…Don’t Run Away

 

Our Italian prisoners of war arrived at night, or close on dark and they were scared silly. I suppose they really didn’t know where they were going and the Queensland bush was very different from the camp at Gaythorne. We lived at Aratula.  Once they saw my brother Michael, who was about two years old at the time, they were happy to see the ‘bambino’. Paolo De Propertis and Pietro Romano were from Tocco Cassauria. I was only eight years old at the time but I have clear memories of the men.

Dwyer Family.JPG

Dwyer Family 1945

Back: Paolo De Propertis, Des Dwyer, JJ Dwyer, Pietro Romano

Front: Laurie Dwyer, Michael Dwyer

(from the collection of Carmel Peck (Dwyer))

One of our family photos from that time was taken on the day my brother Des was going off to boarding school.  He was dressed up in his suit, as was the way in those days.  Des was tall for his age and Peter was convinced that dad was sending Des off to enlist as a soldier.  He told dad, ‘no fight, no soldier’.  I think his face and the tone of his voice said more than the words. They were peaceful men who didn’t want to be involved in the war.  And they didn’t want Des involved in war either.

While Michael never learnt any Italian words, he certainly could understand Paul and Peter.  The canteen truck came to the farm to bring them supplies and they would buy lollies.  They would hide the lollies and Michael would always find where the lollies were hidden.  It was a game they played with Michael.

Paul and Peter lived in separate quarters about 50 yards from the house.  Mum did the cooking and one lunch, she served them up pumpkin.  In Italy, pumpkin was cattle feed and so they would toss the pumpkin out the window.  One day, they saw mum feeding Michael pumpkin. Mum explained that the bambino ate pumpkin as a way to encourage them to eat it.  “Propaganda” they said.  Eventually when they did try it, they loved pumpkin.

When they were to leave the farm, they took it upon themselves to take some seeds with them.  They sewed pumpkin, watermelon and cucumber seeds into the lining of their clothes.  In a letter Paul wrote, he told mum and dad how all the seeds were cut out of the clothing.

There are many stories about Peter and watermelons.  Peter would ‘steal’ watermelons from our neighbours.  A neighbour George Steffens chased Peter once with a whip in hand.  Peter managed to get some distance away but the hid behind a big log.  Steffens apparently stood atop the log, cracking the whip as a warning, not knowing how close Peter was.  Another time Oliver Hill was out in his potato fields and could see Peter on the edge of a field of watermelons.  It became a bit of a stand off: Oliver would stop and watch. Peter would pretend to do nothing. Oliver would start work again, Peter would creep closer. Peter always managed to ‘steal’ a watermelon without Oliver seeing him in the act. Peter would defiantly stand at a distance and lift the watermelon onto his shoulder. I think there was always laughter afterwards.  Peter was big and strong and could easily carry a bag containing three watermelons.

Paul used the dictionary to try to improve his English but decided that English was stupid.  There were a lot of problems with miscommunication. Paul would wait for me to return home from school and then get out the yellow book they had for English.  Pronunciation was mainly the problem. Paper and pepper sounded the same. He also had difficulty with tree and the.  They had trouble with slang like ‘give it a burl’. One morning dad and the Italians were doing some fencing.  It was time to go home for lunch so dad told them to leave the crowbar there.  The word leave was a problem and they thought dad wanted them to carry it away with them.  Dad would have raised his voice and they thought that he was angry with them.  Paul told the interpreter the next day, ‘boss got mad, I got mad’.  He thought that he would be taken away.  Things were sorted. Another time, the Fordson tractor wouldn’t start so dad went to get the draught horses.  The horses wouldn’t get into the yards and dad would have blown off steam and whatever he said, or it might have been the way he said it, Paul and Peter thought they had done something wrong.  They had a great deal of respect for dad and they didn’t want to get into trouble.  So the next time the interpreter came to the farm, they asked to find out ‘what they did wrong’.  They would explain what had happened and the interpreter would explain what had happened.  They would always refer to mum as ‘Madame’ and my grandmother lived with us and they called her ‘extra Madame’, very respectful.  Sometimes we would call grandma ‘extra Madame’ and she would get cranky with us.

