Immaculate construction: The story of the PoW’s chapel

By DANI GARAVELLI
Published on Thursday 23 February 2012 14:10

When Italian POWs began building a chapel in Orkney during the Second World War, they could never have imagined that, 70 years on, it would become such a tourist attraction and symbol of the human spirit. Here, Dani Garavelli tells the story and discovers what drove these men to such a remarkable feat

WHEN hundreds of weary Italian PoWs arrived in Orkney 70 years ago today to work on the Churchill Barriers – causeways designed to block access to Scapa Flow and keep the British fleet safe – they were greeted by a desolate landscape. Having spent 18 months in the searing heat of the North African desert, the soldiers were ill-prepared for the wind that battered the coastline or for the primitive conditions of camps 34 and 60 on the islands of Burray and Lamb Holm which were to be their home for the next few years.

For those on Lamb Holm – until then uninhabited – the arrival must have been particularly bleak; the barren terrain, devoid of trees, animals or people, was relieved only by the 13 leaky Nissen huts, enclosed by a barbed wire fence, which had been put up to accommodate them. Forced to undertake back-breaking work for little reward, they were often depressed and resentful.

Yet, by the time they moved on in 1944, the men, once seen as bitter enemies, had forged deep friendships with the people of Orkney. More astonishingly, the PoWs in Camp 60 left behind a poignant reminder of the role they played in the islands’ history – a beautiful chapel which, even now, serves as a testament to the triumph of the human spirit and the untapped potential that hardship so often unleashes.

The soldiers had only two Nissen huts, joined end to end, and whatever spare materials they could lay their hands on to work with. Yet they transformed the unprepossessing building into a work of art. Through sheer perseverance, they created a place of worship that not only provided spiritual solace for the prisoners, but continues to evoke awe in the 100,000 tourists a year who visit it today.

Although several documentaries have been made about the chapel, it has taken seven decades for the survivors’ testimony, the reminisces of their families and historical documents to be pieced together by writer Philip Paris, who became captivated while visiting Orkney on his honeymoon in 2005. In his book, The Italian Chapel, the True Story of an Icon, he tells of the extraordinary confluence of circumstances which allowed it to be built and reveals the love story behind an iron heart embedded in its floor.

The story of the Italians on Orkney begins with the sinking of the Royal Oak by a German U-boat that sneaked into Scapa Flow in October 1939, killing 833 men and boys. Until then the authorities had believed a series of booms, anti-submarine nets and sunken blockships provided enough security.

Construction work on the Churchill Barriers began the following year, but was slow; the work was hard and there was a lack of skilled labour, so the Italian PoWs were drafted in. Most were sent to the quarry, where they were expected to heave the rocks that the mechanical diggers couldn’t reach into the lorries.

Conditions were grim – the camp was cold, muddy and rain hammered on the metal roofs of the huts like machine-gun fire. For months, hardship fomented discontent and the men often withdrew their labour and were punished for it. “Nights were our worst enemy,” said one man Bruno Volpi, years later. “Bad news from home that somehow reached us was a cause of deep depression that no entertainment could ease.”

Gradually, however, conditions improved. The PoWs transformed Camp 60 into a garden, set up a theatre in the mess hut and made billiard tables out of concrete. Morale was further boosted when Major Tom Buckland, an older man, who loved Italy, was brought in to run things on Lamb Holm. Then, in September 1943, two things happened which changed everything; the first was Italy’s capitulation, which led to a gradual relaxation of the rules surrounding the PoWs, eventually allowing them to mingle more freely with the community. The second was the arrival of Padre Giacomo Giacobazzi, the priest who suggested building the chapel.

Luckily, Camp 60 housed an array of talented craftsmen, including painter Domenico Chiochetti, blacksmith Guiseppe Palumbi and stonemason Domenico Buttapasta. Over the next few months, the PoWs set about transforming the Nissen huts they had been given.

First they lined the chancel walls with pressed cardboard. Then, with brushes and poster paints donated by a local artist, Chiochetti covered its ceiling and walls with murals, the most famous of which, the Madonna and Child, above the altar, was inspired by a religious card he carried with him throughout the war.

Meanwhile, Palumbi was working on his masterpiece, a beautiful wrought-iron rood screen, in an ad hoc forge where he beat molten iron into intricate patterns of swirls and leaves. The blacksmith died in 1980, but his son, Renato, has described how – back home in Italy – his father used to gaze wistfully at a photograph of his creation.

“Is it possible that a prison becomes so important?” Renato wrote. “I can answer that it’s possible when only there have you been able to express your potential in a complete way.”

One feature of the chapel which remained a mystery was the heart-shaped piece of wrought iron used as a stop for the gates of the rood screen. While Paris was researching his book, however, he discovered it was the married Palumbi’s tribute to a young Orkney woman he had fallen in love with. By the time the chapel was finished, the war was nearing its end. With the work on the barriers virtually complete, the men left for a camp in Skipton in Yorkshire on 9 September, 1944. “Their departure could hardly have been different from their arrival,” says Paris. After a last service in the chapel, they marched across Barrier Number One to St Mary’s where people gathered to say their goodbyes. Many promised to keep in touch and guarantees given that the chapel would be preserved. Despite this, it is little short of miraculous that the building survived. After the war, the PoW camps were supposed to be dismantled, but those tasked with demolishing Camp 60 knew how much effort had gone in to creating it, and let it stand.

Over the next two decades, the chapel, scarcely built to withstand the rigours of successive Scottish winters, began to fall into decay. So, in the late 1950s, the Orkney Chapel Preservation Committee was formed to try repair the damage. Everyone agreed it would better if Chiochetti was involved, but no-one knew where he was. Then, in another chance-in-a-million, a radio appeal for information was overheard by the only people in the UK who had his address – a couple he had befriended in Skipton before returning to Italy.

In 1960, Chiochetti agreed to come back and repaint the interior. Gradually, as the chapel’s fame spread, more ageing former PoWs made the pilgrimage to the place of their incarceration. On the 50th anniversary of their arrival, eight men from both camps, including Volpi, came to remember their time on Orkney. “This place sends shivers down my spine,” Volpi said. “We were prisoners, but our culture was free. And we wanted to express it.”

Although many of the men, including Chiochetti, have now died, the emotional connection has passed on to the next generation; not only do relatives of the PoWs frequently turn up at the chapel, but there have been school exchanges involving Orkney and Moena, in the Dolomites, Chiochetti’s home town.

Sheena Wenham, the grandaughter of Patrick Sutherland Graeme, who owned Lamb Holm, has fond memories of being fussed over by the PoWs, many of whom were missing their own children. One, Sgt Guerrino Fornasier, even made her a little wooden toy with a row of bobbing ducks on it. Now a tour guide, Wenham has witnessed first hand the impact the chapel continues to have on visitors of all ages. “They are always really moved,” she says. “It’s so sort of unexpected to see that sort of flamboyant decoration on a little Scottish island. Philip [Paris] has described it a kind of escape tunnel for the Italians into their own home and culture and, as the Nissen huts are shaped like a tunnel, I can identify with that.”

• Orkney’s Italian Chapel, The True Story of an Icon is published by Black and White Publishing.

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TrishS

Saturday, February 25, 2012 at 09:33 AM

Shame you didn't show a pic of the interior: it's absolutely beautiful.

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Tobytoo

Friday, February 24, 2012 at 05:13 PM

What a wonderfull story.

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