My family, named Morelli, is originally from Val de Varri, a small village on the border between Lazio and Abruzzo, where I grew up and where my relatives still live today. The history of Val de Varri is a testament to how ordinary people made a difference in times of great difficulty.

When the German occupation and the 1943 Armistice disrupted the lives of millions of Italians, my family, despite living in conditions of great poverty, faced a crucial decision on whether to help those in need, risking their own lives. It is hard to imagine what life was like in those days, especially in a remote area like Val de Varri, where resources were scarce and the fear of being discovered was always present.

The Morelli family home, my mother’s family, was, and still is, a small house along the main road of the village, which became a refuge for Allied soldiers who had escaped from prison camps. At that time, my grandfather Lorenzo and his three sisters lived in the house where my mother now lives. He told me that their house was in a strategic position, close to the mountain paths that many prisoners used to cross from Lazio in search of safety.

One story my mother remembers from my grandfather Lorenzo’s accounts is about a young British soldier, a prisoner who, together with others, managed to escape from a nearby German prison camp. My grandfather, along with his sisters, welcomed the soldier and offered him a safe hiding place, first in the attic, which is still accessed by a retractable ladder in the wall, and later in the stable, still located at the end of the road from the house.

At that time, food was shared among everyone in the village, and the small stable became a hiding place where the soldier could recover and rest, waiting for an opportunity to escape further south. With Nazi and fascist forces controlling the area, hiding prisoners was not only an act of courage but also a real defiance of a regime that had reduced the population to a state of oppression. My aunt Giovanna, the oldest of the three, remembers how the family organised itself to provide for everyone left in the area, always making sure no one knew anything.

 The story of my mother’s family, like that of many others in the small mountain villages, was never officially recognised, but it remains a testimony of solidarity passed down from generation to generation. In Val de Varri, as in many other small towns, the humanity and courage of ordinary people were the real forces that allowed hundreds of prisoners to return home.