Benito Mussolini is physically strong, but suffers from chronic syphilis. Strength allows him to work intensively. He sleeps late in the morning, leaves the house at noon, but does not come back until three in the morning and for fifteen hours, with short breaks for meals, he is devoted to journalism and politics.
He is sensual, which manifests itself in establishing and maintaining contacts with many women.
He is emotional and impulsive. These character traits are revealed in his moving, evocative speeches. At the same time, though he is eloquent, it would hardly be a seasoned orator.
He is emotional, thanks to which he easily gains the sympathy and friendship of people around him. He is selfless and generous, which he owes a reputation for being altruistic and philanthropic.
He is very intelligent, quick-witted, resourceful and considerate. He knows people well, their advantages and disadvantages.
He shows feelings of sympathy as well as dislike. He is capable of sacrifice for friends, fights enemies with stubbornness and hatred.
He is brave and audacious. Has organizational talent and the ability to make quick decisions, but not always persistence enough to implement his intentions.
He is very ambitious. Convinced of his ability to influence the fate of Italy and determined to do so.
He is a man who will not be satisfied with a secondary place. He wants to be first and reign.
He made a quick career in the socialist party - from vague beginnings to top positions. Before the war, he was the editor-in-chief of the daily "Avanti!", The main body of the socialists. He was highly valued and liked very much. Some of his former companions and admirers today claim that no one understood the soul of the proletarians better than he did. They painfully took his betrayal when, within a few weeks, he turned from a sincere and passionate apostle of pacifism and Italy's neutrality into an equally sincere and fervent apostle of interventionism.
I do not believe that this deviation from previously professed ideas was dictated by calculation.
But it is difficult to say how many of his socialist beliefs, which he had never publicly renounced, got lost in the process of raising funds necessary for the functioning of "Il popolo d 'Italia', the newspaper he founded, and as a result of contacts with people of different views, in skirmishes with old comrades, under the constant pressure of unbridled resentment, malice, accusations, insults and constant calumnies from his recent party colleagues and followers.
But if there really are any definitive changes in him, Mussolini will never show it and will always want to pass for a socialist. Perhaps he would even believe it himself. My investigation led me to these conclusions about this man's personality, in contrast to the opinion of his former party colleagues.
On their basis, I am inclined to suppose that if someone with great authority and intelligence won his trust and sympathy, if he could show him what the true good of Italy is (because I deeply believe in his patriotism), if he tactfully provided him with funds for proper activities political, without arousing suspicion of trying to win him over to his side, I'm sure Mussolini would be gradually persuaded.
At the same time, however, given its nature, it will never be absolutely certain that at some point it will not abandon its chosen path. As I mentioned, he is impulsive and driven by emotions.
There is no doubt that if this powerful, persuasive and persuasive speaker with a pen takes the wrong course, he can become a dangerous despot and a formidable adversary.
From the report of the head of the Internal Security Service
Giovanni Gasti, spring 1919
Interventist associations
In the club of the Trade and Industry Club there was a congress of interventists from all over the country who decided to form regional unions.
The following spoke during the meeting:entrepreneur Enzo Ferrari, captain of the Ardites Ferruccio Vecchi and many others among those present. Prof. Mussolini presented the most important points on which the union's activity is to focus: valorization of the war and those who fought in it; opposition to any imperialisms that could harm Italy and possible Italian imperialism threatening other states ; showing that the imperialism that Italians are accused of is present in all countries, including Belgium and Portugal. And finally - basing the election struggle on the valorization of the war and condemnation of all parties and individual candidates who opposed it.
Benito Mussolini in 1917
Then many other speakers took the floor, followed by the adoption of Mussolini's suggestions. The convention was attended by delegates from various places around the country.
