ABSTRACT: The story of the period spent in a military prison by conscientious objector Roberto Cicciomessere. Secretary of the Radical Party, Cicciomessere is conducting a campaign for the acknowledgement of the right to refuse the military service. A few months after his arrest, thanks to the mobilization of the public opinion promoted by the Radical Party, the Italian Parliament passed a law on the 15th of December 1972 acknowledging the civil right to conscientious objection to the military service.

(La prova radicale, summer 1972, n.4)

13th of April - As days go by, I feel less and less that I'm going to make it, I feel I might collapse very soon. I wonder what happened to the letter I wrote, I can think of nothing else. I try to remember what I wrote in it, to understand if contains the essential elements of an offence. Recalling Angelino Giovanni and all the other convictions, inflicted for totally futile reasons, I am suddenly frightened at the idea of how many years I might have to spend in this filthy place. Also, I have no idea as to how to inform my fellow comrades of the party about my situation. I try to think of something else. But it's terribly difficult to spend a day peacefully, and at night I can't get any sleep in a cage like this, without anything to do at all. If I compare this situation in the cell with the previous one, when I had a mattress, books and cigarettes, I understand the prison's regulation better and better. Its power and danger consist precisely in the impossibility of applying it in most cases, and in its bl

ackmailing and punitive purpose. This is because a literal and strict enforcement of the rules would create situations of permanent unrest and revolt inside the prisons and, ultimately, would upset the whole prison order, creating the conditions for a revision of it, to say the least. The establishment, the army, both in the barracks and in prison, use those Bourbon laws with much caution, to obtain a complete obedience, to use it against the prisoners as an instrument of constant threat, to affect the "trouble-makers" among them, to show exemplary punishments, while at the same time creating the image of the generous superior, who administers the law paternally, and who is forced only in extreme cases, and against his will, to enforce a set of rules "of which he of course does not approve the harshness".

14th of April - Walking back from the toilets, officer Doni, who follows every move I make, suddenly stops inside the cell, calls the corporal on duty and shows him a graffiti on the wall of the cell, probably made with the sole of a military boot: "Fascist", it reads. "You're going to be denounced for this!" I remind him that I do not wear boots, but simply a pair of slippers, and that therefore I could in no way write on the wall. In any case, that the word represents an insult for no one in particular, but only for those who have a guilty conscience. He leaves the cell visibly irritated. His attempt to make my stay in the cell even more difficult is all too clear.

15th of April - I desperately ask to speak to the captain, to know why I am in here. Lieutenant Zanzottera answers that the captain will see me in the afternoon. I wait, with nervous unrest, but after they give the last meal of the day I realize I won't see him today. I get a nervous fit. I start singing, then shouting. I remember the things Girolamo told me about, of people swallowing screws, nails, or slashing their wrists to avoid further vexations. It's a strong but temporary idea. I still have a little strength left to overcome it.

16th of April - Nestorini finally admits me to his presence. He starts listing all the charges against me. I can't follow him. I'm exhausted and yet at the same time I feel relieved. I can hardly stand on my feet. I sense I'm about to collapse on the floor. I can hardly keep myself from crying. I ask to be taken back to my cell. Nestorini must be frightened by my conditions, because he sends a nurse with sleeping pills and other medicines. It would be a terrible nuisance for him if something were to happen to me. I finally get some sleep.

17th of April - Our second talk is slightly better. Nestorini shows me the letter I was writing, my note-pad with my remarks, 5 sheets full of testimonies from warders and some prisoners as well. "I have the testimonial evidence here that you were organizing a hunger strike in this prison, and that you were diffusing false news about supposed ill-treatment on prisoners in the isolation cells, that you were discussing politics in your dormitory, that you threatened Lieutenant Zanzottera, telling him "one day perhaps you will understand exactly what I mean when I say that the armies' purpose is to repress, and then you will have to take a clear stance", that you organized the collective interruption of the meeting with the missionaries, and that in short you were trying to create discontent inside the prison in order to promote actions of protest".

I answer back in a calm manner, stating that I never said that the prisoners were beaten up in the cells, but that I was told by other people that there had been bashing ups; and it's a different thing; that there is discontent in the prison because of objective reasons and not because of my intervention; that it is difficult not to talk about "politics", given that all our actions involve a fundamental choice, unless by politics we are referring only to the "left-wing" politics, whereas the conservative and reactionary choices are not "political"; that talking to Lieutenant Zanzottera I was simply hoping for a clarification coming from facts and not from words; that the interruption of the meeting with the missionaries was spontaneous and not previously arranged; that prisoners are not sheep, and therefore are in the conditions of deciding on their own and taking their own responsibilities for any action they undertake, even an action of protest, and that therefore there is no need for leaders or instigator

s. Nestorini makes an attempt to justify himself as regards the episodes in the cells, which by now have become the object of interest outside of the prison as well, and he admits that De Simoni had told him that he would have denounced the ill-treatment he had received before a prosecutor, possibly even during the trial. "I am extremely rigid, both with my subordinates and with the prisoners". He tells me that two years ago he dismissed two petty officers because they were too rough on the prisoners. And it is true that officer Costa, whom Pizzola had described in his diary, was dismissed from his office at Peschiera...sent to the military penitentiary of Gaeta. It is clear that the discussion will lead nowhere.

