My paternal great-grandfather, Francesco Cantone, owned a small farmhouse near Pettinengo, a village in the Biella hills. During the war, he offered shelter to a middle-aged Englishman who was trying to hide from German soldiers.

One day, while walking along the path leading to the farmhouse with a bag of bread and vegetables for his British friend, he was stopped by a German patrol. The soldiers asked his name, but not understanding German, Francesco took out the small sickle he carried to write it on the ground. The gesture was misunderstood, and the frightened soldiers pointed their rifles at him, forcing him to lie down. Fortunately, they didn’t harm him, but the episode shook him deeply.

The Englishman stayed at the farmhouse for about a month, then left to seek refuge in the Alps.

In the Biella area, as in other parts of Piedmont, many civilians and parish communities offered concrete assistance to Allied soldiers and partisans, offering food, shelter, and directions for their escape. Its proximity to the Alps made this area a strategic passageway to Switzerland, often travelled with the help of families who, like mine, risked their lives out of a profound sense of humanity and solidarity.