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Scotland. October 1942

Duncan Fraser remembered the day the two soldiers brought Antonio Colazzi into his farmyard, because it was his youngest son's tenth birthday, 28th October 1942. Robbie remembered it too.
    Desperately short of labour for his 300 acre farm, Duncan was more than happy to receive regular, free labour in the form of an Italian prisoner-of-war. Antonio jumped down from the army lorry and caught his kit bag thrown to him by other prisoners. Duncan heard a gabble of Italian and felt apprehensive. The guards approached, rifles slung over their shoulders and handed him some papers.
    "Instructions about the prisoner, Mr Fraser. He'll be no trouble at all, sir. Happy lot these Italians. Most of them are bloody thrilled to be out of the war. If you ask me they're a bunch of pansies, singing and crying like they do. Anyway, we've got a lorry full of 'em to deliver, so if you don't mind we'll push off now. Oh, yes, and he must wear his uniform at all times. Any problems get in touch with Captain Mckenzie at the camp; it's all in the letter there."
    Duncan turned his attention towards Antonio, who was standing very still, eyes lowered to the ground. A good looking young man he thought, nasty deep scar across his right cheek, brown curly hair, tall and thin looking. Needs feeding up. Then for an instant it was not Antonio who was standing before him but his own son, John, a prisoner-of-war somewhere in Germany. Duncan stepped towards the Italian and offered him his hand. This small wordless gesture released Antonio's tongue and as he shook Duncan's hand his deep musical voice rang around the farmyard; "Good morning Signor Harris. My name is Antonio Colazzi." Not a man to appreciate music, Duncan found the melodic cadence of an Italian accent pleasing and could see in this prisoner standing before him the basis for the widespread rumours about Italians' attractiveness to women. "Aye. They told me your name. Welcome to Easter Lovat. Pick up your bag and I'll show you where you'll be living."
    Antonio continued to smile but remained rooted to the spot, so Duncan picked up his kit bag and beckoned him to follow.
    The whole scene with the soldiers and of Antonio being handed over to his other had been closely watched by Robbie. He had heard the lorry coming down the avenue of oak trees and guessed it must be the arrival of the Italian prisoner-of-war his father had talked about. He had seen them often enough in the distance working in the marshy flatland. His father had told him that they shoring up the banks of the River Beauly where it flowed into the Beauly Firth to prevent flooding of the surrounding agricultural land. Part of Easter Lovat lay in this fertile flatland and had benefited from their labours in the mud.
    Robbie had heard them singing too; strong, joyful voices over the roar of the lorry engines. He wondered what they had to sing about digging all day in the mud and slime. But now there was a POW here on their farm and, he was going to live with them. Robbie watched closely where Antonio was taken and then ran off to find his older brother Jimmy. He must tell him about this exciting news.
    He found him in his usual haunt - the large barn where the hay and straw were stored - sitting with his beloved cats.
    There were at least a dozen farm cats, no one was quite sure of the number because it was a population in flux. Sometimes, one would disappear but there would, usually, be a spared kitten of the many litters born to take its place. Jimmy went through agonies whenever a litter was born because it meant more slaughter of the innocents.

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