In the Middle

While bewildered Italians pleaded in London for some of the ashes of their empire (see INTERNATIONAL), Italians at home shivered with the foreboding of winter and revolt.

In Rome one night last week armored cars clattered through the streets to the Quirinal Palace and heavily armed carabinieri doubletimed to the piazza in front of Crown Prince Umberto's spreading, magnificent home. The common man ran for cover; he did not want to be caught in the middle of a shooting scrape. Actually there was no shooting: it was just more protection for Umberto after a series of antimonarchy demonstrations by the hotheaded, leftish Republican Youth Movement.

That night in their newspapers Romans read of extraordinary events at Umberto's Castel Porziano estate south of Rome. The story: forest fires had broken out simultaneously at several points, apparently set to trap Umberto's son, the eight-year-old Prince of Naples.

Two days later Romans were startled again. Stooped, sleepy-eyed Ferruccio Parri, Italy's middle-of-the-road Premier, had issued an extraordinary statement: there was no foundation to rumors of a rightist plot aimed at overthrowing his three-month-old compromise Government.

The Romans knew better. The plot had been laid, but had not been hatched because too many knew about it. Clearly, Premier Parri had issued his statement to prevent the rumors of a rightist uprising from becoming the excuse for a leftist outbreak.

Thus did Italy, and its millions who want no more strife, squeeze through another volcanic week, steaming threats of civil war.

Two-Sided Plan. In the industrial north, the dread of the average man was deepest. It was no secret that in Milan, Genoa, Turin--the centers of leftist stirrings--Communists had large stores of arms and ammunition. It was an open secret too that industrialists and large farm owners were also armed, prepared to resist any attempt of workers and peasants to take over their factories and estates. In Milan it was common talk that the Association of Industrialists and Agriculturalists had a huge "protective fund"--some 180,000,000 lire ($900,000)--and was spending it on strong-arm squads and munitions.

Most Italians and Allied observers feared, with good cause, that the spark that would set off an explosion would come from the Communists. The Communists were not numerically strong in Catholic Italy. But the Red organization was well-knit. It had demonstrated before, at Andria, that it knew how to carry out an armed coup.

Two-Edged Sickle. Italian Communism is a two-edged sickle: 1) the Party, as represented by longheaded, Comintern-trained Palmiro Togliatti, Minister of Justice in Parri's coalition cabinet; 2) L'Apparato (The Apparatus), a secret organization, set up for strikes and possible violent action. L'Apparato is reputedly bossed by Italy-born, Russia-naturalized Ruggiero Grieco.

The Party preaches law & order, moderation. L'Apparato does the revolutionary chores, operates (as have many such Communist International outfits) through a series of pyramided cells of three members, with only one man of each cell knowing one man of the cell above his. The cell structure is strong. It includes many former Italian soldiers captured in Russia and permitted to return to Italy. Cell members have infiltrated many a vital observation post and possible point of action--in utilities, banks, newspapers, reportedly even in police and carabinieri ranks.

Whether Grieco will control Togliatti, or vice versa, will depend upon what policy Italian Communism is ordered to adopt. The man in the street takes it for granted that the order will come from Moscow. So far, Togliatti's success at persuasion by moderation has been only moderate. If there was a good chance that the Communist Party could win control of the Government in elections, the violence almost everyone now expects would not come off. But the elections would be Communism's last chance for power--except by violent seizure.

Communism has its opposition. The rightist Partito Democratico Italiano has arms, and money to buy more. The Christian Democratic Party (heavily Catholic) is persistently reported to have a well-armed militia.

Uomo Qualunque. Many millions of Italians regard the country's tangled politics and its faction-shaded parties (six are represented in the Government) with disgust and fear. Symptomatically, Italy's most widely read topical weekly is Rome's three-lire Uomo Qualunque (Common Man or Man-in-the-Street). Its founder and editor: Guglielmo Giannini, a theatrical producer, never a politician.

He hammers at all parties and programs, calls on Italy's common man to form his own party and leadership. Contributions have poured in on Giannini. Much of the money comes from the rich, and the paper has not escaped suspicion of being an organ of a new form of fascism. But Uomo Qualunque has not openly joined any movement.

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