Hugh O'Flaherty: The Irish Priest Who Resisted the Nazis

By Fiorella De Maria

Monsignor Hugh O'Flaherty was working in the Vatican when dictator Benito Mussolini fell from power and Germany invaded Italy in 1943. This courageous Irish priest who resisted the Nazi occupation was made famous by the movie, The Scarlet and the Black, starring Gregory Peck. The Monsignor O'Flaherty brought to life in this story is as intriguing and exciting as the film version.

Witty, brilliant, and fearless, Monsignor O'Flaherty helped escaped Allied prisoners of war and persecuted Jews to elude capture by the Germans. At great risk to themselves, Monsignor O'Flaherty and his equally brave friends—priests, nuns, and lay men and women, including a few aristocrats—saved thousands of lives. They constantly needed to stay one step ahead of the ever-persistent Nazis until their surrender to the Allies in 1945.

This is the 35th title in the acclaimed Vision Books series on saints and heroes for youth. Not just a thrilling adventure story, this book offers a portal into a real-life battle between good and evil. It also tells of the need after a war for forgiveness and redemption.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ignatius Press
• Release date: Dec 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9781642292312

Fiorella De Maria

Fiorella De Maria was born in Italy of Maltese parents. She grew up in Wiltshire, England, and attended Cambridge University, where she received a Bachelor’s in English Literature and a Master’s in Renaissance Literature. She lives in Surrey with her husband and children.  A winner of the National Book Prize of Malta, she has published four other novels with Ignatius Press: Poor Banished Children, Do No Harm, We'll Never Tell Them and the first Father Gabriel mystery, The Sleeping Witness.

Book preview

HUGH O’FLAHERTY

FIORELLA DE MARIA

Hugh O’Flaherty

type ornament

The Irish Priest

Who Resisted the Nazis

ILLUSTRATED BY

CHRISTOPHER J. PELICANO

IGNATIUS PRESS     SAN FRANCISCO

Cover art and design by

Christopher J. Pelicano

©2023 by Ignatius Press, San Francisco

All rights reserved

ISBN 978-1-62164-578-8 (PB)

ISBN 978-1-64229-231-2 (eBook)

Library of Congress Control Number 2022941307

Printed in the United States of America

CONTENTS

1. Winter 1943: Cat and Mouse

2. A Seminarian in a Troubled Land—1918

3. Life in the Eternal City

4. War Comes To Italy

5. A Tyrant Falls, and Rome Is Invaded

6. An Aristocrat and an English Butler

7. An English Pow Joins the Team

8. A Maltese Widow and a Hunted Princess

9. The Germans Target O’Flaherty

10. The Race to Hide God’s Chosen

11. A Kidnapping in Broad Daylight

12. Traitors and Collaborators

13. God’s Secret Agent?

14. Italy’s Darkest Hour

15. Breaking Point

16. Dutchpa Is Sent to Hell and Back

17. An Angel of Mercy for the Enemy

18. A Prophet without Honor

19. Kappler’s Conversion

20. A Final Prayer

Epilogue

Afterword

Illustration

1

WINTER 1943: CAT AND MOUSE

GEMMA CHEVALIER WALKED CHEERFULLY down the street in the direction of the tobacconist’s shop. It was a bright, cold, and busy day, but every day was busy in the center of Rome. She strode past elegantly dressed men and women, overexcited children out with their mothers, priests and nuns going about God’s work in the Eternal City . . . and German soldiers. There were always plenty of German soldiers about these days, marching arrogantly in their green uniforms with the sinister swastika rippling in red, white, and black from their armbands. Gemma was used to the sight of these enemy soldiers crawling all over her beloved city, and she no longer feared them. It was the Schutzstaffel, the SS men, dressed in black who were really nasty, and she took good care to stay away from them.

The time was the Second World War, the most violent war in human history, and Gemma was living in the capital city of a country that had been taken over by Nazi Germany. She should have been miserable, but Gemma felt happy. Her mother, Henrietta, belonged to Monsignor Hugh O’Flaherty’s underground resistance movement, keeping the enemies of the Nazis safe in homes, convents, and monasteries. There were thousands hidden all over Rome—Jews; British and American soldiers who had escaped their prison camps; and many others who would face certain death if they fell into the hands of the German security forces led by the evil Herbert Kappler. There were American and British soldiers hiding out in the Chevalier apartment, and the teenage Gemma was enjoying their company. They danced along to the gramophone together; she listened to their stories of life in America and England before the war. She practiced her English. She was falling in love with a charming Englishman named Kenneth.

Gemma stepped into the tobacconist’s shop, giving her eyes a moment to adjust. It seemed very dark indoors after the bright sunlight of the street. Americans did like their cigarettes, and Gemma knew that this shopkeeper was friendly and would ask her no questions when she asked for more cigarettes than the naughtiest of girls could possibly smoke on her own. As soon as the shopkeeper recognized Gemma, he wordlessly reached under the counter and brought out a large number of loose cigarettes, which he packaged up as quickly as possible.

The tobacconist was a friendly man who always enjoyed a chat, but he was not smiling today, and as Gemma held out a banknote to pay for the cigarettes, he looked sternly at her before glancing toward the door. She knew immediately that he was warning her of trouble outside and felt her heart racing. Had she been followed? Her first instinct was to ask the shopkeeper to allow her to leave through the back way, but Gemma knew that such a move would only look suspicious. If she did not exit the store by the front door, and soon, the person following her would know that she had run away from him. She had to leave as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Gemma could not even show fear as she stepped outside, or whoever had followed her would know for sure that she was hiding something.

