Bell for Adano, A - John Hersey [33]
“Can we get the bell back? That’s what I want to know.”
Colonel Richard N. Sartorius was a methodical man. “The first entry,” he said, “is dated June fifteenth. It says the bell arrived from Adano by mule cart. It says the bell was very crudely crated, and had to be crated all over again. That took three days.”
“Where’s the bell now? Did you find it?”
“The second entry is dated June twenty-second. It says the bell was put aboard the motor ship Alcuri for Milan via Genoa. It was addressed to the Fecoratta Artillery Foundry, Forty-three Via Edda Mussolini, Milan.”
“Oh, hell, they shipped it off.”
“Not only that, but the third entry says the Fecoratta Artillery Foundry at Forty-three Via Edda Mussolini in Milan - can you imagine naming a street for that flewsie? - it says that the Foundry acknowledged receipt of the bell. That entry was on July the second. I’m afraid your bell is just a hunk of cannon now, Joppolo.”
“Damn.”
“Well, at least I found the records for you.”
“That’s awful disappointing.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. But I’m glad I could set you straight on it.” All Colonel Sartorius wanted was one word of thanks.
“These people down here’ll be heartbroken,” the single-minded Major said.
“Is that a fact?” said Colonel Sartorius. “Well, you’re welcome,” and he hung up hard.
Chapter 10
THE DAY that Mayor Nasta came down from the hills Major Joppolo got his first idea that perhaps the people of Adano really were glad to have the Americans around.
Major Joppolo was having lunch with Captain Purvis at the Albergo dei Pescatori. Joppolo and Purvis had almost nothing in common, but they were beginning to like each other pretty well. It was probably just that they were both officers and Americans, and no matter whether they would have been worlds apart back in the States, here they were blood brothers, and they could talk over their reactions and laugh together and understand each other. Brother Purvis still wanted to get Brother Joppolo drunk, but even that issue, which began bitterly, was now becoming a joke and a promise of some fun.
The Albergo dei Pescatori had the best food in Adano, and the Major and the Captain ate there regularly now. The food was nothing to write home about, but it was better than C Rations. Lunch and dinner were exactly alike and never varied: pasta with tomato sauce, a little fried eggplant and cheese, an omelet, bread, fruit and red wine. The place owned just nine regular customers. Besides the Major and the Captain, there were the owner, his wife, and his son, two prostitutes of the town, and their two men, who were never the same at any two successive meals. At each meal Major Joppolo used to say as he sat down, “I’ll have to run them out of town one of these days,” but soon the remark became just a habit, like saying a blessing, and there was little chance of its fulfillment.
At each meal there were also some idlers in the place, but they just came in to listen to the noon and six-thirty broadcasts from Rome.
On the day that Mayor Nasta came down from the hills, Major Joppolo and Captain Purvis had just finished their pasta and were talking about the stuffy Navy fellow, Livingston, when they heard an unusual noise out in the street. There were shouts of anger, and whistles.
The Rome broadcast was on at the moment, and some rather outrageous things were being said, so Major Joppolo guessed: “That’s the mob down at one of the Dopo Lavoro clubs jeering the radio. I heard they did that a couple days ago. This is the first time I ever actually heard them.”
Captain Purvis said: “Why aren’t these bums jeering here? What the hell do they think they are, anyhow? Tell them to jeer, pal.”
But the noise outside grew, and seemed to be coming up the street. And soon several of the idlers who had been listening to the radio in the restaurant ran out. As the noise grew still louder the two prostitutes picked up handfuls of fruit and ran out, pursued by their paying guests. Then the owner of the place and his wife and son ran out with their mouths full of pasta and eggplant.