The Truce (La tregua)

Face-to-face with freedom...

we felt lost...

emptied... atrophied...

unfit for our newfound liberty.

We are free!

We are free!

They are sending me to a hospital.

To remember.

Daniele, you come, too.

Come with me!

Daniele!

Daniele!

Easy! Easy!

There will be other trucks coming!

Where are we going?

Away from the front. There's still a war going on.

Daniele!

See you in Italy!

In Italy!

Cracow?

Silence!

Direction no good.

We go north to Cracow instead of south.

Excuse me.

What else did they tell you?

I have not courage to speak.

People go hungry in Cracow. Russians, too.

Worse than in my country... Greece...

houses, roads.

Russians don't know where to put people like us.

Maybe they put us nowhere...

or maybe they do like the Germans.

Go?

Go where?

Where are we going?

We go. Take.

But... they are your things.

Of course they are mine. I organize and you carry.

Then after, you, too, will share of what is inside.

Huh?

Look at you.

You'll go nowhere like that.

That's much better.

Thank you.

Better.

How old are you?

Almost 30.

What is your work?

I am a chemist.

And a fool. He who has no shoes is a fool.

When there is war, two things to remember...

shoes, then food.

Because who has shoes finds food.

Instead, who is like you ends up in a ditch.

But the war is almost over,

and perhaps everything will be easier.

War is always.

There are Italians in there.

I- I am Italian, too.

This is the Russian barracks, not a hotel.

I come from Auschwitz.

I am sorry. I can't let you in.

Why you say no?

Where are you from?

Elada, Greece.

Oh, that's great.

You're not even Italian, but Greek.

No, I really can't.

There isn't even enough food for us soldiers.

Soldiers, civilians... what's the difference?

We are all hungry, homeless, alone.

Please. One night.

Uh...

All right.

Just one night.

And, uh... as for you, don't talk too much.

Many of the men inside, they fought in Greece.

If they spot you for a Greek,

you won't be able to get out alive.

All right?

Thank you. Thank you very much.

Shh.

It's better if I do the talking.

As you like.

I am a Greek.

My name is Mordo Naum.

You really Greek?

Fuckyos.

What did I say?

Fuckyos, too.

But you are... mon dieu... is it really you?

Me? Who?

Don't remember?

Tepeleni.

Hey, friends, listen.

Bright night with moon.

High on hill, a beautiful, abundant villa.

I walk in with man from my squadron.

In kitchen table set with cheese, eggs, wine.

Then, suddenly, sound of footsteps upstairs.

He appears!

The sergeant!

Maybe not you.

But it was you. I remember.

Six men us, six men them.

We have guns, they have guns.

And then...

So much food.

Say no more.

This guy's hungry.

So I say to him, "Why shoot?

"If you shoot, I shoot.

"All dead.

It's stupid to die like that."

Naturally.

It's the death of a horse's ass.

Come. Sit with us. Come.

Thank you... all of you.

Thank you.

What is this?

Hey, when I arrived, I hear a song.

Who was singing?

Carmine Crocco, at your service.

Sing, Carmine.

You sing, and we'll suffer less while eating this, uh,

how do you say?

Shit.

Her name is Iriness.

I want to marry her, I swear.

Oh, you Italians...

Casanova.

Hello.

Hi.

How long have you been here?

20 days.

And when are they sending you back to Italy?

Who knows?

Nobody knows anything here,

not even if we are prisoners or allies.

Before, we were Russia's enemies.

Now we are their friends.

It's total chaos.

Have some wine.

Thank you.

Thank you.

And what is happening in Italy?

Do you... have any news?

Yes.

We know that Italy split in two

and that we Italians are killing each other

and that the cities in the north are being bombed.

Are they still bombing... Turin?

Turin? I don't know.

You're from there, hmm?

Thank you.

Wake up.

We are here too long. Is time to go.

Go? Go where?

To work. Or do you want to stay here and be a kept man?

Kept man? Kept by whom?

Kept by whom?

It's not good if Russians feed you.

Bread not earned makes one a slave.

But I am a free man, like all Greeks.

For the Russians... under the czar or Stalin...

slavery is normal.

And you know why?

No. No, I do not.

You tell me.

Not all Russians are Europeans, like us.

You know, many Russians Asiatics.

And Asiatics, in exchange for a quiet life,

accept all, even tyrants.

We Greeks, never.

Were we afraid of Kyrus? Were we afraid of Xerxes?

So why be afraid of Hitler or Stalin?

And even our own Alexander the Great,

for that matter,

came and went.

They will, too.

History is one, world is one.

Everything repeats itself, amigo.

Hey.

Eggs cost 5 zlotys, fried cakes 10,

undershirt, 40, pants much more.

How do you know?

Because I never sleep.

I ask for prices in barracks.

I think first about problem, not after.

Your turn.

- What is? - To sell.

Oh, no. I am not a merchant.

I have... I do not know the language.

Shirt is "Koszula. "

Cost... 50 zlotys.

You ask 100.

"Sto zloty."

Sto zloty.

- "People" is... - Panowie.

Go.