter 12

See slide show on left side of the blog

     There it was, The David, the most famous statue/sculpture in the world. Only I was looking at it in front of the City Hall of Florence in the Palazzo Vecchio. This was a replica. A very good one at that.

     The real David was up the street a few blocks in the Galleria dell”Accademia. Be ready for the tourists, and if you don't have your ticket paid up in advance, be prepared to wait in a long, long, long line.

     Our tickets purchased on line while still at home in Bainbridge, we entered the galleria at our appointed time. The David was just ahead, dominant in its own prominent place. It was carefully guarded, and the guards watched the crowds for anyone attempting to take a picture.

     “No foto. No foto.”

      So here, we have the museum's official photo of how you will see it.

     You can try to take your own photo, but believe me, here the guards mean business.

     The David is one of those objects of art you want to study, look at it for a long time and contemplate its majesty. Try to do it with hundreds of tourists surrounding its base, all chattering, kids running, guards confiscating cameras. Come back in January, closed on Monday.

     The statue copy, at right, of the original in the Palazzo Vecchio along with an entire courtyard of copies, the originals inside away from the weather. To David's left here is the Uffizi Museum, one of the oldest if not the oldest museums in the world, where here the Renaissance began.

     If you go to see the real David in the Accademia, he stands 17 feet tall in a special added wing of the museum where it was moved inside in 1873. In both the replica outside and the original inside, you can't help to notice the enlarged right hand, veined and tense just at the moment when he slings the rock at Goliath.

     In 2003 and 2004, The David was given a cleaning and a restoration, where today as you see it, it gleams and sparkles in its original Carrara marble.

     There are other works in the Accadamia, but The David outranks them all. You will see some works by Alessandro Allori and Bronzino, and you also will see two works by Michelangelo, his Four Prisoners and his portrayal of St. Matthew.

Visiting Parma cheese factory

Chapter 11. Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese

     Note: At left, there's a slide show of our visit to the Parma cheese factory, and a slide show on how to make pici pasta.  Also, if you are a first-time visitor, go to the left at archives, click on July 17, for the first chapter.

     When I was a second grader, I would stop at my Italian grandmother's house for an after-school snack before going to my own home.

     The snack usually consisted of a parmigiano cheese sandwich. Now, I am sure everyone thinks of this cheese as something you sprinkle on pasta dishes or blending into soups. But you haven't lived until you have eaten a parmigiano cheese sandwich, two slices of crusty Italian bread, lavishly buttered, then filled with several thin slices of the cheese.

     How good is that?

     That's why the one thing I wanted to do on our trip to Italy was to visit the Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese factory in Parma. The town was only a few miles away from our hotel in Reggio-Emilia, and on the first morning in Italy, we were in a taxi headed for Parma.

     It was 8 am., and we were joined in the cheese production room by several ladies whose husbands were attending business meetings.

     The milk truck had already arrived, having picked up the morning milkings from neighboring farms surrounding Parma, Reggio-Emilia, Modena, Bologna and Mantua. We were taken into the main production mixing area, spotlessly clean, white walls, red tile floors, slippery and wet. Workers were dressed in clean white coveralls and had already gotten an early start.

     The morning's stock of milk is mixed with skimmed milk, pumped into copper lined vats and heated.     Whey and calf rennet (an enzyme taken from the stomach of calves) is added which breaks down the milk

into tiny pieces, then left to curdle. The curd is cooked, and then settles in these vats, then raised, collected and compacted using muslim or cheesecloth, separated in two, now called twins, then dumped into stainless steel round forms.

     For the next 20-25 days, the cheese wheels are soaked in a salt brine, then aged on a shelf from 1-3 years before going to market.

     There are some Publix markets where in the cheese and wine sections, a cheese guru in a funny hat holds forth at the cheese counter, doling out samples on a toothpick. In the Killearn store, there is one of these cheese wheels, and if you look at it carefully, you will see a tough outside rind with lots of markings.

     Our guide in Parma told us the markings on the rind tells the history of that particular wheel – the day it was first processed, how long it was in the brine, how long it aged on the shelf in the aging room. It also will tell you which cow the milk came from, which farm, which provence, which day the cow at the grass in which field, and the name of the cow.

     The factory has a small retail shop, and as we sampled some of the cheese, the shop was doing a brisk business. I bought a sizable piece of cheese, shrink wrapped for travel, and hoped to enjoy it when we got home. Alas, through the next three weeks of changing temperatures, sometimes in a refrigerator for a few days, then in hot baggage, in the car trunk, back and forth, by the time we got it home, it didn't look appetizing.

     How tragic was that?

     Evan more tragic were reports of the earthquake in this region in May of this year. It was reported that 300,000 wheels were destroyed, from which 600,000 wheels fell from the shelves in the aging rooms. The other 300,000 wheels only sustained minor damage

     It has been said that the cheese produced today in this area can track its origins to the 13^th Century, beginning in Reggio-Emilia.