Paul had a sister who had come out to Australia in the 1920’s. Somehow Dad made contact with her. She lived in Victoria and Dad visited her and her family.  She sent back a gift for Paul and dad brought it back on the TAA flight. ‘Olives’- they were a real treat for the men. I also remember Dad bringing back a tin of whitebait from a business trip to South Australia.  I am not sure if it was for Peter and Paul, but I remember that there was no way that us kids were going to try whitebait, not with all these little eyes staring out at us as the can lid was peeled back.

Another food story had to do with the chooks.  A chook had died and Peter asked if he could take it and use if for a meal.  Dad had a bit of trouble convincing Peter that he didn’t have to use the ‘dead’ chook and that dad was happy for him to catch a live chook and prepare it for a meal.  They did trap hares from time to time for meals as well.

Dad was going to paint the house and he asked Peter if he could paint.  “Yes sir,” was his answer.  Dad gave him the paint and brushes and Peter was making a mess of it.  Dad found out that the only painting he had done was painting a pipe line in India.  Dad had to teach him how to paint with even brush strokes, up and down, up and down.

Peter hated the pink coloured clothes they had to wear.  He would go down the creek and wash the clothes within an inch of their lives to fade away the colour.  Just when he had the clothes a decent colour, the canteen truck would come out and he would be given a new set of pink clothes.

Dad knew this was against the rules, but dad took Peter and Paul to Brisbane.  Dad had business in Brisbane so he found some civvies for them to wear.  Dad is of Irish descent so he had a respectable disdain for authority.  Once in Brisbane he had a meeting to go to, so he left Peter and Paul to go off and wander on their own.  He told them ‘don’t you go run away’ to which they replied ‘Italy, too far to swim’.  Dad said that there were a couple of ships in the Brisbane harbour and the sailors were Maltese, so that a couple of extra foreigners with stilted English would not draw extra attention to them.  Only problem was that when dad and the men where in Brisbane, the army captain came around home to do his visit.  The rules were that the POWs couldn’t leave the property. Mum had to think quickly on her feet.  Dad had a cattle property about 10 miles away up on a mountain and so mum told the captain that dad had taken the men to muster cattle.

Peter and Paul could turn their hand to most things.  They could ride horses and operated the farm machines.  Once when mum was in hospital, Peter became chief cook.  He made us spaghetti and these most delicious potato cakes.  There were five of us kids and as fast as he could make these potato cakes, they were eaten and we were asking for more.  Peter also made shoes.  We butchered our own meat, so he would take the hides and turn them into leather.  And then he would make shoes.  He was resourceful.

Dwyer Pietro

Pietro Romano

(from the collection of Carmel Peck (Dwyer))

On a Sunday, dad would take them to church.  There was a mission priest, Dr Dwyer who would hold services around the district.  He had spent some time in Rome and spoke fluent Italian.  We would all be taken off to church at Kalbar. I thought that I went to church too many times in those days. One of these times there was special lunch after church.  Tables were set up and the meal served. My sister Carmel thinks that it might have been a special ‘farewell’ lunch for the Italians.  Church was also a time for all the POWs in the area to get together.  On a Sunday afternoon, Paul and Peter with other Italian POWs would go sit up on the hill.  You would hear them laughing and talking and at times the conversations sounded quite volatile.

I remember we received a letter from Paul.  We took it to a Dutch priest who knew Italian. He translated the letter as best he could. It was written in dialect, which is different from Italian.

I remember that farmers who were of German descent weren’t allowed to have POW labour.  There were also farmers who tried to save money by keeping their POWs for a short period of time.  After POWs had been with a farmer for a time, the farmer had to pay more money for their wages. So these farmers would ask for a new roster of POWs.

There was a young POW on the Kelly’s farm. I remember that he returned after the war, and he would say, “I not work as a POW no more. I work as a free man”.  His name was Benedetto Ierna.

Laurie Dwyer

21 June 2017

Peter and Paul

I have a couple of wonderful photos of my family with Peter and Paul our Italians POWs. I would have been ten years old when they came to our farm to help dad with the farm work.  There was a shortage of farm labourers during the war and we grew potatoes.  Dad was involved with the Potato Board and would travel around Australia attending meetings and conferences.

We also had soldiers and Land Army girls help with the farm work and the harvest.  Some of the soldiers were USA soldiers. One Negro solider stayed on the farm and took over cooking for mum.  I think he was then sent to New Guinea.

