‘You are thinking on this too much, Eugenio,’ Ronzoni’s voice rasps out as a smoke stream twirls out of his mouth from a cigarette he has just inhaled. ‘We should accept this armistice. They will not punish us. We were just doing our job, our duty. Everyone was just following orders.’
I don’t know so much. I look at him. ‘They are wanting us to state that our political affiliations have changed. That all that we stood for is just … just washed away, as if it never existed.’
‘No. They want us to accept that everything has changed and that we know that the Axis parties are defeated. You know that much is true. It means that by signing we can go home to a peaceful Italy.’
Doubts still fill me. What if he is wrong? Of course, I know we have lost the war. Of course, I want more than anything to go back home. But will they truly allow us to go back without any further punishment? Ronzoni just seems to be accepting this as if he hasn’t a care in the world. How can he be so calm when I have all this churning inside of me? Is it better to try and escape now or to trust in the hands of God and hope that the victors will be as generous?
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