The Private Journals of Isaiah Watts
Volume III

By: Nicholas Hall
(© 2022 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

nhall@tickiestories.us

Chapter 10

“My heart saddened as I come to realize what Gio, the boys, and people of Italy and all of Europe suffered under the vicious, tyrannical, inhumane Fascists and Nazis. Autocrats should not be allowed to flourish, robbing people of their freedom, dignity, and lives.”

(The Private Journals of Isaiah Watts) 

“The whole secret lies in confusing the enemy, so he cannot fathom our real intent.” 

Sun Tzu- The Art of War 

Gio received, after the Battle of Rimini, from his network of informers, via the Russo Family, word of the location of the high-ranking German officer who ordered the murder of Leo Russo’s family. Apparently, the officer was taking out his ire on anyone within reach in revenge for the death of a valuable Partisan fighter double-agent. The agent had been supplying critical information concerning the movement of Allied Forces and the activities of the Partisans who sympathized with them.  The turn-coat lived in the village Leo and his family resided in. Granted, Leo did lead the group who discovered the person, captured him, and hung him in the town square with a label of “traitor” hanging from his shirt front.

In refusing the order to rotate and take a break, Gio knew he could be court martialed for insubordination, so he decided to “go missing in action.” He also knew the war was winding down, although the ferocity of it didn’t lessen, since the fighting was moving farther west along the Gothic Line. “Going missing in action” was rather easy to accomplish. He sent a message he was in extreme danger since the enemy had a substantial bounty on his head and he would have a difficult time making contact with “friendlies” without being captured or killed.

He included where and how he intended to obey the order by contacting a nearby allied detachment. The location was Rimini and the group was an Allied Rifle company. Gio sent the same message, via dispatch in written form, to the unit. He was highly suspicious of the security of the message since he was certain there was a mole in the unit passing on information any message concerning his whereabouts. As a result, he sent a highly secret and secure message to Andy indicating there were spies and double agents in that particular unit. The message to Andy read, “The garden needs weeding.” As he was to discover later, his assumptions were accurate. In fact, it was the double-agent in that particular unit who announced, “Knobby” failed to make contact and was thought to be either killed or missing in action.

Any action taken against the German officer would have to be well-planned and almost flawless. The planning would take observation of the officer’s habits, his routines, his likes and dislikes, his temperament, and where he would be most vulnerable. Gio took his time and when he was certain of a relative successful operation, he struck, as silently as a serpent in the night with the force and shock of a bolt of lightning.

Agosto Russo, held up the letter he’d received, saying,

“This letter says Leo and his family were avenged, in the manner of an eye for an eye, as one would, given our family heritage and background. Would you say, my Grandson, this is correct?”

Gio nodded to his grandfather, offering the deed was done and vengeance was complete and exacting.

Agosto knew, from the letter, more was done than just a simple deed. He didn’t know the details! The look on his grandson’s face, the reluctance for him to speak to his grandparents concerning the “how” revenge was taken, caused Agosto to pause in his search for answers. Gio’s reluctance to speak of the “revenge taking” was only to spare his grandparents the brutality and goriness of it.

The target officer woke in the morning and found his mistress’s head, severed from her body, resting on the pillow next to him! The officer shouted and screamed in terror and anger for his guards, but they couldn’t respond, their bodies were upright and standing near the front door, pinned by bayonets through the throat embedded in the door frame.

The officer ran outside seeking his two sons, who were assigned to him as aides, and discovered them hanging from a small tree in the yard. When he finally drew some attention and ordered his immediate subordinate officers to his office to seek out the killer or killers. In his anger, once all were assembled, he pounded on the top of his office desk, setting off the explosive device under it, scattering his body parts all over as well as killing half of his officer staff present and severely wounding the rest.

Agosto, seeing the lingering trauma in his grandson’s eyes, decided not to pursue it further, instead offered a “Thank you. Leo’s soul shall rest in peace and so should your troubled mind!”

Little else was said concerning the incident, which suited Gio just fine.

The discovery and “adopting” of Vinnie, Rico, and Tony was an unpleasant story to relay to his grandparents, but the story was one with a happy ending, as far as Gio and the boys were concerned. The Russo’s were more than happy he had “boys of his own” and they had three more great-grandsons.