Nestorini must avoid too much clamour around the prison and is worried about the stance taken by the party, the press and authoritative parliamentarians such as Nenni, Fortuna, Scalfari, Jannuzzi on my case, whom my comrades had informed. He therefore tells me that I will be punished only with 30 days of isolation cell, of which 10 days of CPR and 20 of CPS (1): the maximum. "The Prosecution office will then have to decide about the possibility of denunciations".

21st of April - I come out of the cell. I look ghastly. I'm pale, I can hardly open my eyes in the daylight, my beard is long, my steps are shaky and I stink tremendously. I recover quite soon. Now I have to stay in the cell only 18 hours, whereas I can go out with the others. I am told that they were about to bash Veneziano up in the dormitory, because he had "sung" before the captain. Nestorini had frightened him telling him that I had written that he too had agreed on the hunger strike.

Even Iodice is forced to accuse me. He is married and has children. His son is suffering from a serious form of hernia. "You're married, aren't you? And you have a child. Would you like to see him again soon?". Their strategy is clear; even Iodice confirms that I had attempted to organize a collective hunger strike. Girolamo explains that in a normal prison Veneziano would have been punished very severely for what he had done. In those places there is a very strict "code of honour", which all the prisoners are expected to respect. I tell him that it sounds like a mafia, and that I hate rules, wherever they come from. "If we didn't defend ourselves with our rules in there, we would be at the warders' mercy. The prisoners must know that if they behave like bastards they'll pay for it.

The atmosphere now in the prison is that of resignation and defeat. The captain has recovered the control of the situation, and is starting to carry out severe dispositions. Many fellow prisoners are transferred to Gaeta, controls have become extremely meticulous.

Liliana informs me that she has obtained the authorization to talk to me, after having presented the Prosecution Office with a statement in which my mother confirms that we live together. The workers of an occupied Roman factory, Aerostatica, send us a telegram in which "they hope for a complete success for our common struggle for a fairer and freer society". I receive my first letter from my parents "...I don't share your ideas but I appreciate your sincerity. Love, Dad".

23rd of April - I receive the notification that I have been transferred to the military prison of Cagliari. I manage to inform my fellow prisoners of this. I wasn't expecting such a provision. I am very worried because in Cagliari it will be very difficult for me to communicate with with my comrades in Rome, and to receive visits. I remember the punishment regiment of Macomer, of the arrests and the repressions carried out in those barracks, and I fear that this prison will be even harsher than Peschiera. At 3.30 pm (on a Sunday) the Carabinieri come and take me, handcuffed, with the prescribed blue uniform, and after 7 hours of non-stop journey on board a civilian car, take me to the judicial prison of Civitavecchia, waiting to be taken with a ship to Sardinia. It's about 22.30 pm, and the prison guard on duty does not want to admit me. Even the carabinieri who escort me are tired and want to eat.

The cell in the prison of Civitavecchia is very small. There's barely enough room for three folding-beds, a toilet and a sink. The two prisoners are surprised at seeing a prisoner dressed in such a funny way, with a mechanic's overall and a sort of military uniform, tied with a string. They are very kind to me and offer me some excellent bread and cheese. But owing to the long journey with folded arms, and handcuffs on my wrists, I immediately vomit everything. The "civilian" prison strikes me as being very different from the military one; under certain aspects even more "uncivilized". The authoritarianism is perhaps less evident, but the unwritten rules here are much stricter.

I get the impression that all the contradictions are solved from the inside with a rudimentary justice, and that the avengers are both the prisoners themselves and the warders, according to the situation.

Unlike the military prison though, it seems to me that here there is a general resignation as regards the conviction. At the most, the prisoners challenge the length of the penalty, not the penalty itself. The "meals" are uneatable, there is practically no meat, reason for which all the prisoners are forced to cook their meals in their cells or buy steaks cooked in the kitchen (400 Lire) and to devise all sorts of methods to find the money to pay for these expenses. My two fellow prisoners offer me an excellent dish of pasta, with tomato sauce, potatoes (sliced with a blade), cheese and bread. They are in here for having stolen a car. They live in Brescia and are about twenty years old. The story of their life is the usual one: a "difficult" childhood due to family reasons. both the parents workers in a factory, his first theft at sixteen, reformatory, and from then on in and out of prison, with no alternatives or hope. I stay in the cell or in the corridor, the courtyard is oppressive: it's about as wide as

a room, with very tall walls from which one can barely get a glimpse of a portion of sky. Three prisoners, dressed in pajamas, walk up and down the courtyard with the typical "prisoner's-step": high speed, continuous about turns, deep in their thoughts while they chat with a companion.

24th of April - Together with other prisoners of the prison of Civitavecchia they take me to the ferry-boat for Sardinia. The other five prisoners are chained together, I have handcuffs and am kept with a chain by a carabiniere. Ii feels very strange when I step out of the van and walk on the port's pier with all that equipment, and everybody notices me. I am not ashamed at all, but I would like to explain to these people watching us why we are transported like pigs to the prison. A poor carabiniere is forced to carry my knapsack, with the military equipment which weighs half a ton. The cabin reserved for us has eight bunk beds and is hermetically closed by an iron door. We are like rats in cage. I am worried, and I ask the escort whether in the case of a shipwreck they will open our cabin. They answer in the affirmative, and we are relieved. There is a transvestite with us, wearing garish women's' clothes and a messed up make-up, probably because of the long permanence in the police station's cell. They are

taking him to Sardinia for a compulsory residence. He is not put in the cell with us, but remains in the carabinieri's cabins. The prisoners start rioting, they want him in the cell. Some of them have been in prison for four years, and start scheming about spending the night with the transvestite. The protest goes on all night, but no results. The eldest prisoner, who wears large moustaches like Stalin, about forty years old, convicted for exploitation, describes life in the penal colonies of Sardinia, Isile, Mamona and Asinara to me.

