Phantoms in the Snow (13 page)

S
now and ice lay heavy across the hillsides and Alps of Italy. Olive trees sprinkled the countryside, their branches bare in winter. Noah could see the red tile roofs of the mountain village as they approached the small town where they would stay. Vidiciatico was near the top of the Italian “boot.” Noah had found it on a map about halfway between Bologna and Florence.

As Noah stepped down from the train and swung his rucksack over his shoulder, he was surprised to find the local people awaiting their arrival. They smiled and waved as the Tenth Mountain Division marched along the road toward town. Noah smiled back. If he was going to war, it was nice to know that someone seemed grateful for his efforts.

In the village of Vidiciatico, they were divided up and sent to separate quarters to be housed. Noah, Wiley, Bill, Cam, and Roger were given space in the barn attached to a stone
farmhouse. One tired old cow resided with them. Noah was thrilled with his bunkmates, both the boys and the animal, going over immediately to the cow and patting her thick sides. Cam was not as enamored.

“It smells like manure in here,” he complained, setting his rucksack down on the barn floor.

“Give it a week,” Noah told him. “I don’t think we’ll be showering on a regular basis, so soon you won’t even know the difference between yourself and the cow.”

“Smelling you, I can’t tell the difference
now
,” Wiley joked as he set down his things.

Cam kicked some of the hay at Wiley, and Wiley grinned as the straw floated feebly to the ground.

Bill went to the door of the barn and stood looking out. “It’s kind of spooky, isn’t it? Knowing they’re up there, just waiting for us.”

Noah shivered at Bill’s words. Even from inside the barn, he could see the mountains on which the Germans were now ensconced: Mount Belvedere and Riva Ridge, one sharp and ragged-toothed and impossible-looking to climb, the other gentle and sloping with no protection for anyone trying to attack it. The Tenth Mountain Division had their job cut out for them if they were to be successful in pushing the enemy off their perch.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the quiet of the village. “Welcome, men of the Tenth Mountain Division!”

“Where the heck is that coming from?” Noah asked, going to the door with the others.

“You have come a long way from Camp Hale, Colorado,” continued the voice in slightly accented English, floating down from the mountaintop.

“It’s coming from up there!” Wiley cried, pointing. “It’s the Germans!”

Other Tenth Mountain Division soldiers were appearing in doorways and coming out of alleys.

“How the heck do they know we’re here?” Bill said.

“Worse,” Cam whispered, his face white, “how do they know where we came from?”

“There’s an old Italian expression, my friends,” the voice boomed out on the loudspeaker, making Noah jump. “ ‘See Naples and die.’ ”

There was a pause. “
You
have seen Naples.” Then the world went silent again except for the shuffling of the cow in the barn behind them.

“I guess this is for real,” Roger said.

Noah’s stomach flipped, but whether from Roger’s words or the German’s, he wasn’t sure.

“Scusa.”

Noah turned at the sound of the lilting voice. He had just finished choosing a spot for himself, laying out his bedroll and emptying his rucksack, trying to create some kind of comfortable, homey-type space in the cold wooden barn. The words the Germans had sent their way had replayed over and over in his head as he went about laying out his gear, making the barn seem even colder than it was.

At the door stood a young girl, her dark hair held back with a head scarf, her skin clear and smooth, her large eyes framed with thick lashes. When she smiled boldly at them, Noah’s breath caught with pleasure. All the boys jumped to their feet.

“Mi chiamo Sofia,”
she said. “My name is Sofia.
Per favore.
Come with me.”

“Sure! You bet!” Roger said, grinning, glancing back at his buddies and winking.

They followed Sofia to the farmhouse, where they had to duck to avoid hitting their heads on the low door frame as they entered. Inside the cottage, a fire burned in the large stone fireplace. Carved chairs surrounded a long wooden table. Kettles and pots hung from the wooden rafters overhead. Olaf and Noah’s uncle sat by the fire with a man wrapped in thick blankets, talking in low voices. James Shelley looked up as the boys entered.

“Take a seat, gentlemen,” he said. “Our hosts have been kind enough to prepare us a good meal.”

Eagerly, Noah sat down with the others. Since they had left the boat, he’d been living on K-rations, cold beans, and canned meat. He licked his lips as he saw Sofia and her mother dipping a ladle into a large pot and dishing out hot soup and slicing fresh bread.

“Grazie,”
Noah said, when Sofia came by to fill his bowl. She smiled warmly at him, and Noah’s heart skipped a beat. But a moment later, he saw her smile at Bill and Roger, too.

James Shelley came to the table to join them. Sofia’s mother poured some soup into his bowl.
“Grazie,”
Noah’s uncle said.

Sofia’s mother inclined her head in acknowledgment and then went to fill Olaf’s bowl.

“Eat up now,” James Shelley said. “The Germans have taken most everything around here for themselves. This feast being provided us is most generous of these people, and we don’t want to appear ungrateful.”

Noah saw that Sofia was still standing, as was her mother.

“Would you like to sit down?” he asked, scooting closer to Wiley and making space beside him.

