I knew that I would be sent home. It was a matter of time as so many others had been discharged before me. I was called to the Commander’s Office where I was handed my discharge papers, along with another six other officers who the navy had to get rid of eventually. I was entitled to an amount of money that they would later send to me. Suddenly I felt that the naval ‘chain’ was not at my ankle any more, and I was free to fly away. I was lucky. I was still in one piece and healthy. I could still build a future for myself. What about the thousands that had died in the war? This way of thinking improved my spirits for the time being. What was left for me now, I wondered ... take all my bags, say goodbye to some friends and leave a free man. I knew I would face new challenges. Although I was hardened by the war, my life was much better than before, and I knew somehow I would come out of this alright. Eight years of military service, risking my life for Italy … with a bit of money and a kick in the arse I had to go and start all over again. Oh what a Dream!!

I returned home to become a farmer. My mother was very happy to have me back. Early every morning she went to the local church to thank God and all the Saints that I’d returned.

When I received the money from the Navy Authority I bought my sisters and brothers’ share of my father’s house, so it would belong to me entirely. At this time of the year, late September, no fruits remained in the vineyards apart from very small bunches of grapes. However at the town market we had still beautiful grapes, figs and other fruit from the hills which matured late. Our farm still had olives on the trees which we would gather as they fell to the ground then take them to the oil extraction factory. At about eleven o’clock my mother would bring some lunch for us like she used to do before the war.

Not far away there was a very large olive grove owned by the Medici family, a famous Italian aristocracy. (One of my stepbrothers married the Medici property administrator’s daughter.) On the farm there was a clear cool water spring running all the time and I would often walk there on a narrow path to fill up a terracotta container for us to drink. 

Only a few months ago my home was a big war ship with strict discipline. Now no one gave me orders any more and I was filled with such relief that it was over. In town I hung around with my cousin Gennaro and Frank Borrello, a family relative that later also migrated to Australia. We would all go to the Coffee Bar Florentino together to play cards and the loser would have to pay for the coffee. They were ex soldiers like me, sent home from the Italian Navy, and we were all unemployed now.

On Sunday mornings we would walk three kilometres to the church in Nicastro just to hang about watching the young ladies going to mass. We had two cinemas, one in each town, belonging to the same owner and in the evening we would go and watch American Westerns. On a few of these occasions I saw my future darling wife, but didn’t know what our destinies held for each of us.

In the meantime I was keeping my eyes open for any local jobs. To be a farmer was not my cup tea any more. One morning I decided to go to our old Navy office in Vibomarina to find out how I could get the Mercantile working permit for ex-sailors on passenger ships. To my surprise the officer was very cooperative, and to help me he went through all my Navy records, and then filled in the required forms to send to Genoa. That was where the central Italian employment office for that kind of work was based. The contracts on the ships were for six months. Then a new recruit on the waiting list would take his turn. The waiting list to get the work was more than a year, but in a month I had to go to Genoa and be present when my name was called. 

While waiting for that contract to come through I heard there was work all over Italy in the Police force. Straight away I sent my application for a position, but two months later I rang Luigi in Rome and asked him to check the status of my application at the central office. But Luigi told me that the other applicants with the ‘right connections’ had been given the jobs ahead of me. It was so difficult to get work. There was no easy way out.

My life continued as a farmer, and from day to day I survived. Through a friend, I learned that our local council were planning to build a road so people could go by car up to a little village in the hills behind us. They were to send a squad of thirty men for two weeks and then another group would take over. It was just a little band-aid on a big wound. After a month I was called for my turn. I was put on the cooking squad to prepare dinner and at the right time an ex-soldier with his old trumpet called the men to come and eat. I actually enjoyed myself on this occasion.

During this period I had plenty of time on my hands so I paid some visits to my cousin Rosetta who managed a tobacco shop for her disabled father. He was an ex- soldier from the 1915 war. The shop was on the other side of our little town and I would walk to spend some time there. I found out in a very under cover way that the National Railways had openings for jobs so I sent my application to Rome with photocopies of important documents. I did it pronto but finished up like all the other attempts with no response. Even simples jobs were hard to get.

Luigi had written to me of a position in his company in Rome. But there was the obstacle of the Unions who stopped non-residents from taking jobs in Rome. My attempts were futile since success was controlled from ‘high up’. Even if you could find a job you could not take it and you had to rot in your little town with no way out. In the meantime I was given an address in Genoa where I had to stay in case I was called up for the six month contract working on the ships. At last after nine months of waiting I received the message and I was ready to take a train to Genoa straight away.

