style="font-size:15px;"> Jupp Klein German commander with Pioneer Company, 1st Fallschirmjäger Division
Hans-Jürgen Kumberg German paratrooper with 4th Parachute Regiment, 1st Paratroop Division
Norman Lewis British intelligence officer with 412th Field Security Service
Franz Maassen German NCO with 2nd Battalion, 994th Infantry Regiment, 278th Infantry Division
Iader Miserocchi Italian partisan commander of 2nd Battalion, 8th Garibaldi Brigade; later served with 28th Garibaldi Brigade
Peter Moore British officer with 2/5th Battalion, Leicestershire Regiment
Ken Neill New Zealander flight commander with 225 Tactical Reconnaissance Squadron, RAF
Marchesa Iris Origo Irish/American/Italian civilian living in Val d’Orcia, southern Tuscany
Cornelia Paselli Italian civilian living near Monte Sole
Francesco Pirini Italian civilian living near Monte Sole
Pasua Pisa Italian civilian farmer living on Monte Rotondo, near Amaseno
Italo Quadrelli Italian civilian living at Onferno, near Rimini
Walter Reder German commanding officer, 16th Reconnaissance Battalion, 16th Waffen-SS
Gianni Rossi Italian partisan; served as second-in-command, Stella Rossa, Monte Sole
Wladek Rubnikowicz Polish troop leader with 2nd Squadron, 12th Lancers Reconnaissance Regiment, 3rd Carpathian Division, II Polish Corps
Emilio Sacerdote Italian Jew and partisan in Piemonte
Ray Saidel American private first class with G Coy, 1st Armored Regiment, 1st Armored Division
Rudi Schreiber German engineer with Pioneer Battalion, 16th Waffen-SS Panzer Grenadier Division
Stan Scislowski Canadian private with Perth Regiment, 11th Infantry Brigade, 5th Canadian Armoured Division
Willfried Segebrecht German commanding officer, 1 Company, 16th Reconnaissance Battalion, 16th Waffen-SS
Eric Sevareid American broadcast journalist and war correspondent for CBS
Hans Sitka Czech German NCO with East Regiment
Carlo Venturi Italian partisan with Stella Rossa and later 62nd Garibaldi Brigade
Roberto Vivarelli Italian volunteer with Bir el Gobi Company
Ernest Wall British wireless operator/air gunner with 1 Squadron, South African Air Force
Bucky Walters American sergeant with H Coy, 135th Infantry Regiment, 34th ‘Red Bull’ Infantry Division
Bob Wiggans American commanding officer with ‘D’ Coy, 1st Battalion, 338th Infantry, 85th ‘Custer’ Infantry Division
Ted Wyke-Smith British officer with 281st Field Park Company, 214th Field Company, 78th Division Royal Engineers
Georg Zellner German commanding officer with 3rd Battalion, ‘Hochund-Deutschmeister’ Reichs Grenadier Regiment (44th Infantry Division)
A few minutes before two o’clock on the afternoon of Thursday, 23 March 1944, Rome was a city bathed in spring sunshine and temperatures that were easily the warmest so far that year. But while the promise of summer may have lightened the mood of the majority of Romans, the heat brought no such cheer to twenty-two-year-old Carla Capponi, or ‘Elena’ as she was known amongst her fellow partisans. Clasping a pistol in her pocket, she was already feeling conspicuous for carrying a man’s raincoat on such a beautiful day.
A couple of hours before, she had been too nervous to have any of the beer and potatoes on offer for lunch. Instead, she and her boyfriend, Rosario ‘Paolo’ Bentivegna, and two other partisans of the Roman resistance group GAP Central – the Gruppi di Azione Patriottica Centrale – had left their meal and hurried over to the hideout near the Colosseum. There Paolo had collected the old dust cart that had been stolen the day before, in which there was now hidden a homemade bomb of 18 kilogrammes of TNT topped by a 50-second fuse. While the bomb was big enough to destroy an entire building, the Gappists had planned to bolster their attack with mortars and gunfire. It had been Carla’s job to pick up four mortars from the hide-out and deliver them to ‘Francesco’, a fellow partisan, waiting in the Via del Traforo. Carrying the mortars in nothing more than a shopping bag, she had managed safely to deliver them to Francesco, and then, as she had walked past, had glanced down the Via Rasella. It had been quite deserted; Paolo, with his heavy bomb-laden dustcart, had not yet reached his appointed position.
Passing the bottom of the Via Rasella, Carla had continued up the Via del Traforo and was now waiting by the offices of Il Messaggero newspaper. She spotted Pasquale Balsamo, another partisan, standing by a news-stand. Perhaps he could sense her nerves in the taut expression in her face, because as he looked across he gave her a reassuring wink.
At least they were both now in position. It was Pasquale’s job to give Carla the signal to let her know that the German troops were on their way. She would then turn right onto the Via del Tritone, a main thoroughfare that ran roughly parallel to the Via Rasella, and after 300 yards, turn right again onto another main street, the Via delle Quattro Fontane, until she reached the top end of Via Rasella. There she would wait for Paolo with the raincoat – the overcoat that was to cover up his dustman’s uniform as they attempted to make good their escape.
Standing by Il Messaggero, Carla paused to look at the newspaper pinned in a display case outside the entrance, keeping half an eye out for Pasquale’s reflection in the glass in front of her. Nearby, far too close for comfort, were two men – very obviously plainclothes policemen. The newspaper was full of news about the eruption of Mount Vesuvius five days earlier, but as her eyes flickered over the newsprint she was conscious that too much time was going by. Why hadn’t Pasquale given her the signal? And where were the SS troops? The whole operation had been built around the Germans’ unvarying Teutonic routine: every day, without fail, the same column of around 160 men of the 11th Company of the 3rd Battalion of the SS Police Regiment Bozen would march through the centre of the city on their way back to their barracks after a morning’s training at a shooting range near the Roman bridge, Ponte Milvio. As they marched, singing ‘Hupf, Mein Mädel!’ – ‘Skip, My Lassie’ – they would pass up the length of the comparatively narrow and enclosed Via Rasella.
A quarter past two came and went. Then 2.20 p.m., 2.30 p.m., 2.45 p.m. and still no sign of the troops. The plainclothes policemen approached her. As they did so Carla gripped the pistol in her pocket. ‘Excuse me, signorina,’ one of them said to her. ‘Are you waiting for someone?’ For a split second she froze, then said, yes, she was waiting for her fiancé, who, she explained, worked at the Palazzo Barberini. She then began talking to them about the