“But how did you get them to the United States and with passports and citizenship papers?” Sabrina asked, fearful somehow the boys would be taken away and sent back to Italy.

“Bribery and knowing the right people, especially if those people have a debt to be repaid or secrets to hide,” smiled Gio. He’d learned well from his grandfather and also his association with the Watt’s Family, especially Isaiah’s father, David how to accomplish things when the legality of something was in question.

Colonel Dickenson was able to effectuate all the necessary paperwork and speed the process along with dollars Gio provided. The same was true when it came time to bring the boys home to Decker’s Corner and Ravenwood. Andy, knowing all of the nuances of military red tape and government bureaucracy, knew just what buttons to push and where to go to step up the process.

“So,” his grandmother Sabrina asked, persistent in her attempt to discover more concerning Gio’s injuries, “how did you get hurt and what took them so long to let us know you were okay?”

“Actually,” Gio began, deciding to give his grandparents some semblance of an explanation he thought would satisfy them.

“There were several occasions I picked up some minor wounds that didn’t hinder my operation or mission as we neared the end of 1944, however, it was the ones toward the end of December which caused the problems.”

The Germans intensified their searches for the skeleton-masked Angel of Death spreading terror and death in their midst after the murder of the German officer and part of his staff of officers. Gio really pissed off the Fascist-Partisans as well when he crept into one of their camps one night, entered a house where some were sleeping, and slit the throat of every other man!

It not only pissed them off, but terrified them as well, requiring a larger number of people to stand guard at night and causing much lack of sleep among the Partisans. After all, who could sleep at night wondering if his throat would be slit next?

His action also increased the diligence in the search for the “night killer!” As a result, Gio became more cautious and auspicious in his attacks.  The last thing he wanted to do was inadvertently expose his hideout and put the boys in danger. However, it didn’t negate the need for supplies or for taking the boys with him to where he thought was relatively safe. Yet, it was still not entirely safe in the countryside since irregular Italian-Fascists who sympathized with the Germans and scattered German soldiers who’d escaped capture during the battle, were trying to reunite with the German army west along the Gothic Line. Neither group was immune from temptation of a reward offered in gold for the death or capture of the night killer.

Such was the occasion when Gio, accompanied by Vinnie, Rico, and Tony, traveling by donkey and cart, visited Ravena after the battle there. German forces, by in large, were routed from the area and it was secure under Allied Forces.

Some three weeks after the battle, with the Germans defeated by Canadian Forces, the four of them visited Ravena, picking up household supplies and, most importantly, medical supplies destined for the local doctor.  Porti Sicuro was fortunate to have it’s own doctor, a middle-aged practioner who’s identity was well concealed from the Nazi’s so they wouldn’t abscond with him. Gio felt confident in his abilities and the manner in which he practised medicine.

The donkey cart was loaded with supplies, mostly medical supplies including several field kits used in battle by the medics. The supplies came from a field medic with access to supplies used in battle. The medic was a young man who loved having Demarco’s fat Italian cock up his butt as often and as long (it was that) as possible. Demarco, by the same token, made every opportunity to journey to Ravena to dip his wick into the honey pot and leave a deposit of oppulent volume. They met during the Battle of Ravena and decided, after the war, to hook up permanently when the young medic could return unfettered by his soldiering duty.

Gio took the usual precautions on the way home; taking his time, checking his back trail, using a circutious route, and keeping watch at night. It was only a two night journey to Ravena, but he still was cautious. They were spending the night about an hour outside of Ravena. They ordinarily traveled farther but for some reason, Gio felt uneasy. Tony thought  he noticed a man paying special attention to them after the left the young medic’s location on the outskirts of the city and headed home.

Gio separated Vinnie and Rico to one side of their small camp, located Tony with the donkey and cart on the other side, while he stood guard. A small fire was built earlier to cook a small meal for the four of them and was now just barely embers. The only problem seemed to be full moon, the light blocked ocassionally by large clouds.

Around midnight, Tony was the first to notice something was amiss when the donkey emitted a soft nicker and pricked up it’s ears. Gio didn’t miss the low nicker of the alerted donkey either, but was attacked before he could react! Several shots rang out from the trees near the encampment and Gio dropped, hit by several of the bullets fired at him.

