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As soon as it is light nearly all the civilians leave. Only three families, some old people, some children abandoned by their parents, some seriously wounded, and about 4 or 5 able bodied men remain with us.
I go to inspect the upper story of the Torretta; there is a lot more fallen masonry. Fra Pietro finds that the water tap in the kitchen is intact, he brings us water. We can't go to the bathroom as the door is completely blocked up. We have nothing to celebrate Mass with. We begin to say our Divine Office with one breviary between us. We stand, the Abbot in the middle, dom Agostino and I on either side of him. It is cold and windy. Soon though, we have to find a more secure area, because the artillery fire is violent. We continue our Office at the end of a wide staircase, beneath the fresco of Moses with Ur and Aaron. We recite all the day's Office, and then with some civilians and wounded, we huddle together near the altar of St Benedict.
The artillery fire gets worse. Shells landing all around us. It is hell. The most cruel of generals would not have attacked the strongest of fortresses with such ferocity as the Anglo-Americans have done in the last couple of days against such a holy place!
For fear of being crushed by falling masonry which weighs heavily on the roof, we leave the chapel and regroup ourselves around the small altar of St Benedict.
We all fear another spate of bombings; we will die crushed against the altar. Because of the artillery fire we can't go to inspect the disaster resulting from yesterday's aerial bombings.
In front of St Benedict's altar, an old man is dying. Dom Agostino gives him absolution. We don't have any Holy Oils, nor the Blessed Sacrament. He dies shortly afterwards. A little further on there are two boys and a girl on a mattress. Their mother died during the bombings; their father has cruelly abandoned them. They suffer terribly: the girl, 3 or 4 years old, is dying. The Abbot helps them and gives them some food. It breaks one’s heart.
We take a little food and wine, giving some to the others too. We are really united in life and death. We are frightened when, in the afternoon, we hear aeroplanes, machine gun fire in the surrounding areas, and bombs landing close by. We wait anxiously for the officer to return, not so much for us, but for the wounded and ill. To be prepared for any circumstance, I ask the able bodied men to open a passage at the main door; after some hours work they are able to clear the debris, rubble and fallen masonry, and open a small passage.
It is night. The darkness increases our sadness. We wait for the German officer, hoping that he will come at the same time like last night. We wait in vain. We realise that we can't expect anything from man.
Thursday 17th February.
I have not been able to sleep at all during the night. I suffer. I pray
and ask the Lord to guide me as to what to do, and I prepare myself
also, if Our Lord is to call me to Himself. If we stay here, we will
certainly be buried under the debris; how will we be able to carry on
with so many people here? If we leave, will we be able to make it to
Roccasecca with all the wounded and our eighty year old Abbot?
Fr Abbot realises that I am in a quandary, and he tells me that I am free to go: he will remain here to assist and console the sick and wounded, his spiritual children who have been so harshly treated. I tell him that I will never abandon him, reminding him of the words of our Holy Rule: humili et sincera caritate diligant abbatem suum; - they will love their Abbot with sincere and humble charity.(Rule 72,10).
It is dawn, the best moment to confront the line of fire. Experience proves that it's relatively calm early in the morning. I go to the chapels on the upper floor of the "torretta". The roof of the chapel dedicated to the Crucifix has collapsed, and debris and marble weigh heavily on the ceiling of the lower chapels where we are. I climb the staircase that leads to the Seminary. A bomb has exploded near the door of the "Alunnato" - the pavement has collapsed. I am unable to get near the corridor of the Abbot's rooms, (...). I see light in the distance and I come to the conclusion that the corridor of the monks' quarters has been destroyed. I return to tell the Abbot. I take him so he can see for himself. There is nowhere in the monastery where we can stay. As to where we have been staying for the moment - we have a choice: be buried alive or perish under the debris. I make the following suggestion to the Abbot: take the wounded and sick with us and, invoking God's name make our way towards the line of fire. We call dom Agostino, and the decision is made. We tell the others and in a few minutes all are ready, to waste time now could be fatal for us on the road, especially if artillery fire is aimed against the monastery and the mountain.
Orazio's wife is ready on a makeshift litter, likewise the lady without feet is placed on a litter too.
The Abbot gives us all Absolution. He takes a large wooden crucifix from the Chapel of the Pieta (it originally was in the Bishop’s room) and at about 7.30 leaves through the passage in the main door, followed by the others in single file. I approach the three children lying on the staircase. The little girl is "in extremis", with a few minutes of life left in her. I have to leave her. Next to her is a small boy. He is dying too. I lift him up to take him with us - but he cries in pain and I notice that he has no legs. He will not make it either, and will certainly die on the road; I have to leave him. I take the other child who is in a serious condition but might survive. As I pick him up I notice that his legs are paralyzed. I give him to fra Pietro who places him on his back. To be able to take the wounded with us we leave everything behind - little suitcases with some personal effects that we had prepared on the evening of the 14th. In the Abbot's small case there were some valuables, but I don't even think about them.
As I help the lady without feet, the Abbot calls for me. He is stuck
between fallen trees and bombed out roads, and can't manage by himself.
I catch up with him, take the crucifix from him and support him on one
side. Caterina Pittiglio, the wife of our porter helps him on the other
side. About 40 people have left the Monastery. The sick and the children
manage as best they can.
We leave St Benedict's house, destroyed by the impiety of men. Our Patriarch's tomb is kept safe by the fallen debris produced by these men, and is thus protected from their impiety.
We all pray the Rosary. It is a sad cortege as we slowly pass by the ruins of St Joseph and St Agatha. We arrive at the dirt road of Montecassino, turning right on to the dirt road "Anzino", below St Agatha.
The Anzino road is still in a good condition. Just before the crossroads, near the "Hermit's Grotto" we come across an artillery observation post. With trepidation we continue along the dirt road leading to St Rachisio, which has been badly hit by artillery fire these last few days. A few yards further along, and we come upon three (German) soldiers. They are surprised and perhaps moved to see this strange cortege, preceded by the Cross of Christ, walking along the line of fire. Speaking German I explain that we are under the Führer's protection, that we have voluntarily abandoned the Monastery, and that we ask for help to get us to safety. One of them begins hiding the artillery weapons with branches, but they don't speak a word. We continue. The road is a disaster; - above us an Allied reconnaissance aeroplane circles around. We are in full view and our different coloured clothing contrasts against the mountain. Have we been recognised?
Just before we arrive at St. Rachisio, a bomb explodes ahead of us on the side of the road. We don't stop, it would be futile anyway. So we continue slowly, with the sign of the Cross: Ecce lignum crucis, fugite partes adversae. Behold the wood of the Cross, may the evil ones disperse. We tell the children not to cry, but to pray.
Someone is shouting from above; it's dom Agostino telling us that because the road further down is very badly damaged (tutta sconvolta), it's impossible to carry the woman without feet. The able bodied men don't want to carry her. I tell them to continue for a bit anyway and I will come to see what can be done, thus hoping that they will catch up with us. As it is I can't leave the Abbot's side, and I am sure that the men will continue anyway as there is no-one else to help them. (Unfortunately the opposite happened: these men, finding it impossible to continue, left the woman in the middle of the road near where we had encountered the soldiers. Had I known I would have gone to get her).
