by John Hersey
“Lots of bells in the Navy,” said Robertson’s communications officer.
“It’s got to be just the right bell, though,” Livingston said.
“Yes,” Major Joppolo said, “that’s the important thing. It’s got to be the right bell. I wouldn’t want to give these people anything but just the right bell.”
Commander Robertson stood up and said: “Let me think, seems to me,” and he walked around the room.
Then he said: “I think maybe I can get just the kind of bell you want, Major.”
Major Joppolo said: “Do you really think you can?”
The Commander said: “I think maybe.”
Major Joppolo said: “If you can, I’m going to switch over to the Navy.”
The Commander said: “How would this be, Major? There’s destroyer, she’s named for an Italian-American, the U.S.S. Corelli, you know her, boys. Well, all destroyers have ship’s bells, they have to be loud and clear so that the men can hear them all over the ship, to tell the hours of the watches. I don’t know about you boys, but I think the sound I love better than anything in the world is the sound of the bell aboard the Stevenson. Of course we can’t ring it all the time while a war’s going on, but I don’t know, the sound of that bell means the whole ship to me. I think a ship’s bell could get to be that way for a town.”
Major Joppolo was looking out of the window. He was thinking. “Maybe it could,” he said.
Commander Robertson went on: “There’s a reason why the Corelli’s in on this invasion. You see, the Navy thinks about that kind of thing. There was something about Captain Corelli, the guy it was named for, he did something in the last war over here in the Mediterranean. Italy was our ally then, you know.”
Commander Robertson’s communications officer said: “We were talking about that the other day. Bradshaw seemed to know all about it, what’d he say, Red?”
The officer addressed as Red said: “I didn’t listen very carefully, it was something about going to the assistance of an Italian ship that was being attacked by a U-boat.”
“And was probably running away from itl” the communications officer added. “I guess the Navy had Corelh over here because he was a wop.”
Commander Robertson said: “There’s a good tie-in there, Major.”
Major Joppolo said: “Maybe it’s all right.” Lieutenant Livingston, who didn’t want to miss out on the credit which Major Joppolo had been handing out, said: “Do you think we could get the Corelli to give up her bell? You said you liked your bell so much: would you give it up?”
Commander Robertson said: “For a thing like this, if it was put to me in the right way, I think I would. The good thing is that Toot Dowling, he has the Corelli, he was in my class at the Academy, he used to substitute for me in football. Hell, I’m sure I could persuade him, if I could just find him.”
The communications officer said: “Wait a minute, I think I remember seeing something about the Corelli in that intercept that I decoded last night. Do you remember that, skipper?”
Commander Robertson said: “Yeah, that’s right, she was mentioned. That was all present whereabouts and future movements, wasn’t it? Can you remember what it said?”
The communications officer said: “No sir, I couldn’t possibly remember, there were too many ships in that thing. But I remember the Corelli was mentioned.”
Commander Robertson said to the communications officer: “Farley, would you mind going out to the ship and finding that order. I think we ought to tell the Major here whether there’s any chance of our helping him out. If the liberty boat isn’t at the dock, you can take my gig.”
“Yes sir,” the communications officer said.
While Farley was on his way out to the ship and back, the others talked about new things, but the Major did not enter much into the conversation. He was thinking. He was trying to imagine the sound of the new bell, and he could see the people crowding in the square to hear it for the first time, and he saw himself on the balcony, making a little speech, not too much, just telling them the meaning of the bell and saying that he hoped that they knew now the meaning of freedom...
Farley came back with the order in his hand. “It’s secret, sir, equal to British ‘most secret.”‘
“Okay,” Commander Robertson said, and he began to read the message to himself. “Let’s see, Corelli, Corelli. Here it is.” He smiled.
He looked up. “Major, I think well get you your bell.” Major Joppolo stood up. “Gee,” he said, “I didn’t expect action like this. If you think you could...” Commander Robertson said: “Leave it to me, Major. III get all the details from Livingston here.”
Major Joppolo turned to Livingston: “I don’t know how to thank you,” he said.
Lieutenant Livingston said: “Well, it’s all the Commander’s doing. But I’m glad it’s working out the way you wanted.”
Major Joppolo left quite abruptly.
Commander Robertson said: “If that bugger thinks the Navy is efficient, he’s really going to get a surprise this time. We’ll get him that bell within a week. The Corelli’s putting in day after tomorrow at that port just up the line, I never can pronounce it, begins with a V.”
“Vicinamare,” said Lieutenant Livingston, mispronouncing it.
“That’s the place,” the Commander said. “We’ll have time to run up there while these teapots are unloading here, and maybe we can bring the bell right back with us.”
“Do you really think you can get it?” Lieutenant Livingston said.
“From Toot Dowling?” The Commander laughed. “Hell, he’s a pushover.”
Chapter 30
THE IDEA of a party for Major Joppolo grew up in a peculiar way. It came up partly because of real affection for the Major. But it was also partly because Captain Purvis wanted to see if he couldn’t make some time with one of the daughters of Tomasino.
