Piero has lived all his life in the mountains. Even when he was old he had to adapt to the life of the plains, as soon as the thaw allowed it, he was accompanied up there on his Grappa.
I met Piero a bit by chance, I was looking for stories of men and the mountains and his name came back often, so one day I took courage and ventured into his garden. Piero was sitting like every day in his old chair watching the road that leads to the Campeja.
“Morning Piero!”
No answer. I repeat the greeting, convinced that I have not been heard but nothing. Then a nod and two words:
“Sit here bocia”
Piero pointed to an old stuffed chair right in front of him. That was the chair of the guests, friends and acquaintances passed by to greet him so often that finding it "cold" was a very rare occasion.
I sit down and as soon as I touch the chair it seems that this is the switch to turn on Piero who immediately begins to chat, not before having made a dutiful and fundamental premise:
"Bocia, I hope you have a good memory because I do not repeat!"
IThus began his story that starts from 1925.
"I remember my father and mother at the window. That winter had been snowier than usual and it was not often that we saw people up there with us, with cars then!
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At one point I see my father rushing to the door and going out. I was five years old at the time, but I remember well the gust of icy wind when Dad opened the door wide and found himself in front of General Giardino himself:
"good morning good man, I kindly ask you for a shelter for me and for these men, we have to discuss extremely important things"
My father didn't even have the breath to answer so much was the wonder. Giardino then was a legendary figure, for a poor mountaineer, suddenly finding him in front of him was at least disconcerting.
The only thing he managed to do was to move away and with a bow let the small group pass towards the good dining room. Recovering, he ordered my mother to put the soup on the fire to refresh the guests, put on the tabarro and went out to the cellar to take what little wine she had aside to offer it to her important guests.
The general was an extremely cordial person, I later learned that with him there were General Ettore Viola, the rector of Pavia Plinio Fraccaro, the podestà of Bassano and several other officers and officials.
I was small and curious and I slipped under the large peccio table. I wanted to listen to the speeches of the greats.
It was a long and animated discussion, the theme was the shrine of Grappa. There were those who had no doubt: it had to be done absolutely on the top, others instead insisted on the fact that the top was unreachable for too many months because of the snowfall and that therefore, the most suitable place was precisely this; Busa de Campeja.
The discussion came alive more and more without anyone coming to terms with it, then suddenly a handsome tall and strong man hit his fist on the table so hard that he silenced everyone:
"Gentlemen, that up there is the summit that we have defended and it is up there that our comrades would like to rest forever. It will be our duty to make the summit sacred and honor to the memory"
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After a few seconds of silence, Giardino resumed the floor and confirmed:
"and so be it, to health"
Everyone raised their glasses to the sky, he was determined. The shrine would be built on top of Grappa.
That gentleman was Ettore Viole, the king considered him the most beautiful gold medal of the Great War, but this will be the next story. He died in Rome in 1986 and was buried on top of Grappa. The only one who did not die in the war to have had this honor after General Giardino.