Lillo the Little Shepherd Boy

By Calogero Charles Campo

It is 1943 in Sicily. The pension from America has stopped, the countryside is not producing food, and winter will soon be upon the Sicilians. Salvatore Campo is a desperate man. With five children and a wife to support, he resorts to stealing graina crime that eventually lands him in jail. As sorrow and despair falls on Salvatores family, his wife prays for a miracle. As time goes on, she begins to realize that her only hope for overcoming starvation lies within her eight-year-old son, Lillo.

Three years later as little Lillo is sent away to work on a country farm to help his family, his only possessions are an extra shirt and pair of pants. With a fear bigger than himself, Lillo embarks on an unforgettable coming-of-age journey that opens his eyes to the world around him and forces him to face all the challenges that accompany his new destiny as a sheepherder. From sleeping on the cold floor to assuming responsibility for over seventy sheep, little Lillo grows up quickly while learning how to travel alone, live without his family, and most importantly, become a man.

In this autobiographical novel, a Sicilian boy must rely on his inner-strength and perseverance as he helps his family survive starvation after World War II and walks into a new future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Abbott Press
• Release date: Sep 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9781458217271

Calogero Charles Campo

Charles Calogero Campo was born in Sicily, Italy, and at age seventeen, left Italy to work in Belgium to help support his family. In 1960, he made his way to America where he owned a successful pizzeria in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, for over thirty years. This is his third book.

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Copyright © 2014 Calogero Charles Campo.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-4582-1726-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4582-1727-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014913662

Abbott Press rev. date: 09/05/2014

Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1 The Hardest Part

Chapter 2 The Happening

Chapter 3 We Arrived

Chapter 4 Thank God He Came Back

Chapter 5 My Own Story

Chapter 6 The Big Change

Chapter 7 They Panic

Chapter 8 The Conflict

Chapter 9 Return To Me

Chapter 10 Usa Here I Come

Chapter 11 Listen To This My Friend

Chapter 12 The Trial

Closing Chapter

Home Sweet Home

INTRODUCTION

TO THE READER…

It gives me great pleasure to share these thoughts with you; I will be more than pleased if you share it with someone else, especially those of a younger age. This book will give you and yours, hours of pleasurable and rewarding reading. It will take you into other countries. It will reveal thoughts of some twisted and deranged minds; from there you will experience the love and faith of dear ones. It also explains how a young one can cope with harsh realities such as, what love means; and how strong it can be; and the will of obedience. You know my friend, that boy you will read about, is me, and truly me. You will be with this boy at times of sensibility and at times of recklessness, but he’ll always hold one thought in mind…never to hurt anyone’s feelings. To love; to obey elders; and to achieve his goal, this is Lillo’s motto.

The scenery that you will visualize in your mind may seem to be part of reality, but you have to get back to your thoughts, because what you’re seeing is through the eyes of a young boy, growing to be a man.

Further in this book you might ask yourself, how can a boy at that age, go through, and live a life like that? Well, my friend, when hunger strikes within a person, a body, young or old, can take a lot. Woo-hoo! Hold it! I’m spoiling it for you. No! I can’t tell you anymore. I’ll tell you this though, what you’ll read is a true story, lived by me. Only, some scenes are embellished to give more pleasure to the reader. As you know, I can’t use real names other than mine, and those of my family. This is to avoid conflicts. Although some of those names may coincide with people anywhere, it’s not intentionally done. I hereby publish this novel as I’ve lived and as I’ve seen it. It is the truth, so help me God!

CALOGERO CAMPO

09/02/1938

Story told and completed 08/23/1978.

CHAPTER 1

THE HARDEST PART

R eally it’s so hard to talk about, especially for a very sensitive heart like his. Sensitive because he suffered a great deal; whether or not he wanted to. Really, it matters so little, he must do what he has to do, and it is not easy for a young boy, especially when he grew up in an ambience, such as it is. Responsibilities, honor and obedience. This is the SICILIAN LIFE!

His father, Salvatore Campo, was a man of great courage, strength, and wisdom. Unfortunately, he can’t say the same about his luck. He had struggled his whole life to surmount the difficulties of life, but to no avail.