Giuseppe the interpreter stopped in to see Captain Purvis at the M.P. command post one afternoon. Giuseppe was just keeping his butter evenly spread. “How’s a thing, a Cap?” he asked. He called Purvis Cap because his tongue always tripped on Captain.
“Okay,” the Captain said.
“You like Adano?”
“Okay,” the Captain said.
“You like a little more fun?”
“Who wouldn’t?”
“Why you don’t a go see Francesca no more?”
“There’s nothing there, Giuseppe, the family’s always hanging around.”
“I’m a no so sure. You don’t a try very hard.”
“Besides, I think the Major’s falling for the blonde. He’s a good guy, I wouldn’t want to mess him up any.”
“How you mess him up? You fool around a Francesca.”
“No, Giuseppe, I think the Major’s serious. I don’t know, he didn’t say anything, I just got a hunch. If I fooled around with those girls, it would be strictly for fish. No, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“You mean a Mister Major, he’s a fall in a love?” “I don’t know. Maybe. I think so.”
“What a for? Can he have a no fun without a fall over like a that?”
“Doesn’t look to me like you can have much fun with a whole bunch around, including you, Giuseppe, and having to eat that godawful candy, and the old lady sitting there. No, Giuseppe, if I play house with a little dolly, I like a little privacy.”
“Giuseppe’s a fix.”
“I doubt if you could.”
“Never mind. Giuseppe’s a fix. I tell a you something. These a girl, these a Tomasino’s girl, she’s a not, uh how you say uh -not a scrupulous. All a three, nobody’s a scrupulous. You know those a two little a babies in a house?”
“You mean those little girls?”
Giuseppe nodded. “Belong a sister. She’s a you know.” Giuseppe winked.
“You mean she takes in washing and that’s not all?”
“She’s a bad a girl. Rome.” Giuseppe nodded and winked at the same time.
“Francesca’s not a scrupulous. Tina’s not a scrupulous. You can have a some fun. “
“How? What can you fix, Giuseppe?”
“Fix a party.”
“There you go with a crowd again. Hell no, let’s have a little privacy.”
“How about a Major?”
“Yeah, I suppose we got to think of him. You know, Giuseppe, he’s a funny guy. Sometimes I think he’s an awful wet blanket, and sometimes I can’t help liking him. He was telling me the other day at lunch that the main thing he really wants around here is to have these Italian people like him. You know what I think we ought to do? I think we ought to throw a party for him. Or rather I think we ought to rig it so these Italians throw a party for him.” Captain Purvis never thought of Giuseppe as an Italian, because he spoke English.
“Giuseppe’s a fix.”
“I mean a real good party, Giuseppe. With people like the Mayor and that old sulphur crackpot, and some nice girls of course.”
“Giuseppe’s a fix.”
“And some wine. Couldn’t we get some champagne for a change?”
“Giuseppe’s a fix
“If we really had a big party, then a certain Captain and a certain young lady could do a disappearing act, couldn’t they?”
Giuseppe winked again.
“That’s what I hate about a small party, anyone goes out, everyone else notices it. We ought to have a big party for a change.”
Giuseppe said: “How many you want, a Cap?”
“Oh, I don’t know, you can get some of these Italians together and decide. I’ll put up whatever dough you need. We could have it down at the villa where my men stay, that Quattrocchi guy’s house. Lot of spare rooms down there with beds in ‘em, heh, Giuseppe?” And this time it was Captain Purvis who winked.
“When you want a party?” Giuseppe asked.
“Well, pretty soon, how about next Friday?”
“Giuseppe’s a fix.”
And so it happened that in his mail, two or three days later, Major Joppolo got a card, on which was written in Italian: “A Committee of the people of Adano request the pleasure of your company at a party in honor of His Excellency the Mister Major Victor Joppolo on Friday evening, July 29th, at Villa Rossa, 71 Via Umberto the First, at 8:30 p.m.”
Major Joppolo propped the card on the inkstand on his desk where he could read it, and often did: “…in honor of His Excellency... ‘
Chapter 31
THE MORNING the prisoners were released the sun was bright and Adano looked its best.
Major Joppolo’s street-cleaning truck had just swished up the Via Umberto the First and turned along the Corso Vittorio Emanuele, with the Chief Street Cleaner, Saitta, spick and span in his white suit, at the wheel. And now the paving blocks glistened from their rinsing, and the smell of wet horse dung was clean on the morning air.
It was a fine day for coming home.
The released prisoners came up the Via Umberto the First in a body. They were still in uniform, but their uniforms were dirty from sleeping on the ground, and many of them were unshaven and had long hair.
They stopped by at Zapulla’s bakery on their way up the street, and as they approached the square almost every one of them had half a loaf of good white bread in his hand. They sang and shouted: “Going homel Going homel” as they walked up the street.
They did not march. They had had enough of lining up for inspection and lining up for chow and lining up to shoot and be shot at. They were just a mob of boys going home as they walked up the Via Umberto the First. There was laughter in some of their throats and some of them were crying.
