The sun was setting. I was on the walkway of track number 2, at the train station in Modena. A few words were exchanged with my parents, as we waited for the train. Near us, my friend Paolo chatted with his own folks.
Our hair was cut very short, and for a casual observer we were soldiers returning to the barracks. Instead, we were cadets of the 130° Course for Fixed Term Officers at the Transportation and Supplies School in the military city of Cecchingnola, Rome, but now temporarily in Piacenza, at the Lusignani base, the Center for Armament Specialist Training, for a detailed artillery course.
The short distance between Piacenza and Modena allowed those of us from Modena to flee from the barracks late in the afternoon, about 6 pm, with time to reach our families, then re-enter by the required 10 pm. It was an obstacle course, but we were happy to do it, and do it often, just to pass an hour with our families.
It was the end of May, 1988, and we were 19 years old. The course in Rome lasted five months and was terribly difficult. We did our best, though, and were already at the end of the third month. Lieutenants Salvatore Spinosa and Guido Manfron accompanied us to Piacenza. Spinosa was precise, correct and very kind. Instead, Manfron, was extremely severe, excessively picky, and constantly angry.
Discipline, punctuality, precision, cleanliness. These were the fundamental principles of our school. Always at the maximum, never holding back. The obsessive application of these concepts conditioned all our actions, from wake-up at 6:30 am to silence at 11:30 pm.
Before leaving for Piacenza, our little detachment heard... again... the complete list of rules about respecting the hours, and how to act as guests of another base. To be sure that we understood our responsibility, the officer added that any lack of observance of these rules would be severely punished. And, that there would be particular attention paid to hours, meaning that any late arrival in the evening would mean expulsion from the Course.
So, with these premises, there we were... exchanging the last quick words with our parents, on the walkway next to track number 2 in the Modena station.
The loudspeakers mumbled something and an instant later a long train stopped in front of us.
A goodbye to our parents, and we opened the door to the train car, then found our seats, waiting for the departure. Both of us were carrying small bags with a few changes of clothes.
There was just a moment to exchange a couple of words when the train, with a lurch, began to move. I noticed that the departure of the train wasn't preceded by the whistle of the conductor, but didn't think it was important.
A few minutes later a controller entered the car. There were two other people in addition to Paolo and I: an elegant gentleman about 40 who was reading a book, and another younger man who was looking out the window and observing the late sunset.
We all prepared to show our tickets. But, when the controller came to Paolo and I his face assumed a strange expression. Paolo and I looked at each other quizzically, our tickets were valid.
"These tickets are for Piacenza" said the controller.
"Yes, we're going to Piacenza" I replied.
"But this train doesn't stop at Piacenza!" he exclaimed.
An instant of silent panic followed.
"... but why doesn't it stop at Piacenza?" asked Paolo.
"Because this is the Intercity Rome-Milan. The stops are Florence, Bologna and Milan, without intermediate stops." explained the controller.
"But, we got on in Modena. The train stopped in Modena!" we protested incredulously.
"The stop in Modena was a technical halt, not provided for in the schedule" explained the controller.
"But it stopped on track 2 at the same time as the train for Piacenza. For us, this was our train!" said Paolo, transmitting anxiety. "If we go all the way to Milan, we'll never have time to return to Piacenza by 10 pm. We'll be expelled from our Course for officer cadets!"
"I am sorry... I have to write a report and ask you to pay for the ticket until Milan" said the controller... and I ask you to show me your identity documents, just in case you decide to pull the emergency brake."
We had no words left... we were lost...
The elegant gentleman put down his book, and pulled a train schedule from his bag, rapidly searching the pages. Meanwhile, the other man took his eyes from the window, to follow the events... definitely more interesting than the window.
"We arrive in Milan at 10:45. Then, there's a train at 11 from Milan to Piacenza, which arrives at 11:50" read the elegant man.
"Thank you for the research, but when we get to Milan we'll have already lost the Course" I replied. "Even if we take a taxi we'll arrive late... we must be idiots!"
Outside, lights began to blink in the windows. They were the lights of a station, Reggio Emilia. The signs, the walls and the columns of the station. They flew by rapidly and in a few seconds we were again moving through the darkness of the Emilia countryside.
