I agreed to come and speak to the “Sciesa” group this evening for three reasons—first sentimental, second personal, and third political. For the sentimental reason, because I wished to pay the tribute of my admiration and profound devotion to our unforgettable and magnificent fallen—Melloni, Tonoli and Crespi; the first two of your squad and the last of the “Sauro.” I remember them perfectly. Then I agreed also because of the way in which this group has interpreted this meeting. Lastly, in view of the general attitude of suspense all over Italy at this moment, I did not wish to let the opportunity slip for defining certain points, a definition which is necessary in these difficult times through which we are passing. You feel, to judge from your silent and austere bearing, that if the flesh is corruptible, the spirit is immortal. You feel that here in this little hall this evening the spirits of our fallen are still with us. We feel their presence, because the soul cannot die, and they fell in the most heroic action yet accomplished by Fascismo in the four years of its history. Many times when the Fascisti have gone forth to destroy with fire and sword the haunts of the cowardly Social-Communist delinquents, they have only seen the backs of the flying enemy, but the members of the “Sciesa” squad and the two fallen, whom we remember, and all the squadrons of the Milanese Fascio, went to the assault of the offices of the _Avanti_ as they would have attacked an Austrian trench. They had to scale the walls, break through barbed wire, burst open doors and face the leaden hail which the enemy poured forth from their weapons. This is heroism. This is violence. This is the violence of which I approve and which I uphold, and which Fascismo—and I speak to the Fascisti of all Italy—ought to make hers. Not little, individual, sporadic acts of violence, but the great, wonderful, relentless violence of the decisive hour. It is necessary, when the moment comes, to strike with the utmost decision and without pity. You must not think that I wish to hide the very strong sympathy I have for the Milanese Fascio, because my love, above all, is for the cause. When a cause has been sanctified by so much pure young blood, it must not, at any cost, become defiled in any way. Our friends have been heroes, their action has been that of warriors, their violence saintly and moral. We exalt them, we remember them, and we will avenge them. We cannot accept the humanitarian, Tolstoyan moral standard, the moral standard of slavery. In times of war we adopt the formula of Socrates: “Overcome friends with kindness, overcome enemies with evil.”