If You Believe
The men shouted and whistled when Ernestine took the stage. Her theatre of operations was a raised platform where the Corporal stood when he gave the daily orders. The single permitted oil lamp, entrusted to the oldest inmate, had been allowed onto the edge of the stage if Ernestine swore she wouldn’t knock it over. As she eased into a rendition of the partisan classic Goodbye Beautiful, there were shouts of “Fascists go to hell!” Not everyone there was in agreement with the sentiment because they were not strictly political prisoners, but no fights broke out. Everyone’s eyes were on Ernestine. As the song went on she strutted the limits of the platform and clapped her hands to give her audience a marching beat for the song. She flicked the defiant flounces of her makeshift skirt at the men closest to her feet, whose rapt faces could have been worshiping the Madonna. To calm things down she started into O Sole Mio but a melancholy hush came ov...