[This post is based on the 52 Ancestors project by Amy Johnson Crow]

When I first heard that my father-in-law had been interned as an “enemy alien” during World War II, I’ll admit—I was surprised. As an American, I knew about the internment of Japanese Americans during the war. But somehow I’d never heard that the UK had done something similar, particularly to Italian men living in Britain.

My father-in-law, Giuseppe Zanrè, was one of them.

Two Giuseppe Zanrès Walk into a War…

The names alone can get confusing. There were two Giuseppe Zanrès—father and son (technically three, as my husband is also a Giuseppe, but this story is about two!). Depending on the situation, either of these might be called Giuseppe or Joe. For this story, I’ll refer to my father-in-law as Joe, and his father as Giuseppe. We’ll leave my husband Giuseppe/Joe out of it for simplicity’s sake!!!

Giuseppe had moved back and forth between Scotland and Italy—traveling to Scotland as little more than a boy in the late 1800s, heading back to Italy to marry in 1908, returning to Scotland for several years, then back to Valdena by 1913 where Joe was born.

After returning to Valdena in 1913, Giuseppe (the father) was quickly swept up in the geopolitical tides of the time. He was conscripted into the Italian army, serving in the Alpini Regiment in World War I, which helps explain why the family remained in Italy for the next seven years before returning to Scotland for good in 1920. Joe, Italian born, spent most of his life in Dundee, working in the restaurant business. Giuseppe became a British citizen through naturalization in 1935, Joe never naturalized

Ironically, Joe (the son) would experience a similar twist of fate of the “returning to Italy” kind just two decades later—traveling to Italy around 1936 for a short visit, only to be caught by mandatory national service. He was stationed in Sicily during that year, in the Bersagliere Regiment, eventually discharged and allowed to return to Scotland. Just four years later, his nationality would once again shape his path—this time not as a soldier, but as an enemy alien sent across the Atlantic to Canada.

“Enemy Alien”

In the early days of WWII, Joe was swept up in the UK’s policy of interning enemy nationals—despite having grown up in the UK. His father, Giuseppe, was not interned, having already naturalized. But Joe, still Italian, was arrested and transported to Canada aboard the SS Ettrick on 3 July 1940.

This was just a day after the Arandora Star was tragically torpedoed at sea, killing hundreds of internees. Joe later recalled a moment of panic aboard the Ettrick—internees ordered below deck, perhaps in response to news of the disaster.

Interestingly, Joe believed they had originally been bound for Australia, and that partway through the journey the ship changed course. One of the other internees, a mariner, even commented that the stars suggested they were no longer headed south. I’ve found no information that might confirm or refute their original destination, but they ultimated arrived in Canada.

Life in the Camps

In Canada, Joe worked in the kitchen—a coveted job that spared him physical labor, although having been a bersagliere, he could have been up for any task that required strength and cunning. He was well-suited to the kitchen job too though, having worked in Dundee’s restaurant scene before his arrest.

But even in the relative stability of the kitchen, the toll of internment was real. His best friend in the camp committed suicide, throwing himself off a building. It deeply affected Joe, who carried a certain stoic reserve for the rest of his life. My husband remembers that he rarely let things really get to him—good or bad. He just kept moving forward.

A Mysterious Chapter

On 11 May 1942, Joe returned to the UK on the SS Andes. We don’t know why. But just 17 months later, on 29 October 1943, he was sent back to Canada. Why was he released? And why was that release reversed?

We don’t know—and Joe never said. It became one of those family mysteries we could speculate about, but never solve.

Joe was finally released for good on 14 July 1944.

A Memory Rekindled in an Instant

In 1973, when Joe’s father Giuseppe passed away, Joe traveled to Borgotaro for the funeral. While passing through Milano’s airport, a stranger approached him and said, without hesitation,

“You’re Joe Zanrè. We were interned together in Canada.”

No preamble. Just recognition, straight from a memory shaped decades earlier in the confines of a wartime internment camp.

That moment stayed with my husband—a reminder of how deep and lasting the connections forged in crisis can be. Even decades later, in a bustling airport on another continent, a single glance was enough to bring the past rushing back.

Reflecting on a Complicated Legacy

Joe rarely spoke about his internment, but he often said this:

“If I’d been a UK citizen, I would have gone to war. I probably wouldn’t have survived.”

It was a dark sort of consolation. His survival came not from privilege or position—but from a war that didn’t trust even the most settled immigrants. We’ve seen echoes of that same distrust in more recent decades—and it’s no easier to reckon with now.

📜 Looking Back, Moving Forward

For me, learning about Joe’s experience transformed how I understand WWII—not just through headlines and history books, but through family. His story reminds me that the effects of war don’t show up only on battlefields. Sometimes, they play out in immigration forms, camp kitchens, and long silences at the dinner table.

And sharing these stories matters. Whether it’s in a blog post, a family WhatsApp group, or a public profile on WikiTree, every bit we share can connect us to someone we didn’t know we were looking for.

P.S., I have other WWII stories that can be shared, like my German father-in-law digging trenches around Berlin at age 16, while the Russians advanced on the city, or my mother’s uncle coming home to Tennessee, jubilant about have made it home in one piece, to find out his brother (my grandfather) had drown, “safe from the war” at home.  These stories deserve more time than a footnote though, and I’ll return to them in other weeks!