"Obbedisco!": Zio Tony's Tyrol Campaign

Ciao Zio Tony Fans! I hope that you brought your trans-temporal passport and an extra pair of socks with you; because in this blog, Zio T stuffs you in a time capsule and enlists you under the command of Giuseppe Garibaldi, the colorful Generalissimo of Italy’s “Risorgimento”.


That is, when plotting my first incursion into Italy’s northeastern province of Trentino (en-route to my first bicycling Gran Fondo), I decided it was better to follow a route out of History’s playbook than the mainline A4 & A22 autostrade, jammed with Italians on their August holiday in this out-door-lover’s paradise of splendid lakes, intimidating mountains, and verdant valleys brimming over with fruit tree orchards and vineyards. To do that, I consulted Garibaldi’s memoir, “My Life”, in which he recounts the 19th Century military campaigns by which Italy cast off the patch-work of foreign “protecturates” that had enveloped it over the preceeding century (yet another reason to consider the Baroque "annoying") and emerged as the sovereign nation we recognize today.

Because that tale is not often told in American classrooms, I’m compelled to drill you in a brief historical boot-camp before I launch you through the time-space continuum and into the fray. Below you see the kaleidoscopic timeline of events that are collectively referred to as the Italian “Risorgimento” (Revival).


Italy 1859 -------> 1860 -------->1861 ------->1870 ------> 1919

As late as 1859, the north-western Kingdom of Piedmont (under the House of Savoy) was the only native sovereign state. Otherwise, Austria dominated the North, France the central Papal states, and the Spainish Bourbons the South and Sicily.

That status quo had been challenged by various “Free Italy” plots and rebellions in the first half of the 19th century. Most notably, 1848 & 1849 had witnessed a wave of revolts in which the Veneto, Tuscany, and Rome declared themselves independent Republics (Garibaldi embossed his patriotic credentials by valiantly garrisoning the short-lived Republic of Rome against the inevitable return of the punted-out pontiff, Pope Pius IX, under the boots of the French Army). But, such ill-fated shenanigans had enjoyed only brief moments under the proverbial Tuscan sun before the foreign overlords quickly re-grouped and snuffed them out.

Nonetheless, those funeral pyres of the Italian Enlightenment provided enough nationalistic kindling to stoke what Garibaldi and his 1000 red-shirted Volunteers started in 1860 as a relatively small brushfire rebellion in Sicily into a peninsula wide campaign that consumed all of the Spanish-Bourbon and most of the Austrian and Papal holdings. At it’s conclusion, Garibaldi famously relinquished all of his conquests to the patriarch of the House of Savoy, King Victor Emanual II, and in doing so served midwife to the united Kingdom of Italy and secured his legacy in the countless streets and piazza’s you find bearing his name today.

A few years later, at the onset of the Austro-Prussian War of 1866, Austria still held the Veneto (blue on the map) and the Tyrolean valleys and mountains of present day Trentino and Alto-Adige (the white expanse above the Veneto). Italy allied with Prussia against Austria with the hopes of giving her long time, unwelcomed suitor the boot out of what Italians considered their boot. Truth be told, practically all of the Italian engagements in that conflict were unmitigated disasters; but, Italy would nonetheless receive the Veneto as consolation prize for picking the winning side. “Practically all” excludes Giuseppe’s victorious exploits commanding the Volunteer’s Army (akin to the militia of the American Revolution). However, Garibaldi’s smashing success was not in Italy’s war prize the Veneto, but in the Tyrol. Despite his victorious march into the Austrian underbelly, those northern provinces would remain firmly in Austria’s grip until after the horrors of World War I.

An important footnote, which should help you appreciate the punch-line of this story, is that although the Italian Monarchists had gained the upper hand in the 1860 formation of the Kingdom of Italy, the scent of Republicanism (exuded by the likes of Daniele Manin, who had led the ill-starred Venetian Republic of 1848) still lingered in the politically charged atmosphere of 1866. Both sides considered Garibaldi a wildcard in the balance who, with his wild popularity and knack for military campaigning, could tip the Scales of History in either direction. Would Italy emerge from the crucible of war as a Monarchy or a Republic?

So, you are about to find yourself in the middle of that intrigue and in-between the third and fourth maps, in the year 1866 … on the left-post route around Lake Garda by which Giuseppe Garibaldi will lead you and the rest of his Army of Volunteers into History. You will begin the march at Salo(A) and by way of Anfo(B) and Storo (C) achieve your ultimate objective, Bezzecca (D), a name bound to become as familiar to Italians as Yorktown and Gettysburg have become to us.


Ready? Upon completing the trans-temporal-transformation, you’ll follow the words of your charismatic commander [plus a few “I can read his mind” parenthetical transmissions from ZT back here at time zero].

Now … close your eyes, click your … WAIT! … That won’t work … just, click your heels … and count to three …

…. swirly, swirly … spin, spin … swirly,swirly …

…. spin, spin …. swirly, swirly, swirly ……..

Nearly four years had passed since the day I was shot in Aspromonte. I soon forgot such injuries, as the opportunist - those me who are guided by the utility rather than the morality they employ - were conting on.