We had to invent something, and quickly. We couldn't throw away three months of sacrifices in such a way.
I gave a long desperate glance at the red handle of the emergency brake. I understood that if I stopped the train, I'd pay a high price, and in any case would be expelled from the Course.
The man next to the window spoke, "But isn't it possible to ask the machinist to make a brief stop in Piacenza?"
"I doubt it" I conceded with a tight smile. "We are on a train and not a bus with a button for requesting stops."
An unreal silence reigned. The train raced ahead. Alternatives did not seem to exist to the fact that we'd be in Milan and could return to Piacenza only abundantly outside our maximum time limits.
These were different times. Today, we probably would have called one of our colleagues with a mobile phone, and told him about our being late. We would have asked him to find a way to cover up our late arrival. But, none of that was possible. Cell phones were far in the future.
More lights, another station, Parma. Once more cement and posters flashed past the window, as if the train was accelerating. Then again we found ourselves in the darkness of open spaces.
What a horrible nightmare! There was no escape and above all there was no time to think. By now it was 9:20, and soon we'd be past Piacenza... the point of no return!
The elegant gentleman energetically closed his train schedule, and violently smashed it against the seat, attracting our attention. "I have traveled this route for years" he said, "so I know that before the Piacenza station there is a long right curve where the train is obliged to slow down. There is something you might do..."
At first I didn't understand where he was going with his thought. We could hardly get off a train in movement... however, the rest of his idea wasn't necessary.... a small new flame of hope had been lit.
"But how can we do it?" protested Paolo. "The train will slow down, but it won't stop. We'll be torn apart!"
"Paolo" I replied "we have no choice. If we go to Milan, bye bye Course. If we pull the emergency brake, we'll be reported, and will lose the Course anyway. When the train goes slower, that will be our last occasion. We have to try. Lets decide only at the last second. But, for now, let's get prepared. We don't have much time."
So, as though we were part of a well drilled team, we all stood and passed through the car, to the closest door. In that narrow, noisy and unstable space, a boy with sculptured biceps was smoking a cigarette. He stood aside to let us pass, but was surprised to see us stop and begin pulling at the closed door in front of him.
There was an ominous vibration and the loss of stability in our legs announced that the train was beginning to brake. We all held onto metal tubes, hoping not to fall.
The yellow handle of the door was refusing to unblock and we saw the notice "It is forbidden to open the door until the train is completely stopped" written is four languages.
The boy who was smoking noticed the urgency of our movements and, wordlessly, took the yellow handle and began to pull as hard as he could.
There was a metallic sound and finally the door began to open. A small set of footboards began to lower from the car and, at the same time, a turbine of air entered the small area, raising dust everywhere. The din of the metallic wheels rotating on the tracks and the screeching of the brakes were deafening. The five of us were struggling to open the door, designed so well to remain closed while the train was in motion. The train began to incline slightly to the opposite side from the opening door. This was the beginning of the curve preceding the station of Piacenza. There was no more time to lose!
"Paolo, I am getting off" I hollered above the noise. And, making space among the people who were fighting to open the door, I held my bag of clothes under my left arm, with my hand tight on the cold handle next to the door.
I hesitated a second while my eyes adjusted to the darkness. Outside, I saw a clear sky, stars, and the countryside, with roads in the distance. I turned towards the head of the train and found myself facing into the wind. My eyes, struck by the moving air, filled with tears. I did what was possible to fix my vision without using my hands.
The wheels of the train rotated at high velocity, and below them was the gravel typical of train tracks. At regular distances apart, markers passed quickly, along with the metal poles for the electric structures feeding power to the tracks.
Figuring out the right moment to jump without hitting one of the many obstacles passing by in the dark cold air was so difficult.
The brakes continued to work and the train began to slow, but the velocity was still high, and I could not say how long the slowing would continue. Finally, I decided that I'd jump at the end of the slowdown, or certainly at the end of the long curve.
Suddenly, the screeching stopped. The brakes were no longer in function. The train was moving freely and we had the immediate sensation that a new acceleration was beginning.
I could wait no longer. Looking above me towards the right, at the inside of the car I shouted "Thanks to you all!"
I tossed the bag of clothes to the ground, and it instantly disappeared from my sight. Then, calculating the rhythm of the passing poles I leapt into the empty space between two of them.
