On the proscenium of war there were even seats for VIPs. The flags of the allied states are at attention in front of the international television cameras when the generals burst in to tell their war in Sardinia. Roses and flowers, if you listen to them, for them it's all well-being distributed with both hands, as if in these twenty days in the Teulada valley they had multiplied the loaves and fishes to excess. They tell what they want, obviously, with lots of praise to the troops, to the immeasurable power of the weapons deployed in that combat theater, nestled between the cursed peninsula, devastated by radiation and cyclopean bombs, and the enchanted dunes of Is Arenas Biancas.

Bombs & silence

Nothing, not even a word, for that inferno of fire that has swept from dawn, for the umpteenth day, a protected area where it is forbidden for humans, Sardinian and beyond, even to walk there, where accessing it by car would be from seizure without appeal, complete with withdrawal of driving licence. The signs on those stretches of sea are the mocking contradiction of any minimum common sense: it is forbidden to enter due to the danger of unexploded war residues, or it is forbidden to walk to protect the sandy dune system. And yet, here, in the extreme edge of Sardinia, where one of the few radio frequencies that can be picked up is Tunisian, you realize what is happening only when you look out over that barbed wire that separates those seven thousand hectares, taken from shepherds and farmers, from the rest of the world.

Forbidden to look

The orderly, with a glittering camouflage of dangling stars, would even like to deny you the entrance of the gaze: His superiors who follow one another to order the prohibition of taking photos or videos climb on laws that they do not know or that they interpret to their use or consumption . They probably taught him as children: forbidden to show. They are right to try in every way to prevent people from seeing what is happening beyond that fence. Too bad that yesterday morning at dawn, the final day of Noble Jump 2023, they weren't alone, when they triggered one of the most violent operations ever carried out in front of Capo Teulada, once a land of nuraghes, farms and cultivated fields. Nine nations, including Americans and Italians, all armed to the teeth to demonstrate that NATO is there, ready to take sides anywhere and quickly. It is a pity that to prove it they have once again chosen Sardinia and the "protected area" shooting range of Teulada, where everything is allowed, without a shot being fired. Usually the golden rule is to hide everything, to "protect" in any way those nefarious attacks on the environment of one of the most exclusive areas of the island. This time they couldn't do it, despite the smiles and pats on the back distributed left and right in order to tell their truth about this hellish exercise that hit the south coast of Sardinia, from Porto Pino to Tuerredda, the most exclusive beaches in the area. There were so many that they couldn't hide, they couldn't hide the evidence of the crimes.

Betrayal for ego

And, then, they betray each other, addicted to the desire to exalt the warmongering deeds in the land of the Nuraghi. They are not authorized, or rather they shouldn't be, but they can't help but immortalize themselves in the Capo Teulada theater as they deploy the firepower to be exploded against the coasts of the island-paradise transformed into a hell of war, the real one. with bombs, missiles, land, sea and air attacks. The first image is that of the " vedettes" of this great arms fair, the latest generation Leopards, the ones that the Germans sent to the port of Cagliari to make the poor Italian "rams" or so "gnaw on". They advance along the diagonal of the polygon from south to north, with a supersonic speed compared to all the others, as if they were to win a billionaire prize, the one that the Italian state is ready to pay just to have them in its armory of war. They advance and bombard, break through the ground with powerful tracks, devastate the hills with mortar shots. Everything trembles, in a sequence that transforms the heart into a clapper driven by the rebound of the eardrum.

Black cloud

When the sun of Sa Portedda, the upper part of the shooting range, begins to rise on the field there will be no less than 50 tanks, the poor ones and the modern ones, but above all there are explosions never seen before, powerful, with very high and vast flames, which in the time of a lightning bolt are released into the sky with a black and certainly not healthy cloud. We document it live, to mark the border abundantly exceeded. And then there are them, the anti-aircraft men. The sequences are shocking: placed on the red rocks they use the heavy vehicles to launch the aerial target and on the shoulder of the launcher the Stinger, the surface-to-air missile developed and used by all the American armed forces. Finally, the trenches. A real unprecedented environmental devastation. Hundreds of meters of violent excavations where the soldiers on duty, the Norwegians, caparisoned and armed to the teeth, let themselves be filmed by a cameraman, as if they were on a film set. In reality they are in an earthly paradise transformed into a war hell, destroyed by excavators, bombs, missiles, tanks and state arrogance.

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