I was there when the English and Americans dropped bombs on the northern Italian town of Villar Perosa, on the 9th of November 1943. I was an innocent teenager, 14 years old, when the world had its second war.
There I was in my home town, everyone minding their own business. Inside the ball bearings factory, in the centre of town, and the shops were men and women working hard to support their families. Inside schools, were small innocent children not knowing what lie ahead. Suddenly loud alarms sounded, signalling an incoming invasion.
Crowds of people poured from every door visible. Children ran from schools, their parents running out of their workplaces. The people were frantic, looks of fear spread across their faces as they ran towards the hills. In these hills were large bunkers, their safe haven. Bunkers were located deep into the grassy hills, they were dug out rooms prepared for an enemy invasion. These bunkers were made from concreted tunnels connecting to a main large, dark room with concreted walls.
Huge airplanes followed soon after. Dark, armoured, terrifying airplanes carrying huge bombs. I was lucky enough to have found my father in the bunker and we huddled together as we waited. As they flew over the town I feared for my mother’s and brother’s life, even more than my own. Not knowing where they were was the worst feeling in the world. Unsure of whether they were safe in a bunker in the hills, trapped in a building or running for their lives. I knew my mother would have had to escape carrying my little brother who was four years old. This feeling I had was the worst I had ever had. I was so frightened, so nervous, I was in total panic mode.
Within the next 10 minutes multiple bombs went off. One of which was so loud and powerful the hills shook. This bomb scared me the most of all, because after it went off a German soldier shouted ‘Fabrik kaput’. Because there had been many German soldiers around my town I had learnt part of their language and understood what this meant.
This sentence was probably the thing that scared the people the most, it meant that the factory in our town had been hit. This factory was the workplace of hundreds of people in our area. Many people in the bunker broke down as they now had no place to work, or for the fact that their family members may have been trapped inside when the bomb went off.
After a few hours we were allowed out of the bunkers. Many were devastated at the sight of the centre of our town. Our ball-bearings factory was now a pile of rubble, smoke still rising from the fallen building. This factory was the main source of our town’s money. Here many things were made including weapons, such as the ‘Villar Perosa’ gun.
My father’s first instinct was to look for my mother and brother. He began to jog between people frantically, while I tried to keep up. We dodged in and out of weeping women and terrified children. Suddenly we saw them and ran straight towards them embracing in a family hug. Without hesitation we all then walked quickly towards our home, scared that it had been bombed, but were relieved when we saw it still standing. All that had been hit was the towns factory, that was it.
As amazing as this may seem, within a few days we had heard that not a single person was killed in the bombings. Some had minor injuries but nothing life threatening. Our town had survived this bombing and we had the strength and courage to rebuild our factory and continue on with our lives. People who worked in the ball-bearings factory previously had been asked to return to help rebuild it. Our lives continued on, yes we had been shaken with fear but now we were strong, strong enough to get back on our feet and carry on.
Sienna