George Norman John Dean

Gunner, No. 1138730

George Dean (1923-2022) was born on 15 June 1923 in Woodlands, north of the hamlet of Ripley, Hampshire. He attended school until he was fifteen years old, when he started working as a carpenter. In his family, his father had been a prisoner of war of the Germans during the First World War and his brother, a RAF pilot, had been killed during an air raid over France in the early years of the Second World War. Dean was called to arms on 29 January 1942, assigned to the 12th Field Training Regiment, Royal Artillery, deployed in the Bulford military camp in Salisbury Plain. He then continued his training in Aberystwyth (Wales) and was reassigned to the 132nd Welsh Field Regiment, thus moving to Dorset. After completing his training, he was deployed with his regiment in North Africa, reaching Algiers on 7 November 1942. He was involved in fighting near Medjez-el Bab (Tunisia), and was eventually captured near Goubellat, when his regiment, now merged into the East Surrey Regiment, was surrounded by the Germans.

After eleven days in a prison camp in Tunis, Dean was transferred to PG 66 Capua and then PG 53 Sforzacosta, in the province of Macerata. The news of the Armistice soon threw the camp into disarray, as the Italian guards deserted and were replaced by the PoWs themselves. On the night of 15 September 1943, Dean , who was not planning on leaving the camp, was woken up by his fellow prisoners, who invited him to escape with them at dawn. Their escape encountered no resistance, and once outside, Dean recalled feeling a sense of freedom such as he had never felt in his life. At the same time, he was struck by the abundance of grapes growing in the nearby vineyards.

It was to be a period of real freedom, such as I had never experienced before or since and something I would not have missed for “all the tea in China”. This had much to do with the wonderful people living nearby, who kept and fed us so willingly.

Soon enough, Dean and his companions reached a river and, beyond, they could spot the houses of local farmers. They approached them and were welcomed inside, as the Italians offered them a place to stay.

I stayed at numero quindici[no. 15], which was about a mile outside the centre of Massa Fermana village. The family’s name who I lived with was Forte and they had a son of sixteen, Gino, and a daughter of twenty-one, Pierina.

The stay with the family allowed Dean to learn about the lives of Italian peasants and their traditions, as well as the contradictions of the Fascist regime, which had forced the Forte children to attend school for three years without teaching them anything of real value.

After a short while, the escapees decided to attempt crossing the Apennines to reach the Vatican and ask for protection. However, Dean failed the crossing and returned to Massa Fermana, where he was sheltered by some (relatively) wealthy relatives of the Forti family, who lived nearby. In the village, Dean grew accustomed to the agricultural life of the farmers and learned some local customs, including drinking raw wine (vino crudo) directly from the cellar.

I mostly had vino crudo in the cantina [cellar] followed by some of the stronger stuff at the richer relative, where we ended up. The total amount of glasses I drank that day was twenty-two! [..] One night walking home from the cantina, Riccardo, as he was known over there, fell out and spent the night in a ditch due to too much vino!

Dean was quickly involved in the agricultural work of the village; however, since he was a carpenter by trade and was used to working with different tools, he was often told he was no good for the job. His main contribution to the farmers’ efforts was during the harvesting and pressing of the grapes, although he sometimes assisted with planting corn or vines. On these occasions, Dean closely observed the villagers’ customs and working habits, especially those related to grapes and olives, which were harvested to produce wine and oil, respectively.

The main work was to grow corn and to tend the grape vines. They were grown on straight vine fences and pruned down to small stumps after the growing and fruiting season had finished […] corn was grown between the rows but little else was cultivated […] We must have had the occasional salad for I remember that I was introduced to olive oil, which was used as dressing.

Despite having the perception of not doing anything noteworthy, Dean realised he never felt bored by his life with the Forti family. He enjoyed working in the fields, as he could observe the farmers’ tools and learn how they used them, namely the zappa (hoe), also called vanga, used to dig into the terrain. Oxen were also utilised to plough the fields and transport goods, by employing a sort of carriage tied to them so they could drag it.

One half of the downstairs of the house where I stayed was devoted to the oxen. One quarter was for a workshop, with all the tools and wine, not forgetting a pet rabbit in a hutch and the other quarter was straw and fodder for the cattle.

Other recurring activities of the Forti family included attending Sunday Mass, which they did wearing their best clothes, and a game involving a Parmigiano wheel that was thrown onto the street with the goal of having it roll the entire length of the cellar. Food and cooking, despite the poverty in which they lived and the lack of resources, were fundamental elements of Dean’s life with the Fortis. The kitchen was a large, open space where the fire was always kept burning at all hours, and all the food was, obviously, homemade.

I loved to eat pasta asciutta, which were long strips of pasta boiled up, strained, and put in a dish with tomato purée, garlic, and parmesan cheese on top with perhaps a little fried pig meat. We also used to have minestra, which was like a stew with just rolled pasta cut into fine strips. The other thing eaten was polenta, which was made from maize flour, garnished with tomato and garlic, and tipped out on the table.

After ten months with the Forti family, the news broke in Massa Fermana about the imminent German withdrawal and the arrival of the Allies. Dean , once he was certain the Allies were in Macerata, went to Fermo, where he encountered the Allied troops. However, before his repatriation, he returned one last time to visit the Fortis, before leaving for Naples.

They were very nice in their attitude, as were the rest of the family. None of them had wished me to leave and, naturally, I liked all of them too. Lovely people.

On 14 August 1944, his ship docked at Liverpool, and after a short train ride, he met his parents at Christchurch station, where they were finally reunited.