Eyewitness Testimony Liduino Zenobi

INTERVIEW WITH LIDUINO ZENOBI born in Tolentino on 10.9.1926, rounded up in Tolentino in 1944. Interviewed in January 2002 by students of class V M with interventions from the teacher and the son. Z. stands for Zenobi Int. For interviewers. In 1944 I was taken in the square of Tolentino and from there I was brought to Palazzo Morici in Piazza dell’Erbe (editor’s note: Palazzo Morici is currently located in Piazza Martiri di Montalto in Tolentino, then Piazza dell’Erbe). From there I escaped and returned home, but the next day the same people caught me again, slapped me in the face, and took me to the Sforzacosta camp. I had an exemption: since I worked in a company, we were not supposed to be taken. One evening at Sforzacosta they called us by name and I thought it was for the exemption, but instead, when they called me and I answered roll call, they made me get on a truck and took us to Suzzara. In Suzzara they made us stay in a horse stable full of straw bales. To sleep that night we tore apart the straw bales and the next morning they took us away. They took us to Germany to a town whose name I don’t remember, they fed us at the station where there was a freight elevator. They gave us soup and a loaf, a loaf of bread: but, without experience, unfortunately we threw everything away, the plate, the spoon, and even the bread, because we didn’t know what would happen next. From that station they took us to Kahla. In Kahla we slept in a “theater,” there were bunk beds separated and we slept there. Then they asked us our professions: who was a baker, who was an electrician, who was a mechanic, everyone... I chose electrician and I worked as an electrician, but doing this and that. They assigned everyone to their place, they assigned us and in fact I worked in seven camps, starting from one to seven and so I did the entire lighting system. Me and another. And there was a foreman... he was over eighty years old, a German, and he came and sat on a little hut, gave me orders, what had to be done because he couldn’t walk (he couldn’t stand) and having said that and done all those camps, one fine day we were at... Meanwhile, we lived by trading tobacco: cigarette butts were found, then tobacco was put on a piece of paper, we went to the kitchen: “I give this tobacco for a soup.” And there was someone who bought it. Then we had the Italian state sending us cigarettes, tobacco and we had to keep them hidden on us, then when everything was finished at the end of the month we started making these little piles of tobacco, selling it to survive. After that, after 14, 15 months we were all gathered in a camp. It was called Lager 1. We were all gathered there and from there an order arrived. One morning we all left, they took us away for about 8 days, we walked day and night; as you walked you didn’t need to ask someone where we had passed, and who unloaded a blanket, and who unloaded a shirt: the overweight without eating, you understand? And one took some wood and lit a fire, because it was cold, well, as he lit it, a pine tree above shot at him. Then we walked and then little by little at one point we thought we couldn’t go on anymore. We hid under a manhole, you know what a manhole is, right? Those that let water pass under the road. We hid and, after everyone passed, we saw a lit house, we went there to ask for something to eat. In fact, there were two Germans with rifles. “And now here they kill us!” we thought but instead they put down the rifle, went inside, gave the order to give us food and gave us potatoes. Boiled potatoes that the Germans boil in cauldrons for sheep, pigs... they all ate, you understand? And they gave us food and then took us to a nearby house, where I learned there were Russians too. Russians were sleeping there; we stayed there. During the day we went cattenne, cattenne, I don’t know if you know the word... Int. Yes, yes: begging... Z. Begging, exactly, and we went two one day and two the next. One fine day we saw the others coming back. But what happened? A white flag was seen. Unfortunately youth, when you are young, you don’t understand anything, today there is television, there is a bit of everything, there is some training. And knowing that it was a surrender, then we went up, they cut our hair, dressed us, etc... they gave us food and then from there I went to work with an American cousin, because I thought: at 35 kilos that I weighed, I go home, I find no one, I die the next day. I got a bit better and left and meanwhile, when I left, I arrived up to Suzzara and up there there were the sorting centers that did the quarantine, that is, they kept you for about twenty days, a month to see if you were sick, something. You understand? And so I heard all those who: some twenty days, some a month, some a month and a half who stayed there; I took off, went towards the station: I had some cigarettes, a station worker came, I gave them to him and he told me: “an American train is passing, you jump on the train, on the wagons, get on there and go that way” and in fact I woke up in Fabriano. I got off, went to sleep in the gardens, I found a lady who had been a servant in Tolentino and she took me home. She made me pasta and then I went to sleep in the gardens, because she didn’t let me sleep at her house: I was all dirty, it had been 8 days that I was walking. From there, in the morning I went to a checkpoint, those of the carabinieri who were there, and I got a little truck that was coming from these parts and I arrived up to the Mancinella bridge and from there I returned home.Int. Now I’m going to ask