La Strada Da Seguire: The Road to Follow

by Susan Toscan

  At first, all the girls laughed, thinking it was a joke, but Savina got very angry and tried to tell the youths that they were behaving badly. This enraged them further, and they started to push the girls into a corner. The girls huddled together for support; they had finally realised that this was not a game and that the boys were not joking. They had no way of letting their families know that they were in danger. Savina started shouting at the boys. “Stupido creature! Mio padre ti ucciderà per questo,” she said. You stupid creatures! My father will kill you for this!

  Because the young people were attending a gathering organised by the church, Savina knew their parents would not come looking for them before the official finishing time, and by then, it would be too late.

  Savina kept Olga and Gigetta close, telling them to stand behind her for safety. She was determined to fight to protect her sisters. The young woman could not believe that fellows she had known all her life were behaving this way. She, like everyone else, understood how difficult life was, but she would never forget the terror of being locked in that room, enduring taunts and threats and hearing her sisters and the other girls scream.

  Savina’s rage at being a victim, and at the injustice of life in general, gave her the strength to hit out. She picked up a chair and flung it at her aggressors, screaming, “You need to stop this right now! I hate you all! I hope the Germans come for you!” She was a very strong young woman, and some of the boys now began to show hesitation in their appalling behaviour. A couple of them even left the hall. However, those who remained were determined to succeed in their efforts to vent their frustration.

  The local priest lived in the house next to the church, and he finally became aware of the screams coming from the hall. He was an old man, and he was afraid, so he sent his housekeeper to get the German officers who lived in Antonio’s house. To the best of his knowledge, they were the most senior soldiers in the village.

  The officers came quickly, and through the side window of the hall, they were able to see the girls huddled together in a corner, obviously being menaced by a group of hostile boys. When the soldiers realised that the doors had been locked, they hastily kicked them in. The boys froze when they saw that they had been caught.

  Some of the boys even had the decency to look ashamed of their behaviour. The officers certainly made sure that they would never attempt anything so stupid again: the girls got to have the last laugh as their tormentors were tied to the front railing outside of the church for the whole village to witness their embarrassment.

  Alessandro heard the story from Savina when he visited her family a few weeks later. It had been many months since he had been forced to join the army. He had travelled long distances during that time but had returned for further training in the mountains close to the village. He had to laugh when he heard her recount the events in the church hall. He knew how feisty Savina could be, but he certainly had not expected her to stand up for herself and the others in the way she had. He gave her a quick hug and told her not to cause any more problems.

  “You’ve been a brave girl, but please don’t try to avenge yourself and your sisters. These fellows have learned their lesson. Just be good and stay close to home. I may not get back to the village for a long time, so please be safe, bella.”

  “Are you going a long way from here?” Savina asked with a worried expression on her face.

  “Yes. I have to go far away from here, and who knows how long this war will last. I can’t tell you where I will be because I don’t know,” Alessandro said expressing his frustration.

  As Alessandro tried to say goodbye to her, Savina started to cry.

  “No, bella, no tears. You take care, and you must believe that I will see you when I can. Arrivederci.”

  Missing Michael

  Renata received the letter containing the devastating news that Michael had been injured and asking her to tell Agnes several weeks after Steven had sent it. She had spoken to her friend the previous day, and it was clear that Agnes knew nothing about Michael at that stage. In fact, Agnes had told her that she had not heard anything from him in the last two months.

  Before she did anything else, Renata went to talk to Agnes’s mother. Elsie was extremely worried when she heard about Michael’s injury. She knew that the restricted treatment available in field hospitals with limited facilities meant that wounded men were often prone to infections. “Let’s pray that they’re able to get Michael to a proper hospital sooner rather than later.”

  “Elsie, can you please be with me when I tell Agnes? I’m really nervous about giving her this news. She will be devastated. She has been so brave, but I suspect she’s worried about something being very wrong. Only yesterday she told me that she hadn’t heard from Michael for some weeks and that’s not like him.”