Also at left, a slide show on how to make pici pasta.

Next chapter on Friday Aug. 17

Downtown retail steet in Reggio-Emilia

Market days in Reggio-Emilia

He told her, "look, he's taking your picture."  Then she smilled.

No car zone.  Either walk or bike ride.

In background, it's a bank.

A second floor window Reggio-Emilia 

Walk or ride a bike in Reggio-Emilia

Chapter 9. We arrive in Reggio-Emilia

Chapter 8

Reggio—Emilia and our encounter with the policio

     Our first day in Italy was spent mostly on the airplane. It was also a day I had a few problems with the Policio

     Our flight was from Paris to Florence, but a thunderstorm over Florence, diverted us to Bologna.

     They said, a bus would take us to Florence, where we had a car reservation. Faye said she would wait for the luggage, while I went into the airport to see if we could get our car reservation transferred. They said they had one car. But I would need to hurry.

     Going back to the baggage area, I was stopped by the security guard. He spoke no English and I spoke no Italian. All kinds of gestures got us nowhere. I just need back into baggage area to get my wife.

    "No No," he kept saying. I tried to get around him a few times, but he kept catching me.

     Finally, he was on the the phone and I heard the word “policio.”

     I beat a hasty retreat.

     We finally got the car, and went on to Reggio-Emilia where we had a hotel reservation.

     Our car reservation was in Faye's name because since I was over 70, the insurance for me to drive the car in Italy was beyond any thing Geico could cover.  It also was a stick shift, to which Faye said, "I can't drive a stick shift."   So I said, "I'll drive."  The clerk led us out into the front of the airport where our car was waiting, and I said, "thanks for all your help," and suggested Faye jump into the driver's seat while a slowly loaded the luggage in the trunk and waited for the clerk to dissappear.  Once the clerk was gone, we switched seats and beat a hasty retreat out onto the autostrada heading for Reggio-Emilia."

     The hotel had given specific instructions on how to drive the streets of this ancient city which dated back to 187 BC. We kept missing the hotel, driving around and around, when suddenly we found ourselves going the wrong way on a one-way street, clearly marked in Italian, of course.

     Enter “policio.”

     He stopped us. “ Hotel Posta,” I said several times, to which he finally pointed back up the street in the direction we were driving. I think I saw him roll his eyes, and give one of those Italian hand expressions which could only be interpreted as.....

     We are Reggio-Emilia to visit the home of parmigiano-reggiano cheese. It was in Parma, a short drive to the next town, and we had made reservations on-line for the tour.

     To which I said, “let'stake a taxi.” I had no intention of driving unless it was necessary.

     The hotel called a taxi for us, then told the driver where we wanted to go. The driver of course spoke no English and we of course spoke no Italian.

     Our guide at the cheese factory spoke both Italian and English, actually very good English. Several ladies, all American, husbands at a business conference, joined us.

     More about the cheese factory later.

     Best way to explain Hotel Posta is to take it direct from their outstanding marketing book which was in our room, which is now in our living room back home

     “Located in the centre of the ancient heart of Reggio Emillia, close to the Romanesque style Cathedral, the Town Hall where the Italian Tricolour flag was born in 1797, theatres, restaurants, shops and banks, the medieval “Palazzo del Capitano del Popolo” has been the most outstanding symbol of the town for over 800 years.”

     Wow. Does it get any better than this?.

     It went on to say – “The Hotel boasts a five-century tradition in hospitality; in 1515 the building became a guest house for travelers with the the evocative name of “Locanda del Cappello Rosso.”

     As you wandered through the building you realized that this was a hotel that catered to world-wide travelers, conventioneers and business people.

     It had the usual meeting rooms, large dining hall, and small cafe, where a buffet breakfast was served, unlike “continental” breakfasts served at the Ramada or Holiday Inns.

     The typical Italian breakfast is a cup of cappuccino and a pastry. This breakfast was grand, displayed at a long, long table, stuffed with sinful pastries, artistically decorated breakfast cakes, fresh fruits, cereals, etc...,

     We continue with the description of the hotel from its marketing book –“ the charm of the past centuries blends with today's modern amenities to satisfy the most exacting guest. Among the numerous facilities, we offer WI-fi internet connection, garage, laundry service and bicycles that our guests can ride at no extra charge.

     Bicycles????

     A morning stroll outside Hotel Posta encountered bicycles. Lots of them. Everywhere.

     There were few cars in the narrow streets of the town, so if you wanted to get someplace fast, you rode a bicycle. Riders were everywhere, and we soon learned: Do not divert your direction to get out of the way of a bike rider. It's their responsibility to miss you.

      Just keep going straight.

     Next chapter on Tuesday, Aug. 14

Please see my website: www.JamesEllistonSmith.com

and drool over the food.