by Umberto Mucci

A few words and some photos to express the sympathy for the US army while we celebrate the Memorial Day. Today, as Founder and President of We the Italians, I've paid my respect to the 7861 American soldiers buried in the Sicily Rome American Cemetery and Memorial in Nettuno, and to the 3.000 missing in action though remembered there.

These ceremonies are always moving: the Cemetery is a beautiful, quiet place where everybody can visit the Americans who paid the highest price to bring back freedom to our country. I spent the ceremony under the stars and stripes, protected by her shadow as those colours have always protected Italy from the second world war on. As the marching bands played the two national anthem, my heart was running fast because of that: a minute of silence for the fallen brought back peace to my soul, when the only sound was the wind over the two giant flags which shape my heart.

I'm glad that Italy celebrates the US and its Memorial Day. It is a small but significant way to be thankful for everything the American people have done for us, which is huge and, I'm sorry to say, too often forgotten.

When I was the age my daughter is now, my beloved father, who escaped from the fascism and was rescued by the Fifth Army, told me the story of how I was born because of the Americans. "You know son – he said – I escaped from jail and the fascist were looking for me. I was hurt, and hungry, and hopeless. I had no chance, they would capture me and kill me, like they did with other friends of mine. But I met the Fifth Army. The Americans saved me. They cured me. The fed me. They armed me. I didn't even know their language, but they had the Italian Americans with them, who were there because they could speak Italian and asked to fight with their new country for their original country. They taught me how to fight. They freed me, my town, my region, my country. And then – and his eyes would fill of tears, as mine do now – then they even gave me a medal".

Whenever somebody asks me why I am so American in my heart, I tell him/her this story: the story of why it have been possible for me to exist. I have that medal with me. My father's gone, and so are his fellow soldiers who stayed in touch with him after the war: names that I learnt from him, and became familiar. Sal, Gastaldo, and Tiso: three Italian Americans. Now they're all gone, but I keep contact with the widows of two of them: it is a way to be thankful. And so, today we celebrate the fallen, and even if they survived the war, I celebrate those 4 soldiers who fought together for my country: Sal, Gastaldo, Tiso and Rino (my father). Now they're all up somewhere smiling and sharing memories, and having the peace they deserved.

Thank you America. Thank you to the American soldiers who liberated Italy. I will never cease to be thankful, to remember, to honor you. We the Italians will never forget.