Past shadows on the lake
In July of 1943, while Italy was beginning to feel the dire consequences of a war for which it was not prepared and carelessly undertaken at the side of Germany, Benito Mussolini was summoned to a meeting of the Supreme Fascist Council, an executive political committee that he had created, and in a daring action the members of the Council submitted a vote of no confidence.
The following day The Duce met with the King Victor Emmanuel. He expected support but instead was arrested and whisked off to a remote prison. After a few changes of venue he was taken to Campo Imperatore, in the Abruzzo mountains. There, guarded by a small contingent of Italian soldiers, was liberated by a crack German corps under the command of Otto Skorzeny, who under order from the Furher, flew the Duce to German territory.
Mussolini established a Fascist Republic in the north of Italy, supported by the German military and a scant force of die-hard fascists. The headquarters of such government were placed in Salò, a charming village on the west coast of Lake Garda. His power lasted less than two years, until the spring of 1945, when he was caught and summarily executed together with his lover Claretta Petacci by the Italian partisans.
This dramatic historical backdrop colored my mood as we went to Salò this summer and checked in at the hotel Spiaggia d’Oro, a fabulous property right on the shore of Lake Garda.
I was expecting to see some of the places where the Duce had lived and conducted his political activities, but I was told that he actually had resided a few miles north of Salò, in a place called Villa Feltrinelli. This villa is now a super luxury hotel, ranked among the best in the world. I had read that Benito Mussolini, in spite of his reputation as a boastful and grandiose leader, was in fact not particularly interested in luxurious settings, money and comforts.
Therefore I am inclined to believe that at the time of his presence at the villa, the place was probably a far cry from today’s magnificent property.
I remember seeing pictures of the Duce in the villa, wearing reading glasses and looking somewhat meek and weary, no strong jaw and jutting chest postures. I must admit that, in spite of what my rational mind recognizes as wrong and condemnable in fascism and its leader, I cannot dismiss a strong fascination with the man who ushered the doctrine of super nationalism in Europe in the twentieth century.He was imitated by Hitler, Francisco Franco in Spain, Salazar in Portugal and Peron in Argentina. He coined the word Fascism and created the first, efficient and pervasive mechanism of mass indoctrination, with its symbols, uniforms and slogans. Briefly, as history goes, he had the world look at Italy as a world power, and made many Italians proud, until he dragged the country in a devastating ruinous war.
I cannot help but feel annoyed when he is remembered and portrayed as a clown. As a child, I remember his voice on the radio, thundering from the balcony in Piazza Venezia, Rome, and even the skeptical were moved by his strength. I must force myself to put into focus the misery of our fathers and mothers when we had nothing to eat, the fear of bombs falling, the disappointment in learning the truth about our troops, our naval might, the occupation of our country and the cruelty and murderous behavior of our so called German allies.
As we walk the narrow streets of Salò and look at the wealth of shops, restaurants and people from all over the world who visit this charming corner of Italy, I wonder how many are aware of how history swept through this village only sixty years ago, and I find difficult to believe this place was ever anything but a peaceful resort.
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