To Find a Mountain by Dani Amore Read Free Book Online Page A

routine was. He nodded as I spoke, sipping his coffee. I then told him about the visit from the bishop, leaving out the part about how Bishop Frugazzi had made Iole cry, and how he had put his arm around me.
    Papa’s face beamed with pride as I described how the bishop had dined in our house, at the very same table where he was now sitting. He seemed particularly happy when I described the meal I had made, and how much the holy man had enjoyed it.
    “Good,” he said. “Good.”
    He asked if there was anything else he should know and I said that there wasn’t. He asked if the Germans were treating me well and I said yes.
    I realized I’d forgotten about the pigs, so I told him that they had been slaughtered, then, whispering, told him about how I had hidden the piglet in the indoor chicken coop and that we were secretly feeding him with the few scraps I could manage to sneak out to him.
    Papa laughed. “That’s my Benedetta. You’re just like your mother.”
    We both paused briefly at the mention of her.
    The smile disappeared from my father’s face and I decided to change the subject.
    “How are you doing, Papa?”
    He looked at me, a strange flash of anger taking away the sadness in his eyes. Papa stood and walked into the other rooms of the house before returning to the table.
    “I am going to try to escape the front, Benny,” he said.
    “What . . . how . . . ?”
    “It is too dangerous. If I don’t do something now . . .” He shrugged.
    “But they won’t let you . . .”
    “If an Italian man disappears during the battle, the Germans assume he was killed or captured. It’s only if they actually see us running away that they try to shoot us. And even then, they might not want to waste a bullet on us.”
    He paused, then added, “I can die trying or I can just die,” he said.
    I said nothing. I felt dizzy.
    “The Germans do not consider us people,” Papa said. “We are not human. In their eyes we are lower beings. A step above monkeys. A step below them. They make us do the most dangerous jobs. Hauling artillery and explosives on our backs through rough terrain.”
    His voice had turned bitterly angry. I reached across the table and took his hands, looking quickly around the room. He lowered his voice. “The Americans are trying to make it up Mt. Cassino,” he said. “You can hear the guns booming from here, can’t you?”
    I nodded.
    “But the Germans, they have the big guns above the only pass, the Mignano Gap,” Papa said. “The Americans are committing suicide every night. In the morning, the Germans send us out to strip anything of value off the dead Americans. Two days ago, an Italian was shot by a wounded American.”
    He shook his head and I refilled his coffee cup.
    “There are dogs everywhere on that side of the mountain,” Papa said. “There isn’t enough food on that side either, where the Americans are. The villagers are caught in the middle, so their dogs run free. They are feasting on the Americans, tearing flesh from the corpses that haven’t had time to rot.”
    I shuddered at the image.
    “Listen to me, Benny,” my father said, taking my hands in his. “Before you get Emidio and Iole, remember, I am going to try to get away from there. Away from them. You must be strong, stronger than ever, Benny. I’m counting on you.”
    He sat back in his chair, the dark circles under his eyes making him look even more exhausted.
    I left him sitting there, looking into his cup of coffee, the weight of the war resting heavily on his sloping shoulders.

C HAPTER TWELVE

    I n the morning, my father left with the Germans, naturally, for the front. We kissed him good-bye at the front door. Iole and Emidio were in tears, as was I. He hugged Signora Checcone, which surprised me, and then walked out with the tread of a condemned man. Seeing him climb back into the truck sank my heart like a stone. The only hope I could cling to was that he would somehow manage to escape, somehow