Robert Tregay
I first read Eric Newby’s novel, Love and War in the Apennines, in 2015. It tells of his time on the run in Italy in late 1943, after the breakout from prisoner of war camp PG49, in Fontanellato.
The story is beautifully written, capturing the characters, places and events that have now dissolved into history. But what most endured for me were the tantalising mysteries left dangling by Newby: how much of the story was true; where in the Apennines did the drama take place; and who were the Italian people risking their lives as the grip of winter descended in the mountains.
By 2020, I had unravelled much of the story, but key questions remained. So, I returned again in September 2023 and, with the help of my friend Maria Teresa Bonomini, I was invited to visit Villa Ada. I was already aware that this house, on the edge on the remote village of Lalatta, had been the home of Scamperdale in the book. His real name was Giovanni Agostini. Ada was his first wife and the mother of his two sons, but she tragically died in 1932, aged just forty-six.
Villa Ada is now owned by Ambrogio Cislaghi, whose brother, Franco, had married Giovanni’s granddaughter, Ada (named after her grandmother). Ambrogio has preserved Villa Ada much as it had been in 1943 and he was the most generous and engaging guide. From him I discovered the places where Newby was hidden when German inspections occurred: a barely secure room closed off behind a large wardrobe; the underground snow cellar; and, finally (safest of all), a ‘blind’ room in an outbuilding accessed only through a narrow culvert.
I also learned that Newby had spent more time at Villa Ada than I had realised, that the Agostini family were probably the most vital of all in the network of people who protected him, and that he would have moved as necessary across the fields between Villa Ada and Giovanni’s farm, Zumara, situated a mile to the northeast.
One event in the novel had especially intrigued me. Newby wrote about the moment he first arrived at Villa Ada: I found myself in a kitchen, but a more ancient and splendid kitchen than any I had ever been in…Sitting around a really massive table that looked as old as the house there were six men… For several years, I had wondered: was the table still there and what was the kitchen like? On 23rd September 2023 I found out. Yes, the table remained – though not quite so massive as Newby had described. He continued:
There were a number of wine bottles on the table and each man had a charged glass in front of him…I was motioned to take a seat and a glass of wine was poured for me.
Eighty years later, I was treated by Ambrogio to wine from one of the same glasses. It was a spine-tingling moment.
Newby had been called to Villa Ada because the ‘Chairman of the Board’ – as Newby imagined Giovanni Agostini on that day – wanted to announce: …it has now become too dangerous to shelter you…(and we have) decided to build you a house which no one except the people assembled in this room, our families and one other person will ever hear about. The work will begin at dawn tomorrow.
I had searched fruitlessly all over the mountainside above Lalatta, right to the top of Monte Caio, trying to find Newby’s new ‘house’, which he termed his ‘cave’ and which he played a part in building.
We left the house singly at half past four in the morning (and) met at the foot of the scree…By the time we reached the ridge the cocks in the village were beginning to crow and soon first light began to seep through the trees. It was a melancholy morning with a soft, penetrating rain falling.
I assumed the ‘cave’ had been swept away in one of the many rockslides which affected the steep face of the mountain. But no. On 25th September 2023, Ambrogio took me up through the fields and forests to locate it. It is situated exactly as shown on his map in the book and the site was precisely as he described in Chapter Fourteen…a cul-de-sac filled with trees. Although no signs of the construction now remain, I knew this was the exact site of the cave because Giovanni’s eldest son, Giampiero, had taken part in the construction works and he later took Ambrogio there himself. It was, for me, another thrilling moment of discovery.
So, now I know for sure: the story as told in Love and War in the Apennines is – once the name changes and the novelist’s mindset are understood – fundamentally true.
A full account (Escape from Fontanellato. Appendix: Further Research and Conclusions. Robert Tregay, December 2024) is available in the MSMT archives.