Throughout Beneath a Scarlet Sky, Pino’s longing for a woman becomes symbolic of his desire for a life beyond the scope of war, where he can marry and settle down without fear of death and societal destruction. From the beginning of the novel, Pino longs for love, and when he encounters Anna in Milan, his thoughts of her do not cease: although they remain apart for the majority of the narrative, Anna repeatedly appears in Pino’s mind during moments of hardship, eventually becoming a motif symbolizing love and longing.
Examples of this motif are numerous, but one in particular occurs during Chapter 9, when Pino struggles to escort Jewish refugees through the Alps:
He tried to summon up memories of Anna to comfort him more than once, but all he could recall was the squall of the trolley as it blocked her from his view. His thoughts would then turn abstract: to girls and to love. He hoped he’d have both in his life. He wondered what his girl would be like and whether she would adore the mountains as he did, and whether she skied, and a hundred other questions with maddeningly unknowable answers.
The motif of Anna, in this case, brings comfort to Pino and develops the novel’s central themes of love and longing. The emotional toll of war overtakes Pino’s mind soon after he starts his resistance efforts, leaving only vague memories of Anna onto which he tries desperately to grasp. After some time, the once-sharp image of Anna fades away, and Pino replaces her with the mere concept of a female partner, unnamed and anonymous.
Overall, Sullivan’s use of motif helps to develop the coming-of-age narrative in the novel. Although Pino is treated as an adult and given tasks far beyond that of a normal teenager, Sullivan repeatedly reminds readers that he is only 17 years old and experiences typical coming-of-age desires, such as the desire for romantic companionship.
In Chapter 21, after Pino witnesses children being transported to Auschwitz from Binario 21 in Milan, the image of tiny fingers reaching out from the cattle cars haunts his memory for the rest of the novel. Sullivan repeatedly utilizes this image as a motif, which develops the themes of tragedy and innocence amidst horror:
Three little fingers stuck out of a crack on the rear wall of the last cattle car. The fingers seemed to wave at Pino as the train gathered speed. He stared after the train, seeing the fingers in his mind long after he couldn’t see them anymore. His urge was to go after the train and set those people free, get them to safety. Instead, he stood there, defeated, helpless, and fighting the urge to cry at the image of those fingers, which would not fade.
The child's fingers in particular haunt Pino, because from the sight of them he realizes the utter barbarism of the Nazi Party. The Nazis support, plan, and execute the merciless kidnapping and murder of children—the most innocent. This repeated image becomes one of the most heartbreaking motifs expressed throughout the novel. Although Pino does not know the identity of the child, it doesn’t matter: the child represents one of thousands who Pino knows will face the same torture. The image of the little fingers comes to haunt Pino's dreams, representing "a child of a thousand faces, a child who could not be saved."
In addition to his horror at the sight of the trapped children, Pino feels a personal level of guilt due to his association with the Nazis. Pino is unable to signal to victims that he is secretly a spy and must bear the experience of being seen as the enemy. This experience is nothing compared to the experience of a Holocaust victim—and Pino is aware of this—but it traumatizes him nonetheless.