Five armed men, one in civilian clothes and four in German soldier uniforms, entered the small clearing and warily approached Gio, laying on the ground near where the campfire still smoldered. The man in civilian garb, gave Gio a jab with his rifle, shined a flashlight down at him, and announced gleefully,

“Yep, that’s him; the same man I saw at Rimini and today in Ravena!”

“Where are the others?” one of the German soldiers asked.

“Right here!” shouted Tony as he fired first one-barrel of the .12ga sawed-off shotgun and then the second. The 00 buckshot loads hit the three men in the upper bodies and faces, dropping them, writhing like chickens with their heads cut off, and scattering brains and facial parts across the ground beneath them.

Tony’s shots were immediately, almost in conjunction with, the staccoto “burrrrrrrrrrp” of the Sten machine gun Rico carried, dropping the other two German soldiers.

Rico heard the distinct “snap” of the shotgun breech being closed after Tony reloaded it, and walked carefully toward the fallen soldiers and civilian. Tony, holding the shotgun at the ready, worked quickly, but cautiously toward where Gio lay.

Gio was conscious; hurt badly but still awake and lucid!

“Did you get-em,’ Tony?” Gio asked.

“Yes, Poppa, I shot three and Rico killed the other two.”

“Where’s Vinnie?” Gio asked, concerned for the youngest of his boys.

“With Rico, Poppa. They’re checking out the dead guys.”

“Tony, listen to Poppa very carefully!”

Tony nodded and leaned closer to Gio.

“Have Rico bring one of the field medical kits from the cart. Then take my cape, mask, and the flags we have and leave them on or next to the dead civilian. Make certain no one can identify the man from his face. Understand?”

“Yes, Poppa. But don’t you die on me, please,” Tony choked out tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Don’t worry, my sweet boy,” Gio assured him, though he was in great pain and losing blood.

Rico and Vinnie arrived at that moment with the medical kit.

“After bandaging me up,” Gio continued, “take me to Ravena and the medic who gives us the supplies. Have him fix me up and take me home. Okay?”

“Yes, Poppa,” Rico and Tony answered almost simutaneously.

“Rico, when we get home, have Demarco send a message by radio, saying ‘the gardeners hoe is broken.’ Andy will get the message and get to the Villa as fast as he can.”

Rico knew what to do, but all three boys needed help in deciding what to do about Gio’s wounds and how to save his life. Under his direction, he pointed out the compresses to use, how to secure them with gauze wrappings, how to apply the powdered disinfectant on the wounds, and finally, “When you move me to the cart for the journey, take one of the small ampules of morphine, jab my right thigh with the needle and squeeze. The pain will disappear in minutes and make it easier for me to travel.”

It didn’t take long for the boys, using their knives, to cut Gio’s shirt and pants from his body, exposing his wounds. Gio was wounded in the upper left chest, his left arm, and two bullet wounds in his left leg; one in the inside of the thigh and the other in the calf of his leg. The boys set about their task as “Poppa” instructed them what to do.

With Tony cradling Gio’s head, laying in the cart next to the now re-arranged load of medicines and Rico and Vinnie sitting on the small seat in front urging the donkey to move as quickly as it could, the boys and their precious cargo headed toward the army camp where the medic was stationed.

In a little over an hour later, Gio was on a table and a medical doctor hastening to repair the damage caused by the bullets fired into him and stop the bleeding. The three boys refused to leave Gio while the medical people worked on him.

“What’s the man’s name?” the doctor, directing his attention to Vinnie, asked as he was busy with caring for the wounds the medic cleaned for him so he could see what the problems were.

“Poppa!” announced Vinnie, offering no more.

Somewhat frustrated and curious, he asked Rico the same question.

“Poppa don Fiorella.”

With that, the doctor assumed that was about the extent of information he was going to get on identification of the patient on the table in front of him. So, he turned his attention toward Tony.

“Your Poppa seems to be a younger man than what he would appear initially. I notice several older injuries, perhaps from gunshot or knife wounds?”

He looked questioningly at Tony, expecting a more definitive answer than he was receiving from the other two.

Tony just shrugged his shoulders indifferently.

“Poppa was a policeman before the war!”

