Saved by the Ficara

Thirty-two year-old Maria Caterina was one girl helping to care for her younger sister along with her dad. Her four bothers were someplace out from the war theater of World War 2.

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No news was obtained from them for quite a while now. Rumours circulated the village which two was taken captive, but nobody understood for certain.She took the typical walk down to the gully in which her family vegetable garden lay the measures dug out by the face of the mountain.She climbed the early’ficara’, which intended fig tree in their regional dialect. The bottom of this tree was so large that two people hugging it on other sides wouldn’t be able to join handson. She made her way a thick branch, then slowly inching her way towards components heavily laden with ripe figs.She had been sporting a’fardale’, dialect to get an apron, and maintained stuffing the pockets with newly picked figs. They had been so sweet. She extended to catch one special fat succulent fruit when she believed she heard men’s voices. They were crying. She ceased to listen. Suddenly, something burst close to the bottom of the shrub. Dust went up anywhere and she noticed miniature objects whistling handed her ear, chopping down fruit and leaves as they flew . She shut her eyesand all hell broke loose.A bunch of soldiers came to her perspective, plus they had been running back to the village. They had been wearing jeans. She understood that since they were occupying the village for weeks now. They seemed different and both teams were shooting each other. 1 German got shot in the leg along with two of the countrymen caught him leaving the guy’s gun behind. She cursed as she realised that she had been in the center of a conflict… stuck, high on the ficara. There was so much crying, crying and firearms popping all over the area. She felt that the figs roll from her pockets and fall to the floor underneath her. She had been too busy . It lasted just a couple of minutes but to Maria Caterina it sensed a lifetime. It was intriguing to hear her recount this occasion, more than once. She expired in 2006 just two weeks shy of her ninety-sixth birthday. This fig tree was destroyed in the fires that travelled through this region, I think about 1987