![]() The crowd yelled, the partisans raised their guns and fired festive volleys. Glory to those who have fallen for freedom.” And that was it. After so many painful sacrifices … here we are. Mimo spoke in a hoarse voice, barely audible. I was waiting for his speech because my whole childhood had been marked by the great historic speeches of Mussolini, whose most significant passages we memorized in school. ![]() Mimo showed up on the balcony of the city hall, pale, leaning on his crutch, and with one hand tried to calm the crowd. A former maresciallo of the Carabinieri, Mimo joined the supporters of General Badoglio, Mussolini’s successor, and lost a leg during one of the first clashes with Mussolini’s remaining forces. The main square was crowded with people singing and waving flags, calling in loud voices for Mimo, the partisan leader of that area. Two days later they arrived in the small town where I was living at the time. In April 1945, the partisans took over in Milan. I spent two of my early years among the SS, Fascists, Republicans, and partisans shooting at one another, and I learned how to dodge bullets. ![]() I elaborated with rhetorical skill on the subject “Should we die for the glory of Mussolini and the immortal destiny of Italy?” My answer was positive. In 1942, at the age of ten, I received the First Provincial Award of Ludi Juveniles (a voluntary, compulsory competition for young Italian Fascists-that is, for every young Italian).
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