The war aim of most men is to go home. And so for these Italian boys the hateful war was fulfilled, and they were incredibly happy as they walked up the street.
Their eyes were open wide, like the eyes of small children who notice everything. They noticed that Mussolini’s pompous inscriptions were painted off the walls. They saw that the street was clean. The bread tasted better in their mouths than it had ever tasted before. They had hardly turned into the Via Umberto the First from the Via Favemi before their ears heard a woman sing. The horse dung was not even sour any more, according to their noses, but was new and sweet on the morning air.
Any day would have been good for coming home, but this home and this day were best. They sang and shouted: “Coming home! Coming homel”
There had not been any advance notice of the prisoners’ release, except what Major Joppolo had given Tina, and she told no one. But somehow the word spread far ahead of their actual approach, like gusts of wind ahead of an oncoming cloud.
Women far up the town heard the murmur of their approach and instinctively knew what it was. They shouted to other women. Those standing on the sidewalk in front of the Palazzo saw them turn into Via Umberto the First from Via Favemi, and instead of rushing down the street toward them, they clutched their emotional throats and ran off to find their friends to tell them of this wonderful thing: the boys of Adano were coming home!
And then the women who had heard the murmur and the women who had stood there and actually seen the approach, and also the women that these others had summoned, all ran back to the sidewalk in front of the Palazzo and watched.
War is awful for men but it is not too good for women. In their bedsheets these women had ached for their men. The nipples of their breasts had hurt from wanting them so badly. There had been days when certain of these women did not get letters from their men, and then, in talking with their friends, had found that those others did get letters, and those had been bad days. Some had had their small ones, just old enough to talk, slip up to them shyly with frightened eyes and say: “Papa: where is my little father?” and there had not been any answer except in the pit of the stomach.
The women who stood on the sidewalk in front of the Palazzo had lived in daily dread that their men might be hurt, or worse. Women who had argued with their men, and been impatient with them when they had them securely, forgot the arguments and thought only of the nice things, the being waked up in the middle of the night by a man crawling clumsily into bed, the loud laugh with the head thrown back, the smell of a certain smoke, the sound of a certain kind of wine clucking out of the bottle.
And so the women stood there on the sidewalk in front of the Palazzo with their hands at their throats, or reaching vaguely for loose wisps of hair.
The men walking up the street saw the women standing there. They did not break into a run. Their happiness was terrifying; they walked slowly toward their women.
When the men had reached a place about five hundred yards from the women, the crowd of women started moving forward, slowly at first, the feet just shuffling on the sidewalk, then stepping forward as necks craned and eyes darted, then walking to be closer, and finally running and shouting wordless sounds.
The men did not break into a run. The women ran toward the men. There was equal happiness on both sides, it just happened that most of the men knew their women would be there, whereas some of the women were not sure that their men would be there. That was the difference. That is why the women ran.
There were among those women some who knew that their men were dead. They were just running forward in order to share the incredible happiness, or even the doubt, of the other women. Doubt was better than what they had.
One of the women in the crowd was Tina. She had been expecting this thing ever since the Major had spoken to her about it, and she kept herself very available. She was one of the women who had been brought out by the mere murmur.
She was dressed in her nicest dress, a blue thing that the gay sister had sent from Rome. Her hair had been combed until it shone and its blondeness looked almost real.
She ran forward with the others. Her eyes explored the crowd of men half lovingly, half fearfully. She pushed at the women in front of her and struggled for a better view.
You can be sure that Major Joppolo was down in the street. He wanted to be there to savor the happiness in Adano. B
ut he also shared the specific curiosity which drove Tina forward. He too wondered whether Giorgio was there.
At the first murmur of the crowd, which he had easily heard through the French doors of his office, he had run down into the street, and he had walked rapidly down it toward the group of men even before the women started moving. Therefore he had just about reached the prisoners when the women started running.
When the prisoners saw the Major, some of them ran forward, shouting: “American! American!” They hugged him and some kissed him, and there were bread crumbs on his face when they got through with him.
Here was the final crazy touch of war. Men who for months had been chosen and trained and ordered to commit the worst of all crimes, murder, were now showering their affection on the very kind of man they had been out to kill.
The women came close. Some had recognized their men, and were screaming the names with trembling voices.
Now at last the men broke into a run. They had only about ten paces to go.
The two crowds mingled.
It was a crazy sight at first. The couples who had found each other embraced each other. Some laughed and some cried, some whispered and some screamed, some pounded and some caressed.
Some of the women with dead husbands embraced the first men they reached, just to taste a little of this sensation that they had wanted so much. But the men rejected them and went looking for their own.
You could begin to see the ones who were not going to find their men at all. They darted faster and faster from couple to couple, repeating the name, asking, looking two and three times at faces already seen just to make sure. The faces of these women went paler and paler and finally they began to cry. Curiously most of these women did not scream, but cried silently; the tears just coursed down their empty faces.
Tina did not have to dart from couple to couple. Major Joppolo happened to be standing close beside her when she found out.
A young man left his woman. He went over to Tina and stood before her and shook his head. That was all he had to do, Tina knew.