Part II–World War II
A neighbor stopped by one day to chat with Terry and mentioned that when the municipality of Anghiari rebuilt after the damages of World War II, it was decided that the upper floor(s) of our house would not be replaced. What? In the first place, what brought that war to tiny and seemingly strategically unimportant Anghiari? Second, what happened to our house? It is clear, as you can see from the photo below, that damage had been done, but the scars and repairs do not tell the story of when or how. The casual comment of our neighbor sparked considerable curiosity, though, and motivated me to look into the small slice of World War II history that took place in Anghiari, research unlike any I had done in the past.
As I explored the course of World War II in Italy, it became clear that the war’s impact on Anghiari echoed the two distinct phases of Italy’s role in that war–the first during Mussolini’s reign across the early war years when Italy aligned with Fascist Germany (1940-43), and later when Italy signed an armistace (September, 1943) joining the Allies for the remainder of the war. Mussolini’s government and his alliance with Germany in WWII had been controversial from the beginning, with fascist influence predominant in northern Italy, while loyalty to Vittorio Emanuele’s monarchy remained strong in the south. As Italian forces suffered loss after loss the sentiment against fascism grew, leading to Mussolini’s downfall and a change of course for Italy.
While Italy was a member of the Axis forces, the fascist regime established Rinicci concentration camp in the commune of Anghiari. The earliest prisoners were Slovenian, joined later by Croatians and other enemies of Italy’s fascist regime including, eventually, Partisans, members of Italy’s Resistance movement. Though relatively short lived (October 1942-September 1943) and with no program of extermination, there were nevertheless 157 deaths among the approximately 10,000 prisoners held in Rinicci. Food shortages were a particular problem with rations limited to thin soup accompanied by a small piece of bread, leaving the prisoners to stave off starvation by eating nuts that fell from chestnut trees. But the cold, suffered without appropriate clothing or blankets in unheated housing, caused illness and death as well. Moreover, the mere experience of being held in such a camp was itself psychologically painful, exacerbated by such practices as mock executions. A local priest, Don Giuliano Giglioni, called Rinicci conditions “bestial.”
As the declining fortunes of the Axis war effort became evident by September of 1943, camp guards abandoned Rinicci, opening the opportunity for prisoners to leave freely, which they soon did. Many began the long walk toward their homes in Yugoslavia, some unfortunate souls recaptured during their journey to be taken to other camps. A number of other former inmates joined Partisan forces to fight against their common enemy.
By late 1943, Allied forces were advancing in southern Italy but German troops still held a commanding position further north even as they began to retreat toward more secure holdings in the Appennine Mountains. Their passage through central and northern Italy was a delaying tactic allowing time to reinforce positions near Italy’s border and beyond. It would be conducted in stages demarcated by a series of defensive lines, including the Arezzo Line, and culminating at the Gothic Line in northern Italy. The Arezzo Line cut across central Italy from the port cities of Livorno on the western coast of Italy to Ancona on the Adriatic. Between them lay Arezzo, capital of the province of Arezzo where Anghiari is located. Because Arezzo was an important center of communication and government, Partisan troops had converged in the area to challenge German control of the city. Eventually they were joined by British and British Commonwealth troops who arrived in early July 1944. By the sixteenth of July Allied forces could claim control of Arezzo, liberating the city from German occupation.
As German troops moved steadily northward toward the Gothic Line their activities were often not so much strategic maneuvers as they were a mission to impose terror and destruction across the land. It is not hard to imagine that troops loyal to the Axis saw non-fascist Italians as traitors for their rejection of Mussolini’s war, justifying, maybe even demanding, retaliation. Further, breaking the will of citizens had become a tactic of war in modern times and any means of achieving that end can be supported by an aggressive enemy.3 As the German troops marched northward, that war, those methods, reached the communes of Anghiari and nearby Sansepolcro.
