A Christmas Story
This is a true story first reported by the British Broadcasting Company on the 60th anniversary of the liberation of Rome.
Just two weeks before Christmas, the Italian underground caught word that the Gestapo was preparing to round up as many Italian Jews as possible.
The Nazis had good reason to be upset. It was very clear that many, many Italians were hiding Jews. Italians just could not understand the German pre-occupation with anti-Semitism. They called it “the German disease”.
The word concerning the Nazi plan for a major roundup spread fast -- and it soon reached the ears of a certain 28-year-old Italian physician named Vittorio Sacerdoti.
Without hesitation, Dr. Sacerdoti sent out word that any Jewish man, woman, or child without a place to hide and in danger of being arrested should immediately come to his small, old hospital located by the river Tiber.
The clever Dr. Sacerdoti had a plan.
Once Jews arrived at the hospital, they could be admitted as ‘patients’ and diagnosed to have contracted a strange and highly contagious disease.
As the word went out, 45 Jewish ‘patients’ were immediately admitted. Then, with the complicit cooperation of the entire hospital staff, Dr. Sacerdoti diagnosed every one of his new Jewish patients with this fictitious disease they called the “K Syndrome”. The ‘K’ was chosen after the German commander Kesserling.
Then, Sacerdoti instructed the ‘patients’ to keep comfortable until the Nazis came. When that happened, they were to get into their beds and cough loudly, again, and again, and again and to just keep coughing.
Finally, the dreaded moment arrived. Rolling up in trucks filled with soldiers, the Nazis surrounded the hospital.
The officers entered first and demanded to know if there were any Jews there. “Well, yes, we have some Jewish patients,” said the attendant at the door as armed soldiers rushed in.
Calmly, Dr. Sacerdoti led them toward the ward upstairs on the second floor, then stopped abruptly to say, “Wait, before you enter here, please put on these protective robes and masks.” He explained how these Jews had been diagnosed with the incurable, mysterious, and highly contagious K Syndrome.
As the door opened, the Nazis were startled to hear the loud and uncontrollable coughing of the 45 Jews inside.
“CLOSE THOSE DOORS !,” ordered the Nazi officer in charge. “How long do those Jews have to live?” he asked the young doctor.
“Only God knows for sure,” answered Sacerdoti, “but if I were you, I would get out of here as fast as possible.”
The Nazis didn’t have to be asked twice. They bunded down the stairs as fast as they could and into their waiting trucks. They thought it was some terrible form of tuberculosis, or perhaps some other kind of horrible contagious disease, or worse, as they fled.
The best part of this story is that it’s really true!
Steven Spielberg’s Shoah Foundation Institute for Visual History and Education has a detailed testimony of the event.
However, the record remains silent on the joyous spirit when red Italian wine flowed freely as Italian Jews and Italian Catholics celebrated LIFE and Christmas together in that old hospital on that River Tiber in Rome.
Frank Mazzaglia
Just two weeks before Christmas, the Italian underground caught word that the Gestapo was preparing to round up as many Italian Jews as possible.
The Nazis had good reason to be upset. It was very clear that many, many Italians were hiding Jews. Italians just could not understand the German pre-occupation with anti-Semitism. They called it “the German disease”.
The word concerning the Nazi plan for a major roundup spread fast -- and it soon reached the ears of a certain 28-year-old Italian physician named Vittorio Sacerdoti.
Without hesitation, Dr. Sacerdoti sent out word that any Jewish man, woman, or child without a place to hide and in danger of being arrested should immediately come to his small, old hospital located by the river Tiber.
The clever Dr. Sacerdoti had a plan.
Once Jews arrived at the hospital, they could be admitted as ‘patients’ and diagnosed to have contracted a strange and highly contagious disease.
As the word went out, 45 Jewish ‘patients’ were immediately admitted. Then, with the complicit cooperation of the entire hospital staff, Dr. Sacerdoti diagnosed every one of his new Jewish patients with this fictitious disease they called the “K Syndrome”. The ‘K’ was chosen after the German commander Kesserling.
Then, Sacerdoti instructed the ‘patients’ to keep comfortable until the Nazis came. When that happened, they were to get into their beds and cough loudly, again, and again, and again and to just keep coughing.
Finally, the dreaded moment arrived. Rolling up in trucks filled with soldiers, the Nazis surrounded the hospital.
The officers entered first and demanded to know if there were any Jews there. “Well, yes, we have some Jewish patients,” said the attendant at the door as armed soldiers rushed in.
Calmly, Dr. Sacerdoti led them toward the ward upstairs on the second floor, then stopped abruptly to say, “Wait, before you enter here, please put on these protective robes and masks.” He explained how these Jews had been diagnosed with the incurable, mysterious, and highly contagious K Syndrome.
As the door opened, the Nazis were startled to hear the loud and uncontrollable coughing of the 45 Jews inside.
“CLOSE THOSE DOORS !,” ordered the Nazi officer in charge. “How long do those Jews have to live?” he asked the young doctor.
“Only God knows for sure,” answered Sacerdoti, “but if I were you, I would get out of here as fast as possible.”
The Nazis didn’t have to be asked twice. They bunded down the stairs as fast as they could and into their waiting trucks. They thought it was some terrible form of tuberculosis, or perhaps some other kind of horrible contagious disease, or worse, as they fled.
The best part of this story is that it’s really true!
Steven Spielberg’s Shoah Foundation Institute for Visual History and Education has a detailed testimony of the event.
However, the record remains silent on the joyous spirit when red Italian wine flowed freely as Italian Jews and Italian Catholics celebrated LIFE and Christmas together in that old hospital on that River Tiber in Rome.
Frank Mazzaglia
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