you some questions, because we need them later for the editing. So, how and when were you rounded up? Z. When? Int. When were you taken? If you tell us again. Z. When was I rounded up? Again? Int. Now there are some specific questions, because later we need to ask everyone the same questions and see a few differences. So now just tell us what we ask, only that. Int. Just that day when you were taken. Z. That day I was rounded up here in Piazza di Tolentino. Son. What were you doing in Piazza di Tolentino? Z. Nothing, I was just there by accident, they passed by and took me away. Son. How did they take you? Tell us. Z. Well, they say like this: “Come with me,” and off we went, we went to Palazzo Morici, Piazza dell’Erbe, do you know Palazzo Morici? Piazza dell’Erbe? Do you know it? Z. From there they put us all inside, then I escaped, I went home, I live 20 meters away. The next day they found me at a greengrocer’s. I wasn’t really there, but they saw me there. “How come you’re here?” they said. They knew they had taken me the day before, they beat me up in the face and then took me to Sforzacosta. Int. What kind of work were you assigned to in Kahla and how did your day go? Z. I went to work. Int. How often did you eat? Z. Eat. You ate there. They gave you a ration that was all water. You ate that, unfortunately, then in the evening they gave you, at lunch they gave you soup, in the evening 200 grams of bread, sometimes a little piece of margarine, a slice of salami, but you didn’t remember it. And then you went to sleep, in the morning you had coffee. They made coffee in a corner of the camp, a big boiler and whoever wanted to go took some, you got up as if nothing happened. Int. What time did they make you get up in the morning? Z. In the morning at five; if you didn’t get up they passed by with a bucket of water and threw it on you. First they passed and said: “Auste! (?)” in German “Wake up! Wake up!” “Auste! Auste!” Then they passed again, whoever didn’t get up, water on them, and that was their method, yes. Then always the same, you went to work in a column, once you arrived at the field everyone had their own fate. Int I knew I had to go to my foreman, I went there. He told me the work I had to do, he taught me. Int. Then while you worked were you supervised, or…? Z. No, no, not me. The others yes, the others yes, those who worked with pickaxe and shovel, they were supervised, but Int. my foreman told me: “Do that!” Son. Who was your foreman? Z. An old man, his name was Mish. Son. A German? Z. Yes, Mish. Son. Did he like you? Z. Yes, look, at lunch in the morning he always told me not to steal. “Don’t steal” he told me, you understand?! In the morning he brought two slices of bread, sometimes he brought some for me too, at noon sometimes he took pasta and gave it to me, he gave it to me but he said, he wanted my trust that I did the work well, you understand? Int. But you worked as an electrician there? Z. Yes, yes. Int. So maybe that’s why they treated you better, because you were useful, you did some work a bit more… Z. No, no, it wasn’t that, since he couldn’t walk anymore, he was an old man, he was over eighty, he came with a scooter. He came, sat down there, sat inside the hut and whoever saw it saw it. You understand? He gave me the order to do this and that. But if my work was half a day, no one checked me, if I took my time… You understand? Int. So you were quite lucky from that point of view. Z. Of course! Regarding that, yes. Because he couldn’t, poor man. And they had their own task, too, they didn’t make mistakes, to do what they had to do, eh! He trusted me blindly and it was good for me too. I saw those who worked with pickaxe, shovel, etc. and I was there inside, I was warm, I was done, maybe… you understand? No, that was luck, maybe the only one. Then, when you were sick, they told you: “Go to the lazaret.” It was a field hospital. You went there, your throat hurt, your stomach hurt, your legs hurt. You went there, a teaspoon of charcoal, there was… like coffee, ground coffee to make coffee. A spoon of that, they didn’t even give you water. They put it in your mouth and off you went. If you found water, well! If not… The head, whatever happened, happened. There was nothing, and then when someone was sick you had to help yourself; at night, at night you helped yourself. Int. Were you ever sick? Z. Yes, I repeat, all the medicine was that, you didn’t go because you knew you had to take that. It was useless to go, you understand? Int. But, in the end, you didn’t have serious illnesses. Z. No. Then I had, I had one that… I still have a good memory of it… Int. The episode that struck you the most? Z. There was an old man who was on a bench, let’s say a bed, whatever you want to call it, and he couldn’t get up anymore, because there if you go to work, they give you a stamp to go eat, if you don’t go you get whistled at; so this poor man was sick and I had to go buy beer for him. But once he caught me going to buy beer for him. He caught me, kicked me, kicked me from behind and I still have the consequences and then he sent me to work because of that. To do good for him he sent me to work and in fact, after, that man died. Then he died, but you still had to go to work, sure enough! Int. What does it mean he sent you to work? Because you weren’t working? Z. No! Because of that old man, he kicked me from behind, he hit me… you understand? In the testicles. And I still remember it. And from there he told me “tomorrow you go to work” (tries to repeat it in German) And because of that he sent me to work even though I was sick. Int. How were you