In a day or two, he thought, we may both be dead.
He looked at Livia, nestled against his arm, one of her hands closed protectively around his balls. Her shoulder blades, sticking out from her spine, were as symmetrical as the wings of a butterfly. When this is over, he thought, she’ll need feeding up. He smiled at the contradictory nature of his two thoughts. However much one expected to die, there was something in the mind that just refused to accept it as a certainty.
He remembered the person he had been when he first came to Naples, before he met her. What an unbearable prig he must have been, he thought ruefully.
“What are you thinking?” Livia asked sleepily.
“I was thinking about Naples. What are you thinking?”
She cupped his balls lightly. “I was thinking that if it wasn’t for testicles, there would be no war, but also no sex. I was just wondering if God made the right decision when he invented them. And I had decided that, on balance, he probably did.”
“Your thought was much more profound than my thought,” he said, impressed. He lay back. “This is like living on Vesuvius, isn’t it?”
“In what way?”
“Because we might get killed at any moment, and we don’t know when.”
She rolled over, propped up on her elbows, so she could look into his eyes. “Yes. So how are you finding it?”
“I think,” he said, “that a life like this is worth ten lived any other way. So long as it goes on including you, of course.”
She was silent for a moment. “James?”
“Yes?”
“After the war, if you ask me to marry you, I’ll say yes.”
He thought for a moment. “But that doesn’t make sense,” he objected. “Why not say yes now?”
“You haven’t asked me, for one thing.”
“Livia Pertini, will you marry me?”
“No.”
“But you just said—”
“I said ask me after the war. It’s bad luck to say yes now.”
“How can it be bad luck?”
“Well, for one thing I’d need a piece of iron in my pocket, because bad luck doesn’t like iron. And we’d need to have our heads covered, so that the evil spirits can’t see how happy we are. And you should never make any decisions about who you marry on a Tuesday.”
“You made that last one up.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“But it doesn’t make sense to say—”
“If you’re going to marry me, James,” she said sleepily, “you’re going to have to get a lot less attached to sense. Anyway, getting engaged the day before a fight with the Germans would just be tempting fate.”
On their way back to camp they met Jumbo, who was busy cleaning the partisans’ only machine gun. He gave James an interrogative look, and James gave him a thumbs-up.
Later James went to give him a hand. “So everything’s all right with you and Livia?” Jumbo asked.
“Better than all right.” He couldn’t help beaming. “She wants to wait until after the war, but I think we’re going to get married.”
“Congratulations, that’s wonderful. I hope you’ll be very happy.” Jumbo worked on his gun for a few minutes. “You heard about Elena’s little problem, I suppose. This long-lost husband of hers.”
“She did mention something along those lines,” James said awkwardly.
“Now Rome’s free I suppose we’ll be able to get it sorted out.”
“I suppose so. Though, er, it might take a while. Probably a bit of a backlog.”
“Thing is,” Jumbo said, “she can’t really go on being a whore if she marries me. It’s not what people really look for in a tart, is it, the fact that they go home to a devoted husband every night and cook him his dinner.” He caught James’s look. “I always had a pretty good idea. It just seemed like one of those things it was better not to mention.”
“I’m sure you’ll work something out.”
“I suppose so. Shame this bloody war can’t last a bit longer,” Jumbo said wistfully. “Well, not from your point of view, I suppose. But I’ve had the time of my life.” He regarded the machine gun, which was now reassembled. “There, that should take care of a few Jerries.”
Gradually the trickle of German units north became a torrent. Traveling mostly by night—the Allied fighters were still harassing them by day—they swept through the mountains as if a dam had burst, the growl of truck engines and the stamp of marching feet echoing through the darkness.
“Not yet,” Dino said. “Wait for the infantry.”
So the partisans, concealed, watched the endless procession of gray uniforms pass by, and waited.
Two days later their spotters reported that a column of troops had been seen moving up from the south.
The partisans waited until dusk. Then a growling sound, wafted on the still air, heralded the arrival of the convoy. A little later, the sound of singing could be heard.
“Troops,” Jumbo said. “Troops and trucks. Quite a lot of them, from the sound of it.”
“Good luck everyone,” Dino said. “Wait for my order.”
The sound of the Germans got louder as they advanced slowly up the valley. Then, dimly, they could be seen as well. In the pale light, it was like a river of gray lava flowing uphill toward where the partisans waited.
The first trucks were almost past the partisans’ position when Dino said, “Now.” Immediately, rifle fire spat from the concealed trenches. The Germans scattered and took refuge behind what shelter they could. Only then did the second group of partisans, concealed on the ridge behind them, open fire, forcing the Germans to move back. But this initial success was short-lived. An armored car began returning fire, and the disciplined and experienced German soldiers began to form into small fighting units.
If the start of the battle had been messy and noisy, now it was chaos. Men were firing as they advanced until the barrels of their guns glowed like hot pokers. James looked anxiously for Livia, but couldn’t see her. Then they were in amongst the German position, fighting hand to hand, and there was no time to think or look for anyone except the men on the left and right of you.
He heard a familiar chainsaw noise cutting through the din. It was a sound he had come to know and dread at Anzio—the sound of a Spandau heavy machine gun. The Germans had swung down the sides of an MG42 truck farther down the column and were firing indiscriminately, mowing down their own men and the partisans alike in their desperation to regain the upper hand. James dived for a ditch, where he found himself alongside Jumbo.
“That Spandau’s going to be a problem,” Jumbo said. “Think I’ve got the answer here somewhere.” He produced a German mine from his pocket. “Any minute now, they’ll need to change the barrel.”
“I’ll come with you,” James said. He started to feed another clip into his weapon in readiness.
“Don’t do that,” Jumbo said. “Might be a bit hairy. Besides, you’ve got Livia to look out for.”
“Don’t be an ass. You’ll need cover.”
“Give Elena my regards,” Jumbo said, heaving himself over the side of the ditch. James cursed, slammed the clip in and followed, crouching low and firing in short bursts left and right. There was a sudden sharp pain in his left shoulder, knocking him backward. He was just in time to see Jumbo coming under fire as he hurled the mine at the machine gun. Then there was a flash, and the gun truck exploded, turning into a fireball that consumed yet more German soldiers.
Within ten minutes it was over, the remaining German trucks either dashing back to the safety of the valley or captured. But victory had come at a ridiculously high price. The partisans had lost over half their men.
James went to find Livia, running from body to body to see if she was among the wounded. Eventually he found her sitting on the mountainside next to Jumbo’s corpse. He sat beside her, and for a while they said nothing. When at last she spoke, her voice cracked with exhaustion.