teaches that killing is not a sin if necessitated in a just war. That is exactly what we are engaged in, a just war against Fascism.” Uno kept his tone soft, not argumentative, and he eyed the men in the circle, addressing them, too. “Every day, Mussolini and his regime oppress our fellow citizens and lead our beloved country farther down the path to war. Yet his wars are not just, are they? Ethiopia was not a just war. Worse, we all know that he used poison mustard gas on those poor souls, and that is an atrocity. His goal is the death and destruction of anyone who doesn’t follow him.”
The men nodded, but didn’t interrupt Uno.
“Consider the countless lives we will save, and the human losses we will prevent if we undertake Operation First Strike. The local fascio supports the party in our city. Palazzo Braschi is arguably the most important local party office in the country. Can you imagine what good we will do if we cut the head off of this snake? Could there be a war more just?”
Aldo mulled it over, torn. His brain told him that Uno might be correct, but his faith told him that murder was the most grievous of sins. He wished he could pray over the matter, and contemplate. He had never been so confused, and he didn’t like being the odd man out, the only one arguing with Uno. The other anti-Fascists were narrowing their eyes at him, even Broken Tooth. Aldo felt their judgment and he feared they would think him disloyal, so he succumbed to the pressure of the moment. This was neither the time nor place for a crisis of conscience.
“Uno, okay, then, I see it your way,” Aldo managed to say.
“I have persuaded you of the correctness of our cause?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
Uno beamed. “Then we move, as one.”
“Bravo!” Everyone cheered, their faces alive with animation and their fists pumping again.
Uno raised an index finger, silencing them. “Now we may begin. Our first step is to obtain sufficient weapons. I have located a source of pistols in Orvieto, but I will not divulge the details. They have guns and are willing to sell. We have the money, and I will set up the meeting in the months to come.”
Another ripple of excitement went through the men, but Aldo felt the situation slipping out of control. He never should have agreed. He still couldn’t imagine aiming a gun at the chest of a fellow human being. Ironically, it was the Fascist youth group, the Balilla, that had taught him to use a gun. He was a terrible shot.
Uno continued, “I will deliver the money when it’s safe to do so. However, I cannot obtain the guns at the same time. If I was apprehended, the Fascists would have the proof of guns for money, an illegal transaction. So we must divide the transaction in two steps. The money goes separately from the guns.”
“Good thinking, Uno.” Loud Mouth nodded. Aldo wondered how much the guns cost and where Uno was getting the money, but nobody asked.
“So, men, after I have delivered the money, we need someone to travel to Orvieto and pick up the guns.” Uno scanned the men, and though his face was in shadow, the candlelight flickered on his fine spectacles. “Whoever does so will be carrying weapons. If you are caught, you will be arrested. And you can’t travel by train to Orvieto because the police watch for us. It would be best to go by bicycle. It’s quite a distance, so we need an athlete, a cyclist. Who will ride for us?”
The men began looking at each other, then all of the faces turned to Aldo.
Uno turned to Aldo last, then smiled in a newly fraternal way. “Signor Silenzio, you come to our meetings in cycling clothes, and you have the best bicycle. You are young and very fit. Are you, perchance, an amateur cyclist?”
“Yes.” Aldo’s heart pounded so hard that he couldn’t hear himself speak. He had gotten himself into a terrible position. He sensed he had to prove his loyalty after his earlier objection, and Uno’s argument in favor nagged at him. Their cause was undeniably just.
“Signor Silenzio, when the time comes, will you pick up the guns?”
Aldo’s mouth went dry, and his thoughts raced. Maybe this was like a war, a just war. Maybe it was time to act. Maybe he needed to step up, like the other men. He had joined them