Then came Peter and Paul who stayed with us for about 18 months. Language was a problem especially between dad and Peter and Paul.  It was more that dad would tell them to do something, they were eager to please and follow instructions but they would get the wrong idea and then voices were raised.  They called our grandmother Extra Madame, mum was Madame, but Grandma Kelly hated the reference. I think it was because she was a big lady. But I don’t think they meant anything other than being respectful. Sometimes we would call Grandma Kelly, Extra Madame and she would get very irate with us.

IMG_3304

Dwyer Family Photo 1945

Back: JJ Dwyer, Margaret Dwyer, Des Dwyer, Grandma Kelly

Front: Laurie Dwyer, Pietro Romano, Carmel Dwyer, Michael Dwyer, Paolo De Propertis

We loved Peter. He was outgoing and friendly.  Once when Mum and Dad were away, Peter came and slept in the house and looked after the family.  And 70 years later we still talk about Peter’s potato cakes.  We were introduced to rice and spaghetti by Peter and Paul.  They would teach us how to twirl the spaghetti with a fork and spoon. My first pair of sandals was given to me by Peter.  I used to get hand me downs from my sister Margaret, but Peter made me my very own sandals.  He used to cure the hides and make leather. They would have made us trinkets and toys, probably from pieces of wood or corn cobs. Another time, Mum, Grandma and Michael went to the coast for about two months for a holiday.  Peter would do everything and looked after the house.  My parents trusted the Italians.   I remember he would wash my hair on a Sunday afternoon and plait it.  For the first few days of school, my hair remained neat and tidy.  By the end of the week, the teacher would be telling me to ‘do something about my hair’.

Peter loved watermelons. The story goes that at night, Peter would cut a watermelon in half and then munch on it throughout the night.  He would also cut a small triangle into the watermelons to check to see if they were ripe.

Paul was much quieter than Peter.  He enjoyed milking the cows and doing the dairy farm work.  Reg and Molly were share farmers and neighbours.  There was some confusion with language and Paul tried to explain this by saying “I like Molly. But I don’t like a Molly”.

dwyer-paolo.jpg

Paolo De Propertis

On canteen truck day, we would race home from school because we knew that Peter and Paul would buy something for us.  We went to Tarome school and from school we would see the canteen truck  drive past on the road.  We would race across the paddocks, creek and a swamp to get home. It was mainly a lolly they would give us, but they were a real treat.

On a Sunday, the other POWs from around the area would congregate on our farm.  This was against the rules but because we lived out of town, they didn’t get noticed.  In those days you knew local cars and who owned them.  If there were any strange cars coming up the road, the Italians would disperse and take cover. Their meetings were often rowdy. Dad would be concerned that there was a fight happening and would go over to see what was going on.  One minute they were talking angry and the next they were laughing.  Dad said that they would mimic the mannerisms of their bosses.  They would walk and talk like their bosses and they found it hilarious.  Dad said they were very true with their interpretations.

My brothers had more to do with Peter and Paul than I did.  As was appropriate in those days, mum kept Margaret and I at a distance from the Italians.  She felt that the girls shouldn’t be around them.  We used to get letters from Peter and Paul but because of the language issue, this stopped. They couldn’t understand our letters and we couldn’t understand their letters.

They must have talked about their homes and families because I remember a couple of things about the differences between life in Australia and life in Italy.  They thought that Australian women were very lonely.  They lived on the farm, a long way from other women and the town.  In Italy, families lived in villages.  The men left the village to go to work during the day but the women had the company of the people in the village.  The other difference was to do with twilight.  When they first arrived, they had this idea that after dinner they would go walking.  Dad had to try to explain that our twilight in Queensland was short.  The sun would set and it would turn dark quickly.  It is different in southern states and also in Europe when it is still light close to 10pm in some places.

When Peter and Paul left our farm, we took them into town.  Upon our return home, we saw that they had painted their addresses on a wall of the house. I travelled to Italy and asked the tour guide if we went close to Tocco Cassauria and explained my memories.  Unfortunately, this was not on the tourist route.

Many people today, do not have a knowledge of this history.  I have told the story of Peter and Paul many times to people I meet and they always are puzzled by a scheme which placed Italian prisoners of war on farms to live with Queensland families.  While there were many benefits for the Italians to be on farm, the scheme had reciprocal benefits.

