Lots of Italians are being repatriated due to illness. It seems they are being rather lenient about repatriation. Before, being repatriated was like a miracle, it was very difficult, whereas now, every day men are repatriated to Italy, and I’d like to attempt it. This morning I went to the doctor saying my leg hurt, he didn’t give me any sick leave, but next week I will try again because my leg really does hurt! I want to see if I manage to obtain anything. It has not snowed since January 31^st, all the snow that was in the streets has melted, it seems like spring has arrived. Last year, the bitter cold winter began in February and lasted all through March. I hope winter ends soon this year, since the cold weather began in November and lasted through the month of January. The weather has been mild for the past two weeks.

Today the police came, they took notes but I’m certain I will not see my shoes again.

This morning we robbery victims went to the factory.  We asked our boss if we could go to the police to report the theft. At first he was hesitant, but then he let us go. We went to the police, told them what happened, they told us to go home and await their arrival. At 10:30, they still hadn’t come, so myself and the Dutch man went to an office to see if they had prepared the vouchers for our possessions that caught fire during the last bombing (January 7^th). While there, the siren went off. Everyone started running like crazy, but we had no idea where to go, we were far from home and it was almost midday, the streets were full of snow and mud, we started wandering around in search of a bomb shelter, but there wasn’t one building intact, everything was demolished. We kept walking, the antiaircraft wasn’t even shooting so the aircrafts must’ve been far away. After over an hour we reach home, exhausted. Soon after, the antiaircraft starts shooting, we didn’t even go to a shelter; many other people stand there watching the aircrafts leisurely flying at a distance. Luckily they skipped Munich, but they were in the vicinity because the siren went off for three hours straight. It’s 4:00 and the police, the lovely police, have not shown up yet, we robbery victims are here waiting to show them the spot where the items were stolen and how they were stolen.

The 5 of us robbery victims agreed to go to the police tomorrow and report these criminals, these swindlers who live with us, but I honestly think it’s a waste of time. This isn’t the first robbery in this shelter, within the course of a year there have been four thefts which were even reported to the police but to no avail. Here the only thing the police do is arrest and lock up foreigners who are absent from work for two/three days, work which for us has no yield, it merely covers expenses… some expenses, we live like pigs. What profit have I made in 16 months of forced labor in this damned Germany?  Let’s hope it’ll be over in a few days, rumor has it that Berlin has also been occupied, so this shouldn’t go on too much longer. What have I earned up till now? How much money did I send to my wife and children?  None! And there are hundreds of thousands of millions of men in the same situation as me! What will our children live off of? Who will work for their wellbeing? These are the fruits of this damn war!

Tonight, Agostino and I went to another lager where Goffredo Maina, Pasquale Marrese, and Giovanni Augone live. Last Saturday I found out that Giovanni Augone is being repatriated because he was declared ill, so we immediately went to say goodbye to him, hoping that he will soon reach home through the Red Cross. We begged him to send our love to our families and tell them we are well. I gave him a note, asking him to hide it since he’s not allowed to take anything with him. I asked him to keep it safe and give it to my wife upon his arrival, thanking him profusely. If all goes well, he will leave for Italy in about ten days, and I hope that he will be home in about a month. That way my darling wife, even if she will not have the pleasure of seeing me return, will at least have the pleasure of reading a note written by me recently and will be assured that I’m in good health so she can pray to God for my imminent return!

Today I was shocked when I came home from the factory. We realized 4 suitcases were missing from the shelter where we keep them. One was stolen from a Dutch man, one from a French man, and two from another French man. Plus a coat was stolen from a French man, and a pair of new shoes was stolen from me. They opened my suitcase which contained two suits, two shirts, underwear, three towels, a pair of new shoes I’d paid dearly for and had only worn three/four times, luckily they were only tempted by the shoes and didn’t touch anything else. It seems like they have it in for me. First the theft at Hotel Kreutzbrau, one month later (April 25^th) a fire destroyed everything I owned, then another fire on January 7^th, and today my shoes got stolen. Luckily they only made off with my shoes, but the two French men and the Dutch man were left practically naked. Let’s hope nothing more than fires and thefts happen, I’d be content as long as this comes to and end and we can all return home and embrace our loved ones.

The temperature today felt like April. After a month of continuous snow, the sun, the glorious sun, made its first appearance. The snow in the streets and on the houses has begun to melt. We walk through half a meter of melted snow in the streets, one would need iron boots to keep his feet dry. Last year they always shoveled the snow quickly so there was no slush. But this year they haven’t shoveled, since the city is reduced to such a sorry state there’s no time to worry about shoveling or people not being able to walk, they can barely clear the streets of rubble, what horrifying chaos. When we got home, our dormitory was full of water, it was like a pool. We spent the whole night moving our mattresses around from one place to the next because the snow on top of our home without a roof, is slowly melting and constantly dripping into our room, onto our mattresses.

Today I met with Tommasino, son of Vincenzo Ceraldi from S. Ruosi. He tells me he’s trying to find a way to sneak back to Italy. We agreed to meet on Saturday and go to this place to see if I can flee too.

I can’t wait until this damned war is over, this inhumane separation. And so begins the seventeenth month of my detention, my absence, my slavery, and it seems it will never end. Yesterday I also met with Pasquale Marrese, he also received a letter from his wife postmarked November. I myself read the few words from his wife, who assures him that all of the families of his fellow townsmen, his brothers of misfortune, are well. But I’ve yet to receive a letter from my wife, almost all of the men from Casale have except for me, perhaps it’s because I’ve been living independently and my letters haven’t reached me like the letters addressed to the lagers where all the men from Casale live. Damn them for making me live independently, perhaps if they’d sent me to live in the lager with my fellow townsmen, I too would’ve received mail from my darling Carmosina, I’d give up sleeping comfortably for some news from her. I hope the end is near so I can return home. I hope that God has kept my darling wife and children healthy.

Today is the feast day of our patron saint, St. Paul. I wonder if they will celebrate this joyous day that we’ve celebrated for years? Perhaps they will celebrate it but only superficially because their hearts are full of pain, not joy. The sadness of hearts that have been waiting for their loved one for 17 months and hope to see the happy day of his return.

All day today I felt a horrible sense of anguish, I’ve never felt anything like this since I’ve been in Germany, in this damned country. May God protect me from a family misfortune.

Today I ran into Paolo Maina at the black market. I often go to said market because it’s the only place where one can see fellow townsmen, plus one can buy anything but at staggering prices. For example: one cigarette costs 3 Marks which is half a day’s pay; a pack of regular Italian tobacco costs 40 Marks, 400 Italian lira; a hectogram of butter costs 20 Marks; one kilo of white bread costs 30 Marks. Not to mention the cost of clothing: a pair of socks costs 40 Marks. Paolo Maina is in bad shape, he’s not a civilian like us, he’s an internee who has absolutely nothing. I couldn’t even give him any clothing because thanks to the air raids, this is the second time I’ve lost my belongings, which I paid dearly for. I was sorry I couldn’t give him anything but all I have left are the bare essentials. I gave him a ration card for a kilo of bread because he’s in need of that too.