Soldier's gift of candy bridged language gap

By JOHN W. GOODWIN JR.
VINDICATOR STAFF WRITER
BOARDMAN -- Carlo Rubino has spent the past several decades sharing his love of art with his students at Boardman High School -- a love born in his youth in a small town in Italy.
But each Memorial Day, Rubino, 64, remembers those early years not only for the art teachings that would become his life's work, but also for the war images that shook his young world and one American soldier who turned a traumatic experience into a good, lifelong memory.
Rubino was born in 1939 in Pacentro, Italy, to parents who thought they could not conceive children. As a child, he would be dropped off at the art studio of a family friend while his parents made a living working the fields as farmers. That studio quickly became his second home.
When he was very young, Rubino said, war hit the town of Pacentro. He said most people would hide in the cemeteries upon hearing the approach of advancing armies. The elderly and very young, however, did not hide because, he said, they were generally left alone.
"You would hear the bombs going off and the ground would just shake. I would fall down and try to get up and walk again, but another would come and knock me down again."
Meeting a soldier
It was during one of these times of mass confusion and hiding that Rubino found himself in the arms of his elderly grandmother who was standing in the middle of a road. An American soldier happened by and took the frightened Rubino from his reluctant grandmother.
According to Rubino, the American soldier carried him some distance without communication -- the young boy did not understand English at the time -- before setting him down on the steps of a house U.S. soldiers were using as a command point.
Alone, afraid and crying, Rubino sat on the steps until the same soldier that brought him to the house returned with handfuls of candy.
The communication barrier had been broken, as Rubino understood the soldier was communicating in a way any child would understand -- a peace offering of candy.
"That looked like more candy to me than in any candy store. I didn't have anywhere to put it, so I stuffed it in my shirt," he said.
"I think he just wanted to show he was a kind person. It was like he was saying, 'Hey, we are good people,' and what better way to do that than to give a kid some candy."
Rubino never knew the soldier's name, nor has he ever seen him since that day on the front steps of the house in Pacentro, but he would like nothing more than to meet the man now and tell him what a difference those handfuls of candy made to him as a child.
"I would go anywhere or do anything, even finance my house, to go meet him, but there were so many soldiers and so many kids. He probably gave candy to lots of kids. It would be too hard to find him."
Still, Rubino watches on TV as soldiers in more recent wars interact with young children who might have been just as afraid as he was years ago, and takes satisfaction in knowing the experience is something those kids will never forget.
jgoodwin@vindy.com