The prisoners work in the open air, they keep cattle, produce milk, cheese, ham, sausages and meat. However it is only very rarely that the prisoners get to taste any of these products. They are destined for the warders, the director and the supervision judge, who passes here every week: "just to collect the product of their work", he says. The meals are uneatable, so they give it to the pigs. The only advantages are the open air and the possibility of having sexual intercourse with the animals. He tells me about his sheep, whose sexual performances were very much in demand, and which he conceded in exchange for a few cigarettes.

After twelve hours of journey we reach Cagliari, and I am taken to the military prison of S. Bartolomeo.

25th of April - There is nothing but prisoners in the penitentiary. We lodge in two quite comfortable dormitories, with a well equipped toilet, decorated with light blue tiles.

One captain, three marshals, two sergeants, ten corporals. "It's a family", Marshal Ligia tells me with extreme kindness, as soon as he sees me. It is an exceptionally "human" prison. Under certain aspects perhaps more absurd than the lager of Peschiera. Everything is allowed, except going out: the meals are excellent, the relations with the "warders" are characterized by the uttermost courtesy and confidence, it seems that they haven't punished a prisoner for years, every prisoner if free to dress as he wants, one can sunbathe at leisure in the spacious courtyard, one can write an unlimited number of letters, even on "political" topics, read the papers, almost all of them are available. The Sardinians appear to me in their "traditional" virtues: the nicest and kindest people I have ever known.

26th of April - I meet the director of the prison, Captain Atzei: he is a young man of 38, not very tall, he wears no uniform, and speaks with a strong Sardinian accent. I think he is a civilian working in the prison: he speaks very confidentially, in his Sardinian dialect, with a prisoner. He introduces himself to me very kindly and starts talking to me. He asks informations about my offence, we talk about the reasons for my objection. He is attentive, but he explains to me why he does not share my position. He speaks to me in the "you" form, but with no paternalism, unlike the other officers.

I remain in isolation for about fifteen days. I have to finish serving Nestorini's punishment. It's not like the cell in Peschiera, but a reasonably large room, with a camp-bed and blankets. I must, however, use the chamber-pot. I spend the hours of air in the courtyard with the other prisoners. There are no sentinels, but the prison is completely surrounded by a Carabinieri station. From the windows of the offices one can see the tanks they are equipped with. From time to time we hear some explosions and the pungent smell of tear-gas: they are training. The other prisoners play soccer with the corporals, with the hundredth ball bought by the captain, often at his own expenses.

Graziano Carboni, with a red T-shirt and short trousers, shouts sentences in an incomprehensible dialect to his friends on Mount Elia, right in front of the prison. "Bona, bona!". It's their way of calling each other. Graziano tells me that a friend of his asked him about me. He knows me and read about my arrival in Cagliari on th "Unione Sarda". With a touch of mistrust he asks me if I am a Jehovah witness. I explain to him the reason why I'm here. He's been almost constantly in prison from the age of sixteen. He's a particularly intelligent and sensitive fellow. He lives in S. Elia, one of the poorest peripheral areas of Cagliari, right behind the mount we see from here. He tells me, almost boastfully, about the welcome his friends reserved for the Pope. The absolute poverty of his family and the impossibility of finding a decent job forced him to live by makeshift and a few thefts.

But he is aware that he is not reacting in an adequate and constructive way - especially as far as the possibility of being happy is concerned - to the society who alienated him, condemned him to be either exploited or be a thief, forcing him to such a difficult condition, from the reformatory to the "buon cammino" and now to S. Bartolomeo. At eighteen he is paid by the fascists to beat up the students. Once he enters university, he talks about it with a friend and during an assembly publicly denounces the way the fascists take advantage of the proletarians, of their condition. He's part of a group which deals with the problems of alienated persons and seriously starts thinking about constructing a different sort of life for himself. But the suits against him take him back to prison.

While he is prison he receives the draft notice. When he comes out he doesn't bother to enquire about his military position, he wants to enjoy his freedom. After twenty days he is arrested and taken to the military prison. He is the first one who realizes that for him prison represents a sort of security, a way to self-exclude himself from a society that has no intention of accepting him, the "solution to the problems", the serious problems life has posed to him. A prison such as this doesn't even offer the stimulus to question its function. It is a danger but also a problem. The captain is a sort of "good father", severe but fair, who wants to, and above all believes, he can redeem the prisoners without upsetting the society and the institutions that in the first place push them toward crime and then shut these "criminals" in such uncivilized places, in which only hate and resignation can arise. From a certain point of view, even Atzei is privileged. Tens of us, tens of proletarians and sub-proletarians wil

l flood his prison; if the social and political conflict affects this sort of oasis to a higher degree than at present, he too will be upset, he too will have to make a choice, if he hasn't "chosen" already...

