The Education of Love. Guide Version

Author: (Italian) Ami Chies, translated by Ma Mo
Translator: Ma Mo / Country:
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-06-01
Features: On the day of July 24, 1848, during the Battle of Goitoza, over 60 soldiers of our infantry regiment were sent to occupy a lonely house on a high ridge. They were suddenly ambushed by two companies of Austrians. Bullets rained down from all directions, and they had to leave behind some wounded and dead soldiers, hastily retreating into the lonely house and quickly barricading the main door. Then, the soldiers scattered to the first and second floors, firing bullets from the windows at the enemy with fierce intensity. The Austrian army formed a semicircle and slowly advanced toward the house, pouring heavy fire. The command of these over 60 Italian soldiers was given to two lieutenants and a tall, stern, and graying old captain with a full beard. Among the soldiers was a small drummer from Sardinia, who was over 14 years old but looked no older than 12. He was small in stature, with brown skin and bright, dark eyes. The captain was commanding the battle defense from the second floor, his determined face showing no trace of panic. The young drummer's face was pale, but he stood there with unyielding resolve. He jumped onto a small table, leaned against the wall, and stretched his neck to look out the window. Through the smoke of the battlefield, he saw Austrian soldiers in white uniforms slowly approaching the house. The house was built on a steep slope, and on the side of the slope, only a small window was high up in the attic, so the Austrians did not attack from this side. On the slope, there was no movement, and the battle was taking place in front and on both sides of the house. The enemy's fire was fierce. Hail-like bullets shattered the bricks, tiles, and ceilings inside the house, as well as the furniture and doors and windows. Bullets hit everything inside the house, and splinters of wood, rubble, porcelain, and glass flew everywhere in the air, whizzing wildly, the deafening sound almost splitting the head. The soldiers firing from the window were occasionally wounded and fell, being dragged to the side. Some soldiers, clutching their wounds, shook back and forth in the room. Over by the kitchen, a soldier had already been shot and killed, his forehead hit. The enemy's semicircular encirclement was gradually shrinking toward the house. At this moment, the calm captain began to look uneasy. He left the room with a corporal in large strides. Three minutes later, the corporal ran back to call the young drummer to follow him. They hurriedly climbed the wooden ladder to the empty attic on the roof. They saw the captain leaning against the window, writing something on a piece of paper with a pencil, and a bundle of rope for drawing water was placed on the floor beside his feet. The captain folded the note and stared intently at the young boy with his gray, cold eyes that made soldiers shiver, ordering sharply, "Drummer!" The young drummer saluted. The captain asked, "Do you have the courage?" The boy's eyes shone brightly. "Yes, Captain!" he replied. The captain pushed him to the window and said, "Look down: near the house in Villafranca, you can see the glint of bayonets—it's our troops, waiting for orders. Take this note, grab the rope, and jump out the window from here. Run down the slope, through the farmland, and find our people. Give the note to the first officer you meet. Alright, now take off your belt and backpack." The drummer took off his belt and backpack and put the note in his front pocket. The corporal threw the rope out the window and tightly held one end, while the young drummer grabbed the rope with both hands. The captain helped him climb out the window and crawl down the rope, his back to the outside. "You must know, the hope of the entire unit rests on your courage and legs," the captain said. "Trust me, Captain," the young drummer replied as he slid down, hanging in the air. "Keep your head down and bend your waist a bit when going downhill," the captain and the corporal urged, holding the rope tightly. "Don't worry." "God bless you." In no time, the young drummer had reached the ground. The corporal pulled back the rope and left. The captain rushed to the window, anxiously looking outside, seeing the young boy running down the slope. Just as the captain hoped the young drummer would escape unnoticed, suddenly, smoke and dust rose around him from all sides. The Austrians had spotted him and were firing at him from the top of the hill—the dust stirred up by the bullets. The young drummer ran swiftly but suddenly stumbled. "He's been hit!" the captain roared, clenching his fists. Before he could say anything more, he saw the young drummer stand up again. "Ah! He just tripped!" the captain sighed, murmuring to himself. The young drummer got back up and ran forward with all his might, but it was clear he was limping badly. The captain thought he must have twisted his ankle. The smoke and dust still rose around the young drummer, but they were far from him, and he was unharmed. The captain let out a cry of victory, but his eyes remained fixed on the young drummer's figure, now at a critical moment. If the young drummer could not quickly deliver the note to his own troops, and if the reinforcements did not arrive swiftly, then all the soldiers would either be killed by the Austrians or surrender and become prisoners. At that moment, they saw the young drummer run at full speed, then slow down, limping; then he started running again, but grew increasingly tired, stumbling and stopping frequently. The captain thought perhaps he had been grazed by a bullet. The captain watched the young drummer's every move intently, trembling with excitement, and kept encouraging him, as if the young drummer could hear him. His hopeful eyes constantly measured the distance between the young drummer and the gleaming weapons in the golden wheat fields under the sun. At this moment, the captain heard the whizzing of bullets and the sound of them piercing something downstairs, as well as shouts from officers and soldiers and the groans of wounded men. Furniture and walls collapsed one after another. The captain stared at the young drummer, who was running farther and farther away, shouting, "Faster! Keep going! Run! Forward! He's stopped. That's terrible! Ah! He's running again!" At this point, an officer ran breathlessly to report to the captain that the enemy was still attacking fiercely and was waving a white flag to surrender. "Don't listen to them!" the captain roared, his eyes never leaving the young drummer. By then, the young drummer had reached the plain, but rather than running, he seemed to be dragging his legs forward with great effort. The captain gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, shouting, "Run! Faster! You damn fools, run!" After a while, the captain cursed fiercely again, "Good for nothing! Why did he sit down!" In fact, at that moment, the captain saw the young drummer's head appear in the wheat field, then disappear suddenly—as if he had fallen, but he quickly reappeared, only to disappear again behind the grass. The captain could no longer see him. He hurried downstairs, bullets still raining down on the house like hail. Wounded soldiers lay everywhere in the rooms, some writhing in pain on the ground, their hands grasping at furniture, walls, and the blood-stained floor. Several corpses lay scattered in the middle of the door. The captain's right arm had been shot off. Smoke and dust enveloped everything. The captain shouted loudly, "Be brave! Hold the line. Reinforcements are coming. Just hold on a little longer." The Austrians gradually advanced closer, and through the smoke, their twisted faces could be seen on the slope, along with the barbaric roars of the enemy in the gunshots, demanding that the soldiers surrender or else they would kill them all. A few soldiers showed fear and retreated from the window, but the corporal drove them back again.