The taste of Liberation, 1943-44

Il sapore della liberazione, 1943-44

La liberazione – dalla tirannia, dall’occupazione, dalla guerra - ha un sapore diverso per chi la dà e chi la riceve. L’esperienza varia molto anche secondo le circostanze in cui arriva. Quanto è costato? Quanto è riparabile o recuperabile? Spesso, la risposta alla prima domanda è sicuramente “troppo”, e alla seconda, “poco o niente”. Eppure, nel 1944-45, il passaggio dei soldati alleati “liberatori” delle cittadine italiane fu spesso l’occasione di festeggiamenti euforici.
Per i soldati della 2^ Divisione neozelandese fu un’esperienza nuova e sorprendente. Provavano stupore e persino imbarazzo davanti all’entusiasmo del popolo italiano che li accoglieva con fiori e vino, e grande calore. I civili si mostravano grati e generosi. I soldati rimasero sbalorditi dalle effusioni, soprattutto delle ragazze e dei bambini, che impazzivano di gioia. I soldati – consapevoli di aver contribuito alla distruzione attorno a loro - potevano difficilmente apprezzare il significato del loro ingresso in paese. Non avevano sentore delle privazioni subite dalle popolazioni, dell’oppressione delle forze occupanti, del clima di terrore e diffidenza vissuto fino al giorno prima, della guerra fratricida innescata dalla divisione dell’Italia in due, degli orrori appena perpetrati. Era la fine di un incubo.
Purtroppo, i soldati neozelandesi presto vennero a capire che c’era in realtà poco da festeggiare, e loro, comunque, raramente avevano il tempo per fermarsi. Di rado toccava a loro restare per instaurare una sembianza d’ordine, ed aiutare a ricostruire. Finché la guerra non finiva, dovevano proseguire.
Per i soldati neozelandesi, la liberazione fu spesso un’esperienza fugace, ma non per questo meno impressionante. Furono testimoni, pur brevemente, di tutte le situazioni di liberazione dei civili italiani – delle uscite dalle grotte, delle aperture di cantine stipate di rifugiati, del ritorno in paese di giovani nascosti fra le montagne, e del rovesciarsi della gente nelle strade. Facevano anche amare scoperte di recenti massacri, sentivano racconti raccapriccianti di rappresaglie, di eccidi e sopraffazioni. Il loro percorso attraverso la penisola italiana sarebbe stato anche, e forse soprattutto, un’esperienza umana, una lezione d’umiltà guadagnata ad alto prezzo, di comprensione della sofferenza altrui e della dignità umana.
Prima nell’Abruzzo e nel Lazio, e successivamente nella Toscana, nell’Emilia-Romagna, nel Veneto e nel Friuli-Venezia Giulia, i Neozelandesi hanno conosciuto il sapore della liberazione con tutte le sue sfaccettature. Hanno dato il loro contributo alla liberazione dell’Italia, lasciando un ricordo di umanità. Hanno anche imparato una grande lezione: che la libertà è la cosa più preziosa che esiste.    

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The charming cliff-top town of Alvito, liberated intact in May 1944

Waging war in occupied Italy brought the soldiers of the 2^nd New Zealand Division the new experience of liberating an oppressed civilian population. For the unlucky towns and villages in the direct path of the front, liberation came at the price of more destruction and loss, but in the end, brought relief.  For the liberators, it was often a strange and unsettling experience.

The men of the 2nd New Zealand Division had their first taste of ‘liberation’ in Abruzzo, in the winter of 1944. In the New Zealand assault on the Gustav Line, 22 Battalion took the village of Sant’Eusanio del Sangro on highway SS 84 on 1 December and, on the following day, entered the town of Castelfrentano without a fight.  Liberating a town often meant simply being the first Allied soldiers to arrive after the evacuation of the enemy. On other occasions, it was a much more arduous and costly exercise. Already in Abruzzo they witnessed the return of civilians to their homes, and the emergence from hiding of escaped Allied prisoners of war, but it was in the spring of 1944, during and after the battles for Cassino, that the New Zealanders had their first real experience of liberation and sense of achievement: their business was helping to expel the enemy and to restore liberty to the Italians.

For the civilian population, the arrival of the liberators meant the end of fear, of tyranny, of oppression. Often arriving in towns without firing a shot, the soldiers were puzzled, almost embarrassed, by the enthusiasm of the local people, even when the Division had had to fight its way in, clearing the roads and houses of the last defenders.  This was the case, in May 1944, during the last battle for Cassino, when the New Zealand forces were sent north to clear the enemy from the mountains, as far as Avezzano, some 80 km away, in Abruzzo. They advanced through hostile and difficult country, often having to cross minefields under enemy mortar fire, or overcome roadblocks. Sometimes they found the village beyond already vacated by the enemy, like Belmonte Castello, and Atina, both liberated by 23 Battalion on 27 May 1944 without opposition. In Atina, which had been occupied and sacked by the Germans, and bombed by the Allies, the New Zealanders were welcomed as liberators. The civilians – mostly women and girls, and elderly people – who returned from their cave hideouts in the hills, pitifully ill-clad and starving, became a common sight at Kiwi cookhouses.

