He was running to San Marco and he couldn't stop thinking of that German and his funny song. Through the years he had learnt how music could be more expressive than any languages: he didn't know what that song was about, but he could understand almost everything from Ludwig's eyes when he was singing it.
-"I like patriotic songs, they're always able to make people pride."-
-"How do you...?"-
-"Eheh, I'm a magician!"-
He wasn't. But that glance couldn't lie. It was so full of love for his Country he couldn't be wrong.
He laughed so loud that every passers looked at him in a confused way. When he reached the church and entered it, Romano was sitting on a bench, grumbling something like "How can you be so late every time?" and "This church isn't an hotel!". Like everyday. His brother started to act like an annoying momma when their grandpa died, almost 5 years before.
-"You haven't to behave like Grandpa, fratello1."- he said it trying to ruffle his brother's hair. It was a vain attempt.
-"Shut up, Veneziano. And stop touching my hair, you know I hate it."-
-"Okay, okay, I'm sorry."- He couldn't hold a laugh and Romano seemed to not appreciate it.
-"You're still a child. Nothing more."-
-"Hey, is something wrong? You're taking it too seriously, it's just a delay, after all.."
Romano turned and entered the priest room, closing back the door angrily. He was upset and Veneziano knew it. But why? Everything was like the day before, and the day before the day before, and the other one..
-"Oh, well"- he tought, taking a broom in his hands – "Let's clean up this old hut!"-
-" Ja, Reiches Heer?
Für Deutschland zu sterben ist uns höchste Ehr'2."-
A chorus of manly voices grew up from a big, crowded inn, accompanied by the sound of lots of tankards full of beer.
It was an old inn in one of the most populated street of Berlin, with a ramshackle sign where every letter was almost unreadable. Some rich soldiers financed its construction cause they wanted a place to eat and drink in the break. Every German in Berlin knew that that inn was the best in the city, cheap, with pretty girls and good beer.
He liked it. Almost every of his friends spent their time in that inn, drinking and flirting with the host's daughters. Sometimes they started singing common songs, like that time. And his brother was always drunk.
-"Mein Gott3! You guys are so freaking tone deaf!"- Gilbert jumped on the table and started singing, swinging a big tankard on his left hand.
–" Wenn vor uns ein feindlicher Panzer erscheint,
Wird Vollgas gegeben und ran an den Feind.
Was gilt denn unser Leben für uns'res Reiches Heer?
Ja, Reiches Heer?
Für Deutschland zu sterben ist uns höchste Ehr'4."-
Everyone laughed happily, his brother was too funny when he was drunk. Ludwig nodded, then finished his beer.
-I'm going home. Gilbert, you?"-
-"I think I'll have fun tonight!"- some of the girls just blushed, otherwise they laughed as the other customers did.
-Understood. Good luck bruder5."-
When he was far enough from that noisy inn, Ludwig changed his mind. He didn't want to come back home. It would have been more relaxing to walk down those German streets, surrounded by a thousand of different shining stars. He sit in a bench in the park, that smile always in his mind.
-"I like patriotic songs, they're always able to make people pride."-
-"How do you...?"-
-"Eheh, I'm a magician!"-
-"That Italian.." –
Ludwig liked Italy. It was such a nice Country, with a sunny weather and full of Art. Italians were kind people, happy and relaxed. Probably too relaxed. They spent their time eating and playing, singing and dancing with pretty girls. Italian girls were pretty. And that guy, well, that guy too.
-"It's a pity I had to go."- he thought –"I would find interesting to know more about him. He is weird."
He looked at the big, shining and powerful moon, then decided to come back home.
"Tu, solamente tu
non ritorni più
per riposar sopra il mio cuor6"
Veneziano's singing was one of the things tourists liked about that old, quiet area. There was a Spanish one who came there every year just for meet him and his brother. He could speak Italian, so it was easy to become good friends.
-"You stupid Spaniard, why are you here again?"-
-"Hola7 Romano. You're kinder every time I see you. Seems you grew up a lot." – he approached the Italian, ruffling his hair. –"See: you're almost taller than me!"-
It wasn't true at all.
-Shut up, you idiot!"- he blushed, punching him away.
Veneziano liked that kind of situation. It was just too funny to see his annoying momma having fun, even if he didn't want to admit it.
-"Antonio!"- he said, looking at Romano's funny expression. –Come in and take my brother with you. I think it's time for a break for him too!"-
-"I don't want to! There are lots of things to do, I can't..."-
-"Come on Romano! I'm your guest, you should take care of me and stop working for a bit, okay?"-
-"I won't take care of you, you bastard!"-
Veneziano let them quarrel and went to the kitchen, thinking of what to cook for their guest. Then his eyes were catched by a letter laying on the table. He washed his hands, drown them in his apron and take the envelope. He looked at it, boiling hot water to cook some pasta.
.
Romano liked Antonio, but it was a strange feeling, more like something that should remain a secret. He used to wait him impatiently, being anxious cause of the travel. It wasn't easy at all.