  “Of course I’ll be there with you, dear. It’s going to be difficult news to deliver. Agnes will need all of us to support her until we get confirmation of when Michael will be brought home.”

  Agnes was in the garden with the children when Elsie appeared at the back door and called out to her, “Renata is here to see you, dear. I’ll make us a cuppa, and we can sit out here and watch the children.”

  “Hello, Renata; so good to see you,” Agnes said as her friend walked out into the garden. She noticed that Renata was unusually pale. “My goodness, you look a little unwell. You had better come and sit down.”

  “Thanks, Agnes. I’m okay—just a little tired.”

  Elsie joined her daughter and Renata with the promised tea and biscuits, but before she could speak, her grandchildren began calling out to her. “Watch us on the swing, Nanna!” All three children were climbing over each other to be first on the swing.

  “Okay, you three, let’s just have one at a time or someone will get hurt. How about you girls let Neil go first?” Elsie walked over to supervise the children. She gave them all a biscuit each, and then she returned to the two young women. Elsie poured the tea and then looked at Renata. “Agnes, Renata has had a letter from Steven, and he’s asked her to share some news with you.”

  “Is Steven all right?” Agnes asked with concern.

  “Yes, he is fine—the letter was dated before they left Tobruk, and he was fine then—but he did want me to tell you that…” Renata hesitated and looked at Elsie for support. She was having difficulty finding the words.

  “What’s going on, Renata? Mum? You’re scaring me.” Agnes sounded panicky. She put her hands to her face, preparing herself for news that she did not want to hear.

  Elsie took over. She reached out to grip her daughter by the hand, but Agnes snatched her hand back.

  “No! Don’t tell me Michael has…”

  “No, Agnes!” Renata rushed in. “But he has been hurt.”

  “How hurt?” Agnes was pale. Renata handed her Steven’s letter and looked on anxiously as she read the words carefully and then reread them. Agnes started to smile, tentatively, even though she had tears running down her face. “This means that he’ll be home soon. This is good news. I don’t mean good news that he’s been hurt,” she added quickly, “but he’s coming home, and that is great. We can look after him, and he will get well again.”

  She was up on her feet, excitedly pacing around now. “This letter was dated almost eight weeks ago! So why haven’t I heard from the Army Office yet? Michael could already be on his way home for all we know.”

  A loud cry from Neil as Frances lifted him from the swing brought the attention of all three women back to the children. Elsie rushed to the little boy’s assistance. “Come on Neil. Come with me. Nanna has another biscuit for you. It’s your sisters’ turn now.” Elsie left Frances and Patricia to negotiate who would get the next turn on the swing. Neil was happy with his biscuit, and he sat quietly beside his grandmother.

  Agnes put her arms around her little boy. He would soon be able to get to know his daddy again. She could not wait for the children to see Michael. They missed him so much. Of course, she would not t
ell them anything until she knew all of the details, but all she wanted was for her husband to come home so that they could be a family again. If Michael had to recover from a terrible injury, then he would have the love of his family to help him heal.

  The following week, the official telegram from the Army Office finally arrived, and Agnes was numb with fear as she opened the envelope. Even though her conversation with Elsie and Renata had helped prepare her for this moment, she was still filled with dread that the telegram would tell her that Michael’s condition had deteriorated—or worse.

  Mrs Houston, we regret to inform you that Michael Houston has been badly injured as the result of a bullet wound to his lower leg, which he received prior to leaving Tobruk. He has been transferred to a hospital in Cairo. You will be informed when he will be released at a later date.

  Agnes took a deep breath. There was no ‘new’ news—just the old news that she had heard from Renata and her mother.

