To the Old Guard (On the 20th Anniversary of the Founding of the First Fascist Squad)
By Benito Mussolini
Comrades of the vigil! Faithful squadristi of the first and of all hours!
It is with profound emotion that I speak to you 20 years after the founding of the Italian Fasci of Combat [Fasci italiani di combattimento]. While looking you squarely in the eye, I see again so many days that we have lived together—happy, sad, stormy, dramatic, but always unforgettable.
On March 23, 1919, we raised the black banner of the Fascist revolution, forerunner of European renewal. Around this banner your squadrons gathered, formed of veterans of the trenches and of the very young. We decided to march against cowardly government, and against disintegrating Oriental theories, to free the people from the nefarious influences of the world of 1789.
Around this banner there fell fighting like heroes, in the most Roman sense of the word, thousands of comrades in the streets and squares of Italy, in Africa and in Spain—comrades whose memory is ever alive and present in our hearts.
There may be someone who has forgotten the very difficult years of the founding (shouts from the crowd of "No!"), but the men of these squads have not forgotten them, cannot forget them. (Shouts of "Never!").
It may be that in the meantime some have sat down, but the men of these squads are on foot ready to take up the musket, and jump on the trucks, just as you did in the expeditions of that time. (Shouts of "Yes, yes!").
The men of these squads can say to him who lingers behind the shutters that the revolution is not yet over; from the point of view of customs, character and social distances it has only just begun.
I leave to others the task of determining a final balance of our labour in this first 20-year period of Fascism. The balance sheet is gigantic. What we have done is destined to remain and will remain through the centuries. Nor do I waste time comparing Italy of 1919—deluded, restless, disorganized, infected with Bolshevism as a nation not victorious but defeated—with the Italy of 1939, orderly, disciplined, creative, warlike, imperial.
But perhaps it would be worthwhile to remember how many times the demo-plutocratic factory of liars announced to the now-scattered flocks of their beaten sheep the approaching, imminent, certain ruin of Fascist Italy, based on the fiction that it was bled in Africa, and still more in Spain, and therefore had urgent need of a loan, which naturally could only come from the British.
That is not true.
What really is true is that this Fascist Italy is still, even in the age of radio, as unknown as the farthest and most remote regions of the earth.
What we have done is important, but for us what we shall do later is more important. And we shall do it because my will knows no obstacles, and because your enthusiasm and your spirit of sacrifice are intact. You are not my bodyguard. You are, above all, as you wish to be, the Guard of the Revolution and the Fascist regime.
Comrade Squadristi!
Your gathering, which is the culminating manifestation of the celebrations of the first 20 years of Fascism, takes place in a serious moment in European life.
We are not carried away and we will not be carried away by that which now is known as the war psychosis, a mixture of hysteria and fear.
Our course of our navigation is definite and our principles are clear: listen with all necessary attention and discretion.
First: As regards the professional pacifists, they are particularly detestable individuals. And as regards the word peace, it is by now virtually worn out from much use and rings misleadingly like counterfeit money. Although it is well-known that we consider perpetual peace as a catastrophe for human civilization, we also consider a long period of peace necessary to safeguard Europe and the development of European civilization. But, as regards recent solicitations, we shall take no initiative whatsoever until our sacred rights are recognized.
Second: The period of the waltz, if it ever existed, is definitely closed. The memory of it is offensive to us and to all Italians.
The attempts to crack and break the Rome-Berlin axis are childish. The Axis is not only a relationship between two states, it is a meeting between two Revolutions which have shown themselves as opposed to all other conceptions of contemporary civilization. Here is the strength of the Axis. And here are the conditions of its duration.
But since in every Nation there is always a rate of emotional superficiality, which sometimes replaces reason, I am here to tell you in the most explicit manner that what happened in Central Europe was fated to happen.
I declare that if the great democracies weep bitterly over the premature and somewhat dishonorable end of what was their dearest creature, this is a perfect reason for us not to associate ourselves with their more or less decent tears.
I would add that if the problem be placed on the level of morals, nobody—I say nobody—has the right to throw the first stone as the ancient and modern history of Europe abundantly demonstrates.
I declare that when a people, which had very many men and an immense arsenal of weapons, is not capable of a gesture, this demonstrates that it is overripe for its new destiny.
And finally I declare that if the longed-for establishment of a coalition against the authoritarian regimes should come about, these regimes would take up the challenge and would pass from defense to counter-attack at all points of the globe.
Third: In my Genoa speech I spoke of a barricade which separated Italy from France. This barricade may be considered sufficiently demolished and within a few days, perhaps a few hours, the magnificent infantry of nationalist Spain will deliver the last blow, and Madrid, where the Leftists expected the tomb of Fascism to be, will instead be the grave of Communism.
We do not ask the world's judgment, but we desire the world to be informed.
However, in the Italian Notes of December 17, 1938, the Italian problems with France were clearly set forth: problems of a colonial character. These problems have a name: they are called Tunisia, Djibouti, and the Suez Canal.
The French government is perfectly free to refuse us even the simplest discussion of these problems, as it has done up to now through its too-often-repeated and too categorical "jamais" (never).
It cannot complain later, then, if the ditch which now separates the two countries becomes so deep that filling it becomes hard work, if not impossible. In any case, we wish to hear no more about brotherhood, sisterhood, cousins, and other such bastard relationships because relations between states are relations of force, and these relations of force are the determining elements of their policy.
Fourth: Geographically, historically, politically and militarily, the Mediterranean is a vital space (the crowds shout: "And ours!") for Italy. When we say the Mediterranean we naturally include the gulf which is called the Adriatic, in which Italy's interests are preeminent, but not exclusive, as regards the Slavs. It is for this reason that peace has reigned there for two years.
Fifth: Last, but fundamental and preliminary: we must arm ourselves.
The watchword is this: more cannons, more ships, more airplanes, at whatever cost (the crowd shouts with one voice: "Yes!"), by whatever means, even if it should mean "tabula rasa" (wiping out) of all that is called civil life. When one is strong one is dear to one's friends and feared by one's enemies.
Since prehistoric times one cry has echoed on the waves of the centuries and the series of generations: "Woe to the unarmed!"
Comrade Squadristi!
The glorious black shirt with which we have fought and will fight is adorned today with a small decoration of which you should be particularly proud, a decoration red in color, the red of our blood and of others which we are ready to shed when the interests of Italy and of Fascism are at stake.
This is your day—your great day. (The squadristi shout: "It is yours, Duce!").
By your courage, by your sacrifice, by your faith you have given a powerful impulse to the wheel of history. (The squadristi shout to the Duce: "It was you!").
Now I ask you: "Do you wish honours?" (The squadristi respond with one voice: "No!").
Rewards? A comfortable life? (The squadristi respond to each question with a very powerful: "No!").
Does the impossible exist for you? (The squadristi screams again, with one voice, a very loud: "No!")
What are three words which form our dogma? (The crowd pronounces the three words: "Believe! Obey! Fight!").
Well, comrades, in these three words was, is, and will be the secret of every victory.
