The wounds of war and mercy
From 1943 to 2024, from the island of Kos to Michigan. Pime Missionary Fr. Piero Masolo’s “jumps” to talk about war and mercy
Dear Friends,
the story this month has to do with roots and starts from far away: from the island of Kos, Greece, in 1943. There was 24-year-old great-uncle Augusto Masolo, an officer of the then Kingdom of Italy in the Dodecanese colony.
Let’s take a big leap in time and space to arrive at the Royal Palace in Milan last January 27, Holocaust Remembrance Day, when Uncle Alberto received the Medal of Honor in memory of Great Uncle Augusto, a full 82 years later!
Who was Great Uncle Augustus and what happened to him? Augusto was my grandfather Aldo’s younger brother, class of 1919, a Bocconian, in 1941 he was enlisted in the Acqui Division, and in early ’43 he was sent to the island of Kos.
On Sept. 8 of that year, the armistice marked the end of hostilities between Italy and the Anglo-Americans: everyone was taken by surprise and celebrated, hoping for an imminent end to the war.
Even the few German soldiers present, caught off guard, are easily disarmed. A few days later, more than 1,500 British soldiers land on the island to help the approximately 4,000 Italian soldiers defend the territory from a possible German invasion.
At dawn on October 3, the German 22nd Airborne Division, led by General Müller, enacts Operation Eisbär, meaning polar bear, landing simultaneously at three different points on the island.
During the battle Italians and British fail to coordinate, the British RAF fails to arrive to provide the necessary air cover, allowing the German Luftwaffe to act unchallenged.
The Germans number about a thousand, while the Anglo-Italians more than five times that number, but the forces defending the island are destroyed and surrender to the enemy on October 4.
Immediately as many as 1,388 British and 3,145 Italians are taken prisoner. In the three days that follow, the 148 captured Italian officers undergo a summary trial and a decision is made to have them shot en masse. Among them is Great Uncle Augustus, who manages to escape from the camp where he had been interned.
Perhaps he attempts to escape to Turkey, which is only a few miles from the island.
Exactly what happens is not known, but he is declared missing and will never be found again. About a hundred of his comrades are mercilessly shot.
In 2023 we went to Kos: we visited the site of the massacre and I was able to celebrate a Mass at the Catholic cemetery for all the victims of the war.
It was a very powerful, touching moment. The beauty of the island contrasts with the horror of war, and the memory allowed us to turn a wound into an offering.
War leaves wounds in those who fought it.
That’s what I experience every week at the VA Hospital in Detroit. It is the VA hospital: Americans who fought in Korea, Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan.
I go as a volunteer and accompany patients from ward to ward. Some feel like having a chat, some don’t.
The war remains a burden to carry inside, to come to terms with, even after years.
The way the staff cares for patients alleviates their wounds, in every sense.
A few miles away is another place that alleviates the poverty
of those who cannot survive in this competitive society.
It is called “Deo Gratias,” and it is a café
that the Felician Sisters opened a few years ago in Detroit, Mich,
where you can eat for free, have a chat, and take advantage of both the physical and human warmth that the sisters and us volunteers try to put in.
You can shop for groceries, find a jacket or a pair of socks, pick up a book to read (all for free!), talk to the social worker, or participate in an art workshop.
Source and Image
- spazio + spadoni
- Father Piero Masolo