Salvatore has five children, no income, no job, and no food. All that was left was his pride, but pride didn’t feed a family of nine. There were nine people because Salvatore’s in-laws were living with him too. Or shall I say, he was living with them.

The old man had a pension from America where he worked for about ten years in a coal mine in Armstrong County, Pennsylvania. With that little pension at least all of them could have a meal a day, not too abundant, but better than nothing at all. This living was killing Salvatore! His pride couldn’t accept this situation. The war was still raging in Sicily; after all, it was only early 1943. It was April 25th, his 12th wedding anniversary and Salvatore came back empty handed from his brother’s house. Salvatore is a tall handsome man with a dark complexion; a typical Sicilian, who always wore a bushy mustache. He has a very lean personality and is not much of a talker. His wife, Grazia, is about five foot tall with black long hair that was down to her hips. She has round and rosy cheeks, and she is a very slender and very charming lady. She married Salvatore, but not out of her own free will, because the marriage was arranged, but this didn’t interfere in her loving her given husband and their children.

"Grazia today is our anniversary and I want to give you not only a gift, but also a decent meal. I went to my brother’s house hoping that he could lend me some flour and some grain, that way we and the kids could have a decent meal, but all in vain.

With a gracious expression, Grazia joined her hands like in a prayer. Do not despair, Salvatore, as we are healthy and God watches over us.

Why can’t He see our despair then? snapped Salvatore.

Nonsense, God sees all, but it is our destiny and we have to accept it. Other families don’t have food either and some of them don’t have each other like we do.

It’s the truth, many families like the Campos’ had to leave their houses because of the American invasion, but when they came back, the Campos’ had the good luck to find their two room house still standing while many people didn’t. Now it is September, and the old man died, August 29, 1943. The pension from America stopped. The countryside was all dried out, and all the vegetation that was supplementing food for the towns was gone. Winter will soon be upon the Sicilians with no shelter and no food. If any of them were lucky enough to have some burning wood, they could call themselves lucky, but what would they do for food? The sulfur mines were closed because of the war so there was no work. The land would not produce anything until spring again. What can they do?

The Barons, Marchese, and Cavaliers have plenty, but they will not share. Why should they? If they never have before, why should they do it now? They always had slaves for workers, paying them so very little, having them work from dawn to dusk, for a little bit which was not money. They only paid with flour or wheat. Why should they give anybody anything? They always had their way with the peasants. That is what they called people like the Campos’. People with pride, but no money. People with honor, and high morals, but no money. The only way to survive was to rob, but rob how, rob what? Wheat? It would take a cart and a horse to be worth the effort. If I had my Baptista, said Salvatore, only if I had my horse, I could join my brother and brother-in-law in the hauling business, but my Baptista died months ago. That is why Salvatore went in the sulfur mines to work, until they closed down. Still trying hard to make it, one day, Salvatore was picking coal in a freight train yard when he saw a Baron that he once worked for pass by. Good day Baron."

Good day Salvatore!

How nice of you to remember my name, said Salvatore.

Of course, a nice man like you is hard to forget Salvatore.

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The Little Shepard Boy

Now that you mention it Baron, I would love to work for you again!

Thanks, Salvatore, but I have all the employees that I need.

But I would clean your horse stalls, said Salvatore, and he added, I’d do anything that you may need, work on the fields, take care of your cows and sheep.

Sorry, Salvatore, have a good day.

Can I go to the farm and get fed at least?

Yes, sure you can do that.

May God bless you Baron, my respects to your family.

The Baron’s farm was not too far away from the train yard, so Salvatore went to the farm, telling the man in charge that the Baron approved his charity meal. Very surprisingly when at the farm, Salvatore found someone he knew very well. Good morning Giovanni, I didn’t know that you worked here! Good day, Salvatore, how come you are out this way?"

I just saw the Baron and asked for a job, but he said that he doesn’t need anybody for work, but at least he didn’t refuse me a meal.

You didn’t have to ask him for a meal! Whenever you are this way, stop by and we’ll have a good chat!

And a meal? quickly added Salvatore.

