THE WHOREHOUSE OF THE WORLD

THE WHOREHOUSE OF THE WORLD

What is honor – when you have nothing to eat?   Dostoyoesky

There are so many paradoxes in war. Getting back to depressing,  stinking, hungry, whoring, scabrous, rancid, plague-ridden Naples from Anzio was always a treat.  How’s that for paradox? Stink and the expectation of seeing another sunrise sure beats terror and the strong possibility of death or mutilation.

Talk about relativity! Everything’s relative and life’s a crap shoot.

We were glad to back with the whores, the scugnizzi, the blackmarketeers and their crooked allies in the AMG. We were billeted again in our huge bombed-out warehouse which we’d converted to reasonably dry and comfortable quarters. There were still plenty of rats and flies. The electricity was still off more than on, and when it was on it was pretty feeble. There were no decent bathing facilities, but at least we had a company mess, hardly gourmet, but a lot better than packaged rations. We were never able to establish the cozy family relationships we had in Castellamare on the other end of the Bay, but many in the company took up with local women. The arrangement was basically a food for sex deal, though companionship figured in it also, at least, for some. As living conditions gradually improved for the average Neapolitan and food became more available, (thanks to Uncle Sam) the price of sex went up. The old law of supply and demand. As it again became possible to feed  one’s self and one’s family by more respectable endeavors, those who hadn’t wanted to whore, gratefully quit. By the middle of 1944, those “amateurs” who had only whored out of dire necessity, gave it up. As that happened, there were fewer scugnizzi on the streets pimping for their sisters and their mothers. So the professionals’ prices went up. There were still plenty of whores in Naples. It was the Whorehouse of the World. Always has been and perhaps, always will be.

At first, in my insensitivity I was shocked and disapproved of the Italian women and their whoring ways. I was naïve. Even though I grew up relatively, poor, I’d never known really crushing poverty where there was never enough to eat, the kind of poverty that the people of Naples experienced that first winter after the Germans had left. As I began to better understand their plight, my disapproval was gradually replaced by a respect for their tenacity and courage. They were certainly far more realistic about life’s basics than I was at that stage, but I was learning.

As far as the enlisted soldier was concerned, there were two distinct classes of women in Naples, the touchables and the untouchables. The latter were those not available to ordinary soldiers. These were the few aristocrats, entrepreneurs and surviving Fascists who had some money tucked away or they were the mistresses of high ranking Allied officers, black marketeers and other gangsters. These untouchables probably included a few who, if they had not had any private resources, would rather have starved than screw for food.

All the rest, the touchables, the great majority, were readily available. This class also comprised two different groups: the professional whores, and there were thousands of them, and the newcomers or amateurs. The old-timer whores were tough. With them sex was a straight forward business; nothing demeaning about it. “Here I am. What service do you want? Strike a bargain. Pay in advance. Here it is.” Followed by, “Hey Joe. How ‘bout a tip?” Some of the amateurs were quick learners and did well. Some were pitiful in appearance and pitiful, in performance, but sad to say, few were pitied. Life was harsh in Naples that winter. People were dying of starvation, diseases out of control, of German bombs and booby traps. So what’s a little whoring?

When the 3^rd Division was training for the Anzio invasion in an encampment outside of Naples, the whores descended on it in hundreds. They would sneak into the camp, some posing as laundresses, and would set up in business in shacks and caves outside the camp. Every day several truckloads of screaming, cursing whores would be collected from within the camp by American MPs and delivered to the Italian police. I never did discover what the police did with them. They probably extracted some bribes and set them free. No matter how many were rounded up, there never seemed to be any shortage of whores, or customers for them. Other military compounds in the Naples area played out the same scenario.

Many of the amateurs plied the streets. There was a lot of direct solicitation but others had pimps, usually small boys or girls who would pick up GIs from the street, and then lead them to a small apartment where their sister, mother, aunt or grandmother was ready to do business. I went to a few of those homes and found the scene not just sordid, but very sad, with family members in one room and a girl or woman in another room in a dirty bed, often with an infant in the corner.