A blog from World War 2

February 13, 1944

Tonight, Agostino and Ciccillo came to visit again, they ask about the thermometer. I tell them it’s hidden in my bed with a 38.5°C temperature. By now I’ve recovered completely but I don’t want to go back to the factory, the boss is so cruel to us Italians that amongst ourselves we call him “the executioner”, in fact that’s what he was to me.

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