Peter and Paul enriched our lives.

Carmel Peck (nee Dwyer)

July 2017

 

Lasting Friendships

We lived on a farm 35 mile outside of West Wyalong, New South Wales. I would have been eight years old when Ernesto Armati and Angelo Airoldi came to stay with us. They became part of our family and to this day, I am in contact with their families.

Ernesto and Rosa Armati (married 1 January 1948)

Dad had sheep, wheat, pigs and milkers on the farm and the Italians did a lot of work around the farm.  They built chook yards, dams and horse yards and I suppose general farm work.

They lived in a hut built for them which was basic.  They ate with the family and became like brothers.  We had a big dining room table and they would jostle and joke with us kids and try to push us off the bench seats we sat on.  They cooked pasta meals for us.  Watching them ride horses was funny and they would sometimes have a bit of a race.  The closest church was 12 miles away and Dad bought a green and blue bike for them so that they could go to church.  My sister was very upset because Dad never bought her a bike. Both Ernesto and Angelo had fiances in Italy and upon return were married: Ernesto to Rosa 1 January 1948 and Angelo to Angelina October 1947.

I clearly remember the canteen truck visiting the farm.  They would get their cigarettes : three threes, brylcream, shaving cream stick and razors.

They had come to Australia on board “Mariposa” and arrived at Melbourne.  They were then transported in open cattle trucks to Cowra.

Dad was a staunch Methodist: no smoking, no drinking but Dad made exceptions for Angelo and Ernesto. Dad brought in a big barrel for them and they used the table grapes to make grappa.  They did it by stomping the grapes with their feet which became purple.

We cried when they left.  I don’t know why they didn’t leave the POWs on the farms until they were taken back home, but they had to wait a long time in the POWs camps and it would have been better for them to stay with us.

Dad kept in contact with them over the years and when I was in my twenties I went to Italy for the Olympics: 1960.  Dad encouraged me to go visit Ernesto and Angelo which felt awkward because 15 years had passed since I last saw them.  They welcomed me into their homes with open arms.  Lavish meals were prepared and eaten and I was taken around and shown the sites.  I travelled a little of Europe and then returned to spend Christmas with them.

Angelo and Angelina Airoldi and family Bagnatica 1960

Years later, Ernesto’s granddaughter came to Sydney for her honeymoon.  I felt very privileged to take her and her husband around for 5 weeks showing them the sights.

Memories from West Wyalong

Graydon Bolte

Brisbane

February 2017

 

 

Cara Mamma

I am very grateful to Reinhard Krieger, a collector of military post, who has shared with me letters and postcards, written by Queensland Italian POWs to their families in Italy.

POW mail was censored but these letters to families still have much to tell us about the men who wrote them.

On 23.10.45, Umberto Liberto wrote a letter to his mother, from a farm in the Q1 Stanthorpe area.  Umberto was one of the youngest POWs who made their way to Queensland.  Born in 1922, he was 19 years old when captured in Libya in February 1941 and 23 years old when he wrote this letter. He had been working on a farm/farms in the Stanthorpe area since 27th October 1943.

Q1 Stanthorpe Liberto Umberto

 

Cowra, NSW. 16 September 1943. Group of Italian prisoners of war (POW) interned at No. 12 POW Group. Back row, left to right: 49731 A. Olivieri; 45651 A. Fazio; 49632 D. Mocchetti; 49373 U. Liberto; 46913 G. Villa; 49942 L. Volonteri. Front row: 45782 L. Gardini; 49884 I. Paniccia; 49436 L. Casinelli; 49792 A. Alessi. Note: The number is an assigned POW number.

(AWM, Lewecki, Image 030149/21)

23.10.45

Dear Mum

A couple of lines so as to not leave you without any of my news that thanks to God is good, as I hope is the same for you.  Last week my work employers sent you two packages.  I hope that they arrive there.  I have also sent you my photo and eight pounds Stirling but as yet have not receive a reply. Dear Mum, by now the worst has passed but there are still some months and then all will be finished.  Your mail takes 5 to 6 months to arrive and not so often just now and then some letters.  Anyway as for now it is not so important because all of this is coming to an end.  You will not recognise your son – five years has been a long time.  However, it could have been worse.

