Patria

By Giorgia Alù
2024-07-31 02:15:03

Patria was a handwritten newsletter written in Italian and created by prisoners of war (POWs) held by the Allies and transferred to camps in Australia during WWII.

Between 1940 and 1947, over one million Italian soldiers were taken as prisoners of war and scattered across Europe, North America, South Africa, India, Asiatic Russia, Australia, Japan, and the Pacific. The authors of Patria, who were mainly soldiers captured by the Allies in Libya, were transported to Australia. Approximately 18,500 Italian POWs were held in various Australian camps, making them the largest ethnic group of POWs in the country.

Each issue of Patria lists Lieutenant or Captain Attilio Regolo as the “Direttore responsabile,” though it is unclear if this was a pseudonym.[1] The prisoners initiated the newsletter in a camp in Egypt in July 1941“da una gabbia di prigionieri di guerra nel deserto egiziano” (from a cage of war prisoners in the Egyptian desert) and continued their work during subsequent transfers via India  “dal Queen Mary in navigazione nell’Oceano Indiano” (from the Queen Mary sailing in the Indian Ocean) in August 1941 until they were interned at Hammond (South Australia), Murchison and Myrtleford (Victoria). Travelling with the prisoners, this newsletter, like others produced by POWs in other camps across the world, narrated the unique universe in captivity, sharing their concerns, beliefs, and reflections. It also serves as an important source that reveals how the prisoners viewed and interpreted Australia during the war.[2]

Patria exemplifies the diverse and creative ways prisoners coped with displacement, boredom, and loneliness in camps, in a foreign land. Like other POW newsletters, it used writing and cultural activities as forms of resistance and as means to preserve personal, familial, social, and ideological identities. Designed to be viewed, shared, and discussed within the camp, its primary objectives were to entertain, inform, and offer guidance to fellow POWs[3] (see Boscolo 2003).

It was written by prisoners who remained staunch supporters of Fascism, or at least an idealised version of its ideology. Each issue prominently featured a quote from Benito Mussolini at the top of the first page: “Solo Iddio può piegare la nostra volontà: gli uomini e le cose mai” [Only God can bend our will; men and things never can].

In most cases, the writing was improvised, predominantly by officers with good educational backgrounds. Traditionally drawn from higher social strata, they possessed high or moderate levels of literacy and, at times, had professional journalistic and artistic talents. Some of the names of contributors to Patria, for instance, included Major Mattia Napoli, an architect captured at Tobruk; Romeo Gesiotto, a medical surgeon captured at Bardia; and Donato Calvano, a student naturalist captured at Bardia.[3]

The newsletter provided an opportunity for recognition, lifting individuals from anonymity. For officers, contributing to a newspaper was a dignified way to pass time, combat boredom, and alleviate homesickness for their distant homeland and families. It allowed them to exercise freedom of speech despite captivity, entertain comrades, and share their professional expertise on a variety of matters, from art, religion and politics to science and health.

While military censors reviewed these publications, prisoner editors and writers nonetheless enjoyed some latitude in their editorial approach. The writing in Patria was, therefore, biased and driven by Fascist rhetoric. Its issues reported and commented on news gathered from the Australian and British press—including Radio Londra broadcasts—, or included information gleaned from clandestine radios about life in Italy, the progress of the war on various fronts, strong support for Axis military developments and, conversely, condescending comments on the military endeavours of the Allies. Writing also served as a means to commemorate fallen comrades. For instance, it included a section entitled “Per non dimenticare” (Let’s Not Forget) which honoured fallen Italian soldiers while condemning the Allies’ military actions against Italian troops.

Articles and commentaries were often accompanied by illustrations. Similar to other newsletters, Patria allocated space for humour, cartoons, and even comic strips, skillful caricatures of politicians, military leaders and royals. Prisoners used both simple and intricate techniques, such as drawing with coloured pencils or charcoal, as well as stylised illustrations created with watercolour. Drawings reproduced maps of other countries and sometimes referenced iconic images already used in the war press or other publications that circulated within the camp.

[“Proud Australian aspirations. General Sturdee said: from today, our strategy must become offensive...” Sketch by Boldrini and Funes. From Patria, No, 32, 14 March 1942, p.1.]

Yet in such a closely bounded environment, limited access to regular external news dictated that the content focused mostly on the internal domestic world and “camp life” (see Wilkinson 2012 and Ferioli 2023). Patria included coverage of internal sporting events, concerts and theatrical performances organised by the prisoners, church services and educational classes. Additionally, it featured small announcements that demonstrate the prisoners’ attempts to engage in other languages, such as searches for German dictionaries and French grammar books. It also included poems, comments on novels or translations into Italian of extracts from English literary texts.

Newsletters like Patria served internal purposes for the POW community and as souvenirs designed to record the prisoners’ memories of their captivity. Most importantly, they asserted their own form of authority by crafting a moral universe within their pages, aiming to reassure and influence the behaviour and beliefs of the POWs, and to foster a sense of community within the confines of the barbed wire (see Wilkinson 2012 and Adámez Castro 2018).

[From Patria, No.3, 23^rd August 1941, p.4. An extract on Australia from “Tom in England” which is, however, an edited and translated paragraph from Albert Frederick Calvert’s The Exploration of Australia (1895). In the bottom half of the page we find “Stornellata sentimentale” (Sentimental stornello), short humorous lyrics on Australian young women.]

How do you see Australia?

