Phil Vacca escaped from Camp 59 with four other prisoners, shown in this photograph. At rear (left to right) are Peter Calvagno, Edmond Petrelli, and Joe Mandese. In front (left to right) are Tony Spicola, and Phil Vacca.

This post is the second installment of the story of Camp 59 survivor Felice “Phil Vacca, which began with “Part 1—Off to War.”

“In January of 1943, we were taken by passenger car to Rome, Camp P.G. 50. Approximately 20 of us American-Italians spent about a month there being interrogated. The questions they asked were the same as before (and they already had the answers to them). There was a German planted among us who spoke American English quite fluently. The interrogators were an Italian Calvary and Mountain Troops (The Alpine Post). While I was there, I saw Mussolini’s Arabian horse. It was a beautiful horse.

“Our group of American Italians remained together for the rest of our trip by passenger car to Camp P.G. 59.

“When we were captured, we had regular uniform on. We had our heavy coats, since the nights were cool, even in North Africa. After our arrival at our permanent camp, P.G. 59, we were given gray jackets with a red 4 x 4-inch patch on the right side of the back of the jacket. On the pants they had sewed on another 4 x 4-inch red patch between the knee and hip. They let us keep our uniform, except for the gray jacket, which was theirs.”

Camp P.G. 59 had wood frame buildings for barracks, with windows and two doors—one at each end of the building. The barracks were intact, but with no heat of any kind. The windows were open to the outside. Bugs and lice were plentiful.

“You’d go in for delousing and come out worse than when you went in.” Phil said. “We passed time with bed bugs and body lice.

Continue reading →

In a quiet 27-acre cemetery in Carthage, Tunisia, rest 2,841 individuals who gave their lives in military service.

Their headstones, set in straight lines, are subdivided by wide paths into nine rectangular plots, with a decorative pool at each of the paths’ intersections.

Along one edge of the burial area, bordering a tree-lined terrace, is a Wall of the Missing, upon which 3,724 names are engraved. Rosettes mark the names of those since recovered and identified.

Most honored in the North Africa American Cemetery and Memorial lost their lives in World War II in military activities ranging from North Africa to the Persian Gulf.

Among the buried soldiers is Phil Vacca’s cousin Battista “Bucky” Linico Jr.

Bucky was like a little brother to Phil. He and Phil had enlisted under the “buddy system” on January 3, 1941. They served together in North Africa, and Phil witnessed Bucky’s death at the battle for St. Cloud on November 10, 1942. Bucky was 21 years old.

Phil was captured the following month at Longstop Hill. He was eventually interned at Camp 59. Phil’s full story will be shared in upcoming posts.

Bucky’s death was announced in the (Lambertville, New Jersey) Beacon:

Reported Killed

Private “Bucky” Linico
As reported in last week’s Beacon, Private Battista Linico, son of Mr. and Mrs. Battista Linico, of 38 Coryell Street, Lambertville, was killed in action in the “Western European area.” Information of his death was given in a telegram received by Mrs. Linico, Jr., of Phillipsburg.

Felice “Phil” Vacca escaped from PG 59 in September 1943, along with fellow American prisoners Peter Calvagno, Edmond Petrelli, Joe Mandese, and Tony Spicola.

I have been in touch recently with Mario and Tony Vacca, two of Phil’s three sons. They’ve sent me a wealth of material that I will divide into separate posts.

This first post concerns Tony’s contact with the Virgili family and his first visit to Camp 59. That visit occurred in 1968, 25 years after Phil and his companions escaped from the camp.

Sergio Virgili at the gate to Camp 59 in Servigliano, 1968

While stationed in Pisa during the 1960s, Tony made contact with members of the Virgili family of Monte San Martino in the Marche—Sergio Virgili, and his sisters Luigia and Elena—who assisted his father during the war.

Tony explains, “It was on my second visit to the Virgili’s that I went to see the prison camp at Servigliano and to take photos for my father, per his request.

“Sergio Virgili guided me to the camp. It was a cloudy, dreary day. As we drove through Servigliano, I got an eerie feeling, as I could hear someone playing ‘Taps’ on the trumpet.

“Sergio took me straight to the main gate of the camp and we parked.

“That’s where I took the picture of Sergio standing at the front gate.

“It was like stepping into a ‘ghost town.’ It was very quiet—just Sergio and me – it was like the world stood frozen in time without occupants. The buildings showed signs of deterioration and were locked to prevent anyone from trying to live in them. As I walked around taking photos, I could not help but wonder what the living conditions would have been like for the prisoners. My father made very little mention of his experiences there.

“The only building that was pointed out to me was the guard shack by the gate. At the time I only speculated which buildings were the barracks.

“There were rectangular stone islands of sorts outside, located between buildings. They looked like some sort of outdoor wash stations.

“We also visited the train station across from the camp, which my father had told me about.

As a matter of fact, I have a small book, Il Campo Di Servigliano, 1915–1955, published by Casa della Memoria, which contains a map of the camp, with building locations, and some photos. The map layout is pretty much as I remember the building positions.”

See note after the photos.

Continue reading →