A blog from World War 2

May 5, 1945

This morning we went back to the barracks where the trucks depart from. While getting in line, I see a policeman I seem to recognize, I go up to him and say: Aren’t you they guy who used to work with Vincenzo Verrengia in Casale? He says he is. I ask him how long he’s been away from Casale, he says not long and assures me that everyone is well and nothing bad has happened. This news leaves me feeling very happy, I feel hopeful that nothing has happened to my wife, my children, my sisters, and my father, and that they are all well.

It’s late, they’ve filled up all the seats. Yet again we are not amongst the people who get to leave. We take a stroll around the city, looking to buy some food. We go back to the barracks to sleep, but it’s unbearably stinky, we’re packed in here like animals. But all this is nothing to me because that beautiful day is nearing, the day in which I will finally be able to embrace my loved ones. Plus, I’m far away from the orders and slavery of those rotten German assassins, especially that horrific Mr. Rockinger. My poor fellow townsmen who are still in that damned factory and that stinky lager. They’ll never be able to leave that factory until the Allies arrive and hold a gun to the head of that bastard Rockinger.

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