She shook her head.
“No, prego.”
She motioned with her hand to show that she meant the boys to eat, that she was there to serve.

“Noah?”

Noah forced his eyes from the girl to find his uncle giving him an amused look.

“You do remember why we’re here, don’t you?”

“How could we forget?” Wiley said, as he bit off a chunk of bread. “Those Germans sure were keen on
reminding
us this afternoon.”

“Yeah,” Cam complained. “How do they know all about us? That’s creepy.”

“That’s vhat spies are for,” Olaf said, taking a sip of soup. “But do not vorry. Ve have spies of our own.” He nodded toward where the old man sat by the fire.

“Sofia’s grandfather is a spy?” Noah asked.

“That is
mio padre
,” Sofia spoke up.

Noah looked over at the man in surprise. He had hardly
moved from where he sat, blankets covering his legs. This was Sofia’s father? He seemed ancient.

“Why isn’t he out fighting?” Roger asked.

“He was hurt,” Sofia answered, in heavily accented English. “He is a partisan and was caught by Germans.
Padre
,” she called to him. She spoke rapidly in Italian.

The man by the fire lifted his blanket up. He was missing his legs.

“Papa was caught and the bones of his legs were smashed with a hammer by the Germans,” Sofia said. “When we finally got to him, it was too late to save his legs.”

Noah’s spoon halted halfway to his mouth.

“But
mio padre
,” she continued, her eyes gleaming with pride, “he still remembered some valuable information even though he had been tortured. Because of him, we were able to destroy an incoming trainload of German soldiers.”

Noah set his spoon down abruptly, horrified at the atrocity that had been committed upon her father and the fact that Sofia was actually proud of blowing up a train. She caught his glance.

“It is us or them, GI,” she reminded him scornfully, “and legs are a small price to pay for freedom.”

T
he days began to fall into a pattern. Noah woke early, rising to help Sofia with the milking of the cow, the only one left in Vidiciatico that the Germans hadn’t found and taken. When the milking was finished, Sofia and he carefully divided the precious liquid into smaller containers and delivered them to other houses in the village, sharing the bulk of the milk with families who had small children. When they returned, Cam, Roger, Bill, and Wiley would be up and ready to help Sofia with her other chores.

Noah was grateful that the others were too lazy to rise as early as he did. He welcomed his time with Sofia. Though she never encouraged him and spoke only occasionally, there was something soothing about doing farm work with her by his side. It reminded him of home. As if life, in spite of the war, would go on. And, too, it helped ease his fears about the upcoming evenings.

The entire Tenth Mountain Division had been divided into groups for night patrolling. Noah, Wiley, and Daniel were led out by Skeeter every other night. Cam, Roger, and Bill took the opposite nights with Noah’s uncle. Olaf was instructed to work with the local partisans, as his experience as a Norwegian freedom fighter would be of value to these men and women who fought secretly against the Germans.

Noah dressed warmly when it was his night for scouting. Sometimes his hands shook as he zipped up his parka or tied up his ski boots.

He would join Wiley and Daniel to be briefed by Skeeter before they set out.

“We’ve got to find several ways up Riva,” Skeeter said to them, pointing to a map that lay on the table. “If we can get up there and wrest it from the Germans, they won’t be able to defend Belvedere as well. We’ll have taken a high point from them. If they keep Riva, our boys will be sitting ducks for them as they attempt Belvedere. The Germans will just be able to shoot them off, one by one, from that vantage point. Before we climb and attempt to take Riva, we’ll need to do a little reconnaissance work.

“Here are some of the questions we need to answer before we can attack,” Skeeter continued. “What is the terrain like? Wiley, I’m ordering you to carry a map to make notes as we patrol. How has the enemy moved? If we run into their communication lines, can we cut them?”

“Won’t they notice?” Wiley asked.

Skeeter grinned. “We won’t cut them now, Wiley. We’ll cut them the night we attack Riva.”

Wiley turned as red as his hair, and Noah gave a small laugh. It settled him and gave him a small jolt of courage.

“Remember to look for footprints in the snow,” Daniel warned them.

Noah looked at him, puzzled.

“Footprints,” Daniel repeated. “Think, Garrett. If you see footprints that means some German has been sneaking down near our camp, maybe spying on us, maybe even putting a man in our midst.”

Noah hadn’t thought of that. It was bad enough sneaking about in the night, hoping the Germans up on the ridge didn’t spot you and start firing. It was worse to know that they would be walking around in the night, too, spying on you just as you were spying on them.

“We have a password,” Skeeter said, “and it will change every night. Remember it. Should you run into someone else out there, use it. If they don’t know it, the soldier won’t be one of ours.”

Noah knew what that meant. If he wasn’t one of ours, he was one of theirs.

That first night, Noah’s mouth was dry as they stepped out into the darkness. He skied right behind Daniel, trying to keep pace and not be left behind. Their skis made swishing noises in the packed snow, noises that sounded as loud as a brass band to Noah’s ears.