And his brother. His little, innocent brat. He couldn't stay there any longer, there wasn't any job he could do, any way to get money in that situation. Grew up in an old, little church, orphans raised by their grandpa, they developed their own personalities. Romano was strong, determined and concrete, his brother just the opposite. Veneziano couldn't stand hard situations, he was always undecided and used to daydream a lot about his future.
-"You should become more independent."-
Veneziano's response was always the same.
-"Why? I like to stay here with you. It's nice to cooperate everyday, isn't it?"-
He was too optimistic. Romano couldn't stand it any more. "I did" – he thought –"what should be done."-
Lots of immigrants came in Germany in that period. It was easy to find a job in that big Country, full of opportunities. They accepted any kind of job, most of them were middle aged men that would have sent some money to their families still in the homeland. Anyway, there were young people too, usually suitable for less honorable works.
-"Do you think we will have a good chef this time, captain?"-
-"I don't know."-
Ludwig was a commander in the Kriegsmarine8, pretty pride of his rank. He loved Germany as he loved the blue, deep sea. Working in the marine was the perfect job.
Suddenly, his ear was catched by a murmur coming from a group of beginners.
-"They said he's pretty young."-
-"Yes, I know. He's also an Italian."-
-"Anything is better than an English chef! They can't really cooking.."-
Ludwig approached the guys, his powerful aura right behind him.
-"What are you talking about?"- he asked curiously.
The youngest one was quite scared, the others probably more.
-"You should answer to the questions your captain asks you."-
-"We were talking about the new chef, sir!"- someone said - "A rumor let us know that he might be Italian."-
-"Understood. Now come back to your work."-
-"Yes, sir!"-
Ludwig watched the beginners obeying him, then came back to the headquarters.
"An Italian"- he thought -"Sounds interesting."-
.
During the not-easy travel, Veneziano's mind came back to some hours before. His heart was full of different feelings: the strongest one was the anger. For the very first time in his life, he was angry with his brother. Those words were turning in his head, so hard he almost couldn't hear anything except their movements.
–"It's not easy for me, too. I'm doing this for you."-
For him? Why should Veneziano have wanted it? When the train reached the station he hadn't found out the reason yet.
He heard some voices shouting in English that they were arrived, so he carried his baggage right behind him and slowly left the crowd exiting the train.
It was really cold. Veneziano hid in a big, warm red scarf, then took a piece of paper from his pocket and red it. There was written a name he couldn't pronounce.
-"Beild-.. Bel- belshimt? Belshmit?"- he tried pointlessly, feeling a little uncomfortable. His reading was perfect in Italian, why not in German, too? He sighed. So he had to find this German whose name was so weird. He sighed again. A man in uniform approached him, a presumptuous swastika sewn in a pocket on the jacket. Veneziano felt like his blood had stopped moving through his veins.
-"You..?"- said the German.
-"I have the passport! Here, here it is!"- he started looking for it opening every pocket of his baggage. It was a vain attempt.
-"I have it, I'm sure... I have it… I have it... just wait a sec, I have it!"-
His blood stopped moving again when the German raised Veneziano's face, pushing it up with only one finger.
-"I know you."- said the soldier – "We met at La Chiesa restaurant, right behind the St. Mark basilica."-
Something in Veneziano's heart started moving.
-"The German…"- he said.
They looked in each others eyes and laughed, laughed so hard for that joking fate.
Veneziano was happy, he almost had forgot everything. Almost.
-"You look completely different!"-
-"This is my military uniform. I wear it almost everyday to work."-
-"Cool."- he said, looking at the swastika. He knew what that symbol meant and he tried to hide the fact that he was quite scared of it, suddenly changing the subject.
-"What's your name, German soldier?"- he asked kindly.
-"I'm Ludwig Beildshmit and I'm not a soldier. I'm a commander."-
-"What? Ludwig-what?"-
-"Ludwig Beildshmit."-
He took the paper from his pocket and gave it to the German. The soldier looked at his name written in it, then at the guy right in front of him.
-"I think this means I will be at your service."-
Ludwig smiled. He almost knew it.
-"In this case"- he said quietly -"follow me."- He grabbed Veneziano's cold hand and started walking to the headquarter.
-"Where are we going?"- asked the Italian.
-"To the headquarter. You're going to cook a lot." – he smiled.
-"Is it in Berlin?"-
-"Yes, it is."-
-"But there aren't any harbors in Berlin and the Kriegsmarine is the navy force..-
-"You don't have to worry about it. Just cook. I'm pretty hungry and my soldiers too, I think."-
Notes:
1 "brother" In Italian
2 "Yes, Reich's army?
To die for Germany is our highest honour." –from "Panzerlied", a Geman military song composed in WWII.
3
"My God!" in German
4 "When before us a hostile tank appears,
Full throttle is given and close with the enemy.
Ha, what do our lives matter for the Reich's army?
Yes, Reich's army?
To die for Germany is our highest honour." – "Panzerlied"
5
"brother" in German
6
"You, only you
you won't come back anymore
to lay down on my heart" –"Tu, solamente tu", from the Italian film "Napoli che non muore" ("Napoli that doesn't die"- 1933), sung by Tiola Silenzi
7 "Hello" in Spanish
8 German navy in WWII