Finally hugs and kisses to share around.

Yours Berto.

(translation by Morwenna Arcidiacono, Stanthorpe)

Liberto, Umberto

Letter from Umberto Liberto to his mother in Italy 23.10.45

(kindly contributed by Reinhard Krieger, Brisbane)

 

 

Stepping back in time

It was almost 73 years to the day, when Nino Cippola stepped back in time to retrace his father’s journey in Queensland. Nino’s father, Francesco (Ciccio) Cippola was an Italian prisoner of war captured in Libya on 4th January 1941.  While in Melbourne on holiday from Taormina in Sicily,  Nino thought he would try to find details about the “Q6 Home Hill” written into his father’s POW Service and Casualty Form.

Cipolla Francesco Cipolla Photograph April 1939.jpg

Francesco Cippola: Roma 10.4.1939

(photographic collection of Nino Cippola)

A flurry of messagess via Messenger and emails, a flight to Townsville and Nino found himself on the railway platform of Home Hill. Francesco Cippola would have stepped onto the same platform. Not much changes in small country towns in Queensland.

Home Hill Railway Station: 1944 and 2017

Nino Cippola tracing his father’s footsteps

(NAA: M1415, 434, photographic collection of Joanne Tapiolas)

With only 1 three ton truck available the 115 Italian prisoners of war would have walked a short distance to the Home Hill Showgrounds.  Many of the buildings there had been leased by the Army and it would have taken more than one trip to transport the Italians over a muddy dirt track 22 miles up river Home Hill.

It was the 30th April 1944 and the Q6 PWC Hostel, to accommodate 255 Italian POWs and A.M.F. staff, had not been completed.  Wet weather, a tropical cyclone and delays with the septic tank, meant that the Italians ‘roughed it’ in temporary tents, without floor boards. The POWs were there to grow vegetables to supply to the Allied forces in North Queensland.

Little remains of the hostel buildings and the farming sheds. The concrete foundations were dug up years ago and the buildings sold off to Main Roads.  What does remain are the traces of ‘settlement’ found on the banks of the Burdekin: a lone banana tree, a cluster of custard apple and lemon trees. Using a hand drawn plan of the hostel complex, Nino could envisage the extent of what was Ciccio’s  home for 15 months.

 

1944.camp layout

Layout Plan POW Camp Homehill

(NAA: J153, T1542B, 1944)

As he stood  at the Q6 Hostel site, Nino could also make sense of the many stories his father had told him. He could also make sense of Francesco’s (Ciccio’s) obsession with growing vegetables.  Ciccio was not a farmer. He did not come from a farming background. Ciccio was a ‘carabinieri’. But time spent on the Home Hill farms had made an impression on Ciccio. His family said, he was fanatical about seeds and tomatoes. Nino explains that:

“my father’s interest in growing crops was substantial and almost at an industrial scale – he would return home from the farm with 150 kg of tomatoes in the back of the car, or grow wheat and have it ground for flour, bags and bags of it, he would have 100s of kilos of eggplants, capsicums or pumpkins. He was always asking his family about which fruit or vegetables tasted best and he would dry and save seeds of the best tasting.  He often had seeds in his pockets. He would give away his excessive volumes of fruit and vegetables to neighbours, family and friends. I never fully understood my father’s passion in this area until I visited the POW site on the Burdekin River and learnt about the work my father and other POW were doing.  My father did not come from a farming background.  Most people have a small vegetable plot, but my father grew crops on a grand scale.  I believe his time on the Commonwealth Farm at Q6, gave him this lifelong interest”.

The backdrop to this story is the purpose and operations of the Commonwealth Vegetable Project Farms: to grow vegetables for service requirements, to develop means and ways to select and grow crops suited to good yields and the tropical climate, to run seed trials and soil testing to improve productivity. Regarding tomatoes,  barrels on the Commonwealth farms were filled with tomatoes, to decompose and then be treated to extract the seeds and so began a lifelong passion of Ciccio’s centring around tomato growing and seed selection.

Ciccio’s dislike for bananas also seems to have stemmed from his time at Q6.  His children heard the recurring comment ‘I don’t eat bananas’ from their father.  If bananas were in the fruit bowl, he would reiterate his disdain for bananas.  The Home Hill Italian POWs were responsible for the cultivation of nine acres of bananas and used ground safes to ripen the hands.  Likely, the best bananas went to the armed forces and the overripe bananas, in abundance, became part of the POW daily menu.

