Matteo Sabini's Narrative
The Longed-for repartiation
Finally, on Wednesday, September the 24th, 1945, our troop (former Italian prisoners of war) left with 1,060 people onboard a train leaving from Poland. I was among them, but not my friend Rino, who remained at the military camp together with many others. They told us that they would join us a few days later in Trieste, Italy at my aunt’s home.
In the train we were given a small ration of sugar and tobacco. The journey took us through Poland, Czechoslovakia, and finally we reached Vienna.
On the Danube all the bridges but one were destroyed, and our train had to wait several hours before it could cross the river. I took advantage of that stop to get out of the train with my stock of tobacco that I had collected. Because I was not a smoker, I exchanged the tobacco with some civilians for two kilograms of bread. Our Russian escort could not give us any bread because the supplies were exhausted. On October 6th, we left in the direction of San Valentino, a town only a few kilometers from Linz, Austria. Here we had to go through a checkpoint. We were ordered to leave the train and then locked up in a barrack without windows for several days. There we had to wait for another train, traveling from the region occupied by the Americans, which would take us to Italy. On the following Sunday (while still in Linz) we attended Mass, celebrated by our military chaplain at the town’s church. After the Mass the priest who thanked us for coming and wished us a safe journey to Trieste greeted us.
As soon as we returned from mass, we were notified that we would be departing towards Verona. We took our belongings and boarded the train again. After an entire night of traveling, at 10 o’clock in the morning, we arrived at Mittelman, a little town, 30 kilometers from Innsbruck. Here, an Italian committee for repatriation greeted us, and we were divided in two groups: Italians from the North and Italians from the South (I went with the Italians from the North).
On October the 9th, we had to rise at six o clock in the morning. We were given a ration of some bread, and later we were ordered to stand in line. Here, American soldiers disinfected each of us with DDT. After this procedure, we had to walk to the railroad station about 2 kilometers away. There we would enter a train, 50 of us per car, (traveling the entire day), We crossed the Brenner Pass, and in the afternoon we came to Pescantina a town outside of Verona. In Verona, there was a clearing center. Here we were interrogated by the personnel of welcome services and invited to wait a few days before we were sent to our hometowns. Very poor accommodations were offered to us; sleeping in a tent on a bare floor. My friend Morello Beniamino from Fiume, and myself decided to leave this camp and walk all the way to Verona, where we spent the night in an ACLI center. Here, at least, we were able to sleep on a bed of straw. In the morning, after having a good breakfast, we thanked them for the hospitality, and went to the main road hoping to get some transportation to Trieste.
We knew that, by authorities orders, the motorists could not refuse to give transportation to the prisoners of war on their way home. On a control block, a truck full of food supplies came to a stop. We promptly jumped on it. Many other people tried to do the same, but there was no space for everybody, so the guards had to intervene and only the prisoners of war could stay. The truck was bound for Trieste and I stayed to continue my journey.
On October 10th, arriving in Trieste, I was dropped off in front of the Central Station, and from there I walked to Via Torrebianca, not far from where my Aunt Maria welcomed me with open arms. For two years, she did not have any news from me, even though I wrote her many times, but my letters, evidently never reached their destination. She told me immediately that my cousin, Dante Donvio, arrived too. I could never imagine that he was in Trieste. As soon as he heard I was there, he invited me to his home and gave me a civilian suit. Since I did not have any identification documents, he made sure that I received them... The only thing I owned were the dog tags (piastrine) from various concentration camps.
Some days later I went to the Silos, (Red Cross receiving center for former prisoners of war), very close to the Central Station, to visit my friend Rino, who was repatriated with the second military train after mine and reached Verona only few days after I did. He told me that he had inquired at the Yugoslavian Red Cross how could he go to Cherso. The Red Cross would provide the necessary documents we needed to go to the zone occupied by the "titini" (Tito’s soldiers). We both agreed to meet at my aunt’s house to find out what each of us had learned. Since he did not come, as promised, I went again to Silos, very surprised not to find him there. I went to the information office where I was told that he had left. Thinking that he probably went to Cherso, I decided that I would do the same.
