Photo By Staff Sgt. Austin Harvill | Destinations: The hills of war read more read more
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Snow-crusted mountainsides sprawled around a quiet cottage beside a single sun-bleached road. A small sign, barely visible in the waning sunlight, clung to the weathered siding claiming this home as a “rifugio,” a waystation.
This was the place. I parked and bundled up for my 100-foot journey from my car to the door in the bone-chilling, early November cold. The rifugio’s cozy atmosphere left me feeling like an invader as I walked through the door.
I came here to see Davide, a man dedicated to the history of the region. My day had been jam-packed with visits to memorials, museums and other sites of WWI, the Great War. My mind was spinning with ways to explain all I saw.
I had only written to Davide before, so he wasn’t who I expected. He wasn’t an old guy with old stories in old clothes and bad hearing. Instead, a man in his late 30s greeted me in hiking pants and a fitted fleece jacket while his five-year-old daughter hid behind him. He offered me wine, local cheese and salami. That’s the Italian way of saying, “Let’s talk about anything and everything.”
He explained some aspects of the war as I continued rambling and asking questions, talking too quickly for anyone to understand me. As I learned more, I still felt like I couldn’t properly share my experience, and not because we were on our second bottle of red.
Flustered and tired from my day, I took a sip of the smoky wine and said, “Davide, so much happened here, everywhere, 100 years ago. There’s no way to put into words the impact the war had on every aspect of life.”
He calmly refilled his glass. I sat quietly for the first time that evening. The soft crackling in the fireplace was the only sound for a moment.
“Let me tell you a story,” he began…
A lieutenant in the Italian army, Ermes Rosa, worked his way through the maze of tunnels beneath Monte Grappa. Winter was finally coming in force as November slowly passed. The weather of 1917 had switched sides to fight for the Italians by slowing the advance of Austro-Hungarian forces pounding at the doors of Italy’s northern border.
The weather was the last thing on Rosa’s mind. He and 50 volunteers faced a suicide mission.
Typically, fighting in the trenches meant shelling an enemy position with artillery followed by a manned assault. This softened up the enemy’s defenses, but the shells also warned the enemy of a follow-up attack.
So Rosa and his volunteers would assault the Austro-Hungarian forces while the friendly artillery fired.
As shells screamed through the air, geysers of snow and rock pelted Rosa’s company, wounding Rosa and many others while killing more. Once inside, however, the team surprised the Astro-Hungarians while they played a game of cards, hoping to wait out the artillery fire.
The day was theirs, but the high-ranking officer Rosa hoped to capture, Col. Franzschauer, had escaped.
The war on the mountains raged for another deadly year. Rosa survived the conflict and WWII shortly thereafter, becoming a decorated war hero along the way. To honor those with whom he served, Rosa returned to Monte Grappa annually to pay his respects.
One year as he hiked the hills and trekked through the trenches, he passed another man doing the same. Obviously a veteran himself, Rosa gave a greeting.
“Buongiorno,” said Rosa.
“Grüß Gott,” said the man.
They stopped. Rosa, an Italian, had unmistakably greeted an Austrian.
“Mi chiamo Rosa,” said the old Italian lieutenant.
“Meine Name ist Franzschauer,” the colonel replied.
The endless wind atop Monte Grappa howled at the two former enemies as it whistled through old artillery wheels and massive stone memorials.
Wordlessly, the two men embraced. There was no more war, no enemies, only memories of fallen brothers. They decided then to forgive, remember good friends and recognize a fellow warrior for the sacrifices he made. The former enemies left, wishing each other well.
Rosa died two weeks later.
The fire crackled behind me, and I realized the story was over. I went to sip my wine, and discovered it was empty. How long had it been since Davide began his story?
“Davide, where did you hear that story?” I asked.
“I listen,” he responded. “I pay attention to the lessons those men learned. To forgive. So I tell it to you, because I don’t want anyone to wait until two weeks before they die to make friends of enemies.”
“I agree, and I won’t forget it, but how does that help me teach anyone about the war?” I said, trying not to offend.
“Stories like that are everywhere in these hills,” he explained. “The war is as much about people and lessons as it is about artillery and trenches.
“Anyone who lives here should understand what those before us accomplished and how they sacrificed. If you want to learn about the war, you have to go to the places it happened. See the rusted helmets buried in the dirt. Touch the tunnel walls. Does that make sense?”
At the time, I said, “yes,” and I continued chatting with Davide until my wife called asking where I was. I said my goodbyes and drove the windy way back home, happy for the day of adventure. I don’t think I really understood what he meant, though, until I had time to think about it.
A wiki page can tell you the facts about the Great War. Giant museums with sprawling display cases could even show you some of the relics. However, going to Monte Grappa, going to Sacile’s Palazzo Ragazzoni with the bullet holes still in the wall—that makes it real. Driving over the Piave River, knowing that 100 years ago men swam its blood-soaked width in the night to protect their home, is a privilege only offered to those who know it.
For many Americans, the Great War is a chapter in a history textbook. For Italians, it is the hills and valleys, the homes and streets around them. So my suggestion? Check out your local communities for more information. The below map illustrates how every community around Aviano Air Base was impacted.
Did you know Trieste was captured from Hungarian forces? How about the fact that Udine housed the training school for Italian special forces? I bet a lot of us don’t even know the air base participated in WWI. Now, 100 years later, is the perfect time to find out more.
Monte Grappa is a great place to start your adventure into understanding the Italian front of WWI. The monument and the tunnels are chilling and fascinating. The two-hour drive from Aviano through the mountains is beautiful. Even if that’s too far away, check out this link for more information on other nearby historical sites.
Whatever you choose, get out there and learn a lesson. Who knows, maybe you’ll wind up at Davide’s doorstep too.
| Date Taken: | 12.01.2017 |
| Date Posted: | 12.04.2017 03:41 |
| Story ID: | 257277 |
| Location: | BASSANO DEL GRAPPA, IT |
| Web Views: | 206 |
| Downloads: | 1 |
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