7th of May - In the isolation cell I manage to write a lot. I answer the ever increasing letters I receive. I count them: there are over one hundred and fifty. The main part are from my companions of the Party. They are beautiful and give me much joy. "...distances are irrelevant, people say, because mankind has landed on the moon, but only those who can afford it land on the moon. And then, distances are important when they are made of stone, like the four walls in which you are now. To go beyond the wall you need letters, but it's not always so. This is why I'm writing to you. I'm writing to you first of all with the hope that by means of our correspondence a feeling of solidarity can arise, even if a fragile one. And I must also tell you that I am puzzled by this hope of mine. I'm perplexed because solidarity means helping one another, it means, from the etymological point of view of the term, building something solid, this is why my perplexity is mainly due to the fact that I wonder if I have anything so

lid at all to offer you. By using rhetoric one can certainly offer many things, words above all, words expressing solidarity. One might even say that "words are stones". I think it is the title of a book by Carlo Levi (2). But if I remember correctly, Levi was referring to those stones that are used to build. And one can build many things with words...if one doesn't use rhetoric, like I'm doing now!..." Gustavo Comba, from Torre Pelice, 4th of May.

"Hoping in a rapid and complete acknowledgement of conscientious objection and admired by your coherent courage, receive our full solidarity" S. Paolo catholic Community, Rome.

"Dear Roberto, for days and days I have been postponing writing to you, and yesterday someone threw the letter I had begun away. This sort of refusal has an explanation: the thought that an unknown, indifferent censor will read my words gives me the same sense of disgust and dread I felt as a child, when my father, during the war, forbid me to repeat the things that were said at home. During all these years I have constantly refused to acknowledge that we were still prisoners, in a certain sense..." Lucia Severino, Rome.

"Students in Manchester informed of your imprisonment and express full support for you" University of Manchester Union.

"I'm sending you a letter sent to the party, Peppino: "In your paper I read that Roberto Cicciomessere was arrested in Turin.. Many years ago, I was his teacher and I remember him with much sympathy and affection. I would be grateful to you if you added my expressions of solidarity and encouragement to the many ones that he is doubtless receiving from all parts of Italy" Alessandra Serafini".

I also receive financial contributions: Nicola Siano, Turin, "...we are closer to you than you may think. From Peschiera they transferred you to Cagliari; from here they will take you to Procida, but we know that no one and nothing will in any way affect your and our ideals of non-violent pacifists who refuse war because it is an instrument of offence against the individual's dignity..."; Bruno Recusani, Daniela Proietti, Mauro Mellini, my parents, Giancarlo Calma, Gianfranco Spadaccia, an anonymous person from Rome...I think up to now I received about 150 thousand Lire. These contributions are extremely useful. I spend very little, in fact only to buy cigarettes, stamps, writing paper, some oranges. But many prisoners can't even afford "Alfa" brand cigarettes. At home they receive nothing, and they have to live on the 68 Lire a day that they give us. I try to help them.

10th of May - I have spoken many times and for a length with Captain Atzei. Sometimes I spend half a day in his office, discussing with him. (Captain, can I write this, as I should, without harming you?) Like all the other prisoners I like this officer very much, and not only because of the atmosphere of relative serenity which he has succeeded in creating inside the prison. But what I can't understand is how he can actually believe in the "traditional" and "defensive" function of the army, in a prison in which the contradictions of the military structure are patent. "Are we prisoners the enemies of the country? Graziano, Spadoni and I, the Jehovah Witnesses?". "Each structure has its own laws, and it's not up to us to question them; there are other organs which we have charged to carry out this task, through voting, don't you agree? As far as I'm concerned, I am here to serve my country, regardless of its colour. If the Communists took the power and changed the laws I would remain here, at my post". "But yo

u are co-responsible for the oppressive structure which you are part of, which you collaborate to, you can't charge others with this responsibility, which is first of all an individual responsibility". "If all persons reasoned in the same way perhaps there would be no need for the structures that you label as oppressive, of the army. But the truth is different". When he speaks, he often refers to this fact of the difference in people's way of thinking, of the natural inadequacy or incapacity of mankind to abstain from violence.

I am sure he is honest in his intentions. When I talk about the hierarchic and authoritarian structure within the army he answers back that "My authority does not come from the stars I wear, but from the correctness of my opinions and from my greater experience". "It is for this that I am at all moments willing to question every order of mine". In his case it is true. He has no problems as regards forms of revenge on a subordinate, with whom he discusses very "democratically", in a friendly, perhaps paternal manner, but with no paternalism. I challenge him with the problem of the miseducating function of prisons, mentioning the stories of human and social problems I heard. "I believe in the motto "redeeming while supervising", and I hope you have had the occasion of realizing this". It is true that I have remarked his attitude, aimed at easing the anguish of us prisoners as much as he can, helping the most "difficult" prisoners almost beyond the degree of lawfulness, his capacity to understand the "social" p

roblems, as he calls them to avoid saying "political" problems, which are the basis of the prisoner's condition.

I think he also seriously thinks about the problem of the role he has within society, as an officer. And, from the point of view of his personal openness and my own experience, he is an exceptional case, the only officer I have ever known who honestly believes in his work. But he cannot but confirm the rule, offer a "human" outlet to a situation which lives on repressive norms, that violates the rights and the prerogatives of mankind. And the evidence of this is that he is here, in a "marginal" and "distant" situation.

