The 1943 Rome epidemic, that wasn't

Isola Tiburina, location of the Fatebenefratelli hospital

The "partisan card" for Giacomo Cesaro,
father, Giuseppe, who shared this story.
Issued by the "Ministry of Occupied Italy,"
it shows the older Cesaro was a
member of the "Justice Freedom" brigade.

The story that follows appears in Pietro Borromeo's book, Il giusto che invento' il morbo di k. (Fermento Editori, 2007). Pietro is the son of Giovanni Borromeo, a protagonist in the events described. Giuseppe Cesaro, chief of the press office of ACI (the Italian AAA), and a writer, shared the story with family on April 25, a day celebrating the 1945 liberation of Italy from the German occupation.  It is reprinted here--in English translation, followed by the Italian version--with permission.

[Update 4 May 2021 - this invented disease also is known as "Syndrome K" in English, and is the subject of a new documentary of the same name, with a release date of 1 June 2021 in the US.]

During the Second World War in [occupied] Rome, there was a terrible epidemic of an unknown and dangerous illness.

Isola Tiberina with its Fatebenefratelli Hospital.

It was known as "disease of K," it had very serious symptoms, and was extremely contagious, but thanks to the intuition of three exceptional doctors (Giovanni Borromeo, Adriano Ossicini and Vittorio Sacerdoti), there was not a single fatality. All those who were sick, put in isolation in a pavilion of the Fatebenefratelli Hospital, were miraculously saved, as were the doctors and nurses, notwithstanding that the "disease of K" was extraordinarily contagious.

It all began on the 16th of October, 1943, the "black Saturday" of the Roman ghetto, when the [Nazi] SS conducted a horrendous roundup, forcing 1024 people, among them hundreds of children, to board the trains of horror headed for the death camps at Auschwitz.

Dott. Giovanni Borromeo

However, some succeeded in avoiding the Nazis and saving themselves [from the trains], seeking refuge on Tiberina Island, where the courageous doctor Borromeo, head of the hospital, decided to shelter them all--almost one hundred. It was obviously necessary to compile medical records for these special patients.  And so the three physicians, in particular Vittorio Sacerdoti (who, because he was a Jew, had already been victimized by the [1938] racial laws and was working at the hospital under a false name, protected by his supervisor, Borromeo), imagined a horrendous illness, devastating and highly contagious, the "disease of K," with the "K" referring to Kesselring, the ruthless Nazi official--or, according to other sources, Kappler, the inhuman Rome persecutor.

Those taken in--the fake sick--were put in a special ward, in isolation.

On the evening of October 16, 1943, when the Nazis arrived to search the hospital, they found the three doctors--Borromeo, Ossicini and Sacerdoti--with masks covering their faces, extremely worried about the scope of this unexpected and dangerous epidemic.  The Nazis--there was a doctor among them--demanded to see all medical records, but, when asked by Doctor Borromeo to visit the sick in person, were fearful of this terrible "disease of K" and preferred, instead, to leave. 

And so all the sheltered, pretend patients were saved from the Nazi horror.

But the story does not end there.

Borromeo, Ossicini and Sacerdoti continued to help Jews  and partisans on a daily basis. They installed a hidden radio transmitter in the basement of the hospital in order to stay in contact with other partisans and with Radio London. They declared the pretend patients deceased from the "disease of K" and procured false documents to allow them to flee, exposing themselves to great risk in a sad historical moment in which denouncements to the Germans were the order of the day and the hospital was swarming with spies.  

These three courageous physicians did not retreat before the horror and the fear, because, as Adriano Ossicini continued to assert in interviews after the war,  "One must seek to be on the side of what is right, always."  

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Durante la seconda Guerra Mondiale a Roma ci fu una terribile epidemia di una malattia sconosciuta e pericolosa. 

Si chiamava morbo di K., aveva sintomi molto gravi ed era estremamente contagiosa, ma grazie all’intuizione di tre medici eccezionali (Giovanni Borromeo, Adriano Ossicini e Vittorio Sacerdoti) non ci fu nessuna vittima. Tutti i malati, messi in isolamento in un padiglione dell’Ospedale Fatebenefratelli, si salvarono miracolosamente e così anche i medici e infermieri, nonostante il morbo di K. fosse molto contagioso.

Iniziò tutto il 16 ottobre 1943, il “sabato nero” del ghetto di Roma, quando le SS fecero un orrendo rastrellamento costringendo 1024 persone, tra cui centinaia di bambini, a salire sui treni dell’orrore per andare a morire ad Auschwitz. 

Qualcuno però riuscì a evitare i nazisti e a salvarsi, cercando rifugio proprio sull’isola Tiberina dove il coraggioso dottor Borromeo, primario dell’ospedale, decise di ricoverarli tutti, quasi un centinaio. 