On the twenty-fifth of June, 1944 there was a skirmish between Fascist soldiers and Partisans in the vicinity of Anghiari. The following morning, a young Partisan volunteer was sent back to the area to determine whether the Nazis were still there. They were, and the unfortunate youth was captured to be taken to a nearby villa where he was placed against a wall, hands and feet tied, while the Germans continued to beat him. Before long, several other prisoners were brought to the villa and the Germans decided to execute all of them. Using available materials, the soldiers built a gallows from a tree trunk supported by two columns. Wire attached to the trunk was slipped over the heads of the young men and, assuming the standard Nazi method for hanging, a platform below the victims was removed to initiate the grisly death by strangulation. Perhaps mercifully, the soldiers became impatient with the slow process and shot the young men to end their struggles, leaving the bodies in place with a sign attached warning, “Partisans Punished.” Not until British troops arrived twenty days later were the bodies taken down and interred.
Less horrific but still difficult, Anghiari residents lived with the conditions of war: extended power outages, and the sounds of war “day and night” repeatedly cited by the priest Don Giuliano Giglioni in his war time diary. On July 12, 1944, one of the attacks destroyed the Buitoni pasta factory on the edge of Sansepolcro, a short distance from Anghiari. Giglioni remarked on the “systematic destruction of the zone on every industry and economic resource” with explosions that led to fires lasting through the day and into the night.
Giglioni also writes of Nazi soldiers commandeering farm animals, food, and furniture, even taking a watch from the priest’s pocket, demands to which people had no choice but to accede. When one farmer dared to call out to the priest as his pigs were loaded into a Nazi vehicle, the soldier shot his pistol at the farmer to silence him.
The degradation of war time conditions and an oppressive enemy led many to join the Resistance fighting a guerilla war against the Germans. It can be said that Partisans were by default leftist with members from the Italian Communist Party, Christian Democrats and other left-leaning organizations. Partisan groups banded together to form the Comitato di Liberazione Nazionale (National Liberation Committee or CLR). Anghiari based CLR members, Beppone Livi and his wife, Angiola Crociani, were critical figures who had earlier connections to, and support of, Riccini prisoners as well as to local Partisan groups. Undaunted by the risk to which they exposed themselves, they bicycled through the hills with baskets of food to distribute. Below: photos of Beppone and Angiola followed by a group photo of Partisans.
Partisans did not operate within a state military system and although there were former soldiers among them, members also included farmers, shoesmiths, storekeepers and other ordinary citizens. Untrained and sometimes undisciplined, they joined forces to fight against the threat to their well-being and even their existance. The makeup of these forces, and sometimes their actions, have triggered debates as to whether Partisan activities actually endangered those they sought to protect. An argument can be made that when Partisans attacked their enemy, the German reprisal was likely to be devatasting for the public at large and perhaps for Allied military as well.
A case in point is the crisis of June 26-28, 1944 centered in Anghari when the Russian (Russo) Gang captured German Colonel Maximillian von Gablenz and his aide. In response, the German command ordered the capture of Italian citizens, 209 of whom were held in the church at Chiassa Superiore, located between Anghiari and Arezzo. An additional ten Anghiari men were also taken hostage and threatened with death if the colonel was not released. The crisis grew even more terrifying when German officials appeared in Anghiari with posters announcing that Anghiari and several nearby hamlets would be destroyed. The posters warned, “if they (the colonel and his aide) do not return within 48 hours, the entire male population of four countries (sic) will be shot. The countries themselves will be burned.”
Soon talk circulated of mines being placed throughout Anghiari and one report describes the sound of “vigorous chiseling” at the base of the town hall, arousing suspicion of intended damage to the government building. Panicked citizens were “…leaving in a hurry with handcarts loaded with everything they could remove from their home, fleeing towards the countryside…..” According to one observer, “There was no one (left), everyone was afraid.”