13th of May - Alfredo Spadoni, from Carbonia, the most brilliant and vivacious of the prison, returns from his trial; he also is a previous offender, the victim of a difficult family situation, with parents that never had time to take care of their children, a milieu in which everybody lives on the borders of society trying to make a living somehow, and where the contradictions between the poverty of the island and the wealth of the few privileged ones who have become rich thanks to tourism are evident. During a leave he got drunk and insulted a Carabiniere. Perhaps he even shoved him. He is sentenced to one year of imprisonment. It's not bad, considering other cases. His counsel, appointed by the court, doesn't even show up at the trial, and a woman lawyer, passing through there accidentally, and abhorred by the colleague's behaviour, accepts to defend him, and defends him well.

The captain tries to encourage Alfredo, turning it into a joke. "But captain, why should I stay here twelve months, for such an idiocy? Is it fair according to you?" "Come, you were lucky. You knocked down two carabinieri, what were you expecting?". He was probably expecting to be left in peace while getting drunk.

We are all in the courtyards, sunbathing. We are quite bored and the ball has fallen out of the prison for the hundredth time. Salvatore Ausiello, from Naples, a pair of moustaches, one of the ten corporals that is charged with guarding us, shows me a card from his girlfriend. He is happy, because in two days time he will have a leave: 5 days, plus 2 (for the trip). He tells me that during the CAR (3) they told him they were sending him to Gaeta, and he was very frightened. During the two month course in the military prison they had explained to him that military prisoners are dangerous criminals, and that he should be very careful. For a long time he speaks to no one, he goes through a crisis. He doesn't like being a warder, but he cannot refuse. He realizes that the prisoners are soldiers like himself, only less lucky. Now he has made up his mind, he dreams about his leave and looks forward to it, he counts the days that are missing, the hours, he spends his time making doilies with a loom.

15th of May - It's hot, and we don't know how to spend our time. We play "pinella" (4), we organize a "bucket of water" for Ferrante. I think back at Peschiera. Here, in a different atmosphere, it is possible to play a "joke", to smile, to provoke someone without aggressiveness. We try to enjoy these brief moments.

But Ferrante takes to it badly. "Just when I had put my "good" uniform on to go out!". He sits in a corner, in silence. He doesn't even feel like protesting. "We were jerks to play a joke on him!".

He is a corporal, and is at the limits of a psychic breakdown. "Why do I have to stay in such a sad place, serving my country by locking and unlocking bolts, bored to death, supervising some poor people like you who have done nothing wrong?". He is a communist. With feverish eyes he repeats: "we're all going crazy in here". In two months time he will finish his service. He says he will see an analyst. From the day he entered the prison, from the day he became a "warder-prisoner", as he says, he can't sleep, he has nightmares, he suffers from strong headaches, is apathetic. Even Marshal Ligia says it's not fair that draft corporals should do such a lousy job. "It wasn't this way before. Even in the military prisons there were professional warders, who risked their lives for something more than 550 Lire a day. Obviously the ministry needs to save money...".

18th of May - Aboard a car, escorted by a police patrol car, they take me to Porto Torres where they put me on the ship to Genova. My destination in Turin, where I am to be tried. I'm very happy at the idea of seeing my companions of Peschiera again, they too must be tried in those same days. The escort consists of a marshal as well. This is quite unusual. Usually there are a brigadiere (5) and two lance-corporals. They are reluctant to talk, but they offer me coffee. The usual cabin-cell. After half an hour other five prisoners arrive, coming from the work camp of Asinara. They ask their escort to buy wine and a hot meal. They haven't eaten anything decent for a long time. The carabinieri guarding them don't feel like wasting time and bring back only two small flasks of wine and cold food. They protest by burning newspapers in the cabin. The air immediately becomes unbreathable. The carabinieri open the metal door and seize all the cigarettes and matches. That is all.

One of the prisoners, a very young man, is slightly effeminate and is the object of sexual attentions on the part of the others. I remain awake at night. I am worried. I was told about stories of violence perpetrated in penal institutions. I speak with one of the prisoners whose behaviour is more reassuring. He is a FIAT worker, he come from Turin. His name is Nicola De Mare. He has been in prison for six months, because he lent his motorbike to a guy who used it to rob a transvestite of his money. He is defended by member of Parliament Ugo Spagnoli, of the Communist Party. He is awaiting to be tried. After the revolt in the prison of Turin, Le Nuove, he was transferred to Sardinia. We are taken from Genova to Turin on a train. The escort is the same as before. They understand that I have no intention of escaping, and handcuff just one wrist, chaining it to the seat.

As I walk through the station in Turin, with chains and handcuffs, and three carabinieri escorting me, a child passing near me with his mother gets scared and starts crying, screaming and asking the mother why I was in that state. "He's a criminal, a bad man, don't worry love". I think I will be the child's bogeyman, when he refuses to go to bed or is fussy about eating.

19th of May - The military prison of Turin is inside the Alpine "Montegrappa" barracks. All in all it consists of 4 single cells and a larger cell with six folding-beds. The warders, who are good people, tell me that the commander of the prison received a report in which I am described as an extremely dangerous person. The commander himself summons me, to know me, and is deceived. Maybe he was expecting to see a giant! He gives me the authorization to wear a leather belt in the cell as well.

