Monterotondo is a recurring point on the political map of the book: in October 1922 it was designated as one of the gathering places for the March on Rome, and in August 1924 its railway station marked the departure of Giacomo Matteotti’s coffin toward his home region. These appearances place the town between an attempted seizure of power and the public commemoration of a murdered opponent of Fascism.

Assembly Point in the March on Rome

In the plan laid out by Benito Mussolini, Monterotondo was one of three locations near Rome where Fascist squads from across Italy were to assemble on the night of October 27, 1922. Santa Marinella and Tivoli were the other two. From those concentration points, the forces were meant to begin their advance toward the capital as part of a coordinated operation to take power and secure a government containing at least six Fascists in key ministries.

The plan joined the gathering of armed forces to the occupation of important provincial sites. The book’s account places Monterotondo within that strategy, but does not describe a specific clash or occupation in the town itself. By the morning of October 28, the uprising had already failed in the countryside: the forces at the concentration areas were outnumbered by the troops defending Rome and were poorly equipped, short of food and water, and exposed to heavy rain.

A March Thwarted by Disruption

The disruption of railway lines at Orte and Civitavecchia forced the Fascist columns to continue on foot and scatter through woods and fields. Their movement became a struggle to find shelter and provisions rather than a decisive advance. Men marched through the night, sought refuge in sheds, caves and unfinished buildings, and begged for bread. The account describes them as stranded between Orte and Tivoli, with no clear order to retreat or attack.

Monterotondo’s place in the planned concentration therefore belongs to a wider episode of disarray. It was one point in a coordinated design, but the forces assembled for the operation did not reach Rome as an effective army. The contrast between the plan’s precise geography and the marchers’ practical predicament underscores how far the intended seizure of power depended on forces whose movement and supply could not be secured.

The Coffin’s Departure

On August 21, 1924, Matteotti’s coffin departed from Monterotondo station on its way to Fratta Polesine, where his wife, Velia Matteotti, wanted him buried. Along the railway tracks, peasants, laborers and railway workers knelt as the coffin passed. At Fratta, tens of thousands of workers awaited it, calling for vengeance, justice and liberty.

The station thus reappears in a different political register. In 1922, Monterotondo had been named as a staging point in an armed movement toward the capital; less than two years later, it was the point of departure for a funeral procession that carried Matteotti back to his region of origin. The book does not make Monterotondo the scene of either a decisive battle or a political decision. Its significance lies instead in these two passages: one planned and ultimately disordered advance, and one solemn journey that gave public form to mourning and demands for justice.