(by Gianni D'Amico) Protecting me with his body he spoke in a perfect Sicilian dialect, asking me: d’unni sunnu i tedeschi?, where are the Germans? I lifted my left arm and pointed my forefinger towards the bunker, saying: ddah dintra sunnu ammucciàti!! they are hiding in there!!

As soon as I spoke, an indefinite number of large machine guns of our

The young marine found me under the wheel of the tanker where his providential push made me stumble when the Germans opened fire and after passing me a chewing gum to show me gratitude, he invited us to move away because of the high risk.

Disobedient just as street boys can be, we didn’t listen to him and after having chewed and swallowed the gum, we continued together with a heavy machine and not far from the jeep, we admired astonished that man with his multicoloured war decorations.

While we were walking slowly following the column of soldiers, we were continually told to move away.

We were half the street away, when we noticed that onto a block of concrete, which had come off with the explosion of the pillbox, there was a German soldier with his face covered with blood, without showing any signs of life.

When the jeep was three meters away, he put something into his mouth tearing it apart towards the outside and at the same time threw it towards the jeep. The marine who was standing next to his General gasped seeing the object, and held it for a couple of seconds, then he threw it onto that man who was already full of holes by the machine guns that had noticed the hand grenade.

The deadly device exploded on top of him reducing him to shreds.

We looked at the officer in his eyes, he didn’t even move, as if what had happened was the part given by the director of a film. And exactly there the Officer stood up onto the jeep and screamed to us little fellows:

go home boys, this's not a game!!  

Translated by Chiara Nunnari from John Milton Institute