"Corriere della Sera", March 24, 1919,
"Sunday Chronicle of Events" heading
Embittered after the war
Benito Mussolini
Milan, early spring 1919
The editorial office of "Il popolo d'Italia", the so-called bastion number two at via Paolo da Cannobio, is only a few streets away from the headquarters of the Milan section of the Ardytite Association at via Cervia 23 - that is, bastion number one. In the spring of 1919, when Benito Mussolini left work for dinner at a nearby eatery, the streets were dingy and unsafe. The entire district of Bottonuto is a remnant of medieval Milan encapsulated with the tissue of a 19th century city. A maze of winding streets and alleys with shops, early Christian temples, taverns and brothels, where wandering vendors, prostitutes, beggars and vagabonds hang out.
The origin of the name of this district is unknown. Some say it is related to the gate on its south side, which was passed by troops, others say that it derives from the name of a German mercenary who came there with Frederick Barbarossa. Anyway, Bottonuto is like a smelly puddle spilled right on piazza del Duomo - the historic and geometric center of Milan. Whoever wants to traverse this district, it is better for him to stop his nose. The walls seem to sweat with dirt, the vicolo delle Quaglie is actually a public urinal, the people you meet there smell musty, thefts and robberies take place on a clear day, soldiers on leave crowd in front of the entrances to the brothels. Most residents, directly or indirectly, live off prostitution.
Mussolini is late for dinner. After ten he leaves the editor-in-chief's office - a cramped cubicle with windows overlooking a dark courtyard, attached like a blind bowel to the editorial room by a platform with a balustrade - lights a cigarette and with a brisk step delves into smelly nooks and crannies. Bands of barefoot kids shout after him:"Szajbus!" that beggars sitting among the rubbish on the edge of the streets stretch out their hands, pimps leaning their backs against the door frames of the lupanars greet him with a shake of the head, respectfully but intimately. He gives everyone a moment of attention. At some he stops, exchanges a few words, sometimes writes down something, arranges joint ventures. As if he was giving an audience at his court. He reviews the people trapped in a cage of poverty as if he were a general who was to make an army out of them. But isn't that how you make a revolution - equipping people from the lowlands with guns and grenades?
Mussolini's supporters included, among others Italian war veterans
After all, what is the difference between demobilized soldiers who are not adapted to ordinary life, and who agree to protect the editorial office for two lira, from pimps living off prostitution? Both are human resources that cannot be overestimated. He always tells Cesare Rossi, his closest associate and perhaps the only real adviser who resents him being close to these people: "We are too weak to do without them" . It's true:they are weak. Corriere della Sera, the newspaper of the exalted liberal bourgeoisie, devoted ten lines in the local chronicle to the founding of the Battle Unions, as much as the news of the theft of 64 boxes of soap.
Anyway, that evening in early April, Benito Mussolini, having briefly examined his "back room", holds his almost bald head high, clenches his jaws and turns his face upwards as if in search of less foul air, then stamps the cigarette butt with his shoe, raises the collar of his coat and lengthens the step. Dark alleys seem to pulsate behind him, as if some gigantic wounded beast is hobbling behind him, heading towards its end.
Meanwhile, Via Cerva is peaceful, quiet and aristocratic. Houses built for urban patricians are mostly two stories tall and crowded with elegant courtyards. At night, every step echoes loudly on the shiny asphalt, disrupting the atmosphere of the monastery's cloister. The Ardites occupied a backstage store, owned by Mr Putato, the father of one of them, directly opposite the Palazzo dei Visconti di Modrone.
It was not easy to find accommodation for demobilized soldiers, slackers who annoy respectable townspeople, wandering the streets, even in winter, in uniforms deeply stretched over their bare breasts and with daggers strapped to their belts. These daredevils, irreplaceable in storming the enemy's position, priceless in war, are a nuisance in times of peace. If they do not hang out in lupanaras and sit in cafes for hours, they stay in these two unfurnished rooms as if it were a military quarters, drink to death in broad daylight, talk about future battles, sleep on the bare floor. They spend the next days of their post-war life mythologizing the recent past, teeming about the future and squandering the present in the smoke of one after another smoked cigarettes.