  In her mind, Agnes was talking to her husband. Michael, my love, I cannot believe it. You’ll be coming home to the children and me. God, I am so relieved. It doesn’t matter how bad the injury is; I know that Mum and I will be able to take care of you and that you will recover. We will have you back. We will make you well again. Michael, I love you so much, and the thought of you finally coming home is overwhelming after the long months of waiting. The lonely nights listening to our little girls cry for their daddy will soon be over. A little boy who is now almost two and a half years old will finally get to know his father. I’m ashamed that I feel so happy considering that you’re most likely in a lot of pain, but if that pain brings you home sooner, then I know that at this moment you will be just as happy as I am with this news.

  Agnes felt joy for the first time since Michael had left.

  It was early 1942 when Steven returned home, albeit briefly, to the great excitement and relief of his and Renata’s families. When his leave ended, he would be posted to New Guinea.

  At the earliest opportunity, Steven questioned Renata. “So Agnes hasn’t had any recent news of when Michael will be home, or even where he is?” He was concerned to discover that his friend had not yet made it home.

  “No, darling, she’s heard nothing more. It’s been weeks since she received the telegram, and there’s been no further news of when we can expect Michael home. Agnes is getting extremely frustrated at not getting more information from the Army Office. In fact, she’s decided to take the train to Sydney so she can personally try to get some answers. Elsie and Joe are going to look after the children while she’s there.”

  “I’ll talk to her tomorrow and see if I can help in any way.” Steven frowned. “I have to tell you, love, Michael was in a very bad way when I last saw him. Not just physically but mentally; that part worries me more than the physical injury. When Agnes and the kids see him, he will have changed a lot. I think that when he does return, the family needs to be prepared to be very supportive.”

  When Steven went to see Agnes the following day, he was heartbroken at the distressed state in which he found her. He tried to comfort her, but he shared Agnes’s frustration.

  Part Three

  W a r ’ s E n d

  How can the sun keep shining?

  Agnes: How can the sun keep shining when the world has ended?

  Two months have passed since I first heard that Michael was wounded, and I still haven’t been able to get any news about where he is and what is happening. God, I’m frustrated! I was told that he was taken to a hospital in Cairo, but no-one seems to know what happened to him from then on. Has he recovered, or is he still receiving treatment somewhere overseas? Why hasn’t he been brought home to receive proper medical treatment in Australia? I have all of these questions and many more, and I feel like screaming at someone.

  My trip to Sydney has proven nothing. It seems as if Michael has just disappeared and no-one cares except me.

  It takes almost a week of sitting and waiting at the Army Office at Victoria Barracks in Sydney before I finally get an appointment to talk to someone in charge the following day.

  I call and let my family know that I am hopeful about finally getting some answers. I am really sick of catching the same bus to the same place day after day. Fortunately, I’m staying with friends who live close to the city. I have never liked the big city, and I like it even less now. The towering buildings seem to swallow up the light, and when I’m here, I feel claustrophobic; I need air.

  The day of my appointment, I approach Victoria Barracks feeling more positive than I have felt all week. I am kept waiting, but I am used to that. Finally, a military officer takes me into his office and offers me a cup of tea. This is nice, I think. Finally, I am being treated like a human being. I accept the tea and waste no time bombarding the officer with my questions. But I still do not get the answers I want; in fact the meeting leaves me with even more questions. “Where is my husband?” is the question I keep repeating as I cry in frustration. “Why can’t you tell me where he is? How can you say that his whereabouts are confidential? He was injured. He can’t be sent back to fight—can he?” But all of my questions and the officer’s evasions just go round and round.

  The officer who speaks to me is an older man with a kind, concerned face and a gentle manner, and even through my anger and frustration, I can tell that he is very uncomfortable that he cannot tell me the whole truth.

  He keeps assuring me that he understands how I feel. I finally get very angry and shout at him, “How could you possibly know how I feel? I have three babies at home who need their father. How do I explain to them that the army doesn’t know where their daddy is? I don’t understand that myself. How can you do this to a family? My husband went overseas to fight for Australia; he couldn’t have just vanished!” I run from the office, but I don’t know where to go. I don’t know my way around Sydney, and I am too upset to return to my friends’ house.