2017 Q6 1

Nino Cippola and Christine Morriss at Q6 Site

(photographic collection of Joanne Tapiolas)

The landscape of the Burdekin is in contrast to that of Taormina.  A mountain range rises high in the background at the end of Kirknie Road as opposed to an active Mount Etna viewed through the archways of the Ancient Greek Amphitheatre.

Contrasting Landscapes of Taormina Sicily and up river Home Hill Queensland

(Trip Advisor: Taormina, photographic collection of Joanne Tapiolas)

Up river Home Hill is a long way from Taormina and the contrasts are striking. But Nino’s step back in time, to the time his father Ciccio grew vegetables on a Commonwealth Vegetable Farm up river Home Hill, offered up an understanding of his father’s years as a prisoner of war in Australia.

For the Family

Life in the small villages of Calabria was one of hard work with limited opportunities. Vincenzo Tigani was a farmer, who faced with limited opportunities in an economically depressed 1930’s Italy, made decisions in the interest of his family. These decisions would see him journey from Italy to Eritrea, India and Australia.

Q2 Tigani Family Maria Rosa, Domenico, Domenica, Vincenzo Brisbane

The Tigani Family: Maria Rosa, Domenico, Domenica and Vincenzo

(from the collection of Maria Rosa Allan(nee Tigani))

Farmers from Vazzano and Santo Onorfrio had been part of the first wave of migrants away from Italy. This Push-Pull migration resulted from farmers experiencing difficulty in making a reasonable living from small plots of land which were mainly rented.  Sons worked with fathers on these plots without a wage. A roof to sleep under and food to eat was the currency.  This offered little opportunity for families to grow their wealth, build their own homes and increase the acreage under cultivation.  Combined with disease, underemployment, high taxes and the degradation and erosion of the soil, men looked for opportunities offered through a system termed chain migration.

Labour agents in USA assisted the Italians to find employment and accommodation and the period from 1870’s to 1910’s saw an influx of young Italians arrive to seize opportunities.  Bruno Tigani from Vazzano (Vincenzo’s father) found his way to Braddock Pennsylvania, likely working in the steel industry and like many made the journey back and forth across the Atlantic. Domenico Lipari (Vincenzo’s future father-in-law) found his way to the “Little Italy” of New York living on Hester Street and working at N.Y. Steam Company. He would also travel between Italy and New York before becoming naturalised in 1937.

Against this background, Vincenzo Tigani enlisted in the Italian Army. In 1936, Mussolini combined Italian Eritrea, Italian Somaliland and Ethipoia into the Italian territory of Africa Orientale Italiana. Government employees, workers and soldiers were needed and Vincenzo became a soldier in the 1st Battalion Speciale Genio dell Eritrea. It would have been a difficult decision to leave behind his wife Domenica and two young sons: Bruno aged 3 and Domenico an infant with this decision resulting in a 10 year separation from his family.

Captured in Massaua, Eritrea 8 April 1941, Vincenzo as a prisoner of war was sent to Australia via India. In less than three years, he was working on a banana plantation owned by Mr AJ Schulz at Poona/Palmwoods in the Nambour district. His time there offered him an insight into the opportunities that Australia offered and the seed would have been sown as to the future direction of his and his family’s life. His hard work earned the respect of the Schulz family, with family members over 70 years later, speaking kindly and fondly of Vince.  Vince told his family how he climbed the middle Glass House Mountain and carved his initials on a rock and how they, the POWs would walk everywhere including Nambour to Brisbane.

The return journey from Australia to Italy was long and protracted for Italian prisoners of war. But while waiting at N33 Prisoner of War Camp at South Head Sydney, Vince was allowed to visit family and/or Calabrian Italians in Liverpool.  He would have weekend release from Friday night to Sunday evening and during this time he would have made the acquaintance of Salvatore Raffaele from Dee Why. Much discussion would have transpired over immigration to Australia, work opportunities in Sydney and the process of returning to Australia.