The memory of what happened next still gives me chills. Instinctively, I tried to place my feet on the gravel and run. But the falling momentum was too fast. I began to roll around next to the train. I distinctly recall the image of iron wheels racing to my right like mad cleavers, as I rolled desperately trying not to end up under them.
Then, the hill which was next to the tracks came to my aid, pushing me towards the outside of the curve. Meter after meter, I began to feel grass and stones under me. Was anything broken? No, it didn't seem so.
"Paolo... Hurry!" I screamed. His bag of clothes was launched into the emptiness, and an instant later he too jumped. I couldn't see him, because the train was still curving and my vision was limited to a couple of cars ahead.
For a couple of seconds I tried to regain my senses. Confused, I began searching for my bag of clothes. Just as I found it, the last train car flashed by, dragging noise and lights behind it. I stood in the darkness, grasping my bag, and with ringing ears, ignoring the fate of... my friend!
Finally, I shouted, and ran... "Paolo! Paolo!"
A brief distance away he hollered an answered "Alfonso... here. I'm ok.. and you?"
"We did it! We did it! I'm ok too!" I replied, running towards him.
"We did it!" was his reply.
Looking around a few moments later, we found ourselves next the tracks, in the darkness before the Piacenza station. A cement fence indicated the area reserved for train traffic. Beyond the fence, there was a large cement construction, a warehouse which seemed to be empty, with an ample courtyard, also deserted.
In the silence of the evening it was possible to hear the passing of cars along a road which evidently ran behind that anonymous building.
We couldn't walk along the train tracks. It was too dangerous and too hard to justify to somebody who might notice us at the station. Seeing the two of us arrive on foot, instead of in a train, would certainly have created questions.
So, we decided to jump the fence in order to reach the road, and then to search for transportation to take us to our destination. It was 9:30 pm.
With our hearts in our throats for what we had just done, Paolo and I cross the large quiet space, to the end of the building. Everything seemed calm and our heartbeats slowly returned to normal. We did not speak. Both of us were still in shock about the events. We thought about the risks we had taken.
We were not considering what we might encounter when we turned the corner of the warehouse and... beams of light struck us! They were the headlights of a car pointing in our direction. It was impossible to see clearly, because of the brightness of the bothersome lights. We continued to walk in silence, side by side, without obvious hesitation, faking security.
Getting closer to the car we noticed a closed bar with red and white stripes and, next to it, a rather heavy man who moved with a swaying motion. Looking up on the wall of the building we read "Customs" and our hearts began to thump again. "By a miracle we managed not to get killed and now we're going to be arrested!" I thought.
In a low voice, I whispered "Don't stop, Paolo. Let's just leave here as though it was a normal event."
Coming closer to the car, we saw that it was of the night security service. The guard, the heavy man, was concentrated on controlling the entryway of the Customs area. He saw us arrive and stopped, turning his head to follow our passage. As though we were following a written script, we arrived near him and said politely "Good Evening". With a mix of surprise and boredom, he replied "Good Evening."
A few steps more and we'd be outside, on the sidewalk. Done!
We walked... lengthened our stride... gradually... first only slightly then more... until we finally ran... running and laughing. Liberation! We ran without thinking too much of our direction and at the intersections we turned haphazardly... until we stumbled on a bus stop. There we stopped to gather our breath, shocked to be alive and... free. We had escaped once more!
It was 9:45 pm. We were on time, in fact there were 5 minutes to wait before the first bus. Paolo stuck a cigarette in his mouth, but hesitated before lighting it. He offered me the pack. Differently from him, I had never smoked, but decided that the moment deserved an exception. With trembling fingers I smoked the only cigarette of my life.
With all these years of distance, I re-live this adventure from time to time. Closing my eyes, I find myself on the footboards of that train, alone and aware that I was about to take a potentially fatal risk, but determined not to back down. Again I can feel the cold of metal on my fingers, tightly gripping the handle of that door, and the vibrations of the train under my shoes. I feel the air which whips my face in the deafening noise of the brakes which struggle to control that wild ride.
Until the moment... in an instant which seems suspended forever in the air... I make the leap! And, in an unreal silence I find myself, again, with open arms, flying between death and life.