It was two o’clock in the afternoon when I reached Genoa station. I took a taxi but the driver could not find the address on his map, so he took me to his depot for help. They decided to try the towns out skirts over to the north and at last with the help of a local boy we found it. I could not believe my eyes. The place was a war cement bunker where anti-area cannon had been standing with a platoon of soldiers during the war.

A woman with three children answered my calls for assistance and when I gave her a letter my sister had written for me she recognised the name. The woman, whose name I can’t remember said my sister was related to her husband somehow. She showed me to my temporary lodgings. Living rent-free in accommodation provided by our town council was not so bad I thought. About six soldiers had lived here during the war and there was plenty of space.

The next morning the woman’s husband Nicola helped me to find the office for temporary employment on the ships in port which was work ‘only for sailors waiting on the call list’. It paid barely enough to get by. Here I heard more stories about corruption. They said that after six months working on the ships we would have to rejoin the queue and wait again while the smart sailors with connections and money would stay on the job. It was the same story everywhere. It became obvious to me that to get around this I had to do something drastic. Otherwise I would never get a chance to work on the modern liners like the Lloyd Triestino or Flotta Lauro carrying migrants everywhere post war. So on the day my name was to be called, I went with a dark heart.

It was a big hall, full of people and voices making it very hard to hear anything called. I was able to position myself close to the caller, and next to me three men were talking in low tones to one another, but I could hear every word they were saying. Tomorrow at 900 hours they were going to an address where sailors were to embark on a ship. I tried to memorise the address so next morning I could go there myself. I left the hall that evening empty handed. I did not even hear my name called and my hopes now rested on the information I had overheard from the three men. I was annoyed it had come to this, waiting for a whole year, coming here to see a bit of a show and then nothing!

The next morning the first thing I did with the new day was to go to the address I had, full of hope. The taxi dropped me right in front of a tall building and a lift took me to the 4th floor. I got out and in front me there was a door with some writing: “Shipping Co. - Capitan Rizzo” I went inside and there sitting in the waiting room were my three ‘mates’. They were called in and twenty minutes later they came out smiling.

Now it was my turn. Sitting in the room behind a desk was the Captain. “What can I do for you?” he said. I explained as best I could in as few words as possible my story and how I came to know of this job. I gave him my Navy service history, my rank and said I’d been sent home after the war. He asked for my documents and my maritime book. When he finished looking at these he said “I’m giving you the job of Assistant Steward on the passenger ship Roma (not possible as it was sunk 09 September 1943, so there must be some confusion.)

. You must go quickly to Civitavecchia to board the ship because she leaves in two days. Come back tomorrow to pick up your papers. Ciao!”

My heart was jumping for joy. So many things were going through my mind. This was all so new to me. But for now I needed some food, a drink and a rest. I was excited at the thought of ocean navigation again … and on a passenger ship!

When I arrived at my paseani home they were very happy for me. That evening I invited them to a restaurant for dinner and then I bought some presents for their children. The next morning I left on my way to Rome and Civitavecchia. Now that I think of it, it was funny that this ship was also called Rome; it was like a good omen for me. After six hours of travelling I arrived at the train station terminal and then another train took me to a seaside resort situated about twenty kilometres from Rome.

I reached the port where Rome was docked in the evening, boarded the vessel then went through a similar settling-in process to that on a war ship. Then I was shown to my quarters which on this ship where situated at the stern of the boat in order to leave space for the passenger cabins. I mentioned that I needed some warm woollen clothes and was directed to see the quartermaster’s store. We were required to work eight hours plus four hours overtime every day, seven days a week; but naturally only when the ship was fully loaded with passengers. We would be given some money monthly for our own needs and the rest was sent home to the sailor’s families.

Our ship’s course was set for the northern Europe and the German port of Bremenhaven, where we would pick up a group of refugees for passage to Australia. The refugees were mostly Estonians trying to escape Communism. The shipping company was registered under the Panama flag in order to avoid paying too much tax in Italy, though we were all Italians, which suited me fine, as I felt better with my own on kind.

All the stewards were called to the ship’s hall for a meeting to discuss the assignment of table service in the dinning area and which personnel we’d work with. Even though we had no passengers on the northbound journey apart from one VIP exception, we still had to get busy getting everything ready.

The passenger ships we see these days on television have all the entertainment amenities you could possibly ever enjoy like swimming pools, discotheques, cinemas, gambling casinos and so on. But for some of our passengers there was no joy travelling on the sea through the continuous movement of the ocean. Some suffered the kind of seasickness which made it very hard to hold food in their stomachs, wanting to vomit, and feeling dizzy. 

