On 24 December 1942, the Division Julia was near the Don, in burrows on the front line between Krinitscnaja and Ivanovka. The command was established in Nova Troitzkoije, the Germans of the 24th Armored Corps, which now depended on the division, but were staying beautiful comfortable in a kolkhoz, Stalinism. The Julia held on tight, trying to plug the leak caused by the Soviet breakthrough began with the fighting of 16 December. The losses began to be many, the cold was more intense.
On Christmas Eve the Alpine Giobatta Francescon was on guard just outside the moles from shelters covered with wooden planks of birch. The frost was hellish, the carved ice candles on the beard, on the face, the strange decorations hung from the ice cap, with a long coat lined with fur. And that's cold penetrated to the bone, make you numb your feet shod with those weird shoes sent by the command: pieces of wood of which were sewn canvas boots. had at least one of those valenki felt wearing the Russians!
shot out, somewhere along the Don, on the front line, where there were maybe the Cuneense or Tridentine . Those damned Germans were down more: it is always shunned, left to do all the work to others, but when I was there to enjoy the amenities were in the front row, as they did when most of the train journey, leaving the Italians to march under the sun steppe. How much powder! But at least it was hot then. Giobatta shakes his feet, he tries to resume a bit 'circulation to the memory of that July day in the fields of sunflowers.
Suddenly, a whirring of wings. Partridges. No, pheasants. But no, at this time of night ... She looks toward the river, toward the enemy, but the movement is closer, just beyond the barbed wire. There is a light, is about to sound the alarm, then stops abruptly, the light appears a beautiful angel dressed in blue, with blond curls and the band wrote with Gloria, as he had seen in the recordings of the Bible his mother. The angel is a sign to follow him. Giobatta prudence did not abandon the gun, narrows even further into a fur collar and proceeds with a residue of mistrust towards the angel. But all his resistance is overcome when he sees the source of light is its hut in the mountains of Friuli, covered with snow. The flame shines in the room cheerful and warm fireplace, went to the window and stare into his wife's shawl with beautiful auburn hair and send reflected the glow of the fire. Small child clinging to the breast, the one born in May, he has only had time to say goodbye before leaving for Russia. What a great serenity reigns in the house, and he here in the cold of the desert. But how is it that can be in two places at once?
not have time to mull over the thought that a Katyusha strike rends the air with a piercing roar and hit the very spot where he was to guard a few minutes before. Blow up a piece Netting, rises a cloud of ice and snow, flying here and there scraps of wood. Giobatta still staring at that empty space, on those pieces blackened, twisted the barbed wire that now makes him think the crown of thorns of Jesus .. Turned back to the angel, to his house: there is only darkness, only the uniform greyness of the steppe. Across the river singing, the voices come in the wake of the cold wind that sticks to skin and eye burns.
"Francescon" cried "Francescon, if you indove finio . Like waking from a dream, will be charged Giobatta, staggers into the frozen snow, comes close to the burrows dug in the ground. "I'm here," answered "that botanical ," but still thinks the angel, think of the mirage of his house, his wife, his son, who saved his life. "A miracle," repeated "a miracle" and meanwhile gavettino of gruel drink coffee, but they call that half of grappa is found somehow. The lieutenant gives him a pat on the back, smiles and says "Merry Christmas, vecio.
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