In the meantime, my sister Mary came from Cherso, so we decided that we will go back home together. The Yugoslav Red Cross gave me the documents I needed for the trip, and the next day we left. Arriving at Sesana, in the zone occupied by Yugoslavia, I was forced to leave the train, but my sister could continue her journey to Fiume, where we agreed to meet at the home of an aunt of ours, who was living in that city.
In Sesana, I was subjected to an interrogation that lasted until late in the evening, then a policeman took me and another man from Lussinpiccolo to a train headed for Fiume. The policeman was traveling with us and when we arrived in the middle of the night to Fiume, he accompanied us to the Quarters of OZNA (Communistic state police). Here, after reading my papers, they did let me go. I went to my aunt’s home, where my sister was waiting for me.
The next day we went searching for someone who could take us to Cherso. In these times there were no direct means of transportation to the island, and one had to fend for himself.
Fortunately, on the harbor, we met a Chersino, Mico (Parz), who had in Fiume his motor boat docked at Fiumara. He said he would be willing to take me and my sister on board; other passengers were waiting for him in Abbazia, where he had his “Leut”(tug boat). So, around noon, we boarded his boat and left for Abbazia, where he towed the leut with the other passengers. My sister and I had to move from the motor boat to the leut too. I was given the command of the steering wheel. We were ten in total: Giovanni Fatutta with his wife Carolina and two children, the wife of Francesco Moise, Miroslava, with her daughter and two peasant-women. The motorboat left Abbazia and was directed towards Faresina, but when we were half way in the canal of Faresina, the sea started get very rough and the two boats began to roll. Suddenly the towrope broke and our leut was separated from the motorboat. The women started to cry and scream that we were going to sink, but the motor boat circled around us, gave us another, stronger rope, and after it was securely tied, we were towed again towards Faresina.
The weather was worsening and the wind became stronger. The women and the children were all seasick. They were vomiting. I was holding the stirring wheel and at the same time taking care of the son of Giovanni Fattutta, because his father was busy helping his wife, who was sick too. My sister was taking care of the daughter of Fatutta. Finally, and by the grace of God, we arrived at the little harbor of Faresina, where we had to stop our journey. The weather was even worse than before, and with our small boats it became impossible to continue.
We landed and found shelter in the ex-Custom House offices, now empty and abandoned. After starting a fire to warm up, everyone fell asleep and rested until sunrise. Since the weather had not improved we could not continue the trip by sea, so Giovanni Fatutta and another man went walking to the lighthouse of Faresina, where the guardian had a telephone. They had to call Cherso and ask that someone come to pick us up. Our appeal was heard and Giovanin Ujan came with his little van. We had to meet him on the main road, the two children, the wife of Giovanni, the two Moise, myself and Giovanni went in the van; the two peasant women continued their way by walking to their village.
Giovanni, the owner of the boats, and his engineer had to wait one more day before taking off.
Giovanin Duncovich, with his small van, took us to Cherso in less than an hour. We arrived there in the middle of the day. It was the 31st of October 1945. I spent the months of November and December helping my family. It was harvest season for the olives, and this kept me busy for several days.
In the meantime, the town was organizing the administrative elections and you could see the Titini soldiers march up and down showing signs praising Tito and Stalin.
I started to again feel the pains in my shoulders that have been worrying me for some time, but have not done anything about them.
Anyway, the elections were over and, as it was foreseen, the candidates proposed by the authorities, where the ones elected. By a great majority Nicolo` Tomaz was elected the Mayor of Cherso, but he refused to accept the office: he was well aware of what they wanted. What struck me the most were their inscriptions hailing Tito, painted or scribbled in Italian and Croatian on the walls of the houses soiling everything leaving no walls untouched.
