By Niccolò Giani
Son, one day you will read these words, which my right hand — proudly firm and decisive — is writing by the light of a field lantern, while in the sky above my head the stars embroider phosphorescences full of mystery, God looks upon me, and keeping watch beside me are 675 brothers-in-arms of my battalion.
By that time some years will have passed, many, perhaps too many, years will have passed, and on the iron chronicle of this 14th year of the Fascist Era, time will have rounded off the edges and softened the surface. But it is precisely for this reason that I write: so that you can read it, remember it and never forget it.
Surrounding your cradle today is the roar of armies. 52 imperial states – and always remember their names – tried to bring your father's Fatherland to its knees, your Fatherland, this divine Italy that you too will learn to adore. They are the names of enemies, they are the names of yesterday's friends, they are glorious and attractive names: the whole world in coalition attempted this great crime. But it is a vain revolt of slaves, it is the last yearning of yesterday, it is the extreme hope of the past trying to stop the future; vain, because History — through the Engineer battalions and the genius of man — will win and you will be a citizen of the Empire. It is that Rome that our grandparents made regal, that our fathers crowned with Victory; it is that imperial Rome that you will know. And if on the fatal hills you again see the sign of Augustus, remember, always remember, that it is only because a great Victory, a profound Revolution and an invincible Leader have marked in time the stages of the triumphal rebirth.
You will not know factions, nor parties. You will not see enemies within the sacred borders of the Fatherland. You will know only one name: Italy, you will love only one thing: Italy, and for it you will be willing to leave everything, lose everything, forget everything. To be hated and vilified, humiliated and tormented: only for this Italy will you learn how to die with both body and soul. And never, never must you forget that for this sacred land, mothers greeted with a smile their own sons who were going off to die, husbands abandoned their young brides with fierce enthusiasm, fathers proudly kissed their children for the last time. That for this Italy the rivers were filled with blood, the mountains trembled, the dead came out of the earth. And that precisely because of this, I do not know you today and perhaps I may never know you: but if it were so, you would love it also for me, sacrifice also for me; die also for me. And remember that only when you see your dearest friend fall, he who is spiritually your brother, and you alone find the time to kneel and embrace him, and not a single word of anger escapes your lips, and in your mind there is no thought to curse, but you just want to march forward to seize victory and by doing so you will be sure to avenge your fallen friend, then, as soon as you are sure you have learned to know your Fatherland, you will be sure to love it.
Son, the Fatherland should always be above the family, but live and act in their ideals: you will never find a contradiction, as certain decadent and dead literature has written, but always holy and necessary integration. Only by doing this will you be worthy of this Italic people who by the thousands are today putting on the uniform and giving their lives in Africa and in Europe, fighting for the cause of justice and civilization, for the cause of the Empire of the "Pax Romana".
When you are an adult, and you gaze upon the mutilated crown atop the head of the Leader of your Fatherland, it will be easy for you to recognize the gems which the passing of time and the sloth of men have rendered hollow.
You will recognize the birthplace of your ancestors, that sacred land of Dalmatia, where every stone is burdened with betrayal and where every pine reaches towards heaven as a prayer to God for the return of its Mother. You will recognize Corsica and Malta, Ticino and Grigioni. You will rediscover the lost gems of this Africa, where now there is a great spark of nostalgia, and of that Asia which already witnessed the miracles of the great sons of Rome. You will recognize all, all the gems that must return to her, and you will see them return to her, for one by one they will return, and you will teach your child about the missing ones...
While the Roman Empire shall bring the sun back into the skies of the world, you will see nations decay, states disappear, idols and illusions destroyed: while you witness the end of a dying world, the end of certainty in believing, obeying and fighting, you will witness the rebirth of the world of justice, authority and order, because in the noon of the already born dawns the civilization of the Fasces is shining forth.
Happy fate has granted you the gift of birth in this fourteenth year of the Fascist Era, which witnesses the revenge of Adua and the triumph of the resurrected genius of Rome: may you, in life, never know the shameful flight of the enemy, as we have witnessed today: may your heart learn only the inexorable justice of Rome, for which justice four traitors now hang 50 meters from here; and may your eyes only see greatness and power, glory and victory.
Son, in the very name that you bear lies the hope of your day and your generation: Africa must be your sign and your path, your destiny and your duty, it must be your hope and your right.
Now grown up: the Black Shirt and the khaki uniform which your mother made for you in the cradle will have to be your lifelong companions. Learn how to wear them with love and pride.
Niccolò Giani
