I6 Russians in my house

Narrator: Angelo Borsato Reporter: Marta Pastro

I’m 76 years old and my name is Angelo Borsato. On 29th April 1945 the German soldiers, who were retreating because they had been defeated, went through the main road of the village.
I was 17 years old and I remember that we spied them through the attic window. The Germans left the lorries without petrol along the road and the poor people who lived nearby stole everything they could, even the wheels.

That day at 4 p.m. four Russians came by bicycle to our house. They were carrying their rucksacks, guns and bombs. They didn’t speak Italian but they knew some words. They asked for something to eat, but at that time there was lack of food so my mother asked for some eggs with our neighbour’s and cooked some maize mush and scrambled eggs. They sat down and ate with their guns close by. When the atmosphere was quiet three of them put down their guns, except for one who was more suspicious. Then they showed us some photos of their families. I was curious about them, they had dark complexion and their eyes were like Chinese ones. They also asked where they could sleep but only the cellar was free, so they slept there, on the floor on some straw. During the night seven more Russians came on a coach with seven horses in bad conditions. They also asked for food and a place to sleep but we had no room left so they left the horses in the stable and went to sleep in our neighbour’s stable.

Meanwhile the news got about that we had given shelter to some Russians; the morning after some partisans arrived and, after stealing some weapons and the Russians’ bicycles, they captured them with arrogance and violence. My father reproached them; he said that prisoners must not be treated in such a rude manner. They heeded him because he was old and he had fought during the World War I (he was appointed “Cavaliere di Vittorio Veneto”, a war honour decoration).

The horses and the coach were left in the stable. My father did not want to breed horses, he had “Cencio” (“Rag”) a strong mule, so our neighbour kept a horse and another, that was wounded, was slaughtered and finally the people of the village could eat some meat. Two bicycles were left, our neighbour and we kept them but we were afraid that the partisans would come and take them so we hid ours underground until the risk was over.