The Trebbia Valley links the rocky sea shores of Genova with the plains of the Po river at Piacenza in the Emilia region. The valley is famous from ancient times. Hannibal defeated the Romans at the Piacenza end of it. The oldest abbey in Europe was built in Bobbio in 650 ad by St. Columban. In the 9^th century, after Charlemagne, the valley became a feudal domain divided among noble families - some of their castles still stand. The towns are built close to the river. All along the steep mountain sides there are countless hamlets or ‘frazioni’. Administratively, they belong to the nearest little town in the valley. In Spring the hamlets look like white brush strokes on a canvas of green and blue. For its beautiful landscapes, views, castles, towns, art and traditions, the Val Trebbia embodies the soul of the Apennine. Perhaps it is here that the English poet Browning was inspired to write:

"What I love best, in all the world,
Is a castle precipice encurled,
In a gush of the wind grieved Apennine."

On the frosty and windy afternoon of December 10^th , 1945 Andrea Isola, a little boy of 9, was pulling his sled up a snowy and steep two-mile trail from the town of Rovegno to the hamlet of Spescia, where he lived with his grandparents. The sled carried his school satchel and a few groceries. Andrea’s father was a soldier in the Italian army who never returned from the disastrous campaign on the Russian front in 1942. His grandparents’ small farm provided some basic food, but war and the attendant chaos had destroyed their savings. Andrea’s mother had been forced to go and work at an office in the city to earn enough money to buy whatever essentials could not be gathered from the farm.

It was the last school day before Christmas but the mood in class had not been joyful. To Rovegno as everywhere else in Italy, war had brought poverty, death and destruction. Besides, Andrea was not feeling well. He barely made it up to Spescia and went straight away to bed shivering with an obvious fever. His grandparents gave him the time-honored remedy for bad colds and fevers, hot brandy with honey and, lacking lemon, blackberry juice. But this time, the remedy had no effect and, as the night progressed, Andrea’s conditions worsened. Grandpa Isola had a thermometer - by 5 am Andrea’s temperature was 41C and he lost consciousness. "Keep his forehead cool with snow and ice", said Isola Senior to his wife, "I will go down to Rovegno to get the district doctor (medico condotto)".

On arrival at the doctor’s, Grandpa Isola carefully described the symptoms. The doctor’s contracted brow showed how serious he thought Andrea’s condition was.

"I am afraid I know what it is and I must tell you. I think Andrea has viral pneumonia - I have seen several cases this season already. I don’t know why but it is very bad this year and the usual fever reducing medicines which I still have in these wretched times, are of no avail."

"Can anything be done?" - asked Grandpa Isola?

"I really don’t know but I talked yesterday with my good friend, the pharmacist in Torriglia, Dr. Brugnino. Thank God we have again one phone working. He said there is a new drug which does almost miracles against viral fevers. It was developed by the Allies and in the last month it has been prepared experimentally for the first time at the hospital in Genova. Dr. Brugnino has obtained some samples and asked me if I want to try the medicine with a serious case. The medicine is called ‘penicillina’."

"I will go and get it", said Isola Senior immediately.

"How are you going to travel the 15 miles to Torriglia and back? - do you have a horse?"

"My horse has long been sold", replied Isola, "I will walk"

"You cannot do that, said the doctor - he was almost saying ‘at your age’ but then he checked himself and said instead "in this weather, with more snow on the way, the road interrupted and the bridge blown up - you will have to ford the Trebbia on foot."

"I spent two winters in the trenches during World War I" - said Isola - "this is nothing in comparison"

"There is no time to lose then - said the doctor - I will call Dr. Brugnino and alert him that you are coming. He will prepare the penicillina - be very careful, it is still only available in unsealed vials, he tells me - make sure the vials do not freeze. I will go to Spescia after visiting some patients in the hamlet of Moglia along the way. I will examine Andrea, reassure your wife and wait for you to return"

Off went Grandpa Isola towards Torriglia, the hope to save Andrea was his energy, his food, his shield against the cold and the blinding snow. Dr. Brugnino had prepared the medicine and even a change of clothes for Isola Senior so that he could brave the long march back.

Eighteen hours and thirty-four miles later, Grandpa Isola returned to Spescia late in the evening. Andrea had now been unconscious for 18 hours. The doctor had a worried look - the diagnosis confirmed that Andrea had contracted viral pneumonia. A syringe was ready to be loaded with the new medicine.

