December 3, 1990

the corn had grown tall not quite ready for the harvest in 1944  -  adela still argued with her sister that the war planes that had bombed the highway where her sister lived were not american because the americans were our friends & her favorite son was living in san francisco  -  they obviously would not come over to bomb us  -  at about 4 a.m. one morning there low-keyed shouts then a knock form door to door  -  the german raid had come  -  I jump out of bed throwing some clothes on  -   in seconds I was running into the outdoor darkness running somewhere toward the field when someone seemed close to me  -  it was the farmer Antonio who led me into the cornfield we both laid sunk into earth next to each other between furrows  -  we heard sounds in the air  -  motorcycles  -  trucks  -  germans shouting  -  some screams  -  we laid motionless  -  we heard dogs barking near  -  intermittent machine guns shots over our direction  -  silence  -  distant motors fading  -  birds answering each other  -  dawn was breaking slow  -  corn silhouettes looked high form the ground  -  we waited long enough before cautiously making it back  -  many men form the village had been loaded in trucks  -  ottavio  -  antonio’s fearless brother was among them  -  at the end of the was few of the men came back  -  ottavio never made it