Location: Livorno, legendary "Vannucci" barracks
Unit: 187th parachute regiment, at the time made up of conscripts
Context: a company of Spanish fusiliers in training in Italy. Our Armed Forces at that time did not even think of introducing women into their ranks ...
"We have four women in the company "
The Spanish captain casually pronounced the sentence but the non-commissioned warehouse officer felt like an electric shock. "Holy shit ... na - I think - we were expecting a company of Spanish fusiliers and no one warned us that there were women. I think we're going to fix a figure of the cabbage here ”.
The sergeant major's mind whirled rapidly around the horizon and found the solution. He smiled to eighty teeth, with the face of a tolla: "No problem, we were prepared, there are four beds in the infirmary with a toilet at their disposal ”. “No, no senor! - replied the captain - they are soldiers like the others, infantry soldiers, they will sleep in dormitories with their companeros ”.
The sergeant-major turned pale as fleeting images of naked women and nocturnal orgies between the cots passed through his mind like lightning. He awoke and since he was a practical man he thought: "Happy them ! But I have to tell this ”.
The news spread in a flash for the whole regiment which thus had the first impact with a reality for us, at the time, totally unknown: women soldiers. Shocking impact because the young girls, small and pretty, proved to be completely resistant to any "advances", revealing themselves to be "tough" and well trained soldiers.
With the passing of the days, spent in hard joint training, the ironic, itchy initial curiosity took over in our esteem and admiration.
Yes, it's true, to help them overcome the high wall of the building that push from the bottom of six hands was perhaps excessive and, perhaps, in the hand-to-hand combat tests there were a bit too many volunteers but basically things went well and young Italians perpetually "horny" behaved very well. It being understood that one of the favorite pastimes was to ruminate on how the hell did the Spanish colleagues to keep themselves (at least apparently) chaste and pure with those scents of "fresh and fragrant meat" that spread from the neighbor's cot or rather, the neighbor's.
The young warriors looked perfectly at ease with the regulatory masking on their delicate faces, the often muddy camouflage suits, the heavy backpacks and the big guns. One was even a gun chief and carried a submachine gun. One of our athletic corporal who had gallantly and not really selflessly offered to lighten her of the no small weight, had caught a glare of fire and a dry sentence in Spanish of which he did not understand the literal meaning but perfectly grasped the meaning.
There were also embarrassing moments. One afternoon, the regimental commander, returning to the camp, saw a large group of young skydivers, shirtless and in shorts, towels over their shoulders, waiting patiently outside the shower tent.
"What's going on guys, is there no water?" - the commander asked.
Embarrassed glances met. "No, Colonel, it's just that there's one of those inside."
"Ah I understand, well done, be gentlemen and you don't want to embarrass her."
“He's not quite that commander. She told us to come in, which makes no difference to her. We are the ones who are embarrassed! ".
The colonel had seen so many but he just missed this one. “What times - I think - a similar fortune had happened to me twenty years ago! " - but he wasn't as honest with himself as he would have liked.
But also national pride, the proverbial Italic masculinity had its moment of glory.
The last day, that of departure, after the attention, the speeches, the greetings, the handshakes, the exchange of crest, there were a few minutes of informal greetings.
The blonde approached the Catania radio operator with downcast eyes, playboy of the regiment, which had used all the resources of its charm in vain to conquer its heart.
Rising on the toes of her boots, the pretty soldier snapped a not short kiss on the astonished mouth of the Sicilian warrior while a timid tear ran down her delicate face.
The Italian champion was left open-mouthed, motionless as a statue and was only awakened by the roar of the Italian company that loudly underlined the triumph of the national colors.