Uno nodded, smiling. “It gladdens my heart to hear you say so. I fault no man who does not want to go forward. We welcome differing views, unlike our enemies. Men, is there any one who disagrees? If so, please so state, and we will discuss it in a rational manner.”
“We all agree!” Loud Mouth hollered, and the others shouted their agreement and pumped their fists, stirring the air so much that the flames wiggled atop the candles.
Uno raised a finger. “Excellent, but I want to hear from each of you individually. Unanimity is important, for tonight we form a sacred pact. Loud Mouth, do you agree?”
“Yes! I say yes!”
“Good. Bug Eyes?” Uno turned to Bug Eyes, who answered yes, then Uno went around the circle asking each man, and each agreed.
Aldo grew more and more nervous as his turn came closer. Murder was against everything he had been taught, and he feared for his eternal soul. He had been an altar boy, and his brother Emedio was a priest. Aldo believed in his faith with all his heart, and he went to Mass every morning with his mother. He couldn’t imagine killing a human being.
Uno eyed him. “Signor Silenzio? Do you agree?”
Aldo hesitated. “Uno, this is a significant escalation for us, don’t you think?”
“Yes, but do you disagree?”
“Well, uh, I was caught unawares. I’m trying to decide.”
“Kindly tell us your thinking.” Uno smiled, and Aldo became aware that everyone was turning to him, so he suppressed his jitters and spoke his mind.
“Uno, I believe in our cause, but I am a man of faith. Murder is a mortal sin. It’s against the commandment ‘Thou shalt not kill.’ I love God and follow His word.”
Uno blinked, and the men recoiled, frowning.
Loud Mouth hissed, “Coward.”
Uno’s head snapped to Loud Mouth, and he scowled at him. “No name-calling. Let the man speak.”
Loud Mouth scowled back.
“I’m not a coward,” Aldo said, grateful that the leader would defend him. “But distributing pamphlets is one thing, and murder quite another.”
The men stiffened, and Aldo sensed his words were giving them pause.
Uno nodded thoughtfully. “Signor Silenzio, I respect your religious beliefs, as we all do, for we are faithful, too. Yet the Church teaches that killing is not a sin if necessitated in a just war. That is exactly what we are engaged in, a just war against Fascism.” Uno kept his tone soft, not argumentative, and he eyed the men in the circle, addressing them, too. “Every day, Mussolini and his regime oppress our fellow citizens and lead our beloved country farther down the path to war. Yet his wars are not just, are they? Ethiopia was not a just war. Worse, we all know that he used poison mustard gas on those poor souls, and that is an atrocity. His goal is the death and destruction of anyone who doesn’t follow him.”
The men nodded, but didn’t interrupt Uno.
“Consider the countless lives we will save, and the human losses we will prevent if we undertake Operation First Strike. The local fascio supports the party in our city. Palazzo Braschi is arguably the most important local party office in the country. Can you imagine what good we will do if we cut the head off of this snake? Could there be a war more just?”
Aldo mulled it over, torn. His brain told him that Uno might be correct, but his faith told him that murder was the most grievous of sins. He wished he could pray over the matter, and contemplate. He had never been so confused, and he didn’t like being the odd man out, the only one arguing with Uno. The other anti-Fascists were narrowing their eyes at him, even Broken Tooth. Aldo felt their judgment and he feared they would think him disloyal, so he succumbed to the pressure of the moment. This was neither the time nor place for a crisis of conscience.
“Uno, okay, then, I see it your way,” Aldo managed to say.
“I have persuaded you of the correctness of our cause?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
Uno beamed. “Then we move, as one.”
“Bravo!” Everyone cheered, their faces alive with animation and their fists pumping again.
Uno raised an index finger, silencing them. “Now we may begin. Our first step is to obtain sufficient weapons. I have located a source of pistols in Orvieto, but I will not divulge the details. They have guns and are willing to sell. We have the money, and I will set up the meeting in the months to come.”
Another ripple of excitement went through the men, but Aldo felt the situation slipping out of control. He never should have agreed. He still couldn’t imagine aiming a gun at the chest of a fellow human being. Ironically, it was the Fascist youth group, the Balilla, that had taught him to use a gun. He was a terrible shot.