The authors of the materials in this collection are the men and women whose memories of war have been collected and written down, in many cases for the first time, to save them from oblivion. The project was inspired by two friends of mine: Antonio Innaurato, the mayor of Gessopalena, and Nino Troilo, the publisher from Bomba, and a ‘gessano’ through and through. Troilo prompted me a few years ago to begin researching memories of the war in Gessopalena, and in particular the massacre at Sant’Agata. Mayor Innaurato, at more or less the same time, told me about some British documents about the episode which were held in a military archive in London, but he didn’t know where.

After a few phone calls to local historians (Giovanni Nativio was especially helpful) I realised that the documents must be in the Public Records Office in London. I phoned another friend in England (Bill Brierley, a lecturer at the University of Portsmouth) who was able to confirm that the documents were indeed at the PRO and he obtained copies (just by phoning them and giving them the reference numbers of the files) and sent them to me. It’s difficult to imagine getting hold of historical documents so easily in Italy!

The documents consist of a number of interviews of the survivors of the massacre conducted by the British forces. They had been transferred to hospital in Vasto having received initial treatment for their injuries in Gessopalena. Among the most harrowing testimonies is that of Nicoletta Di Luzio, the young girl who survived the German attack by pretending to be dead. Signora Di Luzio is old now, and lives in Ostia. She has always refused to speak about the incident except for one occasion in the 1970s when she gave an interview to Bernardo Sella, who was deeply moved by her story.

The testimonies also reveal another factor which had escaped people’s memories: the remains of the people who died at Sant’Agata were buried close to their homes on February 2 1944, twelve days after the massacre. Bernardo Sella, tells of stray dogs and wild animals rummaging among the bodies of the victims.

Other local villagers who appear in these accounts are no longer with us: don Quintino De Liberato, Scipio Casari (who was appointed mayor by the British at the time), and Lucio De Gregorio. And the local doctors, Pietrino and Totoro. The photos were taken by Vincenzo Tilli and handed over the British. The aerial photo was provided by Enrico Del Pizzo, an architect from Lama Dei Peligni, with the assistance of the Gessopalena Library.

The voces in the first accounts, however, belong to people who are for the most part still alive today (1999). We all heard the stories of their experiences when we were children, but no-one ever thought to record them or write them down so much has now been lost. The story starts with an account by Nicola Bellisario who, having deserted from the army after the surrender on September 8 1943, fled from his home town of Lanciano to Pastini, a small hamlet near Gessopalena. His story tells of hospitality and warmth, resilience and the beginnings of resistance. The final word belongs to Domenico Troilo, second-in-command of the partisan Majella Brigade. Although his intervention is short, it is both unusual and illuminating. There is nothing to add to his message.

A final note of explanation about the quotation from Macbeth which appears to offer no hope. "Life ... is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing". Indeed, there can be nothing to hope for from the "sound and fury" of war. But the guns can’t thunder for ever. Even in the darkest hours, we may recall the words of Aeneas as he consoled his friends: "Forsan et haec olim memenisse iuvabit" (Virgil, Aeneid, I, 203) - perhaps one day we will look back on these things with pleasure. That "perhaps" offers a sign of redemption and liberation which is more than pale hope.

Gino Melchiorre