At the end of December some clothing was distributed, mostly to the "stari borzi" (war veterans). Since I, too, belonged to that category, they gave me a few suits. The next day the authorities called and asked me to pay not less than 4500 Yugo lire (Yugoslav money), which I, obviously, did not have, and so I had to give the suits back. These goods were sent from United States Refugee Assistance and they should have been distributed free to all ex-soldiers.
I have to go back a bit in my story. The day after my return to Cherso; it was the day of all Saints, I went to the house of Rino Pavan, certain to find him there, but I was very surprised when his father asked me if I knew where his son was. I then understood that Rino, after he left the Silos in Trieste, instead of going to Cherso, he returned to the gathering center of Pescantina, close to Verona. I saw him in Trieste once more, then he emigrated to Australia, where he is still residing. He never wanted to return to Cherso.
On the first day of January 1946, I received a call from the City Hall (in Cherso) to offer me employment: they gave me an administrative position, in which I processed all the hospital bills for the Chersini patients treated in Trieste’s hospitals. All information had to be written in the Croatian language, which I did not know, and so Mr. Francesco Moise, Sr would help me with the translations. He spoke very well the Italian and Croatian language. I stayed there for several days and as an employee of the administration Office, I was appointed to take some disinfectants to the two doctors Lemessi and de Manzolini. The disinfectants consisted of two bottles of Chianti, to be used during the vaccination of children against small pox. There was nothing else available. Thus I went to Dr. Lemessi, and talking with him about the local situation and of my pains that persisted in my left shoulder, he advised me to go to Trieste for the necessary care, since in Cherso one could not find any medications. He even told me that if I needed some written recommendation, I could count on his availability. One more week went by, and I still could not understand what my real duty was in that office.
Once, Mr. Medarich, who was the town clerk, called me to tell me I should start attending school to learn the Croatian language, otherwise he would have to fire me. I immediately told him that this won’t be necessary, because I was quitting, and left.
At this point I went directly to visit Dr. Lemessi, who, as he promised, gave me a letter with a special request that I needed to go to Trieste for treatment of my “neuralgia”. With that letter I went to the office, where they were issuing I.D.s and passports. I received the I.D. and passport, written on wrapping paper.
At that time, there did not exist a direct liner between Cherso and Fiume: instead there was a motorboat that belonged to Romano Padovan. The boat was docked just in front of the Bar of Gigi, on the harbor, close to Molo Gobo. Before the departure we had to wait for a bureaucrat, who would bring to every passenger, a permission slip from the office of OZNA. He finally arrived and distributed the papers to everyone, but me. Fortunately, among the people that came to greet the passengers, was Miss Etta Rodinis, daughter of the mayor of Cherso at the time. She was very surprised that I did not get my documents and left immediately for the plaza to the Ozna office. I did not have to wait very long; just shortly after she left I saw her running towards me waving the papers I needed. She was very interested in my case, because I was very close friends with her two brothers Piero and Jose, who, sadly, died in Germany, in a concentration camp.
I remember that Romano Padovan was waiting for some important person that would be traveling with us, and was late. This fact too helped me in that situation.
Concerning Miss Etta Rodinis, I have deep gratitude for what she did for me that day, but I have never had the opportunity to meet her again. To my knowledge, she is married and lives in Rome.
On this trip to Trieste my aunt Nina came with me. As soon as we arrived in Fiume, I wanted to go and visit another aunt of mine, who was living there. She had a small tavern close to the markets. I met her husband there, who told me that Aunt Benedetta was arrested and deported to Maribor; no one knew why, not even him. To this day, it remains a mystery.
That same day I arrived with my aunt in Trieste, February 1, 1946 and immediately tore, in small pieces my "propustnica", that is the Yugoslav passport. A few days after that, I joined the API (Association of Italian Partizans). Its president was Col. Antonio Fonda and his secretary was Dr. Marino Colombis. I remained with the API for five years after which I took leave only to immigrate to America.
Matteo Sabini
Translated by V.M. & L.S.