Rumours had been circulating for days that we had entered into an alliance with Prussia against Austria; on the tenth of June 1866 my friend General Fabrizi came to Caprera to ask me, on behalf of the Government and our own followers, if I would leave the volunteers who were gathering from every part of Italy. I left for the mainland the very same day and immediately marched to Como where the largest numbers of volunteers had assembled. [But, unfortunately, in my rush, I had forgotten to pack my bicycle. I hear there’s some great riding in the hills above Bellagio] ...

There could have been a hundred thousand volunteers, but our uninspired Government, beset by the usual fears [of me running amock and declaring my own Republic of Italy], limited the force to a third of that number. It promised to be a brilliant campaign, one which would ... rejuvenate the old matron and let her live again as in the early days of Roman glory. Yet, in the hand of Jesuitical army leaders, it all ended in a cesspit of humiliation.

All our regiments were called to the western shore of Lake Garda; according to our orders we were to operate in the Tyrol … Since it was to be Lake Garda, I asked for the flotilla stationed at Salo’ to be placed under my command, a request which was granted straight away.


An entire regiment had to stay behind in Salo’ for the sole purpose of guarding the harbour and the nearby strech of shoreline and the forts which were being built along it for defence [and to protect the heritage of where the world first heard the Violin]





[And lucky them, those who could stay behind to enjoy the bountiful fruits of the lake at places like Osteria di Mezzo ... tasty antipasti of home smoked lake fish ... accompanied by the beloved Chiaretto of Garda (leave it to the Italians to do even Rose' wines right) ... and oh, the magnificent "anguilla dal lago" (eel from the lake) ... I could march a legion to the gates of Vienna on vittles like that!]

On the third of July we left Salo’ at dawn and reached Rocca d’Anfo by midday




An Austrian outpost had been sighted from Rocca d’Anfo, at Sant’Antonio ... I thought a sudden and unexpected assault would be effective ... so decided to go ahead and launch an attack ... For a while it went well and the enemy fell back; but then reinforcements arrived ... the day finished without a decisive outcome ... I had been wounded in the left thigh ...

At dawn we found the enemy had withdrawn ... we went on to take control of Bagolino and Caffaro ...


... finally, we took hold of the Dazio Bridge and of Storo, where I set up my headquarters. Storo is a small village at the point where the Guidicaria and Ampola valleys meet and was a key position for us to gain ... especially the Rocca Pagana, a lofty peak which towers almost vertically above the village ...




We took the fort at Ampola ... and so were able to enter the Ledro valley and advance the head of our right column as far as Tiarno and Bezzecca.


The enemy had mustered its forces at the top of the Conzei valley and was coming down along it ... the Conzei valley comes down from the north and continues into the Ledro valley at Bezecca.



During the night a battalion from the fifth regiment ... was sent to reconnoitre ... when dawn broke they found themselves ... sorrounded by large enemy forces ... Pursued by the enemy the survivors fell a back on the main column occupying Bezecca and the neighbouring villages to the north; a major engagement followed.



I had left Storo at dawn in a carriage as the wound I had received on the third of June was still painful ... When I came near Bezzecca the sound of artillery fire alterted me to the battle ... I called Haug to me ... we both agreed that the battalions of the ninth regiment should occupy the hills to the left ... The taking of these positions by the regiment which was captained, I am proud to say, by my son Menotti, turned out to be a very good decision, and helped to begin to turn the situation around in our favour ... I ordered all of the officers of my staff and as many of those who were in earshot to gather the men together and urge them forward.


Canzio, Ricciotti, Damiani, Ravini and others rushed forward at the head of a small group and, aided by the intrepid ninth regiment on the left, pushed the enemy back ... Their forces made a complete retreat ... up the Conzie valley [pausing at the lovely refugio located at it’s end for some flakey strudel and a cup of proper vienese coffee] and through the mountains to the east.


After the twenty-first the enemy made no further appearance ... The 1866 campaign was so marked by disasters that it’s impossible to know whether to blame fate or those who were in charge of strategy. That fact remains that after all our efforts and all the blood we had shed in reaching the Tyrolean valleys we were ordered to halt our victorious march just as we were about to achieve our goal. This is not an exaggeration: on the very day hostilities were suspended, the twenty-fith, the way to Trento was entirely clear of enemy troops; we knew they were abandoning Riva del Garda, throwing the cannon from their fortress into the lake as they left ... General Khun, Commander-in-Chief of the Austrian troops in the Tyrol, announced officially that since he was unable to defend the Italian Tyrol he was concentrating his forces on the defence of the German side ... All the advantages were on our side ... we would have been ready for any bold undertaking!

Yet here I am recording our misfortunes for posterity to read. I received a dispatch from our supreme command ordering us to begin our withdrawal from the Tyrol: I sent a telegram in reply: “Obbedisco” (I Obey),


... which provoked the usual peevish complaints from the Manninians, who, as always, wanted me to proclaim a republic and march on Vienna, or Florence. [Instead, Italy would not become a republic until 1948]