Part I

By Blaklite

Romano wasn't entirely sure why he was sitting in a pew at the back of Santa Maria del Popolo. He had been sitting around with his platoon trading stories when he had felt called to go to a church. He had arrived near the end of mass but had remained long after everyone, even the priest, had left. Motionless, Romano had simply sat and stared at the high altar longer than anyone, even himself, could guess, questioning his presence in this holy place. All he knew was that he needed to be here, needed to be close to God. By the end of his musings, South Italy was sure that God had called him here.

Rising slowly, Romano made his way over to a group of white candles nearby. Grabbing one of the unlit candles with the grace of someone who had done it many times, Romano lit the wick using the flame of another candle and placed it back in its slot. Walknig back to the pew he had originally been sitting on, his black military boots echoing off the old stone walls with each step, Romano knelt, clasped his hands, and began to pray.

"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti…"

The sign of the cross felt almost too holy for him to perform on himself, a sinner, a killer. He had shot men, innocent pawns in this game of war. On top of that, he had entered the church in his military uniform, itself a symbol of war. He didn't feel worthy of forgiveness, worthy of being shown mercy. But old habits die hard and so he crossed himself anyways.

Romano prayed for everything and anything that came into his mind. He prayed for this war to end, for Rome to be free as it should be. He prayed for the elderly couple that lived on Via Tanaro, for the Allies to come swiftly yet spare them the bombings, for food to fill the piazzas once again, for the suffering of soldiers dying of their wounds to end quickly, for the neighbour's canaries that sang so beautifully, for winter to be merciful this year, and for his brother.

Especially for Veneziano.

His little brother had lost his way thanks to this war. He had stopped going to church, spent more and more time amongst the military elite discussing matters of war, and had begun to believe everything that damn German told him. If Germany ordered him to bark, North Italy wouldn't think twice about obeying. And Romano had no choice but to obey his brother.

While battles raged in the south with bombings becoming an everyday occurrence, the north remained peaceful and unharmed by the taint of war. Veneziano commanded him to fight, but Veneziano didn't feel his pain as the Allies and the Axis clashed on his lands. Romano was tired of it all, and so were his people.

The large wooden doors of the church creaked open before he heard the last person he wanted to talk to just then call for him.

"Fratello!"

Romano didn't even bother getting up as his brother marched closer.

"Romano, why aren't you on patrol with your men?"

"We hadn't been given orders to do so," was his reply, no emotion showing through though he seethed with rage inside.

"Well I'm giving you the order now. You know better than to leave your platoon while on duty."

"And you know better than to desecrate a house of God with your talk of war instead of peace."

Standing up, Romano turned around and glared at his brother, little Veneziano all dressed up in his blue-and-black uniform, proudly upholding the ideals of the fascist regime. The war had yet worn him down as it Romano. If anything, it made his little brother look like a little boy playing dress-up.

"Have you become such a heretic that you have stopped respecting God, Veneziano?"

"Have you become such a coward that you would abandon your men? Your people?"

"Keeping this war alive is harming our people, not helping them."

"Perhaps the same is true of this faith."

Romano felt as if he had been struck. He couldn't believe that his brother, his Veneziano, would say something like that. Before he could retaliate, Veneziano began to step closer to Romano's frozen body.

"It is this belief in a being of another world that is keeping us from this one. If everyone were more interested in upholding the State rather than the Church we wouldn't have war and people wouldn't go hungry. If everyone just followed Il Duce then we would see a rich and glorious Italy! Think of it fratello, we would be like grandpa Rome."

Veneziano was smiling, but it was a cracked and broken one; the naïve smile of the twisted dreamer. Romano suddenly felt pity for him.

"Wasn't it you, little brother, who always said that grandpa Rome had disappeared because he became too powerful?"

"Don't worry, Romano. Ludwig will take care of us; he'll make sure nothing goes bad. You'll see, with his help we will become great." Veneziano had gotten closer but the smile remained in place.

Romano couldn't stand looking into those hope-filled, deluded eyes any longer, and so settled on looking back at the altar. "You don't understand, Veneziano. The only one who can get us through this war is God."

"What has God ever done for us? Taken away our grandfather? Made us the slaves of every other nation? Wracked our people with plagues?" Veneziano angrily stalked over to Romano's pew, looking about ready to punch him in the face. He stopped and stared at his elder brother for a long while but Romano's expression remained stoney. Suddenly, Veneziano's gaze dropped to the floor and he turned around, heading for the exit.

He stopped just short of the outside.

"No, Romano," he retorted from the doorway. "God cannot save us now."

And he was gone, leaving Romano alone with the depictions of saints and angels, and the gently burning candles once again. Turning around slowly to stare at the front of the church, Romano asked with a touch of hopelessness in his voice, "God, what must I do?"

His prayers were answered when a nail bomb exploded outside of the church. One of the nails had been sent flying through the open doors and into Romano's back, nearly puncturing a lung.

That's when he decided to join the partisans. Rome was freed three weeks later on June 4th, 1944. It would be another year, during the surrender of Italy, until Romano would get to see his brother again.