As calmly as she could, Gemma left the shop, closing the door softly behind her and listening carefully as she walked away down the street. She was being followed. She could not risk turning around to get a look at the man, but she could hear the steady tread of boots on stone a short distance behind her. Who was he? A member of the Gestapo, the secret police, or an informer? What did he want from her?

The one thing Gemma knew was that she could not risk going home. She had to protect her mother and the soldiers hiding in the apartment. Gemma crossed the road and deliberately walked in a direction that led farther away from her mother’s apartment, praying that she might be able to shake him off in the busy streets. If this man were an informer, working for the Nazis, he would be looking for information about where she lived or where she might be hiding Allied soldiers. An informer was the enemy’s bloodhound, an Italian like her whose job it was to betray people to the Germans in exchange for money. A Gestapo man, on the other hand, would be much more dangerous. He had the power to stop her, search her, and arrest her. He would find the cigarettes hidden inside her jacket and know that she was doing something not permitted by the German occupiers.

Gemma knew she had to stay calm, but she was imagining what it would be like to be arrested and taken to 145 Via Tasso, the place all Romans feared. It was the address of the Gestapo headquarters, where the enemies of the Nazis were interrogated and tortured. She could hardly breathe and found herself walking more and more quickly. The thunderous footsteps behind her also sped up. Gemma broke into a run, dashing desperately down the street with her stalker hurrying after her. She knew she could not run faster than a man. He was going to catch her, and heaven knew what would happen next! What if she were arrested and questioned? What if they forced her to betray her family, her friends? What would happen to her mother if the Germans caught her with Allied soldiers hiding in her apartment?

Gemma could sense that the man was almost within reach of her. She glanced into the middle of the road. She could see a tram rumbling toward her and knew she would never cross the road in time. In utter desperation, as the man was reaching out to grab her, Gemma threw herself into the path of the oncoming tram. All around her, she heard the sounds of people screaming and the screech of brakes as the tram driver desperately, hopelessly tried to stop. She was going to die. She was going to die, but she would not betray her friends. She was going to die . . .

You could have been killed! exclaimed Monsignor Hugh O’Flaherty, helping Gemma into a chair. What were you thinking of?

Gemma tried to take the glass of water he offered her, but her hands were shaking too much, and he placed it on the table in front of her. It was a case of being killed by a tram or being killed by the Gestapo! she protested. There was nowhere else to run. I couldn’t risk that man getting hold of me.

Hugh looked anxiously at Gemma. She was normally so careful of her appearance, but her brush with the tram had left her looking as though she had been rolling around in the dust. Her clothes were torn from skidding along the pavement, her hair had become unpinned, and the heel of one shoe had snapped. You must have come within a split second of being killed, he said, sitting down opposite her. He was hugely tall and did not want to intimidate her by standing over her, but he doubted either Gemma or her mother could be frightened by any man. They were afraid of nothing. I’m just saying, my dear, it was a little too close for comfort. You might not be so fortunate next time. I should discuss this with—

Please don’t tell my mother! pleaded Gemma. She has enough on her hands as it is. She’ll be worried sick!

She has good reason to be!

Please! I came here only because I didn’t dare go back to the apartment until I was sure I wasn’t being followed anymore. I had to tell you what was going on in case you might be in danger.

Hugh shook his head gravely. It doesn’t matter if I’m in danger; I know Kappler and his men are after me. But I’d never forgive myself if anything were to happen to your family. You’ve all been so brave.

Gemma stood up decisively. Like her mother, she was a tiny woman, but she was full of defiance as she stood before the Irish priest with her hands on her hips. We are brave because we are Maltese, declared Gemma. You must not forget that. We are a brave people, and we will keep being brave. Just don’t go giving my mother a reason to worry.

I shan’t tell her, but you should, insisted Hugh.

I will tell her when I find the right moment, promised Gemma.

Gemma kept her promise to Hugh O’Flaherty, the Vatican’s most troublesome priest—or sort of kept it. It was just that she never did find the right moment to tell her mother she had nearly gotten herself killed that day. There was never a right moment to make a mother worry.

Illustration

2

A SEMINARIAN IN A

TROUBLED LAND—1918

IF GOD WANTS ME TO BE A PRIEST , he’s not made it easy for me!" exclaimed Hugh, peering into the window of the closed classroom door in utter dismay. At twenty years old, he had been admitted to Mungret College to train for the priesthood, but not only was he two years older than he should have been, he had never studied Latin and had to start studying with a bunch of fourteen-year-olds.

Why would God make it easy for you? asked the novice master with a smile. You’re training to be a missionary priest, not a good-for-nothing. Or perhaps you’d prefer to spend your time on the golf course?

The gibe was hardly unfair. Hugh loved the golf course with its sweeping, neatly kept fairways surrounded by the many hazards written into the landscape—trees, sand traps, and ponds ingeniously created to trip him up. He could so easily have been tempted to spend his life there. Couldn’t I catch up with my Latin privately? he ventured, his eyes still fixed on the view through the little window. There were rows and rows of what looked to him like little boys, diligently writing in their exercise books. I’d catch up so much more quickly.

See it as a lesson in humility, said the gray-haired priest, turning to walk away down the corridor.

You know just where to stick the knife, Father, called Hugh after him with a sigh.

Like a good surgeon, my son.

Hugh watched the novice master’s retreating figure, then looked back at the class he was about to enter. Thy will be done, he whispered, raising himself to his full six foot two and knocking determinedly on the door. He waited for the teacher to call him in and stepped inside with all the confidence he could muster. If the other boys thought it hilariously funny that a hulking great man—and an ex-teacher to boot—should be seating himself at the back of the class with them, they did not dare say anything.

Page five, paragraph two, said the teacher, turning back to the chalkboard.

Hugh stared down at the Latin verb displayed in heavy black print on the page