"Look carefully at what I do - said the doctor to Andrea’s grandparents - I will make an injection and you must repeat it every 6 hours until all these 8 vials are finished. If the medicine works I am told you should see the first results in a few hours, but it is crucial that you deliver all the medicine you have here. I would not normally ask you to do the injections, but the situation is critical and these, as we all know, are desperate times calling for desperate actions. It’s late, I will go back to town, my work has not finished but I will be back tomorrow evening.".

The doctor gave them a lightning-quick course in making injections and left.

This was at 9 pm of December 11^th. Grandpa Isola was deadly tired but he still could not sleep. He sat in front of the fireplace listening to Andrea’s troubled breathing, ready to notice the slightest change. At about 2 pm Andrea gave out a long breathing sigh and turned in his sleep. Both Grandparents leaned over him. Very, very slowly, the breathing seemed to a tad more quiet.. By the time of the second injection, at 3 am the breathing improvement was already noticeable.

"I will give the injection" - said Grandpa Isola.

"Yes, said Grandma and then you must rest - it is a miracle that you are not sick already after what you did yesterday".

Isola Sr. slept though the day and the evening. He woke up when the doctor arrived for his promised second visit.

Meanwhile Andrea had also awoken and though visibly very weak he had regained consciousness. He asked feebly for something to drink and, in clear evidence of a dramatic improvement, asked his grandparents if they could bring him his cat..

"It works!! It works!! It is really a miraculous drug!!" cried the doctor on visiting Andrea. "I must call Dr. Brugnino immediately as I get back to Rovegno.".

Then the doctor gave accurate instructions for Andrea’s recovery and left humming his favorite aria from the Barber of Seville.

By December 19^th Andrea was back on his feet, still kept inside, sheltered from the bitter cold. On December 23^rd Andrea’s mother, who had been unaware of her son’s danger, returned from town bringing whatever she could to make Christmas joyful. That evening Andrea went to the stable where he found his cat and his pet lamb sleeping just below the window. The weather outside had cleared and a bright star shone through the window panes. The star reminded him of the tale he read at school just before the holiday. In the tale, Geppetto asks the star to bring life to his puppet Pinocchio. Tears welled in Andrea’s eyes. He could not possibly ask the star to bring his dad back - life, as Andrea had come to know already, was very different from tales.

December 24^th was the first day when it had been decided that Andrea could go outside again. Valley and mountains were totally blanketed with snow - nothing is more appealing than snow as a source of entertainment when you are a child in good health. Andrea’s mother and grandmother were ensuring that he was well padded against the rigors of the winter. Just then a sound of jingling bells came up from the valley and it grew gradually nearer and louder. Andrea hastened to go out leaving the two ladies much dismayed at not having completed the task of properly dressing him.

The jingling bells were attached to the neck of a beautiful horse who had just dragged a sled to the edge of the hamlet. Out of the sled jumped out Andrea’s father, Giovanni.

To relate how Giovanni Isola managed to escape from a Russian prison, trek through war-ravaged Europe, earning his way as he went and finally reaching the Val Trebbia requires another tale.

Suffice to say that when Giovanni reached Bobbio the news that a veteran from the Russian front had arrived in town reached Count Malaspina whose son was an officer in the Italian Army. On listening to Giovanni’s account of his war, prison, escape, travel and desire to make it home for Christmas if he could, the Count had given him horse, sled and provisions..

The reader can imagine the happiness of the Isola family. On the evening of Christmas day, after the feasting was over, Grandpa Isola went out of the house and walked to the edge of the cliff overlooking the valley . The starry sky seemed to have lowered on the slopes to make the snow sparkle even more brightly. Never the Val Trebbia had seemed so beautiful to him. He found himself crying and asked himself why.

"I know why" - he thought - "After all is said and done, happiness is when two pains are missing, the pains of the body and the pains of the soul. But they miss together so seldom that when they do we end up crying in disbelief".

Satisfied with this remarkably philosophical explanation, Grandpa Isola went back inside. The day had been so exciting that everyone was now asleep.

Jimmie Moglia

PS. Today the hamlet of Spescia is almost abandoned. The last inhabitant is Adriano Moglia - no relative of mine - he lives there alone. In the hamlet of Moglia, half way up from Rovegno, live six people, an aged couple called Isola and four brothers called Guarnieri. In the 1800 the Spescia and Moglia hamlets had together over 500 inhabitants. The medieval Malaspina castle is a feature of Bobbio along with St. Columban’s Abbey and Cathedral. Torriglia is a mid-mountain country town well known for its delicious pastries. I drove there in the last Sunday of October 98 during their annual "Roasted Chestnut Festival".

-Shakespeare's Views on the News-

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