22nd of May - Gianni Rosa, Domenico De Simone, Paderi and others arrive. Valerio and Alerino are missing. Their trial was shifted to another date, in order for it not to coincide with mine, as had been previously established. They tell me about the situation in Peschiera. Nestorini is using harsh methods now. He forces the objectors do do all the tasks of the prison, hoping they will refuse. The mail arrives in the prison with incredible delays, and all the prisoners who speak with the objectors are threatened. De Simone confirms that he will tell the judges about the ill-treatments he suffered while in the cell. Sergeant Maseracchia was supposedly caught by the police while he was shooting against the lamp-posts of Peschiera. There should be a request for a hospitalization. It seems that one suit has been dismissed. Paderi will be tried, he is accused of having slapped Corporal Ghigioni, who had "pushed" him toward the cells.

23rd of May - I arrive in the court-room at 8.00 a.m. From the van I catch a glimpse of the companions from the MAI of Turin and from the Radical Party, and a police squad equipped to fight. I am chained with a Jehovah Witness and three prisoners from Le Nuove. The court is filled with companions, even from Rome. Liliana is missing. She's in bed with pneumonia. Pina hugs me and kisses me, crying. I'm very happy to see all my companions. Jean-Claude from "Amnesty International" is also there. I'm quite nervous and tense. At around 9 the court comes in. The debate begins, and immediately lawyers Canestrini, Mauro Mellini, De Luca and Todesco protest: the police forces are putting all the persons who enter the court-room in the police records. The court however refuses to interfere: "It is not our duty -they repeat - we are guests inside a barrack, the police order is not our business". "What about the guarantees about the trial being public?". "It's not our duty, I'm telling you". The captain charged with the

"order", the same one who, two months ago, when we handed ourselves in, threatened to take us outside of Turin and leave us there, is nervous and angry. Todesco starts presenting the exceptions of invalidity and unconstitutionality. The court grants only five minutes for each exception. It's an unprecedented fact. Todesco barely manages to list the argument of the exception.

In spite of the threats and the recording in the police files, the court-room is now full of people. There are journalists as well, an extraordinary fact because apart from judicial reporters never follow military trials, often they don't even know where the tribunals are (and as a matter of fact there is not even a table here for the press, the journalists take notes standing up). An old lawyer who is charged with the defense of the prisoners from Le Nuove, one who quite obviously lives on military trials, starts to become impatient. He grumbles that at the Tribunal of Turin he had never seen anything like this. I notice that Mauro, who is sitting next to him, is about to explode, and feels like kicking him.

The court insists on preventing the lawyers from carrying out their defensive line, to explain the exceptions. The judges are confused, they barely manage to control the trial because the a latere judge and the prosecutors mention the code continuously. The lawyers demand that specific statements and protests be recorded. But they have a hard time, and have to insist practically on every word, because the judges quibble and try to elude precise requests. The scribes and the petty officers of the tribunal come down from their offices to have a look at what is going on. The lawyers have decided to interrupt the defense as a form of protest, and not to pronounce their harangue. The court asks me whether I agree, and my answer is obviously affirmative. It is useless to give superfluous endorsements to a tribunal which is already unconstitutional as it is, and which doesn't even respect its "own" legality.

My interrogation is very brief, I had prepared a one minute long speech, in order to summarize the most important motivations of my refusal and to denounce the prison contradictions. I was too optimistic, after pronouncing the first sentence I am interrupted by the president. He is an elderly general, with a pair of white moustaches and a monocle. He came in leaning on a stick, he walks in a very formal manner, even if he is visibly lame. He always listens to the judge sitting on his left, who goes through the code rapidly before speaking. The other judges are on the contrary always silent, with their blue sashes across the chest, and their caps resting on the bare and long bench.

The president interrupts me, saying: "We know that you are a learnt man, but we are not here to discuss politics, this is not an assembly". He obviously chooses words that he has rarely pronounced before, in the standard trials that are celebrated here, but now he realizes that the press and the public are here. They answer: "I have never seen a speaker come to an assembly with handcuffs on his wrists, and escorted by the police!". I manage to pronounce a couple more sentences, a few words. The court retires. It will be a long wait, an hour. But after ten minutes they call the lawyers, all except Canestrini, who goes away, they go out through the door that leads to the meeting room.

Have they understood that they have been too dishonest, also from a procedural point of view? Could it be that they are attempting to mend things, unsuccessfully? Only after a long time will I be told that the tradition of this tribunal is to offer coffee to the lawyers...

During the long wait I finally manage to talk with my companions about the things I'm interested in knowing. Marco gives me a detailed account of what happened in the party: there are more memberships, but still not enough; Valpreda got mad with the executives of "Il Manifesto (6) for the missing electoral agreement and because the detained objectors hadn't been included in the list; "Radical News" is finally being published regularly every ten days, thanks to an extraordinary subscription which will cover the most consistent deficits.

"They'll give you four or five months", Marco says. I think so too, especially because of the trouble I aroused in Peschiera. Instead, the sentence is of three months and three days. We estimate that I'll be out on the 14th of June. "Just in time to organize the 6th anti-militarist march in Friuli". Marco nods in assent, he's glad, I'm not sure whether because of the light sentence or because this way he will be delivered from another commitment.

