The Rage Of The Reviled. Guido Pagliarino

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      Vittorio D'Aiazzo had ordered the warrant officer to stop the vehicle and the police officers to get behind the two machine guns, as he himself got behind the third. The trio had armed, aimed at the enemy grenadiers and, at their superior’s order, had opened fire non-stop despite the risk of jamming the weapons. The three improvised machine gunners had eliminated the enemy platoon, whose men had not had been in time to turn their armor-piercing bullets against the Italian armored MG, though they could have had the better against the slender coverage of the Italian vehicle. Above all, they had not been able to launch an anti-tank bomb with a Panzerfaust, with which they were equipped.

      After the massacre of Teutonics, the armored car had slowly resumed its passage, winding its way past the dead and the enemy vehicles; due to insufficient space it had pushed a small truck out of the way. About forty yards away the surviving patriots, only six people, none of whom had been hit, had emerged from the rubble and had come out into the open to meet the armored vehicle. There were five men and a small slender woman who looked no more than eighteen, on her face an expression of contempt.

      When the armored arrived about ten paces from the small group, Vittorio had given the order to stop. He got out with three of his men, leaving the wrrant officerl on board at the radio. The policemen and partisans had taken care of the Italians on the ground, sixteen of them, none of whom gave signs of life. Six of them were in appalling condition, four almost sawn in half by bullets from the MG, the fifth was missing the face, replaced by a bloody cavity, the sixth deprived of the skull cap so that you could see his brain and cerebral matter which had come out of his nose had set on his mouth and chin.

      The girl had been beside the latter during the fight, and had told D'Aiazzo that the man's brain had pulsed for a while after suffering those devastating blows; impassive, she had concluded the gruesome report saying: "I don’t know if he was still conscious, because he was immobile, but I think so."

      "I really hope not!" the Deputy Commissioner had replied rudely, annoyed not so much by the macabre description, but by the coldness that the young woman had shown.

      One of the Italians killed had a small bag made of jute slung across his chest which held a US Motorola Handie-Talkie SCR536 one-way radio, light but not powerful; still showing no feeling, the girl had taken it from the deceased and had put it on her shoulder. She had then examined the corpses of the Germans one by one, very carefully, and when she had finished the inspection, her face had darkened.

      Vittorio had ordered the removal of the deadly MG machine gun from the tripod with its ribbons of bullets, and had explained that once it had been taken off the support, that weapon could perform very well as a submachine gun, because it was not very heavy, just a few dozen pounds, and the bipod folded under the barrel could be lifted up. The girl had appropriated it, putting down her Garand rifle, saying that she knew how to use it. She had put two ribbons of MG bullets across her body bandolier-style and the machine gun on her right shoulder, her hand on the barrel to keep it balanced.

      D'Aiazzo had grabbed the dangerous Panzerfaust and asked: "Do any of you know how to use this thing?" He had had a yes from one of the six who, although he was in civilian clothes, had declared that he was a grenadier and had explained that he had been "caught by surprise here in Naples by the armistice."

      A moment later the warrant officer had leaned out the door of the armored vehicle and told his superior that he had picked up the news from the radio room of Police Headquarters, that a female voice had telephoned their switchboard reporting that Germans were machine-gunning the houses in Piazza Carità.

      Vittorio had decided to intervene. Since the armoured car could accommodate up to six people, he had asked the young woman if she wanted to get in. She had refused and, given the urgency, he had not repeated the invitation, and ordered his men to get on board. He was the last to get inside and had commanded the warrant officer to head to the target.

      Meanwhile, many other policemen were leaving Police Headquarters to confront Germans: some left on foot through the front door or a secondary door, some via the driveway on trucks, jeeps, three-wheeled motorbikes or on board the two remaining armored cars. Most of them had nineteenth-century '91muskets, some had a modern MAB submachine gun²⁸ slung over their shoulders, many were carrying SRCM bombs or tear gas grenades in their pockets. Those cops were going to the most diverse destinations. In particular, upon chief commissioner Pelluso’s specific order, a platoon with several men in civilian clothes and the majority in uniform, had boarded an OM brand flatbed truck and headed towards Piazzetta del Nilo, only a kilometer away from Via Medina: also on that truck, in the cabin next to the driver, was the alleged sergeant major Gennaro Esposito.

      The armored car under the command of D'Aiazzo had set off again, clanking and sputtering, with the six patriots walking behind it. Warrant Officer Bennato drove it slowly, not only because of the vehicle’s age, but so the partisans on foot who were using it as a kind of bulwark, could keep up with it without tiring themselves. After the first hundred yards or so one of the six, looking at the minute build of the young woman, had offered to exchange the heavy MG with his own rifle, but she had refused annoyed and snarling "Naah" which, to all intents and purposes, must have meant no.

      As they approached Piazza Carità, the eleven patriots had heard volleys of machine gun fire. Two minutes later, the echoes of assault rifles had reached their ears followed by a detonation. After another couple of minutes, more volleys of machine gun fire were heard and little by little as the armored car approached, the crackle had become louder. They had almost arrived at the square, and it was now beyond doubt that the shooting was taking place right there.

      Vittorio had ordered Bordin and the two police officers to go to the machine guns and arm them, and to be ready to shoot at his command. He had gone behind a forward embrasure to watch what was happening outside, ready to order them to open fire.

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