Aldo Moro and his friends

The day before yesterday I stayed overnight on a large farm that belongs to Urbano De Leonardis.

By "chance" it turned out that Urbano is the son of Donato De Leonardis, a close and lifelong friend of Aldo Moro.

He also was with him during the war, when they were drafted for military service.

Donato De Leonardis wrote the book "L'umanitá di Aldo Moro" (The humaneness of Aldo Moro). Unfortunately he died a couple of years ago, but his son gave me the book.

Its 190 pages are a love letter to Aldo. All kinds of small stories and anecdotes from the time they spent together, all describing Aldo's character and demeanour. A unique work.

When I read it I found it almost totally consistent with what I learned from the reports of others who had known Aldo.

Nevertheless, I continued to ask myself: Was he really *such* an angel? Didn't he at least say "shit" sometimes?

Of course, here he is seen through the loving - and mourning - eyes of a close friend. Still, it is wonderful to get this confirmation that Aldo has truly deserved a pilgrimage.

Aldo was not a good soldier. He had already been a professor at the university when he was drafted.

An intellectual, only barely able to endure physical hardship. But his comrades, instead of mocking or bullying him, protected and supported him.

This book has not only increased my appreciation of Aldo (even more), but that of his friends as well.

Aldo did not want to receive any special treatment, which is why he kept his social status a secret. Therefore, due to his deficits as his soldier, he was treated especially badly by his superiors.

His comrades helped him as much as possible. When his puttees kept falling down because he was simply unable to put them on correctly, the others quickly wrapped them for him and prevented him from getting in trouble. They took some of his burdens when they saw that his strength failed on a march.

Aldo's sensitivity and vulnerability were experienced as enriching. Not as inferior, but as something that had to be protected.

And this is what I find truly remarkable. A tiny island of advanced humaneness - right in the middle of Mussolini's fascist Army.

The last part of the book contains letters from Aldo Moro to De Leonardis. This is an especially valuable part, since the texts are very private, even intimate, allowing a deep insight into Aldo Moro's inner life.

They are emotionally stunning and simply breathtaking.

I am astonished - and shocked - how much pain and inner desires still dwelt within him. How empty he often felt, and how overstrained by his surroundings, his social rank and his responsibility as a statesman and head of the family:

"It seems to me as if I am asleep, as if it is not me who lives my life."

He clearly mourned and missed his time with Donato for the rest of his life, something he expressed in melancholic, deeply emotional letters.

"Do you remember that Sunday afternoon when I was freezing, body and soul ... This unforgettable life we shared?

Sometimes it seems to me that time stopped than. When the pain was shared by two hearts beating in unison, melting into pure joy in this union. This is something that can not be experienced in lonely pain, something others are unable to understand. Not as you did understand it."

"I know that you are lonely. I am lonely, too. Lonely amongst many people (...) I miss our songs under the gentle light of the stars."

These words, these paragraphs full of pain make me sad. I knew that he was a melancholiac, full of deep inner conflict, but I had thought he was happier, all in all.

At the very end there is a letter by De Leonardi to Aldo in the afterlife: he apologises for publishing his private letters and some intimate details. He explains to him that it was his concern to let the reader discover the human being behind the politician.

I am sure Aldo has agreed.

And again, after this tsunami of emotions, I remember that terrible photo of the dead body in the car boot.

Ant I still can not understand how it was possible that such a wonderful person had to suffer such a deeply miserable fate.

Sometimes I wish I could indeed meet Mario Moretti as well. Theoretically, it would be possible. I would ask that arsehole whether he has even the slightest idea of the actual consequences of his crime.

The suffering he caused goes far beyond Aldo Moro's personal suffering.

Donato De Leonardis

"L'umanitá di Aldo Moro"

Capetta Editori