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Show We Survived the Italian TT ft Dam Disaster 3."FA f. itooert and Fetty Z)c Lazzero In seconds, a great surge of water swept away 2,000 persons; now an American tells how he and his wife faced those moments of horror By ROBERT W. DE LAZZERO as told to Jack Ryan n -- r rf - ILLUSTRATION ui ,ii cousin Bettina Brat-t- i MY looked at the towering Vaiont dam and told my wife and me: 'Tea, it is beautiful. All Italians are proud of it." Then, as Betty and I photographed the highest dam in the world, Bettina added quietly: "But in our village, we often think: what if it should break? We would all be swept away." It never occurred to Betty and me at the time, but the people of my family's village, Longarone, seldom mentioned the Vaiont dam without some foreboding. It stood 1 miles above them, a gently curved mass of concrete 900 feet high and holding back thousands of tons of water. Betty and I live in Scarsdale, N. Y., and on our first trip to Europe, the high point naturally was visiting the valley where my father had been born. We had a crowded itinerary, though, and had planned to leave that day, last Oct. 9. "Please stay another night anyway' my cousin had pleaded. "Mother enjoys it so, and she is afraid she will never see you again." My aunt, or more correctly, my grandaunt, was Elizabeth Bratti. She was 87, and she knew death was near. She had reared my father as a boy, and she looked upon me almost as she would a grandchild. Reluctantly, wj5 agreed to stay another night in tie shadow of the dam. From our hotel, the Albergo Masteps led up the rina, 150 age-womountainside to the four-stor- y building where my father had been born and now the home of my aunt and two cousins. I complained about those steps as Betty and I walked to the Bratti home about 8 in the evening. We had no idea each step upward was taking us farther from rn disaster. The Brattis served us a sumptuous Italian dinner, and in the warmth of the family Betty and I forgot our impatience to be on our way. At 10, though, we decided to return to the hotel; tomorrow we would be busy traveling. But again my cousin persisted. "Stay, stay,'' cousin Antonietta said. "We have saved a bottle of wine for good-bye- s. Very special vintage." I looked at Betty resignedly, and we stayed a few minutes more on the mountainside. The five of us sat in the kitchen which faced the outside wall of the old building. As we sipped the wine, my aunt said, "Roberto, I pray only that God will let me live until June, when your father comes here. I want to see him once more before I die." I leaned forward to assure her she would live to see him often. I DID, I As church JFiimlljT J&alcljr Actress Angie Dickinson, caught by BUI Hennigar, launches the coming spring season in three-pie- . 1 ce a daisy-gol- d suit, one of the patterns available on page 6, thought I heard the bells tolling insistently. And then I became aware of total silence; not just aware that we had stopped talking but aware of a vacuumlike stillness in which all sound had been swallowed a silence felt as well as heard, the heavy silence that precedes a summer storm. Somebody whispered, "Listen." Outside, a whirring sound began. It came from a distance at first and seemed muted. Then swiftly it became a rush of air like the blast from a jet engine. It roared through r COVER: V MOTT BY HERB Prvident mnd Advertising office: 179 N. Michigan Arm., Chicago, III. 60601 Editorial office: 60 E. 56th St., New York, N.Y. 10022 Business office: 1727 S. Indiana Ave., Chicago, III. 60616 1H4, all dead!" In the four months since that the scene moment, I have from the eerie ringing of the bells until the end. It never took more than 12 seconds. But those seconds hurtled death down the valley for some 2,000 persons. The lights flared and then went out I felt an immense burst of air strike me and heard crashing sounds. A wall of water overwhelmed me. It came with rushing swiftness and a weight that hurtled me against the wall. I tried to swim against it, but I couldn't escape. I remembered the dam and the re-enac- ted February 16, 196 Publuker WALTEt C DKEYFUS Associate Publisher PATRICK i. OYOURKE Executive Vice President and Advertising Director WILLIAM V. HUSSEY Advertising Manager MORTON FRANK Vice President. Publisher Relatione LEONARD S. DAVIDOW the streets in screaming fury. We all rose. Betty went to the window and peered into the darkness. My aunt stood petrified beside her chair. My cousins ran through the dining room to the front door, and I followed, thinking some terrible storm was ripping the village. Bettina opened the door. Before I could look out, however, she slammed it shut and turned to me. "La diga! La dtga! Siamo iutti morti! The dam! The dam! We are PROCESSING AND BOOKS, INC., ERNEST V. HEYN Editor-in-Chi- ef BEN KARTMAN Executive Editor ROBERT FITZGIBBON Managing Editor PHILLIP DYKSTRA Art Director Food Editor MELANIE DE PROFT Rosalyn Abrevaya, Aroen Eidell, Hal London. Jack Ryan; Peer J. Oppenheimer, Hollywood. Chicago, III. All rights reserved. |