A Bell for Adano (18 page)

Mayor Nasta said: “The Americans will not stop it. The Americans may be friendly, but they are not good fighters.”

Margherita, the formidable wife of Craxi, said with a threatening look: “Liarl”

But Mayor Nasta said: “This is not my opinion. This is the opinion of the son of Afronti, the noisy cartman. You know the boy. You know that he is honest. He says that the Americans are timid in battle. He says that our own troops could even beat the Americans.”

Mercurio Salvatore, the crier, was reduced to saying: “I do not believe it.”

Mayor Nasta said: “It is true. This boy fought in Tunisia. He says that at the place called El Guettar the Americans did not press their attack, he says that they behaved like frightened men and were defeated. The British can fight, perhaps, but not the Americans.”

The formidable Margherita said: “It is a dirty lie,” but there was no anger in her voice, it was nearly drained of conviction.

This man Nasta was a very persuasive man. He had persuaded himself into office, and he had persuaded the people into fear of him, and now it was easy for him to persuade them to mistrust the Americans.

Mayor Nasta said: “The son of Afronti told me that in the interior the Americans behaved themselves very badly. They were generous to us along the coast because they had to have a beachhead, but in the interior they have been different. Negro troops have raped seven Italian girls. There has been much looting.”

The lazy Fatta said: “I hear that the Americans looted the beautiful house of Quattrocchi right here in Adano. They did much damage.”

Mayor Nasta said: “Yes, that is true, I talked with Quattrocchi yesterday.”

The formidable Margherita said: “What happened?” This was something close to home, and she considered anything that happened in Adano more or less her personal property, to use as gossip.

Mayor Nasta said: “The American vandals destroyed four hundred and seventy thousand lira worth of stuff in Quattrocchi’s house. Heirlooms, paintings, sculpture, glassware. They said that Italian art is degenerate; they did all this because they wish to impose American ideas of art on Italy. That is what Quattrocchi told me the American Major had told him.”

Mercurio Salvatore, the crier, said: “That I will not believe. The Mister Major is our friend.” The crier was annoyed enough to say this in very nearly his crying voice. He spoke loudly enough to be heard inside the Palazzo.

“Quiet,” Mayor Nasta said. “He will hear you and punish you.”

“Why should he punish me?” Mercurio cried. “I am defending him.”

“He is unpredictable,” Mayor Nasta whispered. “Also, he is lecherous. He is trying to seduce the daughters of Tomasino the fisherman. I have this on good authority. You will see, in a few months the daughters of Tomasino will have big bellies.”

The formidable Margherita was beginning to enjoy this. “If I know the daughters of Tomasino,” she said, “they may have big bellies without the help of the Mister Major,” and she laughed harshly.

“You will see,” Mayor Nasta said. “I must be going now,” he said, bowing to the circle, as if the fact that it was beginning to grow embarrassed him. “Good day,” he said, “do not forget the twenty-third.”

Each day when he came out from his repentence before Sergeant Borth, Mayor Nasta would go across to the sidewalk in front of the Palazzo, and he would approach a different group, and he would tell them pretty much the same thing.

Sergeant Borth allowed this to go on for several days, because Sergeant Borth was a careful worker. He waited until he was sure of all his facts. He had his informers trap Mayor Nasta into new exaggerations and accusations. He made sure that the son of Afronti the noisy cartman had not deserted. He checked with Intelligence at IX Corps to make sure that the Germans were not expected to counterattack on the twenty-third. He even went so far as to check with Captain Purvis as to the intentions of Major Joppolo toward the daughters of Tomasino. “Hell,” the Captain said, “I don’t think the Major knows what a pushover they’d be, talking wop the way he does.”

When he was ready, Sergeant Borth went to Major Joppolo. “Major,” he said, “we’ve got to put Nasta away.” The Major said: “What’s he done?”

“He’s been planting rumors against us. I hate to admit it, but he’s done it very systematically and very skillfully.”

“What kinds of rumors?”

“Oh, all kinds. He has quite a few people thinking that the Germans are going to put on a major counterattack next week. He even has some of them believing that you haven’t been doing right by certain young ladies in this town.”

Major Joppolo blushed. “That isn’t true,” he said.

“I know,” Borth said. “I checked into it. But they tell me the Mister Major could make time if he wanted to.” “Cut it out,” the Major said.