Yeah, that too. How is everybody at home, asked Giovanni.

Fine in health, but bad in stomach, answered Salvatore. As you know things are bad, no food, no work, I’m desperate!"

Listen, Salvatore! said Giovanni, I have an idea, why don’t you and your brother come here one night and I’ll make believe I didn’t hear anything".

What do you mean?

Well, you know, take what you can and I will not hear a thing.

But for it to be worthwhile I would need a horse and cart. How much do you want out of it, asked Salvatore?

Leave a couple sacks of wheat at my house and all will be well.

Two sacks of each will be a good provision for the winter, but is there that much grain in the storage room?

Yeah, plenty, it looks like a granary, said Giovanni.

A granary, mumbled Salvatore, an idea flashed through his mind. He paused for a second, and then he said, Listen, I have an idea, when will you be in town?

Maybe in a couple of days said Giovanni.

Good. If you are interested, I have an idea, come over to my brother’s house in two days and I’ll tell you all about it.

Okay, said Giovanni.

Salvatore had his charity meal, and tied a few slices of bread and a few pieces of cheese in his handkerchief and left the farm soon. Two days later Giovanni came to town and looked for Salvatore first of all. After he found him and asked if the meeting was still on, he assured himself of the exact location and time.

At six o’clock tonight, said Salvatore, over at my brother’s house. By quarter to six Giovanni was already passing the street where Giacomo, Salvatore’s brother, lived. Six o’clock sharp Michael came, Salvatore’s brother-in-law. And five minutes after six they were all arrived at the house. At Giacomo’ s house, Giovanni Puntini, Michael Moccia, and his brother; Antonio Anselmo, a good friend of Giacomo, Salvatore Cangeliera, a friend of Giovanni Puntini, Santo Bellaria and his brother Carmine. All were there but Salvatore.

In the meanwhile, Giacomo, the host served some wine but no one drank. All were so very anxious and nervous. Ten after six, Salvatore came, so all started breathing a little better. Good evening to you, Salvatore, said Giovanni. I took the liberty of bringing a friend with me. It is okay, said Salvatore.

Some wine, asked Giacomo?

No thanks.

Don’t be nervous; drink a bit, it will make you feel better, said Giovanni.

Not on an empty stomach, it won’t, said Salvatore. Yeah, I know, everybody replied.

Sit, Salvatore, said Michael. I know you are nervous and I don’t blame you a bit. It must take all your courage, to come to a meeting of this sort, takes a lot of guts but, whatever your idea is, believe me it is better than this living death, we are dealing with. Our children have done nothing, they are innocent, and they should not have to suffer. We all know what is on your mind. All we want to know is, is it safe, is it?

Cut the bullshit, snarled Giacomo.

Let the man sit and say what he has to say, said Michael.

No, thank you, said Salvatore. I’d rather stand."

Well, so be it.

A deep silence fell in the room, only the heavy breathing of Salvatore was audible. Everything else was quiet. Well, my friends, Salvatore cleared his throat and began. Well, my friends, we are poor, but proud men, yet with all of our pride we can’t feed our families. We are hard working men and full of good will.

Look brother, if you came to tell us what we are, and what we already know, cut that shit, talk and come to the point!, snarled Giacomo once again.

Oh yeah, sure, said Salvatore. I will come to the point. My brother Giacomo works at the governmental granary and he knows that at night there is only one guard, so if we go there with our carts and, fill them up, I think everyone of us will go home with a good winter’s provision."

But the granary is across the Carabinieris’ station, said both Bellaria and his brother Carmine.

Yes I know, said Salvatore, that is why we will be counting the sacks that we’ll load, that way they’ll think we’re working honestly."

You mean yell the numbers as we go along, like they do when they are working in the day time? asked Carmine.

"Precisely, added Salvatore! You see, friend, we’ve been slave of the Barons and Marchese of Sicily long enough. We have sweat blood out of our veins for these people for a long time. We have served and fed them with our work, and all for what? For nothing! They are richer and we are poorer. What are we to them, peasants? Not me, Salvatore Campo, descendant of a great and rich family. My wife’s families were land owners for many generations, my father was the owner of seven windmills