  I find myself out in the gardens that surround the historic buildings of the Barracks. As I stumble along the beautifully manicured lawns, I am barely aware of the gardens around me. I feel totally lost, and I know that I am hysterical; I can hardly breathe, and panic has taken control of me. Michael is missing, and no-one will tell me where he is. Perhaps the army doesn’t know; perhaps he died and they lost track of his records; perhaps no-one has the answers that I am looking for.

  The realisation that this could, in fact, explain everything hits me hard. Oh my God. That was it. He had died, and they had somehow not kept records. In the days that the army was leaving Tobruk, anything could have happened. Michael could have died in that field hospital, and if the army was already moving, perhaps no note of the death was made.

  I sit down on the grass and stare at my shaking hands. This is the only sensible explanation. If Michael were alive, he would have contacted us. He loves—loved—us. With every fibre of my being, I know that he would not leave us to wonder where he was. If it were within his power, he would contact me. I am more sure of that than anything else in my life. Michael loved me!

  I cannot feel my hands and feet; I am totally numb, and everything is spinning around me. I try to look up, and I see that the sun is shining. How can the sun be shining when I feel as if my world had ended? Tears are running down my face, and yet I am not aware that I am crying.

  Suddenly I have a strange sense that I am not alone. It takes a few minutes for my foggy brain to register that there is someone standing close to me. I don’t care; I don’t know anyone in this vast city. Michael is dead, and I don’t care about anything. The person makes a sound as if to clear his throat, and I look up to see someone who looks vaguely familiar. I am in such a state of distress that nothing seems to be real; I feel as if I am in a very bad dream. I realise that the man standing near me is Brad.

  “Hello, Agnes,” Brad says as he sits on the grass next to me. “Have you had news of Michael?” I shake my head; I do not trust myself to answer. “What has you so upset? Let me help you.”

&nb
sp; I cannot talk. Instead, I put my head in my hands and cry like I have not cried in a long time. Brad sits with me and lets me weep; he does not ask any more questions.

  When the tears stop, I lift my head to apologise and try to explain everything. I’m not sure that I can explain, but I find that it does help to talk to someone who seems to care. I tell Brad the whole story of how Michael had been hurt in Tobruk and how I could not find out where my husband was or even if he had survived. I tell him that I realised that Michael must have died. All of a sudden, the strangeness of the situation hits me.

  “How did you know I was here, Brad? How did you know to come looking for me? Sydney is a big place—you didn’t just happen to run into me?”

  Brad stops me and smiles. “Betty called me to tell me that you had an appointment this morning at the Army Office. She said that you didn’t know many people in Sydney and you might need someone to talk to. She didn’t know the time of your meeting, so I got here at nine and just waited outside the building. I saw you go in, and I waited until you came out. You were so upset that I followed you. I didn’t want to intrude on your grief. I thought that you’d been given bad news.” Brad reaches out to take my hand, and I let him. I am in a trance. “Of course, I know you didn’t hear what you wanted to hear, Agnes, but you must keep in mind that they didn’t tell you Michael is dead. It’s entirely possible that in your distress, you’ve reached a conclusion that’s very likely not the reality.”

  When I had calmed down a little, Brad put me in a taxi to take me to my friend’s house. I had told him that I would be returning to Griffith the next day. He seems concerned about my state of mind. It is a cruel twist of fate that has brought us together, but he says that he wants to see me again just to be sure that I am okay. I don’t think that I will ever be “okay” again. Over the past several months, I had forgotten what it was like to feel okay in any way. I’d lost all sense of normality. It is not normal to think that the man I love is dead but yet deep inside still have a nagging doubt. I can still feel his love. Something is not right. I feel very confused and frustrated at not being able to get any conclusive answers. What will I tell the children?