“That’s what they tell me,” Borth said. “They say these particular girls don’t smell of fish, but their old man knows a good fish when he sees it.”

“Cut the kidding,” the Major said, and that echo was in his voice. He changed the subject quickly. “When are you going to arrest Nasta?”

“In the morning, when he comes in for his daily worship:”

“Okay,” the Major said. “Let’s keep him in the prisoners of war cage for a few days, and not send him to Africa till we’ve questioned him a bit. I’m sort of glad to have him put away.”

The next morning Mayor Nasta was somewhat surprised to see, besides Sergeant Borth in his office, two other men wearing brassards marked M.P. He said, as suavely as ever: “Good morning, Mister Sergeant.”

“And what crime would Mayor Nasta like to repent this morning?” Borth asked.

“Is it not the Mister Sergeant’s turn to pick a crime?” the Mayor asked.

“Perhaps it is, perhaps it is. Well, let’s see. This morning I think Mayor Nasta will repent the crime of not having made good use of his freedom. He will repent the crime of having talked against the Americans.” Mayor Nasta turned pale. Borth stood up.

“He will repent the crime of having invented false rumors, of having told the gullible people here in Adano that the Germans were planning a counterattack for next week.”

Mayor Nasta turned his head and looked at the door. Borth motioned to the M.P. s to step into it, and they did. “He will also repent having said slanderous and false things about Major Joppolo. Also he will be very sorry that he lied about the son of the cartman Afronti.”

Mayor Nasta was white as a sheet. “Liesl They are lies!” he said.

Borth said: “Mayor Nasta is excitable this morning. And he had grown so calm about his repentantes. Why is he excitable this morning?”

Mayor Nasta was excitable because he knew he was caught. “Lies,” he shouted. “My enemies have been lying against me.”

Borth said: “Is this a lie? Is it a lie that you said yesterday morning, before fifteen people on the sidewalk in front of the Palazzo: `The Americans are such cowards that they had to be pushed from their transports into landing barges when they came here’? Is it a lie that you said...” And Sergeant Borth repeated word for word ten sentences that Nasta had said, as informers reported them. Sergeant Borth had a very good memory, and he enjoyed deflating this man, and he made a very terrifying show of it for Mayor Nasta.

After ten sentences, Mayor Nasta did not shout anything more about lies. He resorted to ridiculous, hollow threats which echoed his days of power: “I will have you killed,” he shouted. “I will have you put in prison.”

“No,” Borth said, “you have that just backwards, Mayor Nasta. I will have you put in prison.”

Mayor Nasta shouted: “You can’t do that. I will report you to the authorities. You will be sorry. When you are beaten, you will be sorry.”

Borth said: “I think you really believe that the crooks of the world can win this war. You’d better think that one over a little. We are going to give you a chance to think it over, Mayor Nasta. You are under arrest.”

Then Borth said to the two M.P. s in English: “Take him away, boys. He’s getting noisy.”

The M.P.’s took Nasta by both arms. Borth said: “I’m going to miss your daily visits, Mayor Nasta. I hope you will come to see me when you get out, I mean if you get out.”

Mayor Nasta said stubbornly: “You will be sorry.” The M.P.’s took Nasta away to the prisoner of war cage.

The p.w. cage was simply the walled park opposite the Church of the Benedettini, with all but one of its gates boarded up and a little barbed wire strung along the top of the wall. When Mayor Nasta was admitted, there were some two hundred Italians and about twenty Germans in the enclosure. Several of the Italians were from coastal defense divisions, and a number were from Adano itself, and as soon as they saw Mayor Nasta, they told their friends from other towns: “There is the Fascist pig we were telling you about.”

And from that moment on, Mayor Nasta was addressed by all the Italians in the p.w. cage as Fascist Pig. Mayor Nasta did not make a very good start in the cage. The Americans had a forty-year-old, Italian-speaking Top Sergeant in charge of the guard. The first time Mayor Nasta saw the Top Sergeant walking in the enclosure, he rushed up to him and said: “This is a mistake.’ I should not have been imprisoned. It was all a mistake.” “Is that so?” the Top Sergeant said in a slow, Brooklynese Italian. “You are another mistake? We have several mistakes here. All mistakes here must clean the latrine. You are our newest mistake, so you will have the privilege of cleaning the latrine this week.”