Ovviamente bisognava compilare una cartella clinica per questi pazienti speciali. E così i tre medici, in particolare Vittorio Sacerdoti (che in quanto ebreo era già stato vittima delle leggi razziali e lavorava sotto falso nome all’ospedale, protetto dal primario Borromeo), immaginarono una malattia orrenda, devastante e contagiosa, il Morbo di K., dove la K. indicava in realtà Kesselring, lo spietato ufficiale nazista, o secondo altre fonti, Kappler, il disumano persecutore di Roma. 

I finti ricoverati furono messi tutti in un reparto speciale, in isolamento.

La sera del 16 ottobre 1943, quando i nazisti arrivarono a perlustrare l’ospedale, trovarono i tre medici, Borromeo, Ossicini e Sacerdoti con delle mascherine sul volto, preoccupatissimi per lo scoppio di questa improvvisa e pericolosa epidemia. I nazisti allora pretesero di vedere tutte le cartelle cliniche, dato che c’era anche un medico tra loro, ma alla richiesta del dott. Borromeo di andare a visitare personalmente i malati, ebbero paura di questo terribile morbo di K. e preferirono andarsene. 

E così tutti i finti malati ricoverati in isolamento si salvarono dall’orrore nazista.

Ma la storia non finisce qui. 

Borromeo, Ossicini e Sacerdoti continuarono quotidianamente ad aiutare ebrei e partigiani. Installarono una radio ricetrasmittente clandestina negli scantinati dell’ospedale per restare in contatto con gli altri partigiani e con Radio Londra, dichiararono morti proprio per il morbo di K. i finti pazienti e procurarono loro documenti falsi per farli fuggire, esponendosi così a grandi rischi, in un triste momento storico in cui le delazioni ai tedeschi erano all’ordine del giorno e l’ospedale pullulava di spie.

Questi tre medici coraggiosi non arretrarono davanti all’orrore e alla paura perché, come non smetteva di raccontare nelle interviste dopo la guerra Adriano Ossicini: “Bisogna cercare di essere dalla parte giusta, sempre”.

(Pietro Borromeo, figlio di Giovanni Borromeo ha raccontato questa storia nel libro: Il giusto che inventò il morbo di k. Fermento Editori, 2007)

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 During the Second World War in [occupied] Rome, there was a terrible epidemic of an unknown and dangerous illness.

It was known as "disease of K," it had very serious symptoms, and was extremely contagious, but thanks to the intuition of three exceptional doctors (Giovanni Borromeo, Adriano Ossicini and Vittorio Sacerdoti), there was not a single fatality.  All those who were sick, put in isolation in a pavilion  of the Fatebenefratelli Hospital, were miraculously saved, as were the doctors and nurses, notwithstanding that the "disease of K" was extraordinarily contagious.

It all began on the 16th of October, 1943, the "black Saturday" of the Roman ghetto, when the [Nazi] SS conducted a horrendous roundup, forcing 1024 people, among them hundreds of children, to board the trains of horror headed for the death camps at Auschwitz.

However, some succeeded in avoiding the Nazis and saving themselves, seeking refuge on Tiberina Island, where the courageous doctor Borromeo, head of the hospital, decided to shelter them all--almost one hundred.  It was obviously necessary to compile a medical record for these special patients.  And so the three physicians, in partuclar Vittorio Sacerdoti (who, because he was a Jew, had already been victimized by the [1938] racial laws and was working at the hospital under a false name, protected by his supervisor, Borromeo), imagined a horrendous illness, devastating and highly contagious, the "disease of K," with the "K" referring to Kesselring, the ruthless Nazi official--or, according to other sources, Kappler, the inhuman Rome persecutor.  

Those taken in--the fake sick--were put in a special war, in isolation. 

On the evening of October 16, 1943, when the Nazis arrived to search the hospital, they found the three doctors--Borromeo, Ossicini and Sacerdoti--with masks covering their faces, preoccupied by the scope of this unexpected and dangerous epidemic.  The Nazis--there was a doctor among demanded to see all medical records, but, when asked by Doctor Borromeo to visit the sick in person, were fearful of this terrible "disease of K" and preferred, instead, to leave. 

And so all the sheltered, fake patients were saved from the Nazi horror.

But the story does not end there.

Borromeo, Ossicini and Sacerdoti continued to help Jews  and partisans on a daily basis.  They installed a hidden radio transmitter in the basement of the hospital in order to stay in contact with other partisans and with Radio London.  They declared the pretend patients deceased from the "disease of K" and procured false documents to allow them to flee, exposing themselves to great risk in a sad historical moment in which the accusations of the Germans were the order of the day and the hospital swarming with spies.  

These three courageous physicians did not retreat before the horror and the fear because, as Adriano Ossicini reccalled in an interview after the war,  "One must seek to be on the side of what is right, always."  

