It was December 7. Our house in the village had been destroyed and we had abandoned it and gone to live with my mother-in-law at Santa Croce. That evening my husband, Antonio Cicchini, had come home with two friends, Domenico Cicchini and Domenico De Crescenzo. During the day they had been back and forth to the village to fetch a few things from the house. My mother-in-law had fried a few potatoes over the stove and we were eating supper. Our two daughters, Carmela and Maria, were little. It was already dark. Giovannina, Domenico De Crescenzo’s wife, arrived in a terrible state: "The Germans are burning Roccascalegna! Come out! Come and see! Come and see!". We all saw Rocca burning, and also a flare that shot high in the sky. Urged on by Giovannina, the three men went off into the woods, heading towards the Lu Stierpo farmhouse which belonged to Minco Mattoscio. Three Germans on patrol passed by, saw them and told them to stop, but they tried to escape and the Germans shot them down with machine guns. We heard the shots. Some of the men went to investigate and they found their bodies. My husband survived for a brief time but I never saw him alive. They took the bodies to the Church of St Mary Magdalen at Pastini. They made coffins out of bed boards. I wanted to go and see my husband but my mother said: "Stay at home and look after your children. I’ve had enough for one day!".

Then Giovannina complained over and over that if her husband hadn’t been with mine then he wouldn’t have died. But it was she who called them and forced them to go out. What for? To get themselves killed.