As I walked around the city this morning, I happened upon this woman. She realizes I’m not from Venice and asks me where I’m going. I tell her I’m looking for a place to stay, to take cover until the Front passes. She says she can host me at her home and tells me: “Go back to Mestre and ask directions for a spot called 4 Cantoni. Wait for me there, I’ll come get you and bring you to my home where you can stay until the Front passes”. I do as she says, I take the bus to Mestre, find 4 Cantoni (4 streets), and I wait for this woman. I wait until nightfall but she doesn’t show up. So I go to Carpenedo, near Mestre, to an inn where about 20 people who’ve come back from all over Germany are waiting till the Front passes to head south.

This morning I went to see the Rialto Bridge on the Grand Canal, then I went to St. Mark’s Square, the cathedral, and the Bridge of Sighs, so very enchanting!

This morning I went to the station where hordes of Italians were waiting to be repatriated, I snuck into the crowd and with them I boarded the first train that arrived. I’ve finally reached Brenner. After 20 months, I finally hear Italians speaking. 320 Marks total handed over, they ask for my papers and where I am coming from. I reply precisely without hesitation: I’ve come from Vienna, and not Munich where I actually fled from. Vienna had already been occupied in early April so they have no way of checking up on me. I gave a fake name so that if my boss called Brenner, he wouldn’t be able to track me down. After I finished this interrogation, I immediately looked for the next train Bolzano. They were offering soup for those who wanted to eat, but I skipped the food and got on the train. That same night I arrive in Bolzano.  There, in a shelter for men being repatriated from Germany set up by my kind fellow countrymen, I ran into Tommasino Nicoletta, son of Antonella Rua. After we ate and slept there, we both left on a German truck headed for Trento, where we spent the night. The next day, the owner of a truck came to pick us up of his own free will and took us to Bassano del Grappa where they welcomed us joyously. They did the same in Trento and other small towns. What a difference there is between Italians and Germans! Here, we can eat anywhere while in Germany… From Bassano they advise us to go to Vicenza where I’m told they’ll give us clothing but I don’t want to go there, I’m afraid I’ll end up in Fascist hands and consequently in German hands. I want to go where my instinct leads me, not where others tell me. Tommasino insists, actually he begs me to go to Vicenza, but I explain my situation to him. The first truck passes by for said city. After 15 minutes, I also leave Bassano but I am heading to Mestre.  We arrive in Mestre, myself and 5 other men (3 of whom are Albanians). It is night, we wait for dawn in the middle of the street. As soon as the first bus for Venice leaves, my travel companions and I head to the city of gondolas. The siren goes off day and night but nobody pays any attention, the streets are packed with people. German soldiers can be seen in all corners of the city, but they know their time in Italy is coming to a close. I read in a newspaper that the Allied Forces have broken through enemy lines in Bologna and are heading toward Rovigo.

This morning we went to the Italo-German Delegation to see what they tell us.  There are 5 of us coming from different parts of Germany. When we reach the Delegation, we’re surprised to see over 300 men there. With this horde of men, it’ll be easy for me to hatch a plot. We begin asking all these Italians where they came from, I noticed they are all being legally repatriated with proper documents and authorization from their employers, but in this horde, there are also some men like me, other “fugitives”. They suddenly line us up and take 1/4 of us to the other station in Innsbruck.  A German man accompanies us, I ask him where they’re taking us and he says we’re going to work 40 km outside of Innsbruck in a tunnel that’s bomb-safe. But I have no desire to work for the Germans so I flee.

I woke up and instead of going to work, as my wretched boss ordered me to, I wandered around the city. I already have everything I need to leave: some bread and a few old undergarments. As I walk toward the small station of Ost Bahnhoff, I run into 6 Italians. I ask where they are coming from, some are coming from Berlin, some from Stuttgart, and some from other cities that have been occupied or are about to be occupied. I ask them what time the train for Innsbruck leaves, they tell me it leaves at 5:00.

It’s almost 3:00, I rush home, get my suitcase and hurry back to the station. I get on the train without even buying a ticket. Before heading to the station, I invited my friends to flee with me but nobody wanted to. They advise me to stay in Munich. I rumple my bed and beg them not to say a word. I give this diary to Ciccillo D’Angelo and ask him to bring it back for me. If I were caught with this diary, it would be the end of me.

At 5:00 the train leaves. As the train moves away from the city, my heart shrinks, I don’t know if I’ve done the right thing or not, but I’ve already taken the first big step and I have hope that things will go well. At around 1:00 in the morning we arrive in Innsbruck, we wait for daylight there in a semi-demolished house.

I had just finished eating and was resting in bed when I hear my name being called. I get up and see my factory boss and his sidekick, a cowardly wretch worthy of him.  He calls me and says: Tomorrow you have to come to work. I told him the doctor officially gave me days of rest because I don’t feel well. He says that if I don’t come to work, he’ll have me arrested. The time has come for me to flee, I absolutely will not go to work, I am tried of being bossed around like this. I promise myself I have to flee or else I will die of rage. I managed to trick the doctor by rubbing the thermometer until it read 38 °C, I got 13 days of rest but now I’m in a bind because that wretched boss of mine says I must go back to work, whether I’m healthy or sick, so I have no other choice… I must flee!

I hop on the tram and go see my fellow townsmen who work in the same factory, I encourage them to flee with me but they’re all afraid. They fear the police and advise me not to flee because it’s very dangerous, but I’ve made up my mind: my wife and my children are calling me. I must leave, I must flee even at the risk of being shot.

After 8 days of rest, I returned to the doctor as he had requested. Naturally, I told him I feel ill and have a fever. He gave me a thermometer and sent me into the usual room alone, so I rubbed and rubbed the thermometer like I did last Wednesday until it showed a fever of 38 °C. I waited till the nurse called me then handed over the thermometer. The doctor looked at it, I gave him and the nurse a cigarette, and he gave me 5 more days of rest. I have to see him again on Monday, then figure out what to do. I don’t want to go back to the factory, I’m tired of these cowardly Germans, these ugly people! Such rotten men.

Last night at exactly midnight the “pre-raid siren” went off, then 2-3 minutes of regular siren, but while the siren was wailing, the bombers dropped their loads. We barely had time to jump out of bed when an explosion shook us. We got dressed and ran to the shelter, but it was pointless. Once we reached the shelter, the bombers had already terminated their mission and had left. Today at 4:00, the siren went off again after the pre-raid siren wailed all day. After 30 minutes, the bombers appeared in the sky over the city, they dropped plenty of bombs but in the outskirts of the city.

The siren went off twice. I worry that sooner or later, these surprise attacks will kill us. If it doesn’t end this month, I’ve decided to cut and run.

Before, the siren used to go off and then the aircrafts would come. We had time to run somewhere, we had time to go to a shelter, be it good or bad. But now, while we’re sleeping, eating, or working, we hear bombs being dropped and woe is the place where they land. The siren, or rather the “pre-raid siren”, goes off after. This is much more dangerous than the big attacks. These single aircrafts, called bombers, are very dangerous because their presence doesn’t set off the siren. Now that they’ve gotten closer with the military bases, they keep us company almost every day.

Today we had to run to the bomb shelter twice and had to stay inside for 3 hours straight.