Moving like ghosts, they flitted in among the trees to the bottom of Riva and began to search for ways to get up the steep slope. Noah watched every little movement around him, his heart jumping when the trees swayed with the night wind, when
snow swirled up suddenly in a mist, when the moon changed the patterns of the shadows on the ground.

Skeeter had told them that the Germans, too, were camouflaged. Just because you wore white didn’t mean you were friendly. If they ran into the enemy, they were to try and take them alive so they could be questioned. Noah didn’t need to be told that the reverse was also true. The Germans would be looking for a Tenth Mountain Division soldier to interrogate. And Noah thought of Sofia’s father and the Germans’ interrogation techniques.

Every night, they made their way farther up the mountain, mapping various ways to climb and attack the ridge. Every night, when Noah made it safely back, he undid his skis and slid off his rucksack and gun, grateful he hadn’t run into trouble. But sometimes at night, he’d wake from a nightmare and lie staring up at the ceiling of the barn, waiting for daylight and Sofia’s light step and the sound of her tin pails hitting softly against each other to ease his racing thoughts.

December melted into January. One evening right before patrols, Bill came down with a fever and chills. Noah helped his uncle carry Bill to the makeshift hospital that had been set up in the town hall.

“He’ll be fine,” the doctor told them, “but he’ll have to stay here for a few nights.”

“I can go with you instead,” Noah volunteered, though the idea of going out three nights in a row scared him to death.

“No,” James Shelley said. “It’s bad enough the general wouldn’t
assign you to my patrol, though he’s right that I’d probably be so concerned for your safety, I’d stop paying attention to everyone else’s. I’ll take Skeeter with me tonight, and then we’ll see what we can do until Bill recovers.”

Noah nodded his agreement and walked back to the farmhouse with his uncle.

“Good luck,” he said to his uncle as he turned toward the barn and a card game with Wiley.

His uncle nodded and moved off to inform the general and Skeeter about Bill’s condition.

That night, Noah woke with an uneasy feeling. He heard the sound of shooting in the distance. As his eyes adjusted to the dark of the barn, he could see the outline of someone sitting on the milking stool not far from him. Quietly, he turned his head toward Wiley. He could just make out his lumpy shape a few feet away. Roger and Cam were on patrol with his uncle and Skeeter. Bill was in the hospital. Olaf and Daniel had been staying in the farmhouse along with his uncle and Skeeter. So who was sitting there, barely moving?

Noah’s heart pounded loudly in his ears as he silently inched his hand toward his gun. He removed the safety. The click of it was loud in the darkness of the barn. The figure turned toward him.

“Put it away!”

Slowly, Noah replaced the safety and sat up, relief flooding through him at the sound of his uncle’s voice.

“What are you doing here?” Noah asked. “What’s wrong?”

James Shelley didn’t answer.

Noah got out of his sleeping bag, shivering in the cold. He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around him and went over to his uncle, who stared up at him with unseeing eyes. The cow shuffled around in the hay of her stall.

“Shelley?” Noah asked. “What is it?”

His uncle finally focused on Noah. “It’s Skeeter. He tripped a wire.”

“No,” Noah said, the breath rushing out of him, thinking of how carefully last night they had skirted the mines and trip wires the Germans had set as traps for the Tenth Mountain Division. Had Skeeter been too tired to go out tonight?

“He may not make it,” his uncle added.

Noah sat down heavily as his uncle’s words sank in.

“I brought him back myself, and they’re operating on him now,” his uncle said. “He fell forward onto the mine and was torn right up the middle. It split him apart. The Germans heard the explosion and started shooting. We all got separated. I’m hoping Cam and Roger make it back in one piece.”

“Cam and Roger might be hurt, too?” Noah asked.

“Could be,” his uncle said. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“How can you be so calm about this?” Noah said, his voice rising as he thought about Skeeter and Roger and Cam. “How can you talk about this so rationally?”

His uncle rose from the stool and sighed. “I just can’t think about it, Noah. It hurts too much.”

“So?” Noah said. “It’s supposed to hurt, Shelley.”

“Hey, what’s going on?” Wiley asked, sitting up, wide awake now.

His uncle ignored Wiley. “Noah, you live your life with your feelings on the surface. Why, if it was possible, I could reach out my hand and touch them every day. But me, well, I’ve lived a lot of years now with it all inside. I can’t afford to think about Skeeter right now. I just can’t.”

His uncle walked toward the barn door.

Noah watched him go, thinking about the callousness his uncle had shown him when they first met, how he’d thrown the door into the bunkhouse upon learning how his sister had died, how he was gruff and distant on one level and yet still cared deeply about Noah on another.

And he thought of Skeeter and his comments that night back at Camp Hale, his statement that life wasn’t black and white, that nothing was that simple. Noah went to the barn door. In the moonlight, he could just see his uncle walking across the yard toward the old stone house.

“Uncle Shelley,” Noah called out.

His uncle turned.

“I’m sorry,” Noah said.

“Forget it,” he said. “It’s nothing. Get yourself dressed, Noah. When I’m done, I’ll take you to see Skeeter. I know that’s what
you
need.”