Vincenzo returned to Italy and to a stagnant and economically depressed Vazzano.  Little had changed during his ten year absence.  It was a village that was not directly impacted upon by the war, although planes often flew over the village and black outs and curfews were imposed. Only 100 kilometres away, Reggio Calabria was bombed heavily by the Allies.  It was however a time of uncertainty and hardship.

The Tigani family survived with the support of Domenica’s family. Domenica’s father sent money from USA to fund the building of a home.  With two sons to provide for, Domenica worked hard in the fields.  Her fortitude ensured she survived the ten year separation from her husband. Vincenzo returned somewhat as a stranger to his family. His wife Domenica had, out of necessity, lived an independent life. His sons had grown up without the presence of a father and his youngest son Domenico had difficulty in accepting this stranger as his father. Their reunion was bitter sweet.

The Tigani family welcomed a daughter and sister, Maria Rosa in 1948. Little had changed in the region, and like his parents and parents-in-law, Vincenzo planned for a brighter future for his family.

The family was separated again when Vincenzo returned to Sydney in 1950. Within two months he was working as a labourer at Crown Crystal Glass Company in Bourke Street Waterloo and living at 72 Riley Street Surry Hills. In all likelihood, living in a city and working in a factory might not have been the ideal situation. Another complication was that the employees were strongly unionised and union action was being reported in the newspapers during May to June 1950.

Vincenzo returned to a familiar life and to the employment of his former POW employer, Mr Schulz.  Within three months, he moved to Brisbane.  Alexander Filia, also from Vazzano was an ice cream manufacturer and offered Vincenzo a place to stay at 10 Ernest Street South Brisbane. Vincenzo worked as  an Ice Cream Vendor selling Filia’s Popular Ice Cream. His daughter Maria Rosa remembers a story from her father about those days:  “He had a line-up of customers, when a cockroach raised its feelers above the metal frame of the cart.  Children began to scream and Dad, nonchalantly, rang his bell repeatedly and called out loudly, ‘Ice-creams for Sale’.”

Within 18 months of his arrival in Australia, Vincenzo was reunited with his son Domenico who arrived as a 15 year old in November 1951.  Priority became saving the passage for Domenica and Maria Rosa to travel to Australia and a new home in Brisbane.  Domenico’s actions of hiding saved money under the stump caps of the house, reflected his intention to bring his mother and sister out to Australia and set them up with a new life.  His sister, Maria Rosa reflects that Domenico took on a quasi-role of protector and provider for his mother and sister.  He had spent more years with them, than his father had, and so he felt an obligation and responsibility for them.

VTigani01

1951-1952: Domenico and Vincenzo Tigani in Brisbane

(from the collection of Maria Rosa Allan (nee Tigani))

Domenica and Maria Rosa arrived in Fremantle in July 1957.  Domenico had made the journey to Fremantle to greet them and to assist them on the last stage of their journey to Brisbane.  The voyage to Australia had seen Domenica in bed with sea sickness for a month while Maria Rosa wandered the ship freely, exploring this ‘new’ world. It was an adventure and the staff continually reminded the nine year old to go back to her room as her mother needed her.  Upon arrival Domenico asked his sister if she spoke any English, and her curt reply was, “Shut up!  Money.”

In time, Stafford Street East Brisbane became the family’s new home. Vincenzo worked in the building industry, with a gas company and as a night watchman with Evans Deakin at Henry Point.  Those were difficult times for migrant families: the impact of war, years of separation and social isolation. As a family man, Vincenzo made decisions in the best interest of his family.  At times, these decisions had a negative impact upon the unity of the family.  Maria Rosa remembers that after her father died, she found two photos he had kept.  One was of her as a 9 month old and another as an 18 month old.  Her reflections were tinged with sadness as she thought of her father in Brisbane with his memories and photos of his family, while his wife and daughter were in Italy.  It was a case of doing something to make life better- enlistment in the Italian army and migration to Australia and at the same time, these actions caused much hardship for the family.

Daughter Maria Rosa is grateful to her father for many things.  “He gave us many opportunities which would have been unattainable in Vazzano.  Opportunities such as a good education, owning our own businesses, owning our homes, can be attributed to the difficult decisions made by my parents,” says Maria Rosa. “My father’s story is no different from that of my grandparents who had emigrated to USA.  Long periods of separation between family members, financial uncertainty, the dream being hard to find, social isolation and all those things associated with being a foreigner in a strange land.”