The Bunker of Monte Soratte: Used for Fascists, Nazis, the Italian Army, Nuclear Shelters, and now Tours

We recently found ourselves on a third Mussolini bunker tour.  We headed about 25 miles north of Rome to Monte Soratte, a singular mountain over 2,000 feet high that stands alone on the Lazio plain--even Goethe remarked on it. [The two prior bunkers we visited were under the Casino Nobile of Villa Torlonia and under the King's then villa in Villa Ada, both in Rome.]

That's a schematic of the bunker, its galleries and depth, the mountain above,
behind our guide - we are in the bunker here.

One of the many large entrances to the bunker.

 The mountain is sometimes called the "balcony of Rome," and deserves that name for its 360-degree views. [photos below] We knew there were "bunker" tours on Monte Soratte, but didn't quite know what we were getting into. More than 2 hours underground later, we knew.

Built between 1937-43 to house the Fascist government, should Rome come under siege, the bunker as exists occupies almost 500,000 cubic yards.  Mussolini's plans called for virtually an underground city that would have been at least 4 times that size, but July 25, 1943 intervened.  That's when he was deposed and Italy broke its pact with Germany and Japan.  A few days later, the Germans started occupying Italy.

A photo of the Germans using the bunker.

The bunker became Field Marshal Albert Kesserling's headquarters after those he had in Frascati were bombed on September 8, 1943.  As a result, the bunker is now known as the "German bunkers," though, as our guide was quick to point out - entirely Italian-built.  Italians have always been expert miners (since the country is basically a mountain range) and put their skills to work here in constructing the many kilometers of high-vaulted rooms and passageways.

Even vestiges of toilets remain.  The "footprint"
toilets appear to have been in use even then.

On May 12, 1944, over 100 B-17s (if we understood our guide's Italian correctly) attempted to bomb the German headquarters.  So impenetrable were they, only 100 German soldiers died of the 1,000 inhabiting the bunkers.  The Allied troops entered the bunkers on June 4, 1944, the day the Allies came into Rome.  The Germans set the bunkers on fire, destroying the interior.

The association and volunteers have added manekins and equipment of the
period to give visitors a feel for the use of the galleries of the bunker.

The nuclear retrofitting included concrete floors, walls and
ceilings that are not attached to each other (lit in this photo).
There is also a Doomsday Clock and other markers of nuclear
disaster in this part of the bunker.  We assume mainly to educate
school kids.

Other uses of the bunker took place after the war.  It was a munitions depot for the Italian Army (until 1967), and a the fallout shelter (never completed) for the Italian Government in the case of a nuclear attack on Rome.

This wall of data came from a now-destroyed bunker under
Monte Cavo in the Colli Albani.  It is from the 1970s, when Italy
as part of NATO was assigned an area (mainly Hungary) from which
to defend Western Europe from Eastern Europe.

The gallery dug out by use of this "trenino" in an attempt
to find the hidden gold.

And then there's the story of over $1.5 billion in gold ingots being buried by the Germans - who supposedly stole it from Italian banks - in the bunker.  At some point, the government started digging out another part of the bunker - with a little train ("trenino") in hopes of finding the gold.  The story involves all the Germans who were engaged in hiding the gold being killed, except one who fled, and then he was found decades later by Interpol in his apartment with his head severed.

Our indefatigable guide, showing us an incomplete tunnel,
with its steel rebar, and a newer part of the tunnel,
from the period when
the nuclear fallout shelter was being constructed.

About 10 years ago, a group of volunteers started restoring the bunkers, established a not-for-profit association, built a museum, and now give daily tours, a remarkable achievement.  You can find out more on the association's Web site, though there's nothing in English.  All tours so far are in Italian (and 2 hours worth is a lot of Italian!), though I noticed on TripAdvisor that some people have arranged private tours in English. 

As if that weren't enough for a day, we took advantage of the Monte Soratte Riserva to take a 3-hour hike.  We had been on Monte Soratte perhaps 10-15 years ago, before there was any information about a bunker.  We remembered the 'hike' as relatively easy. 

The 6th century church of San Silvestro, at the peak of Monte Soratte;
built on the ruins of a temple to Apollo.  From this peak, one can see Lazio
in all directions.

This time, with more marked paths, we managed to go up an extraordinarily steep slope and to see ruins of several hermitages, a medieval church, and an active monastery.  

Dianne (more photos below)

One of the lovely trails through a forest of, we think, beech trees.

A mock-up of a charcoal kiln on a "didactic" side trail we took,
explaining the "carbonari" - the charcoal workers.

Steeper than we recalled!

The one town on the mountain - Sant'Oreste - seen from the beginning of
the paths up the mountain.

And, yes, we got there with a car-share car.  That's Dianne
trying to figure out how to end the rental, and having to deduce
the Italian words for "ignition" and "car door" in the process.