While fear and chaos overwhelmed Anghiari, members of other Partisan groups tried to persuade the Russo leader, Vassili, to release his prisoners. The recalcitrant Vassili resisted, saying, “…even if I burn all of Itlay I will not leave (sic) [the German colonel].” As time passed in negotiation, the forty-eight hour deadline, 2:00 on June 28, approached. Partisan Gianni Mineo was able to convince the Germans to extend the deadline for another 24 hours while discussions with the Russo Gang continued. And, finally, the Gang relented, freeing the Colonel and his aide who would be taken to Chiassa church where the 209 hostages were held.
As the Colonel and his aide, accompanied by several Partisan members, made their way to the church, it became clear that Colonel Von Gablenz, debilitated by a lung injury, could not move quickly enough to arrive at the church by the deadline. Himself aware of the horrible consequences of a late arrival, the Colonel wrote a letter to the Germans verifying that he was no longer being held and ordering the release of hostages. Mineo then ran with the letter to the church where already some of the hostages had been lined up against a wall before a firing squad. Mineo’s shouting as he approached alerted the Germans to his arrival and the firing squad put down their guns. But, as time passed and the Colonel had yet not arrived, suspicions grew that the letter was a ruse. The hostages were once again taken to the church yard and the firing square readied when finally, unimaginably, the Colonel appeared, a deus ex machina in real life.
If sometimes Partisan action led to disastrous outcomes, their resistance to German occupation did keep the enemy in check and provided support and relief to their fellow citizens. Their bravery, committent and, often enough positive results, cannot be dismissed.
In the meantime, as the battle of the Arezzo Line edged northward. British and British Commonwealth soldiers from New Zealand, Australia and India arrived in Anghiari Commune almost simultaneously with the hostage crisis. With opposing forces now fighting for control of Anghiari, the priest, Don Giolianni Gioglioni described the battles between the British and Germans as “the worst I have seen up to this point.” Action continued on a daily basis causing further casualties of both citizens and military. Gioglioni reported three deaths from hand grenades and the slideshow below shows a British soldier shot on an Anghiari street corner. Although there were doubtless some non-combatant citizens left in Anghiari, many had departed or were hiding in their homes, leaving the streets to combatants.
As British troops gained ground they began to replace German troops as occupiers of the village. Although they were friendly forces, their military presence was not without its difficulties. Not only were there the ongoing and disruptive sounds of battle, but it also rankled Anghiari residents that Allied soldiers helped themselves to equipment left in bombed out buildings. More directly, a villa on the edge of Anghiari earlier claimed by the Germans, was taken over by the British who used it as a hospital, relegating the family to one floor of their home. A son of the family who owned the villa remembers a badly wounded soldier being carried into the house and laid atop a grand piano where he was meant to undergo surgery. Instead, with his hand held by the young boy, the soldier smoked a last cigarette as his life slipped away. (Alfonso Sassolini, “Living in Relation.” Dec.8, 2019 Blog by Ann Game)
When it became clear that the situation in Anghiari now heavily favored British forces, the Germans quickly abandoned Anghiari, taking a mere 28 hours to gather equipment and men before departing on July 29, 1944. On the following morning Don Giulliani Gioglioni marked the day celebrating mass alone in his empty church. With the German occupation in Anghiari now past, the Anghiariese must have collectively breathed a sigh of relief, in spite of conditions remaining difficult. Less than three weeks later, however, whatever sense of normalcy residents were beginning to enjoy was abruptly shattered.
On August 18, 1944, at 10:30 a.m., some three weeks after the Germans departed, and two days after Anghiari had been designated liberated, a massive explosion shook Anghiari. Had we been living in our house then we would have heard the roar, felt the tremors, and seen the smoke rising from the site just below us. Now known as the Caribinieri Barracks Massacre, a bomb placed in the barracks had exploded killing fifteen people and seriously injuring others. Three of the dead were Caribinieri and twelve others civilians, some of whom were crushed as the buildings collapsed.