VTigani13.jpg

 Vincenzo Tigani – Icecream Vendor

(from the collection of Maria Rosa Allan (nee Tigani))

A family man, Vincenzo’s legacy is the close family ties between members of the Tigani extended family in Australia. There are relatives who have loaned money to those struggling financially, there are those who have assisted ‘new comers’ by finding them jobs and accommodation and there are those who continue to support others through health problems.  Maria Rosa believes that at one stage her father seemed to have ‘lost faith’.  “It is hard to define what I mean. It might have been a sense of insecurity about the decisions he made and how other people interpreted them. It might have been that he didn’t realise his dreams. It might have been his sadness over the ‘lost family years’,” reflects Maria Rosa. But life is what it is. Doors open, decisions are made and legacies forged.

And Maria Rosa  now takes on the role of the head of the extended Tigani family in Brisbane. In 2017, to celebrate the feast day of the Patron Saint of Vazzano,  Maria Rosa approached her parish priest to honour Saint Francesco Di Paolo.  This special gathering of family ensues that traditions and stories from Vazzano are not forgotten: a tribute ‘for the family’.

St Francesco Di Paola Vazzano

Celebration of Saint Francesco Di Paolo in Brisbane 27th August 2017

(photo from the collection of Maria Rosa Allan)

Captured…On the Move

NorthAfrica.India.Australia

Once captured, Italian prisoners of war were impounded in temporary caged compounds in the deserts of North Africa.  They were then taken to Egypt and processed.  Each prisoner of war was given a M/E number (Middle East) and a card was sent to the families notifying them that their son or husband or father was a prisoner of war. From Egypt they were sent around the world: South Africa, India, Australia, New Zealand, England, Canada and USA.

Costanzo Melino’s journey took him to India and then to Australia.  He worked on a farm in the Gympie district before being repatriated to Italy.  He returned to Australia post-war, sponsored by his Gympie employer,  his family joined him  and eventually they settled in northern NSW.

Costanzo Melino was captured at Bardia on 4th January 1941.

Costanzo Melino remembers:

Forty-seven thousand Italians were taken prisoner of war by the 8th Battalion of English under General Wavell. Our General at that time was Annibale Bergonzoli. My captain was Alberto Agostinelli.  We were taken to internment camps by foot.  We were given little to eat or drink.

Water 4159600

Italian prisoners Mersa Matruh getting their water tank filled. They were allowed half a gallon per man per day.” Image from a large album of 86 pages containing 1858 photographs associated with the service of Lieutenant Robert Otto Boese

(Australian War Memorial, Image P05182.012)

In Febraury 1941, we were sent to Port Said in the Suez Canal and the following month to Bombay where the heat was unbearable and many Italians died of heat exhaustion.

These camps were well run by the English.  We were given baths and we had Indian cooks.  There were toilets and we were fed well although we all got sick as we were not used to the English diet.  After this the English asked us to cook our own meals which we did gladly, making our own tagliatelle and gnocchi from the flour.  There were at least three thousand prisoners divided ingroups of one hundred. We were counted twice a day. We were fenced in and surrounded by armed guards so that we could not escape.

V-P-HIST-03469-24

Original tent camp 1941 Bangalore Italian Prisoners of War

(Maddy’s Ramblings maddy06.blogspot.com.au )

Having nothing else to do, a lot of prisoners devoted their time to study.  I studied Italian and English.  We didn’t stay in the one place for long in India.  We were constantly moved and constantly guarded by Indian soldiers.  The German prisoners were kept separate to us.  When the Italians surrendered to General Dwight David Eisenhower we were sent to Australia to work on farms. It appeared that the two million U.S. servicemen in Australia needed food.  The U.S. headquarters was in Brisbane commanded by General Douglas MacArthur.  It was the U.S. who commanded us in Australian as they had civil and military control.

The English in India said to us: “Now you’ve surrendered we are allies so now you’ll have to go to work to feed yourselves.  You’ll be free in Australia and they’ll even pay you for your work”. Of course we were all happy, leaving the camps singing.  However, as soon as we boarded the train we found the Indian soldiers hidden in the train and at the next stop we got off in our usual manner as prisoners of war.  We were really only free when we got to Naples in 1947.