Welcome to the
blog, author Ian Lahey!
Writing about
WWII in Italy
When my dad,
Michael Lahey, set out to collect information about the Allied forces landing
in Anzio, and their struggling north towards Rome, he quickly realized two
things: The first thing was that reading a history book just isn't enough. You
have to visit the place, breathe the air, touch the rocks and speak to the
people, especially the latter, to really understand what happened around these
places. The other thing he realized is you just can't dig into the Italian past
looking for war history without a whole lot of other history turning up as
well.
It's...well,
it's intoxicating.
The fact is that
you can't dig a hole in Italy, or drop a bomb if you're in that kind of a
conundrum, without getting involved in archaeology. Chances are you'll run into
stuff like Roman houses, Celtic cups and especially the burial sites of the
Etruscans - one of the world's most mysterious populations - and
probably spend a lot of time researching the wrong century, simply because it's all so interconnected.
Once you've
shaken that off, go and interview the people who were there during the war.
Now, seventy-two years after the Anzio Landings, you'll find very few direct
witnesses, but, and I forgot to tell you this, my dad started his research back
in the 80s, when I was just a moody teenager.
Speaking to the
Italians about their memories of war required making friends, and that brought
along a whole new area of discovery, mainly situated around the dinner
table. Heck, do I remember some of those meals!
Most of Italy's
long and wonderful history has left some trace of its passing in the country's
immense culinary culture, and what isn't in the recipes you'll find in the
wines.
Sweet wines,
stark, unforgiving wines, wines that bear names otherwise lost in modern
Italian language, and wines which will whisper to your soul and may even draw
tears.
When we wrote
Jim's story, we just had to take into account this overwhelming cultural
tsunami which could not wash past him without changing him.
That is why,
when he is finally reached by his nephew, Robert, Jim feels the urge to let him
experience the same. He knows he's been changed and needs Robert to change too
- to absorb the culture - before he can be told the full truth.
The result was a
story of one war which took place in a land of many wars, of mines and other
dangerous things buried underground but also in people's hearts, and of
mysteries, some jealously kept by a hardened veteran, others lurking in the
cold darkness of an Etruscan tomb.
A Christmas card from Italy arrived on
Robert Svenson’s desk. There was no return address, but when Bob opened the
card, it was signed by his uncle, James Savorski. Nice, except for the fact
that Uncle Jim was declared MIA back in ’44. Forty years later he’s sending
solid gold Etruscan amulets for Christmas presents? Bob resolved to travel to
Italy to see if he could find his long lost uncle.
How does one find a dead man in Italy without knowing the language or having an
address? All Bob knew was that losing his luggage and his money the first night
in Rome didn’t help. Then he found himself picking his way through a minefield
of old scars and memories of war.
Along the way he journeys through Italy’s art and its incredible
archaelological treasures, its history and people. A tale of war and mines and
other things buried underground and even deeper—in the hearts of those who
lived those years.
About the
Author:
Ian Lahey
teaches English Language and Literature in Italy. An incessant traveler, he has
visited the country from coast to coast (which doesn't take much), and from
head to toe (which is somewhat longer).
Florence, Naples, Rome, and then Venice, Verona and Genoa are his second homes
but he will never admit this in the presence of a tax agent. Although he's
visited many times he never tires of them and of the stories, both ancient and
modern, which these places tell.
These stories he re-tells, sometimes as they were, other times hidden beneath
the veil of imagination and scientific speculation, but always with a good
sprinkle of humor.
He can often be spotted taking long walks with his wife around his hometown
near Udine, and can be easily wiled with offerings of fresh beer or Dr. Who
marathons.