As the sound of the explosion echoed through the town, people rushed to the site. Family and friends of those known to be at the barracks ran in a panic to to learn the fate of loved ones. Other residents gathered to assist in removing the injured and the dead. The calamitous scene at the site of the disaster must have been shocking to people as they arrived; the main road passing behind the barracks had been reduced to a crater, a villa adjacent to the barracks destroyed and the barracks building itself simply no longer existed. Today, where the barracks once stood, two markers commemorate victims of the bombing.
I have walked by these markers many times, knowing they honored victims of World War II, but not aware that they marked the specific site of a catastrophe. Annual memorial ceremonies remember the victims and the awful circumstances of the event.
Sadly, unfortunately, some controversy revolves around the bombing.The explosion occurred twenty days after the Germans left Anghiari on June 29. I, and many others, have questioned how that could have happened. Actually there are answers to that question including the fact that there were apparently two German prisoners held in the barracks at the time of the explosion; could they or another soldier left behind have somehow detonated the bomb? Others have postulated that, though the Germans would have planted the device prior to departure, setting off the bomb must have been done by someone else, perhaps or even probably an Italian of some unknown motive. The former premise is improbable, the latter unthinkable.
More acceptable, and more plausible, is the ‘anti-revisionist’ interpretation offered by Emmanuele Calchetti (TeverePost 8/17/2020), who cites Anghiari citizen and historian, Mirco Draghi in his article. Draghi has studied manuels and historical accounts to verify that the Germans did indeed have a timer that could be set for as long as twenty-one days after the bomb was planted. Designed for use when abandoning an area to enemy forces, the device, called the J-Feder 504, is pictured below.
Not only does Draghi refer to sources documenting the use of the timer during WWII in Italy, some survivors of the Barracks Massacre have spoken of the sound of a ticking clock heard in days prior to the explosion. According to Draghi, it is the sound of the cogwheel moving towards its ultimate setting. The figure 504 refers to the number of hours during which the timer can function–504 hours–twenty-one days.
In spite of devasting events, particularly during the summer of 1944, in the end Anghiari did not experience the full disaster of many other towns and cities. But my original assumption that it was spared altogether was naive. Simply lying in the path of an enemy in retreat brought the war to this small village. And war is a monster; acts committed in the course of wars are often, perhaps inevitably, brutish. Thankfully, Anghiari’s historic center was spared and bears few scars of that period when enemy or even friendly troops occupied it. But the people living there suffered nevertheless: daily greetings, normally a friendly “Buon Giorno,” became “Have you eaten today?”; lives were lost, the economy left in ruins, and the experience of living under occupation unforgettable.
Today, though, I can walk through the village climbing its steps, passing through ancient portals or entering structures that have survived wars and other disasters across the centuries. Its authenticity pleases me and the same surely is true for visitors who appear on weekends in all seasons and anytime during the summmer to wander the streets snapping photos of the old town. Tourists and residents alike gather in the piazzas to enjoy a gelato or cup of coffee–simple pleasures in a near fairy tale town that belies the hard times it has known.
Postscript
As I looked into this subject (so far from my normal area of interest), it became clear to me that whatever damage our house incurred over time had nothing to do with war. So what about those extra stories that were never replaced? Yet to be discovered.
Endnotes
1The grounds of the Rinicci camp have been designated a Memory Park where annual Days of Remembrance are held, “lest we forget.” The bodies of many who died at the camp were interred in the Sansepolcro cemetery where the “Shrine of Slavs” is dedicated to the victims.
2On the nineteenth of September, 1943, they wrote their establishing credo:”At the moment in which Nazism tries to restore its fascist ally in Rome and Italy, the anti-fascist parties form a National Liberation Committe, to call the Italians to fight and to resist in order to regain it’s rightful place in the assembly of free nations.”
3 “After September, 1943, the German invasion army was ordered by the highest authorities not to obey the Geneva Conventions nor normal rules of war, and to show no mercy to the civilian population.” Note that ‘Geneva Conventions, eg plural, refer to two treaties of 1929 defining appropriate treatment of prisoners of war and civilians. Geneva Convention, singular, refers to the 1949 treaty that followed World War II.
