Sandro, his father, and Foà stood on their side of the glass, watching. One Nazi crossed to the catalogs, and the other began scrutinizing the books. Sandro hated feeling so helpless, and he could see his father fuming, his thin skin mottled with emotion and his gaze trained on the Nazi captains.
“This is a disaster,” Foà moaned. “We need to stop them from sacking the library. They’ll ship everything to Germany. The plunder of such precious articles would be a loss for Italian Jewry and Italian culture forever. It’s our patrimony.”
Sandro’s father nodded. “We’ll fight back, using the full force of the law. I can prepare papers to file today, enjoining the ERR in court from any confiscatory action. I will courier an authorizing letter to Almansi for his signature, as only the Union has the authority to administer these libraries.”
Foà nodded.
“We need allies, so I would courier a letter to the Vatican, too. They should want to keep the collections in Rome. The Questura and the Badoglio government should have the same interest.”
Sandro interjected, “We can even call La Sapienza and other academic institutions. All of them should want to keep the collection in Rome. It has enormous educational value.”
“Right.” Foà looked encouraged. “When do we start?”
In unison, Sandro and his father answered, “Now.”
CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
Marco 6 October 1943
Marco had an errand to run for his boss and hurried down the sidewalk. He turned the corner, but was stopped by a large crowd blocking the sidewalk. They seemed to be watching something going on across the street, their backs to him. Their mood was grim, and they massed on the sidewalk and spilled into the street. Traffic had been detoured, which was highly unusual in this busy district.
Marco knew something was wrong. On the other side of the street was the headquarters of the carabinieri, Rome’s military police. He hustled around the crowd and got a clear view of a horrifying sight. Nazi soldiers surrounded the entrance to carabinieri headquarters, perhaps a hundred of them. A long line of covered trucks, maybe fifteen, idled in front of the building and down several blocks, escorted by Kubelwagens. Nazis guarded the vehicles and the sawhorses, cordoning off the headquarters.
Marco watched, shocked, as in the next moment, a cadre of Nazis emerged from the building with thirty carabinieri in handcuffs. He didn’t know what was going on; he couldn’t imagine that the carabinieri had done anything wrong. An angry murmur rumbled through the crowd, and many cursed the Nazis or made obscene hand gestures at them. The Nazis loaded the carabinieri into the back of a covered truck.
Marco kept watching, appalled to see another cadre of Nazis leaving the building with more carabinieri under arrest. The Nazis loaded the second group of carabinieri into another covered truck, and then followed with another group and another, in waves of arrests. As soon as one group of carabinieri was loaded, the truck drove off and another group would be brought out, loaded, and taken away in custody.
Marco realized with horror that the Nazis were arresting the entire police force. The very thought had been inconceivable, until now. This was a major operation, in the center of Rome, but the Nazis had pulled off a total surprise. He hadn’t heard a whisper about it at Palazzo Venezia. The partisans didn’t know about it, either.
Marco felt terrified for the city he loved and for his fellow Romans, who would be utterly defenseless against the Nazis from now on. The crowd watched in fear, their hands to their mouths. Some cursed or wept, and others turned away, despairing.
Marco stopped counting at five hundred carabinieri arrested. He doubted many were left inside, if any. He raced home to tell his father.
CHAPTER NINETY-TWO
Sandro
13 October 1943
Sandro stood with his mother, Rosa, and the other distraught families behind a barricade that had been erected by the Nazis, around the piazza. Armed Nazi soldiers guarded the entrance to the synagogue, in a terrifying display of lethal force. The Nazis were about to confiscate the contents of the Biblioteca della Comunità and the Biblioteca del Collegio Rabbinico Italiano, some ten thousand priceless books and artifacts. Legal opposition to prevent the plunder had been to no avail, for the Nazis were beyond the reach of any law. Nor had any institution intervened: neither the Vatican, the Badoglio government, the Questura, nor La Sapienza.
Sandro’s father was inside the synagogue with Presidents Foà and Almansi, in a last-ditch effort to stop the Nazis. Sandro knew it would be futile. His only consolation was that his father and the others had taken matters into their own hands in the past few days, having anticipated that legal methods would fail. They had hidden some of the most precious artifacts from the collection in the homes and gardens of sympathetic families throughout Rome. They had even drained the mikveh, or ritual bath, in the synagogue and hired a tile setter to hide artifacts in its walls.