After Gio was sewed up, patched up, and sedated, the doctor announced,

 “He should stay here for a couple of days to make certain he doesn’t develop future problems, such as infection. He’s lost quite a bit of blood and will take some time to recover. He may need therapy to help him walk again since the big muscles in his thigh and lower leg was damaged.”

“I don’t think so,” Rico announced. “Poppa said to take him home and that’s what we will do. There’s a doctor nearby who can take care of him.”

The doctor was about to object, but noticed the medic give a slight shake of his head, warning him to not press the issue but let the boys do as they announced. So, the doctor asked instead,

“Do you know who did this and wonder what happened to them after the attack?”

“Fascist bandits,” growled Tony in his immature boy’s voice. “We killed all four of the murdering fuckers and now,” he said reinforcing Rico’s announcement, “we take our Poppa home!”

The doctor didn’t argue!

It was almost dawn by the time Gio was stitched up and patched up and sent on his way. Even with stopping frequently to allow the donkey to rest, be watered and fed, Rico and his precious cargo arrived in front of the Villa shortly before dusk.

Vinnie nearly busted his ass racing to the Villa shouting for Demarco, Sandro, and Nicolo to “Come quick; Poppa’s been shot!”

All three barreled out of the front door of the Villa and raced toward the cart. Demarco told Vinnie to go back into the house and get Gio’s bed ready for him. Demarco, Nicolo, Sandro, and Rico carefully carried Gio inside to his bed. Gio didn’t complain about the movement, although the move did cause him considerable pain. Once in his own bed, he was lucid enough to thank them and express his gratitude about being home! He also instructed Demarco to send the radio message concerning his misfortune.

Tony, standing nearby, reminded Demarco he was to send “The gardener’s hoe is broken” and that was all. Demarco just nodded, understanding the young lad was worried sick about his Poppa. Demarco left, telling Sandro and Nicolo to take care of the donkey, move the supplies into the storeroom, and for Nicolo to take the motorcycle and go to town and fetch the doctor.

Gio lay, resting, saying little, breathing deeply while Tony prepared a sleeping pallet for himself next to Gio’s bed. There was no way the other two boys or he would let Gio out of their sights. Demarco noticed, when he came back into the room, Tony had the shotgun close by and Rico had the machine gun just as handy.

“Are you well armed as well?” he asked Vinnie.

Vinnie just nodded, turned sideways, and displayed the Walther pistol tucked into his belt.

Two hours later the doctor arrived and began his examination. Tony reached into his pant’s pocket and produced several pages of written information.

“The army doctor,” he explained to the local physician, “said to give you this since it would help you,” and handed him the pages.

The doctor read through the paper work, nodded to himself several times, before uncovering Gio and performing his own examination.

“Any pain, don Fiorella?”

“Some, but not more than I can handle. I really don’t want a bunch of narcotics pumped into me.”

The doctor nodded his understanding, knowing don Fiorella would want to keep a clear head if at all possible.

“Then take some aspirin or a glass of wine or brandy to help with the pain if it becomes too unbearable.”

Turning to the boys and Demarco, he told them to keep him covered, plenty of water, hot meat broth as often as he could take it, and watch for a fever.

“He needs rest to gain back his strength and will have a long road to recovery since the muscles in his left leg need strengthening and healing in order for him to walk properly.”

Vinnie, Rico, and Tony listened carefully to every word the doctor said, but they knew they’d listen just as carefully to their Poppa.

Not once during his visit did the doctor ask how Gio got shot! He did, however, thank him profusely for the medical supplies and said he’d start taking them back to his office when he came again the next day.

Tony, before crawling into his bed, still trying to choke back his tears, whispered to Gio, “Please don’t die Poppa. We love so much! What would we do without you?”

Gio smiled and gestured Tony closer.

Kissing the frightened boy on the cheek, he answered, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to die. You boys need your Poppa and I need you.”

Gio would sleep about two hours at a stretch before waking wanting some water. The boys made certain there was fresh water and assisted him in drinking it. The three of them tended to all of his needs over the next two days, feeding him broth Demarco fixed and an occasional brandy when he thought he needed it. The doctor’s visit each day encouraged them “don Fiorella” was doing as well as could be expected. So far, there was no fever.

Early in the morning on the third day, Sandro announced a stranger was coming up the lane and just crossed the bridge.

To be continued...

Posted: 09/02/2022