The Commander (Comandante)

At sea, we are all at the same distance from God, at arm's length. The one who saves you.

Russian rescued at sea by Ukrainian skipper

It hurts;

Fascism is pain, Todaro.

Well said again.

An ampoule of this, when the pains are aggravated.

Thanks. - At your command.

"Well said again."

Stupid, abnormal, syphiliac.

The only pain he knows...

it is the pain his wife causes him.

When she jacks him in the evenings.

Salvatore.

Your disability is a blessing.

Nah, did you put the afterword in my mouth too?

I like you disabled.

Well;

Retired.

Half dead.

But alive...

and that's great.

And my prisoner and under my custody.

I'll take you to Montenero.

In the middle of the beach, to see the sea.

We will cultivate the land, we will have animals.

Even bees for honey.

Our baby is sick.

It will grow in the fresh air,

away from war and no one will harm him.

And we will always have food.

Because we will grow the food with our hands.

In the winter I will make you warm minestrone.

And in the evenings we will always sleep early,

because we will be tired.

We can have a good life, Salvatore.

Calm down.

Happy.

Rina wants me to take the lower option.

The disability pension.

What do you see;

"What if...

"What if Sisyphus did...

, Sisyphus Aeolides;

Why did Glaucon have a son...

in defense of Bellerophon"

Happiness, my Rinuccia, I do not demand.

It is something that must be fulfilled.

A complete feeling.

A state of inactivity.

La Spezzia: Royal Naval Academy, 29 September 1940

This wind, I know where it blows all these children.

He winds them to death.

Sign up!

You never know.

You never know.

You never know.

Some cowards, brainless and brainless...

they believe that "submarines" do not really fight.

Bullshit!

You guys! Titan nonsense!

Governor. - What's your name;

Electrician Efisio Careddu, Governor.

Order.

You will remain on land.

As you can see, we are the last to leave.

The Germans attack in packs, we don't.

We are Italians.

And we are alone.

The king, in all his majesty, will not be present.

Duce won't be there to guide you.

I'll be him.

The mother will not be present either.

It will be Marcon.

And whoever starts crying, I will throw him into the sea.

My Gigino, he is the cook. And she goes to die like a mother.

He goes to die to feed his companions.

I still have his juice on me, but it's not dirt.

Anyway, washing him off doesn't cross my mind at all.

This boat is excellent.

Look at it.

Touch it, hear it.

In times of desperation, this will tell you what to do.

Our trenches are not visible.

And the enemy is far away,

protected by layers of water

and steel, from thousands of millimeter cannons,

by a deadly technology,

which our tragedians can only imagine

behind their carved desks.

But it's there...

somewhere there, with his heart beating,

glorified by the spirit of his British philosophy,

but full of fear.

Just like us.

Don't pretend you're not afraid.

Don't be disgusted by fear.

Love him.

Fuck him! - Order!

Ready to sail.

I ran after him from a distance.

Nunzia was also there with Angelina, but we didn't greet each other.

We were caught up in our thoughts,

which were certainly the same, but they were ours.

And we were silent with our thoughts,

with the wind blowing our hair.

You never know.

Our thoughts caressed these children for the last time.

These children who go to war, stressed and with boiling blood.

I know that these children,

with the smooth skin and unconscious smile,

they should be fishing for pearls.

And instead they go to war.

I know they won't come back.

They have mothers, sisters, girlfriends.

And they have to stay here, watching them disappear, one after the other

inside the belly of this iron fish.

They need to see them laugh and joke for the last time.

But these are not here.

It's just us here.

There are also the virtuous, those who do not allow themselves to be touched,

but they are already asleep at this time.

And so it is left to us to accompany them and weep.

Why;

You don't have to be a fortune teller to know they won't come back.

And if they come back, they won't come back next time.

Or they won't come back next time.

You don't need to be a fortune teller to know that at the end of the war

when the reckoning is done,

we will discover that the sailors are almost all dead.

And then, we will cover the mouth with our hand.

What a waste of life in this coffin.

"Ambush";

Do you think they gave it to us?

a submarine to wallow in the lagoon?

Reaching the field, anything that sails,

if it has a cannon or cannon on deck, we sink it.

atlantic ocean,

get ready, you'll be blown away!

I'm sorry, but did you have to call me on this mission?

Yes, you and me at war against all.

I understood.

Me and you at war.

But to get to the Atlantic, we have to cross Gibraltar.

Gibraltar is a vicious monster.

This vessel has been found again in Gibraltar.

In June, we just entered the war.

Captained by Cristiano Masi.

Why didn't it make it to BETASOM? Huh?

Why did he come back?

Why did they push him away?

Here you go.

Yes, but that's lucky for us.

Masi was repulsed by the English fleet

and fled to Ceuta.

There it was claimed that he had a broken rudder...,

the Spaniards hosted him for 9 days in the port

and studied the movements of the English.

Let it be.

But I tell you that the passage of the Strait of Gibraltar

is already problematic due to the currents,

and without having to be shot by the English.

Here, look here.

E.

It is tight...

but there is room.

It's like a hen's butthole.

So what;

Shall we fuck this chick, or are we fools?

Huh?

Say. Are we morons, or aren't we?

With the craziest vessel in the fleet

with the most desperate, deadliest sailor in the Royal Italian Navy

are we morons or aren't we?

Huh? - No.

You and I have already died once, Marcon.

Are we so stupid to die a second time?

No. - Are we idiots?

We are not. - I can't hear, are we idiots?

We're not... - I can't hear you, fuck! Are we morons?

We are not fools! - Ah! Seamen...

We have an issue here that we need to resolve.

Here at Marcon we wonder,

"Are we jerks or aren't we jerks?"

No, we're not idiots!

We are not fools! - We are not fools!

Here you go! A!

Today harefish with garlic and oil? - You idiot!

What are you listening; - Huh?

What are you listening; - Here, listen.

Oh, sit down. Radio Andorra.

If only the Duce would listen to us.

Needless to say, he actually likes Radio Andorra too.

And since the sailor's art is to die at sea,

to be here, in the Cappellini submarine,

73 meters long and seven meters wide.

Armed with 2 100mm cannons and 2 twin 13mm howitzers

four torpedo tubes 533 in the bow and four in the stern.

And with ammunition

12 533 torpedoes, 300 rounds per gun

and 3,000 missiles per missile.