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who had died for the Cause, and of those many whose names would remain unknowable.

"Did you at least see the jeeps in Piazza San Marco the other day?" I said then. 

"Oh yes. It was Popsky's 'private army'. A Pole I chased in vain in Marmarica and in the desert south of the Gialo oasis."

"Just think that they have gone around the square 7 times." 

"Hmmm." 

"So you're not really coming?" 

"No." 

Although disappointed not to be able to applaud him in the square, I did not insist. I knew that Gianfranco was made in his own way. He had been nominated for 2 silver medals, one bronze, a War Cross and a promotion. Since nothing ever came, I asked him why. He should have sent certain papers, he said. I asked why he didn't send them. "Many of my companions have done like me, perhaps more than me and no one knows anything. I would be ashamed to work for medals, I who are still alive."

And so I went to the square without him. The lower part of the Basilica was still covered by the rough tarpaulin that hid the sandbags to protect the mosaics. Immediately above, on the marble balustrade, where the bronze horses had been removed as a precaution, there was a great throng of excited people. In front of the Procuratie Nuove the box of the authorities had been erected, dominated by the banner of San Marco.

From the edges of the square, from the balconies and from the roofs, applause and shouts rose and among the flights of doves disturbed by so much noise, the units of the Army, Aviation and Navy paraded. The Bersaglieri on the run. The partisans with the green armband. And men with a red...