Life in the p.w. cage was not very pleasant for Mayor Nasta. None of the men had blankets, and the nights were pretty cold, so they slept in close rows, keeping each other warm with their bodies. But no one would sleep next to the Fascist Pig. They said he had a peculiar smell. As a matter of fact, he did have a peculiar smell for several hours each morning; it came from being a mistake.

At last Mayor Nasta found a man who would talk with him. This was a German who spoke Italian.

Mayor Nasta told him that he was still Mayor of Adano, that he had been treacherously arrested by the Americans, that he was trying to do all he could to help the Germans win and that, in short, he was a pretty important person who ought to be helped. The Italianspeaking German told his friends all about Mayor Nasta, and they decided they ought to help him escape.

For a couple of days Mayor Nasta moved over and lived with the Germans. They made plans for the escape. There was nothing elaborate about the plans. They just decided to lift the Mayor up over the wall. They asked him if he had the courage to sit on barbed wire for a few minutes. He said yes, anything to escape. They asked him if he had the courage to jump down twelve feet on the other side. He said yes.

So in the middle of a dark, clouded night, the Germans made a pyramid of their bodies and let Mayor Nasta climb up it to the top of the wall. He sat on the barbed wire on top of the wall, quiet as a cat, until he was sure that the sentry outside had marched to the other end of his beat. Then he turned facing the wall, let himself down as fax as he could, and let go. He hurt one knee a little; it hit the wall as he landed on the ground. But he was able to get up and run off silently.

The Top Sergeant at the p.w. cage called up Sergeant Borth at eight-thirty the next morning and told him that Nasta had escaped.

Sergeant Borth borrowed Corporal Chuck Schultz and a jeep from the M.P. s and went hunting. By this time Sergeant Borth had so many voluntary informers and informers-on-informers that the job of tracing Mayor Nasta was not too hard.

He soon found out that Mayor Nasta had been sheltered for a few hours in a house on Via Favemi. He had then left town by the Via Roma. He had stopped in at a farmer’s house near the Casa Zambano to change into peasant dress. This was one of the easiest things to check, because the peasant turned up wearing Mayor Nasta’s loud powder blue suit, which was dusty from several nights on the ground.

Mayor Nasta had then been seen at several points along the Vicinamare road. One farmer had given him a lift in his cart. Mayor Nasta had evidently had enough of the hills, and was trying now to get to Vicinamare, where friends would be able to hide him.

Sergeant Borth picked him up three miles short of Vicinamare, at about ten-thirty.

jeeps had been passing Mayor Nasta all morning, so that he was not particularly alarmed when Sergeant Borth’s jeep drove up alongside him, and even when it stopped, he waved crudely and shouted: “Good day, good day,” in what he thought was a thick peasant accent.

Sergeant Borth mimicked the accent: “Good day, good day, farmer.”

Mayor Nasta, who still did not recognize Borth, shouted again: “Good day.”

Borth shouted: “Good day. You are the first farmer I have ever seen with pince-nez glasses on.”

Then Mayor Nasta knew Borth. Mayor Nasta’s spirit, which had been strained by the arrest and by the days in the cage and by the escape, suddenly broke. He turned and ran out across the fields, squealing crazily, just like a soldier who had broken under shellfire.

Sergeant Borth got out of the jeep and went out onto the fields. He did not hurry, because Mayor Nasta was running in circles, wishing to run away from himself more than anything else. By the time Sergeant Borth caught him, he was exhausted and limp, and his eyes were milky with fear.

As Borth half walked, half carried him to the jeep, Mayor Nasta jabbered and mouthed his fear. “If you are going to shoot me, tell me first. Don’t shoot me in the back. Tell me if you are going to kill me. I want to know, I want to know... “

Sergeant Borth slapped him sharply in the face, and for a few seconds he was silent.

But when he was seated in the jeep, and the jeep began to move, Mayor Nasta began again. “Don’t shoot me in the back. I will do anything to be shot from the front, where I can see the gun. I will tell you everything I know. I can give you names. Don’t do it from behind.”

Borth said: “How can I shoot you from behind when I am in the front seat and you are in the back seat?” But Mayor Nasta was not pleading rationally. “I will tell you secrets,” he babbled. “D’Arpa the vice mayor is a traitorous man, he is not to be trusted, watch out for him, but please do not shoot me in the back. Tell me first if you are going to kill me, tell me, tell me, I must know. Bellanca the Notary is not on our side, and he is strong with the people, watch out for him. You see, I can give you names. Do not shoot me in the back.”