TDN Weekend December 2016 Issue 9
Issue link: https://www.e-digitaleditions.com/i/1021151
This summer, I arrived at the estate at the end of June as I do every few years to say thank you to her daughters and granddaughters, who now manage the massive property in Tuscany's Val d'Orcia, the most beautiful section of the most beautiful region of the world, as a vacation destination. I sit outside and look at the vistas which stretch for miles, down one side of the valley and up the other, where Monte Amiata, an ancient volcano, dominates the landscape. And if I let my imagination wander just a little, I can see my father coming around the base of the mountain as he did 19 days after the bombing that killed so many of his fellow POWs, seeking shelter wherever he could find it. Seventy-five years ago this July, my father, Richard Morris, and his best friend, John Tourtilotte, invaded Sicily and then the Italian mainland with the U.S. Army, fought on the front lines for six months, were captured and imprisoned, and escaped German custody when the American Air Force blew up their POW train as Origo describes above, not realizing there were Allied prisoners on board. The German soldiers driving the train stopped it while it was strung out across the bridge and fled, leaving 800-1,000 prisoners locked in the cars as wave after wave of planes dropped over 100,000 pounds of explosives on it, directly hitting 10 cars, blowing three off the bridge, and leaving the others hanging off the rails. While over half of those on the train were killed, and most of the survivors recap- tured, John and my father were able to jump into the river below out of a hole blown in the side of their car by the third wave of bombers. They escaped together, and survived in hiding for six months behind enemy lines. They were helped by a series of Italian families, none more so than the Origos. "Wonderful! Wonderful!" exclaims Origo's granddaughter, Katia Lysy, whom I am meeting for the first time as I tell her the story. Lysy, a publisher and translator by trade, now runs the La Foce half of the estate with her mother, Iris's daughter, Benedetta. I point to the entry on the day my father arrived at La Foce, February 16, 1944,