24th of May - I am taken to Rome with a car. The police remove my handcuffs. I help them finding the military prison. We enter the prison of Forte Boccea at about 12 noon, just in time for the meal. I am put in an underground isolation cell. It's very damp, cold and dirty, with a layer of white matter on every object, it's probably a disinfecting substance. The "plank-bed" is made of bricks and marble slabs. At night I fear I might be visited by rats. On the morning of the 25th I am taken to the magistrate's court to be tried for a "seditious demonstration" of an "evidently anti-militarist" nature, of the 2nd of June 1969. There are many prisoners awaiting to be tried in the undergrounds of the Tribunal in Piazzale Clodio, they walk about restlessly. Mario Vulcano instead is outdoors, chatting with the carabinieri. At the trial I am involved in there are 24 accused, the main part Radicals. I'm not too worried, the incrimination is quite obviously ludicrous. Rather, it is a good occasion to see my companions

again and talk to them. I speak for a little while with Liliana, I haven't seen her for three months. Among the audience there are many companions of the party. Pizzola is also accused.

Franco De Cataldo's speech is extremely brief, he paces the court-room calmly, almost with arrogant self-assurance, rather like an actor on stage. He proves that the trial cannot go on, because of a notification mistake; then he succeeds in obtaining the authorization for me to talk to Liliana. The carabinieri check the packets of cigarettes Peppino gives me, opening them, to see if there are notes in them or some other thing.

26th of May - I get used to the prison of Boccea immediately. By now I have acquired a certain experience as to how to behave in prison. The political prisoners are all gathered in the tenth dormitory. Many belong to Lotta Continua (7) or are anarchists. Del Sarto, who belong to the "Proletarians in uniform" group, tells me about the difficulty of organizing a mass action in the barracks without risking too much, and therefore going to prison with very serious charges.

"Once I had been identified, there was no escape". "They didn't even make me swear because they were afraid I'd make trouble". "I never touched a rifle, not even during the camp drills, they sent me up on the mountain to signal with flags whether the targets had been hit". "The situation had become unbearable, and therefore I was forced to desert to avoid more serious offences". I see Maseracchia, he is kind to me. He seems to have lost all his arrogance. I avoid asking him about the the lamp-posts. Guido Garelli is in my same dormitory. He's a very interesting person.

He's about 28. He used to live in Gambia. He joined the British army and reached the degree of captain, and took part in actions against the liberation front. He knows all about the guerrilla warfare techniques precisely because he had a direct experience. During one of these actions, after he had launched himself with a parachute in an inaccesible area, he landed on the ground badly because of the execssive weight of the machine gun ammunition he was wearing, and broke the tendons of his leg. He now walks leaning onto protruding objects. Back in Italy, they did not dismiss him immediately, but took him from one hospital to another. He gets pulmonary emphysema. They send him to a sanatorium. He is isn't confident and goes to a British military prison in Gibraltar to be hospitalized. At that point, they charge him with desertion: 6 months of conviction.

But this way he has an occasion to think. From right-wing, imperialist positions he shifts to peculiarly critical positions. He has an updated and rare store of military knowledge. He studies modern French and English military texts. "At the present stage of military, technical and weapon knowledge, neither a guerrilla warfare nor a counter-guerrilla warfare can be victorious from a purely military point of view. The victory of the "guerilla warfare" can only be a victory of "politics". Or else we have a situation of stalemate, with a constant and enormous waste of money and men. "Vietnam and the African liberation wars themselves are clear evidence of this". "Guerilla warfare isn't just a people's war between the people and with the people. It is necessary for there to be one or more foreign powers that are external to the conflict that provide the guerrillas with weapons and food". It is these bills that will have to be honoured one day! The last ones can occasionally be found directly on the scene of the

war, but not the first ones. When we read that the Viet-congs bomb a U.S. airport for whole days with mortars, we have to think in terms of tons of ammunition. And a batallion of guerrillas who are conducting warfare far from their base in just one day shoot the quantity of bombs which it took two weeks to transport from the frontiers after exhausting marches. The farther the borders, the more difficult it is to sustain long attacks".

It is the period in which the Japs are advancing. "It's obvious that it cannot go on much longer". "The sense of the attack is political and not strategic". "The problem of supplies is the key of modern guerrilla warfare. Even Birindelli realized it. He suggested the transformation of our navy in Parliament. No more useless huge cruisers, but small coastal ships and landing vessels. The former to avoid supplying possible groups of Italian guerrillas, the latter to intervene quickly in the hottest areas of the territory. It's clear now that conventional war is simply guerrilla warfare. The atomic war, even after the U.S.-Soviet agreement, has become a war of positions, a game of chess.

The agreement basically provides that the anti-missile defense of the U.S. and Soviet territories will not be developed. Only the part that will checkmate the other shall win, that is, the part that conquers the fortified citadel.

"The only non-polluted means of popular action is the non-violent one". "There is no need for costly alliances, from a political and ideal point of view as well, with other powers, any one, with a bit of imagination, can find the most effective forms of resistence and attack. The establishment is unarmed and unprepared. Even the demonstrative Molotov bombs of the Czechoslovakians are non-violent instruments, their sole purpose is that of ridiculing the opponent.

Today they would be useless. You only need to spray the crystal lenses of the tanks with paint or steal the cover of a truck's coil-ignition to block part of an invasion army". They are paradoxes: they allow us to see the truth in which we believe. It's the first time, here in prison, that I hear a "military" justification for non-violence.

