The New York Times (March 21, 1944)
Vesuvius erupts, swallows town after Allies evacuate its people
San Sebastiano, on volcano’s slope, buried under tons of molten rock, witness says flow behaved capriciously
By Milton Bracker
San Sebastiano, Italy –
At 12:30 this morning (local time), a giant tongue of lava from Vesuvius crashed into the stone house where Giuseppe Battaglio has lived for years with his wife, Maria, and their six children.
By 1:00, the house had been pulverized and buried under countless tons of molten stone. The stream of lava continued inexorably on its way toward the main street of this town, which has 2,500 inhabitants and nestles on the volcano’s northwest slope, eight miles from Naples.
Early yesterday afternoon, on orders of the Allied Military Government, San Sebastiano’s inhabitants and those of nearby Massa di Somma began with pitiful evacuation, which was in full swing late last night when the liquid avalanche, 2,500 degrees hit, cascaded down the valley.
This correspondent stood within 50 feet of the lava stream when it demolished the first house in the town. The lower reaches of the valley, already pitted and lumpy from the lava blankets of long ago, were studded with awed spectators who, thanks to a favorable wind direction, had a marvelous opportunity to witness one of nature’s most remarkable shows at close range.
Poletti is a spectator
One spectator was Lt. Col. Charles Poletti, military governor of the Naples area. With his staff, he directed the civilian evacuation in Army trucks and announced that the Allies were prepared to feed the refugees tomorrow. Some were taken to Naples, others to Santa Anastasia and others possibly to Averra.
The larger town of Cercola, on the Naples-Santa Anastasia road, was next in line should the lava continue to flow after having inundated this doomed community.
Those who watched Vesuvius in action this morning will never forget it. The crater, from which alternately oozed or spurted the fiery volcanic matter, was forgotten in the presence of one prong of lava 100 yards wide and actually 30 feet deep.
It was like the monstrous paw of an even more monstrous lion, slowly inching forward toward his prey.
The lava was not white hot; it was orange-gold, with occasional black patches, undulating like waves. As the stream advanced, great boulders cracked off and tumbled down, setting fire to small fruit trees and causing onlookers to leap back in alarm.
The general sound was like that of an infinite number of clinkers rolling out of a furnace – but sometimes a great chunk of rock bent rather than broke. Its effect was like that of the devil’s own taffy being pulled and twisted to suit his taste.
Lava behaves capriciously
The rate of flow had earlier been officially estimated ats 12 feet a minute. Last night and this morning, the lava acted capriciously: Here and there it leaped ahead with searing tentacles, and at other times it seemed to slow up, as if gathering weight to overwhelm a ridge in the valley.
At one side stood a peasant whose weather face turned tawny in the glow.
“Guerra, fame, distruzione,” – war, hunger, destruction – he repeated, shaking his head. “Guerre, fame, distruzione.”
But there was humor, too. An American corporal from Indiana squatted at a safe distance and muttered, “Gosh, when I tell ‘em about this in Muncie.”
Gradually the stream spread out in the little valley. The last few trees went up in flame – peculiarly outlined in blue – and then the crackling mass crunched down on an eight-foot wall and began to devour it.
Giuseppe Battaglio’s house was on the far side of the fence, and for a while it seemed that the stone fence might channel the flow and save the modest stone structure.
But as the incandescent mass roared over the fence, it was plain the house was fated. A spear of fire shot up to a corner of the building. Then it subsided, and the house seemed to be winning the battle. The odds were too great, however. The lava ground into the base on the other side, and with a roar the wall fell in. a few minutes later, the surging flow literally cracked the house in half. What looked like an iron bedstead twisted into the air.
Thus, the destruction of the town began. A few hundred yards back, but directly in line of the flow, stood the town’s best houses and the three-story, yellow school that the inhabitants cherished. It was estimated that they all were crushed and buried within two hours.