freed? Then they took us away from this camp, we were at camp 1, we were. We were 7 camps, then one fine day they gathered all 7 camps and took us to camp 1. From there we walked 8 days and 8 nights, we kept walking and hid under a manhole, those that let water pass under the streets and from there we escaped, asked for help, we were rescued, then liberation came, we went asking for alms; we were freed, they gave us food, they gave us medicine. Int. Who freed you? Z. The Americans. Int. Listen, is there no other event, some blow, something hard, very hard that you experienced? Z. The hard stuff I didn’t really know much. […] Regarding food, I was forced, like everyone, to go take the dead horse down at the unloading area, tear it with my hands and sell it even to his friends (indicates Colonnelli), because hunger was hunger! Int. How did you find this dead horse? Z. There was the unloading area, you went to see if there was something good, right?! We found that and also to Colonnelli, someone who is here, I sold it to him too in cam—biography of something, they’re all details that come out while you’re telling it. And also in Pianciano, here, there’s another one we were together with. Int. In Tolentino there were quite a few of you, do you remember? Z. Yes, yes, quite a few, two died and anyway, the story! Int. The liberation, you said, when did it happen? You were freed at the end of April, beginning of May ’45… Z. The Americans, I had it noted down, I don’t remember, in the summer, anyway. We were there eighteen months, no about fifteen months. Int. (the professor) April ’44, May ’45. The war ended in Germany in early May ’45. If you stayed longer, I don’t know.. Anyway, did you return to Italy permanently? […] Z. I have a postcard I sent from Kahla, I wrote to my family, saying I was well, if they could send me a loaf of bread. I still have it and I got it after I came back, see that! Int. Do you remember how long after you wrote it? Z. Almost immediately. Int. So, May, June. Z. Immediately, I was missing a little loaf of bread! Because once here the soldiers asked for the parcel…. Int. What was the best memory of Kahla and the worst memory? Z. I already said that I was very well with that old man. I only got that one slap on the back. My luck was that old man, my salvation, because I would go in, visit him in the morning, he’d tell me this and that and in the evening maybe he’d leave, not even showing himself. Int. And the best memory? Z. When I came home. Int. Or, when that lady threw you that loaf of bread from the window (the son intervenes) Z. Ah! That stayed with me. I was going around begging. Int. Begging? When? After work? Z. No, no, I took a day off, I didn’t go to work, they didn’t care! I found a little village, (the exact word is a virgin little village) where there had never been an Italian: everyone was kind, some gave you a potato, some two, some a piece of bread. I kept pestering that little village. One fine day there was a carpenter at the entrance of that little village and he didn’t want to let me in. There was a river surrounding it, I crossed it - it was small - and entered the village, I kept asking for that alms. When I ran away, he saw me; he guessed I had gone around to get in but said nothing. The next time I came back he let me in calmly - I hadn’t been wandering around the village for half an hour - I felt a tap on my back from a policeman with a bicycle. He made me take the bicycle, we walked. I saw him when he went to that old carpenter. “God, this one ratted me out” I said. He took me there and told him everything. “When the war ends I’ll come to see you” - I said to the old man - (he repeats it also in German). That man told the policeman that I had said those words; he put me in a corner and gave me many, many, so many that you can’t even count on the face, then he left, the policeman took another road and I took another. Suddenly I hear a call. Hello, hello, from a window of an attic - it seems a miracle - she did it secretly! She threw me a loaf of bread like that, from that little window and I, on the way, until I got home, ate it all. But I couldn’t go there anymore. That was quite a story, eh?! The son asks again: “Who didn’t let you in, the carpenter no?” The father tells the episode again to clarify how the carpenter had seen him enter the village and said nothing the first time, then, continuing to see him, went to the police. Z. adds: When you went down the street you found people who spat in your face, but you also found people who looked at you and said “poor boy!” (he says it first in German) Because the good and the bad are everywhere!I was also in Argentina for 14 years; I met a bit of everyone—Germans, Russians, I’ve seen the world! Interviewer: What work did you do, still as an electrician? Witness: Yes. Interviewer: Did you work for companies? Witness: Yes, later I also worked on my own. I set up an aluminum foundry, I had 7 workers, I had established myself well. Interviewer: When did you return? Witness: In ’64. In ’56 I could bring back from 14 to 15 million, I returned in ’64 with 250,000 lire, the devaluation, like what happens today… LONG LIVE CAPITALISM! Interviewer: Have you ever told your grandchildren, relatives, about your experience? Witness: They don’t listen! Today if you tell them, they don’t care! Professor: We collect these testimonies precisely for this reason, for their youth, so that certain memories are not lost. Witness: Of course, these testimonies are for them, because it does them a lot of good to know. Today it’s all television, all rosy. Afterwards, life has to be faced!