Long live Italy! Long live the partisans! Long live the Cln! Crowds shouted as they filled the streets of Turin, nearly blocking the path of cars carrying their incumbent leaders and the partisans who had freed the city. It was the day of the insurrection of Turin—April 28, 1945. Ada Gobetti rode with Giovanni Roveda, the new mayor, on their way to the Municipio (City Hall). She recalled the experience in the Diario: “We crossed Piazza Statuto and entered Via Garibaldi. A truck loaded with armed partisans opened the procession. Then came our cars, then other cars with armed men. They were still shooting from the windows and from the corners of the streets, but the people, heedless of the danger, flowed onto the street in the way of our passage … and mothers raised their babies and held them toward us, so that they could see, so that they could remember” (Dp, 409). The shooting became so violent that they took a detour and went first to the Prefect's Office. Ada heard someone yell, “Throw yourselves on the ground! Take shelter behind the cars!” But she and the others did not think of doing so: “On foot, smiling, we filled our lungs with the air of freedom. To us, the shots seemed like fireworks of joy” (Dp, 410).

That morning, the Committee of National Liberation of the Piedmont Region (Clnrp), with Franco Antonicelli presiding, assumed publicly all powers as Giunta regionale (regional council) of the government. Antonicelli spoke on the radio: “The time of struggle, the time of sacrifi ce is not over. It has just begun.”

The day before, on April 27, the Clnrp had nominated the members of the Giunta popolare, which would govern the city of Turin. By May 1, 1945, when the Allies entered Turin, fourteen thousand partisans guarded the city. The Allies found a well-ordered city with functioning public services, bridges, railroads, and electrical plants, and all industries intact. German general Schlemmer surrendered on May 3.