The service in the dining hall was 7.00 hours for breakfast, 12.00 hours for dinner, and tea was later in the evening. When people finished dining we would carry all the plates and cutlery to the wash-chamber where a big dishwasher processed load after load through the hot water jets. Everything would come out the other side clean and dry and we would put them away in their proper slots.

We left the port of Rome with the ship in full lights. Gone was the wartime regulation of ‘lights out’ in order to hide in the dark night for the fear of aircraft bombing. Soon we sighted the islands of Sardinia and Corsica, and then we headed strait for the passage of Gibraltar, between North Africa and Portugal. The English had occupied this strategic passage for years and had installed high-calibre guns there. Early in the morning on our way north we passed close to the coast of Portugal and we docked in Lisbon to replenish our fresh veggie and fruit supplies. Some of us were given leave for few hours to wander around the port. Like all European cities Lisbon has historic architecture built by the Romans, the invaders of Africa, and others.

We departed Lisbon and sailed along the coast of Spain direct to Belfast, the Irish capital, which we reached that evening. There we stopped for diesel, fresh food and to take some passengers. We were informed those of us not on duty could go out for four hours, and to stick together, not get drunk, be back on board on time, look after one an other, do not get into trouble of any sort and to go to clean houses for sex. These were the rules in our ship’s codebook which we signed when we disembarked and embarked in any port. In case you did not come back, the Captain could then check the codebook and would inform the local police of your escape as soon as the ship got under way.

In Ireland we began to really appreciate our warm clothes. We had been given woollen clothing from top-to-bottom as they say which was deducted from our pay, plus a uniform for when we serve at the dinner tables. Near the pier, like any city port, sailors could always find somewhere disrespectful to spend their money. There was a girlie show and there were pubs; there was also a black market where you could kill two birds with one stone by shopping for clothes and shopping for a woman at the same time. In the Irish pubs where you could get a drink, they present you with a big glass of beer thick with froth on top. When I got back on board I went strait to bed and had a relaxing night despite being so closely situated to the ship’s noisy engine.

Northern Europe was so cold and darkish, and very different to the sunny Italy I knew. These Europeans wore lots of woollen coats, seemed like they were always in a hurry to go somewhere and they had no time for anybody. Like the weather, the buildings were dark with very steep rooftops for the snow in winter. For me it was a totally new experience. I thought it was all so different here. In Naples, people sang, others laughed easily telling jokes, and it was sunny most of the time. I would never swap my country for this place.

 We left Belfast in the direction of the Irish Sea surrounded by a mysterious thick fog and dark waters. No one was on deck apart from sailors on duty. A few hours later we could see bright searchlights along the French coast and the lights of Amsterdam where we had a short stop to buy fresh food while taking some more passengers on board. We made ready more tables in the dining hall as we were getting closer to our main destination. We also prepared more second and third class cabins to accommodate the refugees. The next day the Captain called a meeting to explain that in the evening we would arrive at a port where we would be expected to welcome more passengers to the ship.  When we arrived in port and tied up to the pier, we stewards went about our job of preparing tea for the evening.

 Later on with four friends I went out to see the cold city and with the advice of the taxi driver we ended up in a nightclub looking for a warm place to drink and some comfort in a woman’s bed. While we were drinking I noticed a woman giving me the eye. I approached her offering a drink to start the conversation. Her name was Amanda, and she could talk a little Italian because of her Italian parents. After a few dances she invited me to her home for a cup coffee not very far from there. I was uneasy and wary at first for the many stories I had been hearing during my Navy days. I asked her for an identity card, which she gave to me and I passed the information to my friends just in case. We went to her home half a kilometre away and there she made me a cup of tea. Then she told me that she had a four year old daughter sleeping in the next room and that her husband had died during the war. “Tonight I need some company too.” she said, starting to undress. In no time I was beside her. I spent the night in a warm bed next to a nice warm body.

Early the next morning after I gave Amanda some money, I was on my way to the ship where we had a very busy day ahead. At 8.00 hours the passengers started arriving, nearly eight hundred of them, which would take all day to accommodate. At around 20.00 hours we finished our preparing and organising and I went to rest for a bit. At 6.00 hours the next morning we were up again to serve breakfast, calling the passengers on the intercom.

Now the ship was full of people, particularly on deck where there was hardly room to move. They waved goodbye with tears in their eyes. It was so moving it affected me too. I felt that I was one of them, I did not know where my star would take me yet and if I would ever see and embrace my mother again. This journey was forced on me because of the war that hot-heads like Hitler wanted to have now and then. What a day it had been, I was not used to having no rest from one shift to the next. After 18.00 hours when we finished we could relax a bit. Late in the evening we left the pier among the voices, tears and farewells.

