Elisabetta heard a woman’s scream outside. Gnocchi swiveled to the sound, and Rico woke up. She rose, threw on her bathrobe, and hurried up the stairs to the roof. She crossed to the front of the rooftop, horrified at the scene on the street below.
Nazis were arresting her neighbors, the Diorio family. Michele Diorio, his wife, Augusta, and their two little girls. Michele tried to protect Augusta, and the little girls cried as they were forced into a covered truck. Other families were already inside, clinging to each other.
Elisabetta gasped. She couldn’t imagine what was going on, except that she knew that the Diorios were Jewish. The loud rumbling of heavy trucks emanated from the Lungotevere Sanzio, reverberating in the rain.
She felt a bolt of fear, thinking of Sandro. She hurried downstairs, dressed quickly, and flew out the door.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWELVE
Marco
16 October 1943
Marco ran up the Lungotevere Sanzio with his father, having left Gemma at the house with his mother. Covered trucks were driving away from the Ghetto, heading up the Lungotevere de’ Cenci and turning left on the Ponte Mazzini.
Marco and his father caught sight of the Collegio Militare, a massive rectangular edifice with a gray stone fa?ade at its entrance and lower floors, changing to lighter stucco at its second-floor balcony and upper floors. Criss-crossed bars covered its oblong windows, making a grim presence on Piazza della Rovere, only a kilometer away from Saint Peter’s Basilica in Vatican City.
Marco wondered what was going on behind the Vatican walls. He hoped Emedio and others were trying to help. He prayed the Pope would intervene on behalf of the Jews. Nobody had before, even after the Race Laws. The Jews were forever on their own.
Marco kept running, fighting a sense of dread.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTEEN
Elisabetta
16 October 1943
Elisabetta ran through Trastevere, past Nazis on motorcycles. Jews were being rounded up throughout the neighborhood. Shutters and shops stayed closed. No one was on the street. She had to get to the Ghetto.
She kept running, splashing through puddles, finally reaching Tiber Island. She took a left turn over the Ponte Cestio and raced past Bar GiroSport. It was dark and closed. Marco and his family must already know.
Elisabetta kept going, distraught. She prayed this wasn’t a rastrellamento. She hoped she wasn’t too late. She tore up the span of the Ponte Fabricio. Rain pelted her face and soaked her dress.
She reached the crest to a horrifying scene. There was a roadblock in front of the Ghetto. Nazis were ordering men, women, and children into covered trucks, which were pulling away. She ran down the bridge, frantic. A crowd stood in front of the roadblock. She jumped up and down, hoping for a glimpse of Sandro. She didn’t see him.
She tapped an older woman, next to her. “My God, what’s going on? Is it . . . a rastrellamento?”
“Yes,” the woman answered, crestfallen. “I just saw my oldest friend loaded into a truck like an animal.”
Elisabetta felt her heart break. “No, no, it can’t be true. They’re not taking everyone, are they? They can’t!”
“I tell you, they are. I’ve been standing here all morning. They are taking every Jew they can get their hands on. They’re emptying the Ghetto.”
Elisabetta couldn’t surrender to panic. “My boyfriend, he lives on Piazza Costaguti. Have they taken from the north side already?”
“I don’t know. My advice to you, go to the Collegio Militare. That’s where the Nazis are taking them. Your boyfriend might be there already.”
Elisabetta turned around and took off.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FOURTEEN
Sandro
16 October 1943
Sandro scanned the courtyard at the Collegio Militare, trying to figure out a way to escape. He had never been here, but he was getting the lay of the land. The building was an elegant, two-story edifice of classrooms with floor-to-ceiling windows, each one topped by intricate scrollwork. A vaulted colonnade ringed a vast, stone courtyard, and at the front of the colonnade were five graceful arches, under the Latin motto ROMANA VIRTUS ROMAE DISCITUR. Roman Valor Is Learned in Rome.
The refinement of the building belied the horror of its use today. Terrified families filled all of the classrooms inside, and the rest were outside in the courtyard, like Sandro and his father. They stood under the colonnade, trying to stay out of the rain. They sat in groups, covering their heads with jackets, clothes, and newspapers. Women held children and nursed infants. Men stood and prayed in circles, as today was the Sabbath.
Nazis conferred at a security desk at the front of the courtyard, or walked among the families, brandishing their weapons and intimidating them. New truckloads of families would arrive at regular intervals, and more terrified men, women, and children would be packed into the courtyard, which was already full to bursting. Relatives, friends, and neighbors recognized each other and reunited tearfully.