European Resistance Archive/European Resistance Archive (ERA)
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It was a large loaf, but you had to split it in five pieces.
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That’s all you got until evening. Then at night we were given some slop, but no more bread.
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That piece of bread was like gold for me: I used to eat it bit by bit, in order to savor it.
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We were terribly hungry and in the winter, when we went to work in Hagen, it was freezing:
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we spent the whole day close to a river and the air was unbearable.
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At lunch they gave us some slop.
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That’s where I’ve learned about margarine,
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chard, turnip, and this kind of stuff, all minced, cooked and seasoned with some of this margarine.
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Those who came last ended up eating it cold,
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and it was often my case, since I did not like to cram up with all the others.
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When we were allowed to break ranks,
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the Germans used to enjoy watching us cram in line and get into disputes.
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Forage caps would typically be falling in the soup, something that would drive people out of their minds.
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My Corporal, whose name was Mario Palazzeschi, from Arezzo, was incredibly healthy, a lot healthier than me.
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One day, however, he began to cry, sobbing “Carlo, I won’t make it, I won’t make it…”.
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Within three months he was dead.
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You know what I’ve always said?
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Mr. Benito Mussolini and Mr. Hitler would have to die before me.
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imagine what they would say if they were to find out that I’m still here, more than eighty years old now!
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I say this only to laugh a bit.
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