Sport: The Specialist

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After being cooped up in one room for a month, Chapp and the two gunners (both from Pennsylvania) grew tired of looking at each other. Says Chapp: "The other two boys went a little wacky and I guess I did too. I wanted to double up my fist and slug them so many times." What made life bearable for them was the generosity and courage of the Ugolini family, whose house they hid in—father, mother and two pretty daughters, Gina, 23, and Wally, 20. Gina and Wally brought the boys hot water, their meals, and the only English book they could find in the town (a well-thumbed copy of Uncle Tom's Cabin) and sometimes played cards with them in the evening. Chapp took a shine to blonde Wally, who was smart, and a year younger than he was. She called him Roberto.

One night, the most anxious of the three months in hiding, Gina's Fascist boy friend walked in the house unannounced and found her playing cards with the three men. He demanded to know who the men were, and Gina, without hesitation, told him that they were U.S. flyers. The Fascist turned around, started back down the stairs, and announced that he was going to turn them in. "Go ahead," said Gina. "But you will have a dead fiancee. . . . They will shoot all of us." The boy friend changed his mind.

After V-E day, Chappuis rejoined the U.S. forces, but only after a memorable week's celebration in Asola. The liberated townspeople toasted the Americans with red wine and white. The night of the peace, all seats were removed from the local theater for a victory ball, and while two orchestras played onstage, Roberto danced until 6 a.m., first with Wally, then with Gina.

Wally Doesn't Know. Roberto still writes regularly to Wally, and makes Italian one of his courses at Michigan. His father sends the Ugolinis weekly food packages, and has offered to pay Partisan Leader Aldo Camuci's way through college in the U.S. Bob Chappuis hasn't told Wally yet about his girl at Michigan, Ann Gestie, who is 20, wide-eyed and blonde. He gave his Phi Delt pin to Ann three weeks ago. Every Tuesday and Thursday morning they meet at Wikel's drugstore for a Coke. Says Ann: "Going steady sounds kind of corny, but that's what we're doing."

They talk about the future: Should Bob play pro football? Crisler thinks he shouldn't; Ann isn't sure. "All I know about football," she says, "is that one team goes this way and the other goes that way."

She also couldn't help but know, as does everyone at Ann Arbor, that this Saturday is the crucial one for Bob Chappuis and his fellow specialists on Michigan's team. They face Illinois, unbeaten until last week, and anxious to unseat a championship-bound Michigan as they did in 1946.