Italian women and children alongside 26th Battalion cookhouse, Monte Croce area,             April 1944 (DA12416f)

In contrast, much to their surprise, the New Zealanders found the charming cliff-top village of Alvito  intact, despite its having been occupied by the German Command, and its vicinity to Cassino.

The main town liberated by the 2nd New Zealand Division en route to Avezzano, was Sora, which was reached by 5th Brigade on 31 May 1944. Although Sora had not been badly damaged by Allied bombing and artillery fire, the harsh treatment the Germans had reserved for the civilians ensured that the Kiwis were given a royal welcome. Road-blocks further north delayed the troops there for a few days, allowing unexpected time for the soldiers to relax and establish contact with the civilians.

Soldiers of 28th (Maori) Battalion in Sora, June 1944 (New Zealand Archives)

Meanwhile, New Zealand’s 18th Armoured Regiment was receiving the same treatment in the neat, walled, hilltop town of Veroli, which was liberated early on 2 June 1944, the enemy having vacated it the previous night. As the Battalion historian, William Denham Dawson, recorded “… by 7 a.m. Indians and tanks were in Veroli and another heroes' welcome was underway. Early as it was, every Italian in the place was on the streets; there were more flags and flowers, more embraces, and gallons of lemonade from a half-demolished factory…”

The streets of Veroli were not designed for Sherman tanks

Elsewhere, the enemy was still resisting. Only 11 km north of Sora, the little town of Balsorano, near the narrowest point of the valley, was still defended by the enemy. German snipers were monitoring the road demolitions and holding up the advance. Most of the numerous culverts and stone bridges along the road had been demolished by the enemy. The New Zealand engineers had to lift mines, repair culverts, fill in craters and bridge the larger gaps, as well as deal with mines and booby traps in houses, around demolitions, and even under fruit trees. It would take the Division three whole days to cover the last 35 km from Balsorano to Avezzano, and another bitter discovery was yet in store.

At Capistrello, close to the headwaters of the Liri, some 6 km before Avezzano, the soldiers of 26 Battalion were met by an aggrieved population. It was 8 June 1944. Just four days earlier, the Germans had carried out a savage act of retaliation against the civilians after discovering that local farmers and shepherds had hidden their stock in the hills. The animals were seized, while the 33 men were tortured and then executed in the little square in front of the railway station. No one had dared to remove the bodies before the Allied soldiers arrived. It was a shocking experience for the New Zealanders and there was no joy on either side. 

The railway station at Capistrello, the scene of the massacre

The soldiers of the same battalion received a much happier reception at the little hamlet of Le Cese (Avezzano), where particularly memorable celebrations were held in their honour.  As they paraded through the streets in triumphal procession, the whole populace turned out for the occasion, thrusting on embarrassed soldiers, flowers, wine and kisses.
‘At the square the Colonel (Col. Fountaine, acting on behalf of the absent Brig. Parkinson) dismounted and, accompanied by several officers, mounted the dais to join the local Mayor and other dignitaries. The Mayor read a speech of welcome, after which cheering broke out anew. Later the Colonel replied, a wildly gesticulating interpreter assisting him, and the crowd surged forward, yelling more than ever. A banquet followed. Chicken, eggs, and pre-war champagne were a few of the highlights. The dance which followed was an hilarious one, and very late that night the procession returned to camp in a manner much different from its departure". (Frazer D. Norton, 26 Battalion)

In Avezzano, entered by 6^th Brigade on 10 June 1944, the soldiers received a similarly enthusiastic welcome, despite the fact that the town had been severely damaged by both Allied bombing and German vengeance.  The liberation of Avezzano marked the end of two arduous weeks in which the Division had covered 96 km in mountainous terrain. Rome had been liberated just days before, and the enemy had withdrawn north of the capital. The men could savour the moment and the population, too, was ready to celebrate.
 

The Municipio of Avezzano, a war survivor

To add to the excitement, the liberation of Avezzano and the neighbouring villages had triggered the reappearance of hundreds of escaped prisoners of war. Issuing forth from the surrounding hills, to filter back through the New Zealand lines, were New Zealanders, Australians, British, Americans, and even Russians! Most had been captured in North Africa and had endured a long period of imprisonment and then hiding out in the hills. Their survival owed much to the selfless assistance of the local people. Indeed, the relationships established with the Italians were so strong that some brought with them an Italian wife, and even a bambino.
An account of the atmosphere of joyous revelry has been left by Divisional Cavalry historian, R. J. M. Loughnan: “At Avezzano the squadron headquarters spent several days in one riot of German prisoners, escapees, signorinas and vino, Fascist spies and partisans... Many of the escaped prisoners seemed very reluctant to leave this beautiful countryside with its affectionate people.”

Avezzano was a fitting end to this phase of the campaign. The Gustav Line was breached, and the soldiers could at last enjoy a well-earned rest.