Starting with Issue 3, a section entitled “Sotto la Croce del Sud” (Under the Southern Cross) began to feature accounts of imprisonment in the Australian camps, and descriptions of Australia and drawings of maps of its territories. These visual and textual representations showcased the prisoners’ resourcefulness, their creative and intellectual engagement as they endeavoured to comprehend their unfamiliar surroundings. By mapping out the foreign land, they aimed to understand Australia’s geographical features and resources (natural and industrial) and perhaps gain a sense of control in their otherwise restricted situation.

For the column “Sotto la Croce del Sud,” in Issue 28, prisoners were invited to share their impressions of their captive land: “Come vedi l’Australia?” (How do you see Australia?).

With an undercurrent of irony, however, they employed metaphorical, philosophical, and scornful tones to critique what they perceived as trivial cultural practices, Australia’s underpopulation and underutilisation of resources, and its subservient position to England. Contributions in No.28 (14^th February 1942 p.6) included:

L’Australia: un grosso eucalipito delle sue foreste che leva al cielo i rami fortissimi e non può schiacciare il coniglio che lo rode alla base e lo fa seccare (Giovanni Battaglia).

[Australia: a large eucalyptus tree from its forests that lifts its branches strongly towards the sky but cannot crush the rabbit that gnaws at its base and makes it wither].

Per noi – civilissimi – è ben strano sostare – per poco – in una terra che riconosce in una cantante la sua massima gloria e la celebra in un dolce e in un biscotto (pesche, biscotti Melba) (Renzo Conti).

[For us – very civilised – it is quite strange to linger – for a short while – in a land that recognizes in a singer its greatest glory and celebrates her in a dessert and a biscuit (peaches, Melba biscuits)]

Solo dall’ipocrisia ideale degli inglesi poteva nascere la Teoria di Malthus; e solo dalla loro stupidità formale ne poteva essere fornita una tragica confutazione qual è il caso dell’Australia di oggi. La ricchezza sterile degli animali e della terra domina questo luogo sconfinato ove l’uomo solitario sta inutilmente facendosi coraggio, come la scimmia che strepita dinanzi alla bacchetta del padrone (Alberto Ferrari).

[Only from the idealistic hypocrisy of the English could Malthus’s Theory be born; and only from their formal stupidity could a tragic refutation be provided, such as the case of today’s Australia. This vast land, dominated by the barren wealth of its animals and soil, sees solitary individuals vainly striving to muster courage, like monkeys screeching before their master’s stick]

Australia, terra senza stagioni, sole che passa per il nord, Cielo senza Orsa Maggiore: non ci capisco niente. Città prive di carrozzelle, chiese prive di campanile (ho tanto desiderio di sentire una campana che suoni l’Ave Maria!); nessun borgo marinaro ove la Zi Teresa dalle candide tovaglie sui numerosi tavoli allineati e coperti richiami il forestiero affamato di vermicelli e vongole e pesce fritto. Terra senza rovine romane e nemmeno etrusche o greche. Donne ineleganti e inespressive, dai piedi enormi. Ho atteso a lungo le rondini, ma non sono venute. Ah, questa terra non fa proprio per me! E pensare che Australia fa rima con Italia (Mario Rondinella)

[Australia, a land without seasons, where the sun passes to the north, and the sky lacks the Great Bear: I find it all incomprehensible. Cities devoid of strollers, churches without bell towers (how I long to hear a bell toll the Ave Maria!); no seaside town where Aunt Teresa, with her pristine tablecloths spread over numerous tables, tempts the hungry traveller with vermicelli, clams, and fried fish. A land without Roman, Etruscan, or Greek ruins. Women here seem inelegant and inexpressive, with unusually large feet. I waited eagerly for the swallows, but they never came. Ah, this land just doesn’t suit me at all! It’s ironic that Australia rhymes with Italy].

Written shortly before the armistice signed on September 8, 1943 (and the subsequent German invasion of Northern and Central Italy), these comments reflected the prisoners’ resentment towards their captors and frustration with their situation. They also expressed a deep-seated attachment to traditions, Catholic values and an idealized image of Italy, as well as a belief in their country’s ability to triumph in the war.

Following the armistice in 1943, the Commonwealth government allowed private Australian citizens to employ selected Italian prisoners in farms or rural industries without guards, in order to counter the labour shortages in agriculture and on the railways. It also recommended that more Italian POWs were brought into the country (see Fitzgerald 1981; Bevege 1993; Moore and Fedorowich 2002).

Italian POWs thus had the opportunity to experience life beyond barbed wire and explore the landscape and meet local people. Many of them formed close relationships with Australian families. Several Italian ex-prisoners returned to Australia after the war, rekindling connections with the Australians who had hosted them during their time in captivity.

[1] From a preliminary search, the name Attilio Regolo was not found among the POWs in the National Archives of Australia electronic catalogue. The Attilio Regolo was a light cruiser of the Royal Italian Navy, part of the Capitani Romani class. It served during World War II. It was named after Marcus Atilius Regulus, a Roman politician and military leader, in the early First Punic War.

[2] The Australian War Memorial holds 102 issues of Patria (from 1941 to 1943), though the catalogue has spelling inaccuracies. See https://www.awm.gov.au/collection/C2890158

[3] See sources at the National Archives of Australia: NAA: MP1103/1, PWI48806; NAA: MP1103/1, PWI48755; NAA: MP1103/1, PWI47194.