Today, 25th April, is La Festa da Liberazione, Liberation Day in Italy. It commemorates the end of Nazi Occupation during WWII. It was the day in 1945 when the National Liberation Committee of Upper Italy officially proclaimed by radio the seizure of power and the death sentence of all fascist leaders. Mussolini was shot 3 days later.
The liberation ended 23 years of fascist dictatorship and 5 years of war. It was a war most Italians did not want. Many young men were dragged from their farms and sent off to fight, unwilling and ill equipped. Some were sent to the Russian front in the dead of winter where they froze where they stood. I know people here who remember the war.
The war touched everyone. It seems difficult to believe that a tiny, remote village like Vergemoli could be affected, but fighting was all around this area. I have seen photos of the village being bombed.
My favourite building in Bagni di Lucca was Nazi head quarters in WWII. It is just around the corner from our apartment.
There is a plaque on the side of the building telling of the 13 partisans who were held and tortured in the building. They were murdered and there is a memorial to them in the local cemetery.
On the other side of the mountains here was one of the worst massacres in Italy in the town of Santa Anna di Stazzema. The people in the town were rounded up and murdered. See the story here. The massacre at Sant’Anna di Stazzema
Today there would normally be celebrations in many town and villages, but not this year. People will remember these awful times quietly at home.
25th April is also a day of commemoration in my home, Australia. Anzac Day is a day commemorate all Australians and New Zealanders who served and died in all wars, conflicts and peacekeeping operations. It marks the first major military action fought by Australian and New Zealand forces during WWI.
There were no big celebrations today. Many people gathered with candles on their balconies or their front yards at dawn, the time of the first charge by the soldiers.
My favourite uncle fought in WWII. He served in Palestine, Crete and New Guinea, yes, the whole war. He lived, but my mother said he was never the same. My mother was the youngest of 8 and her bother Robert was the second oldest. She was a young girl when her favourite brother was sent off to fight leaving his young wife, Rose, behind.
He is at the bottom of this photo, the one with the sketch pad on his lap. He used to write letters to Rose with drawings and cartoons on the envelopes. She would wait for the postman for his latest missive. He was a talented artist and cartoonist. In another time he may have become a professional artist. Instead he was a house painter, a good solid job after the war.
We loved our uncle Bob. We loved it when he drew something funny for us or whirled us around doing “aeroplanes” while we screamed for more. He never talked to anyone about his war experiences. He didn’t want to go to Anzac Day celebrations or have anything to do with the war. Whatever was in his head stayed there.
Today is a reminder of the awful times past generations have had to live through. Lockdown is mild by comparison. For those of us with a home and food this is not too much to ask.