The strong ship siren was blowing our departure and soon we were out at sea. By now most had gone below to rest and organize their belongings. On deck it was getting very cold now, and it was deserted. Our passengers were refugees travelling at the expense of the Australian Government to populate their country, so when they arrived they would be held together for a while in some Government facilities.

Our ship with its human cargo was now sailing back towards the warmer weather of the Mediterranean through the Suez Canal. Along Spain’s coast we met a gale-force sea, tossing the ship up and down and sideways, making our job serving at the tables very hard. Some people were hungry and ate, while some others were seasick and wanted only drinks. On our way to Gibraltar we got close to other ships exchanging signals with their sirens. In the evening we went through the canal direct to Malta and Pantelleria, which brought back bad memories about the battle we had there with the British Navy.

The Suez Canal had been build as a short cut to reach the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean, so you could save time and money in reaching your destination on that side of the world. The canal was one-way traffic only, with control lights and a tollway to pay your ticket and wait for the green light. The alternative route was through the Gibraltar Canal and round the African coast, which would be a long way.

Now on deck people were relaxing and taking a suntan, after all that cold they’d left behind. We reached Aden at the end of the channel at dusk, in time to buy provisions for the ship. The passengers, while we were waiting, could buy things from the locals who had come with their little boats close to the ship selling all variety of things. To reach the passengers on deck they used two ropes - one to send the goods up, and one to secure them to their boats. Once the parties were satisfied with the price and the quality, you would send down the money in American dollars. Then if it was okay they let go. On this occasion I bought a leather suitcase very cheap. Meantime the diesel and the food had been loaded and away we went.

At one of the tables I was serving, I made friends with a widow and her daughter Ellen, from Estonia as I was curious to know about Australia and Melbourne where they were going to stop. I told them that this was my first trip also, but they would not believe me. A friendship developed and I went a few times to their cabin to keep them company now and then. They told me what they had gone through in their country and now going to Australia was very scary for two women alone, not speaking much of the English language.

Already a week had gone by since we left Aden and tomorrow we would sail over the Equator, that imaginary line that divides our planet in two. Apparently all the ships have a party when they cross the equator, and we had ours on deck near the pool, where a statue of the sea God Neptune sits on a throne, his long trident giving benediction to all. Then we all popped champagne and had a great time.

The Indian Ocean has strong currents that can toss the ship violently and many of the passengers became sea sick. That evening not many of them ate their food and found it hard to stay in bed. Fortunately the sea flattened a bit and all became normal again. At the dinner tables they were now managing to eat some light food and drinks, but they looked very tired.

I was told that to reach Fremantle in Australia, the first port of our destination, would take about another fourteen days, so we had a long way to go yet. There we would discharge some refugees and then some more in Melbourne, Sydney and Newcastle, the last port of our destination. Then it was back to Italy.

Since the beginning of this trip, I had only written to my mother twice explaining what was happening and not to worry, that I was okay and that I had sent some money to her giving the date of arrival at Fremantle. So I expected I might find some mail when we arrived, which would make me very happy.

Another week had passed by with only the immensity of the ocean. Soon we spotted a few ships on the horizon, passing on their way to other ports. I noticed concern in the faces of some work mates. When I asked around I found out that their wives were not getting any of the money they’d sent via the shipping company in Italy, and that they were in financial trouble. Things were not good for our families back home.

In this warm weather the passengers started to enjoy themselves a little. Some swam in the pool; others took a suntan or relaxed under big umbrellas. No relaxing for us workers though. We were always on the go to prepare the next meal. While the Dolphins were having a ball at the stern we were throwing out the food remains.

One morning there was extra activity on board as the passengers sensed they were getting closer to their new destination. For so many of them it would be such a pleasure to walk on dry land once more. About 10.00 hours we sighted Fremantle town and soon afterwards we tied up at the pier. Then the Australian migration authorities came on board and half hour later a good two hundred people were put ashore, where four busses took them away. After dinner we were again out at sea and sailing for Melbourne.

The next day the ocean became quite rough and the strong currents really battered our ship about. But we saw lots of other larger and smaller ships out for a good time along the coast. And the day went very quickly as soon we were at the entrance to Port Phillip Bay, which looked to us like a big lake. There still can be seen the old long-barrelled cannons from the past. It took us an hour to reach the city. It was getting dark and the pretty lights could be seen all around the bay. The water was calm and it was a pleasure to navigate. The decks were full of passengers looking out into the dark, sensing that they too would be part of this city soon. It was time for tea and slowly everyone drifted below decks to eat and enjoy the evening, while those that had to disembark in the morning went to make ready their suitcases. I paid a visit to Ellen and her daughter, to say goodbye and wish them the best of luck in Australia.