31st of May - I speak to Peppino Ramadori. He is defending me in the trial I should have on the 12th of June together with Marco, both accused of "illegal apology of crime" for having published the manifesto that read "when the country calls, let's answer NO". The corporal doesn't want to go out of the room, contrary to the what the rules say. He assures us that he will not listen! Peppino is in a hurry and we therefore continue to speak. I intend to protest with the captain when I see him in a little while. I have asked to speak to him to know why it is not allowed to buy more than one newspaper a day, and why I am forbidden to buy "Panorama" (8). Captain Serra is very sympathetic. He too comes from Sardinia and knows Captain Atzei very well. He has recently taken up the command of the prison. He makes no difficulties and allows me to read the newspapers, and informs me that the central military prison headquarters have ordered a transfer for me, a few days before my liberation and in consideration of the i

mminent trial before the court of Rome. But he cannot help me. At 12 noon they take me to Civitavecchia with a Volkswagen van. Once again I have to wait three days in the military prison of Civitavecchia before we depart for Sardinia. The usual trip in the hold of the ship. I'm sick and tired, and I'm also sorry to leave my companions in Boccea. The talk with Liliana is postponed once again.

3rd of June - The old group of Sardinian companions has been transferred to Gaeta. Only Alfredo is still here. They start to call out the names of the second contingent, and then the Jehovah witnesses arrive. Luckily they are not in our dormitory. The political elections are in course, and therefore many immigrants who return to Italy to vote are caught by the police in their native villages and sent to prison. They have all been abroad for many years to work, and they enter the country with a white document, signed by the consul, which allows the continuation of the postponement of the military service. In Italy the authorities don't agree and therefore, when they go the police station to stamp the consulate's document, they are arrested and taken to San Bartolomeo. It's difficult to express these young people's feelings, who have come to Sardinia to see their family, to show them tangible signs of their work abroad, and who suddenly find themselves in this prison. They are bewildered, they don't understand

, they ask us if we are allowed to go out in the evenings or if they can phone home. Perhaps with a touch of sadism, we tell them to ask the captain an authorization for this evening and to buy phone tokens at the shop. They come back crying.

One of them still has his boots on and his shepherd dress: as soon as he came home he couldn't resist the temptation to take his family's sheep to graze. He leaves them unguarded barely the time to go to the police station to stamp his document. He is concerned about the sheep that haven't been milked and those that are outside of the enclosure.

Usually these prisoners are granted release on parole and are therefore immediately taken to the mixed depot of Calamosca, to be introduced in the Corps. They will also be tried, and will be given the suspension of the punishment.

8th of June - These last days are particularly trying. I count the hours. I make plans for the future. I try to imagine the outside world, my first reactions. I can't sleep any more and am extremely nervous. These last evenings I make up an excuse to go with Piero and Alfredo to the infirmary, where I can drink a cordial. This way I manage to sleep. Piero, or rather Pierre as they call him him in the dormitory, has recently come back from France where he lived many years. He could not remain in that country because of all the abetting denounciations he collected. He went to prison the first time because he didn't answer the draft notice, but was immediately given release on parole. At Calamosca he slashed his wrists after having received a letter in which his girlfriend, whom he is accused of having initiated to prostitution, informed him that she has found herself another "friend". He had plans to use her here in Italy as well. He is denounced and arrested, charged with "caused infirmity". In the dormitory

he insists on listening to the French radio stations at maximum volume, even at night. We quarrel often. I can't be serene any more. I wait with distress more than anxiety to get out of here. I no longer answer the letters I receive. Spadoni is very depressed: his lawyer informed him that his mother can't or doesn't want to pay for his defense, in a trial in which he is charged with theft; he is therefore on his own.

10th of June - Paolo Schirru arrives from Gaeta. He is Sardinian, and has an incredible strength. He was sentenced to 4 years of imprisonment for having beaten up two policemen who were trying to arrest him because he had deserted. In the prison of Gaeta he had been involved in a violent quarrel with other prisoners. One of these ended up in hospital after having been knifed in the chest. He is a rebel by instinct, and he considers himself an anarchist. He talks to me about his evasion plans. But here in Cagliari he won't attempt to escape: "It would be too nasty a trick on the Captain". He almost considers him a friend. I do nothing to make him change his mind. Perhaps I don't want to. It would be a too difficult and long matter. I am anxious to get out, to tell people of the things I saw, to think about them. I'm probably deceiving myself as to the importance of this experience.

14th of June - At six o' clock, I'm out of the prison.; I go back to S. Bartolomeo with Ugo Dessy to give the companions a package with food and other things. Atzei meets me at the entrance of the police station. We talk. But at this stage there is nothing much else to say. However he repeats: "If I were to discover that the army is of no use for the defense of the country, but for the things you were talking about, I would immediately resign". I tend to believe him and the things he says. His contradictions can represent the power of this system or can turn into that of those who fight for a more human, a different and a new society.

It is also for this that I have spent these months in prison, and have met him. I think that in any case, and unfortunately, I will see him again: not at the party, but in prison. For my next objection.

Translator's notes

(1) CPR and CPS: Severe punishment and simple punishment.

(2) Carlo Levi: Italian writer and painter (Turin 1902-1975).

(3) CAR: Centre for the training of recruits.

(4) Pinella: a card game.

(5) Brigadiere: rank corresponding to a sergeant in the army.

(6) Il Manifesto: Italian Communist daily newspaper.

(7) Lotta Continua: extreme left political organization.

(8) Panorama: Italian political and cultural weekly magazine.