It was the Ardites who won the war, or so they say. They create myths about themselves. Gianni Brambillaschi, one of the most embittered of the "daredevils", though only twenty years old, wrote in "L'Ardito", the official organ of the new society:, you can't say that he really fought the war ” . This is an exaggeration, but there is no doubt that without their participation, the counteroffensive on Piawa in June 1918 would not have ended with a break in the front and a final victory over the Austro-Hungarian troops in November.
Mussolini took power as a result of the so-called March on Rome
The grim epic of the ardites began with the formation of the so-called "death companies", special squads of sappers to prepare the ground for the attack of the infantry waiting in the trenches. At night, they cut barbed wire and blew up unexploded bombs. During the daytime, they crawled around, wearing uncomfortable and useless armor that was absolutely not effective as protection against artillery shells.
Over time, all formations - infantry, bersaliers, alpine riflemen - began to create their own commando groups, selecting the bravest and most experienced soldiers for them. They had to train themselves to throw grenades and learn how to use flamethrowers and machine guns. Their legend, however, only began when they were equipped with daggers, weapons of Roman traditions.
In this war, the traditional concept of the aggressor warrior lost its raison d'être. The soldiers were killed by war gases and tons of artillery shells fired from long distances. The size of the massacre depended on the effectiveness of the military technique.
Meanwhile, the Ardites in hand-to-hand combat experienced direct contact with the body of the enemy, they felt the death torments of the killed man as vibrations of the handle of a dagger held in their hand. The trench war did not generate attackers, in the millions of its participants it developed a defensive attitude, fatalistic identification with the victims of an inevitable catastrophe. And in this war of rams meekly going to slaughter, the Ardites have shown that it pays to believe in yourself. And that it is possible for those who learn to gutted their enemies with short-bladed white weapons.
They included their individual expeditions to the extreme, the cult of heroes and this special kind of horror, the fear of a silent knife prowling at night, who could hunt the enemy in he feels safe, and kill him with his own hands.
Besides, the Ardites enjoyed numerous privileges. Special units commandos were excluded from the usual military drill, they did not have to march or stand guard, they did not get tired of digging trenches and making tunnels in the rocks. At most they practiced their prowess in the rear, from where they were picked up in trucks before the battle and dropped off on the front line, as close as possible to the items they were about to get. Any of them could have murdered an Austrian officer at breakfast time and enjoyed a stockfish casserole at an inn near Vicenza at dinner. Killing and ordinary routine side by side.
When Benito Mussolini was expelled from the Italian Socialist Party and lost the sympathy of the working class, he immediately, following his instincts, began to do everything to win them over. Already on November 10, 1918, during the celebration of the victorious end of the war, after the speech of MP Agnelli at the Five Days Monument, the editor-in-chief of "Il popolo d'Italia" sat down among the Ardites on the open back of a truck with a black pennant with a skull and a skull flying over it . Certainly it was not the case, since in Caffè Borsa, out of millions of demobilized soldiers, he chose the ardites to toast them with champagne:
- Comrades! I defended you when that coward slandered you. I feel like you and perhaps you also recognize yourselves in me.
It was in these days of joy and glory that the high military command sent entire troops of these most valiant soldiers on humiliating senseless marches on the Venetian plain, between Piawa and Adige, probably to keep the soldiers who had become unnecessary and inconvenient overnight. And who now identified with Mussolini. He, who was hated and who could hate himself, guessed that grief and resentment were building up in the ardites, and that they would soon be dissatisfied with everything. He knew they cursed politicians, the military high command, the socialists and the bourgeoisie in the tents in the evenings.
A plague of Spanish flu was circulating in the air , in the coastal lowlands - malaria. No one needed, weakened by wounds and diseases, they drowned out the memory of the shameful death they witnessed every day, they passed a bottle of cognac from mouth to mouth and read aloud the words of a man calling them from behind a desk in Milan "to life without indolence and to death without dishonor. " For three years they were aristocracy of the Italian army, heroes portrayed on the covers of children's magazines with grenades strapped to their belt and a dagger in their teeth. After they returned to civilian life, within a few weeks they became an army of social outcasts. Ten thousand minutes with delayed ignition.