In the morning we the refugees disembarked, and after the usual refurbishments we were on our way again to Sydney. It took many days to get there as the costal sea was rough and wild.

When we arrived at Sydney Harbour it was still daylight and first things we saw were the Harbour Bridge, the Opera House and lots of skyscrapers dotted around the shoreline. The passengers that had to stop here had tea first and then they were escorted away too by the emigration officers in busses. Now only a few were left on board to take to the end of our destination.

Newcastle Harbour was about another five hours away, and when we arrived there, we saw that this was a commercial port very different to the others. It was full of railway trucks to load petrol, wool, coal, and wheat. There were bustling cargo ships, and loaded wagons were moving in different directions continuously while the rain was pouring steadily down. We had to dock at a proper pier for passenger ships where they had a veranda for the busses to pick up the rest of the refugees. Before they left we organized a little farewell party below decks for them.

Now we were left on our own. So many things went through my mind. Here I was now on the other side of the world with friends I had known only a month. One thought scared me:– these ship owners did not seem reliable enough and might not pay us. This trip had taught me a lot about long voyages and how a sailor’s life is, year after year at sea. A little bed, a wardrobe for your clothes, always lonely with only strangers to confide in; leaving your loved ones behind, no one to trust or feel needed; a very depressing life I thought. I decided this stage of my life was not for me any more.

Now we waited at Newcastle, day after day, cleaning everything and it rained all the time. One evening when the rain had stopped I went out with a friend in town to look around. I was not impressed with what I was seeing. There were timber houses with corrugated iron sheet roofing … but they had plenty space with flowers and trees round. Most had a car parked in the front. Not too bad, I thought, considering that in Italy we could only own a bicycle. We ended up going to a cinema and then some locals directed us to a dance hall. But to our surprise they were dancing a folk type of dance popular in country towns. While we were standing there watching we got invited to take part and it was not so bad after all.

About a week had gone by doing the same routine every day. The senior sailors were not happy, which was obvious by their faces as time dragged on. Then the mail came from Italy and all of us were upset as our families had not received any money from the shipping company.  We all decided to go to the Captain and tell him that we all were on strike and the ship would not move from here until we all got paid.

A rumour spread that the other ship from the same company following us with another load of refugees had struck trouble at sea and too much money had been spend on repairs. Nearly a month went by and I came to meet a Yugoslav migrant who was living not far from the docks. He had been in Australia for five years and he invited me to his house. We came to talk about work, among other things. “Here there is plenty of work”, he said. “And this country wants more migrants”.

In my mind a plan was slowly maturing. Up to now life had been all uphill for me, and once again it was the same story. I did not like the prospect of returning to Italy to be unemployed again and here I was in a land with plenty of work. As well as that, for people to come here from my town, they would have had to pay a lot of money for the trip. Australia had opened up its post war emigration policy and thousands of people were arriving every day. I knew that Sam Sesto, his brother Frank and their cousins Aloe were living in Melbourne and I had Sam’s address. If I tried to stay in Australia I thought the worst that could happen is that they might send me back to Italy.

Slowly the pieces were coming together. I mentioned my thoughts to my Yugoslav friend and he said he could ask his boss if he had a job for me and I could rent a room in his house. But after waiting two months we were informed all of us would be paid and that the ship was to sail for Sydney and home to Italy in few days. So, now was the time for me to take action and take my chances for a life in Australia.

I transferred my suitcase from the ship to Joe’s home that evening, telling the officer on duty that I had dirty clothes in there and I was taking them to the dry cleaner. When I returned to the ship I discovered that in the morning we were leaving for Sydney and all leave had been cancelled. What was I going to do now? I was stuck, hoping for a miracle with my pay from the Italian company before we left Newcastle for Sydney where I’d have no hope of escape from the ship.

I had one idea on my side. As I said before, the shipping company was registered under the Panama flag to avoid taxes. So if we did something wrong we had to answer to Panama law, which meant my record would remain clean in the Italian Navy. This made me feel more confident about taking drastic action if I needed to.

So I decided to hold out and just act normal, doing my job, in the hope of a breakthrough in Sydney. That evening we left Newcastle and the next morning we arrived in Sydney again. As usual we had to do refurbishment for the trip ahead. The officer doing this chore was from the food supply depot. He knew me and told me to go with him to carry his storage bag. What a stroke of luck, I thought.

We spent an hour putting some orders in, and then the time came for us to separate. I told him that I wanted to go to say goodbye to a cousin. Handing him his bag I then took a taxi to the Sydney Railway Station and a train to Newcastle.