Hombrearmonica’s Weblog

Saluzzi and Ristori walked in silence around the State University of Milan, seeking the streets with more deserted sidewalks.
«Must be a very big problem, Giorgio, if you want tell but cannot find the courage to start.»
«The fact is that I don’t know where to begin from, Beretta.»
«From the beginning, Giorgio. It’s always a good system.»
«Quite. The point is that I don’t know if I have the right to be judge of the regime, after what I’ve done in Iran.»

Saluzzi, called Beretta, codenamed Lonely Wolf, pagist, vaguely realized what would have emerged: imperial wars against people of different ethnicity and religion, lower, according to certain ideologies. Old stories, unfortunately, but for the people that were involved they were the History.
«We are resistants, not judges, not a court of ethics, and even priests of an idea, but fighters; soldiers in other words. To fight we don’t be saints.»
«I understand what you mean, but what I have to say is ugly, very ugly.»

Ristori spoke of a mission of his battalion in a village, hitting a reported group of guerrillas. They had found no fighters, and even traces of weapons. Commanders had lost their heads in spasmodic tension of a cruel war, replete with ambushes and mines. Compared with the eyes of condemnation of ordinary civilians, they had given order to shoot, starting first themselves, on everything was moving, men, women, old people and children.
«Under the threat of a lieutenant, I had to shoot myself too. I tried to shoot as much as possible in the air, I swear, but I’m not sure I had hit nobody.»

The boy was destroyed. Saluzzi lit two cigarettes and had him one. After two nervous shots, and a cough, Ristori continued the story.
«We were crazy, there was blood everywhere. A woman wept on small corpse of his child. We raped in five, six, seven, I lost count. Not me, but I feel responsible as my buddies, because I was there and I have done nothing, not even said anything to make them stop. And while one after another took her, she continued to cry keeping close the little arm of his dead child.»

Ristori had ended, and they continued walking in silence, smoking. After cigarettes, the boy asked, almost a plea:
«Do say nothing, Beretta?»
«Still you didn’t say what you want to hear, Giorgio. For example, that you are a war criminal, who is no longer worthy to be close to a human being? Or do you feel that is a nonsense, which is not worth
thinking?»
«I always think instead. More than massacre, I see always the poor mother crying with her child in the arms, unaware of herself while we beasts raped.»
«You say well, Giorgio: the mother. Culture and somatic small differences make us different, or I should say better diversified, Italian or Iranian, white or black. Fortunately, because it would be a pretty boring world if we were all equal, from the same mould. But basically, we are all people: a mother, for example.»
«I understand what you mean. I do not understand, however, why don’t you give me your judgement.»
«It’s simple, intead. Meanwhile, from outside, I can say you have much lesser reproach than you think. You didn’t have the command yourself, you resisted until risking your life under the threat of a crazy, and you have done everything possible in order not getting faults. For the mother, what would you have been able to do, or say, to stop the human beast while unleashed, unless killed without change her fate? You have not participated, and it is already a great deal. I imagine that later you were suspected to your comrades because you didn’t like them.»
«Yes, but …»
«… But please get peace equally. D’you see? It is in your soul that you must come to terms, not with what I can tell, or any other wise man.»

They walked side by side in silence, thinking Ristori his suffering, Saluzzi what could say more to the young man, whom liked and he wanted to see happy. All of a sudden, he took a decision, perhaps the most crazy.
«Giorgio, with the limits I have said, I could add more, if you are not laughing at the back.»
«And who wants to laugh?»
«All right. What I’m going to tell you, is true even if you were an unleashed beast as your companions, and then applies a fortiori for your behavior.»
«Okay, Beretta. I’m prepared to your judgement.»
«It will not be a trial. Precisely for its diversity by a court ruling, it could make you laugh. But it would be a pity if you did. I believe that a man, even with the best intentions, takes actions that may feel wrong inside, a fault that is. But I also believe that a fault, although serious, has right to redemption. The redemption from the guilt is the atonement, which is not consuming inside until to destroy: this is useful to nothing and nobody. To expiate a fault means take a conscience, repent of the evil done to others, not recur again and give others something in return. But again, no self-destruction.»
«Beretta, I hear a priest.»
«Well, calm: maybe did I talk about God?»
«No, but …»
«And then, even if I were a believer, I would recommend you not ever see a priest of berlüscaland, which could report you as opponent of the regime. Cardinal Ruvini would do for sure.»

Ristori remained silent for a moment, thinking Beretta’s words, who felt fully friend, and then asked:
«D’you say that my expiation could be helping our country to get rid of the regime?»
«I don’t want there be the slightest doubt that I’m concerned. I don’t want to compel leading us, because I love you, Giorgio, to reduce your freedom. It could, but it could be anything else that you feel appropriate.»
«Agreed, Beretta. I will expiate my fault working with the FLIP. And note that I did not laugh.»
«I’m happy for you, Giorgio. It was my last resort: if you laughed, would have finished to destroy yourself inside. And you are too young to burn the life behind the ghosts.»
«There is one thing that I miss the confession of a priest.»
«What?»
«I’m afraid that now you will laugh, Beretta. The acquittal.»

The hard Lonely Wolf, perhaps because no longer so lonely, didn’t laugh. He stopped in front of Ristori, regardless of any passers, and put his hand on the shoulder of the young friend and talked very seriously, looking him directly into the eyes:
«All right. I absolve you from your sins, and free you of any remorse. Help liberate this poor country from oppression, and live in peace with yourself.»

Giorgio Ristori, in the current density of moment and by the strength of cultural stereotypes, instinctively started to mark the sign of cross, stopping in time, embarrassed by the gesture. They walked again in silence. Suddenly, Ristori towards friend to say:
«Beretta, will be a nonsense, but I really feel more free. There were months that I felt bad inside. I know what I say.»
«I hoped, Giorgio, although I didn’t count. If God exists, He can do well without self called priests, especially when they have betrayed Him for a plate of lentils.»

Wandering around the university, they were passing in front of a pub that was quite good for Saluzzi.
«Let us come in to celebrate the redemption, Giorgio.»