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Amedeo: The True Story of an Italian’s War in Abyssinia
War-time love story set in Abyssinia, Eritrea and the Yemen 1935-1945. Amedeo Guillet is still alive and living in County Meath, Ireland. Khadija is lost. This is the story of Amedeo Guillet – an Italian calvary officer who was sent out to Abyssinia as part of Mussolini’s army to establish and command a troupe of 2,000 Spahis – or Arabic calvary. He met and fell in love with Khadija – a beautiful Ethiopian Muslim. Together they held up the British lorries heaving up the mountain road to Asmara and blew up the important Ponte Aosta. Eventually captured, Amedeo went on the run disguised as an Arab, eventually making it to Yemen, only to be thrown in jail. This is a rare view of the Second World War from an Italian perpective; particularly valuable are the chapters that tell the story of Italian resistance to the Nazis, and their subsequent withdrawal from Italy in 1943. There are few stories more cinemagraphic than this – Fascist Italy, his early years in Ethiopia commanding the Cossack-like Spahis, the brutal Abyssinian war waged by the Duce, Italian and British colonial rivalry; Amedeo led the last ever cavalry charge the British army faced (Eritrea 1941 – they were massacred by tanks and sub-machine guns), defeat and guerrilla warfare against the British; then flight, disguised as an Arab, imprisonment in the Yemen and a great love lost as he leaves his beloved Khadija behind to face her future alone and returns to Italy, to his fiancée and a career as a distinguished Italian diplomat and Arabist. Amedeo is still alive and living in County Meath, Ireland. Sebastian O’Kelly is a journalist for the Mail and Telegraph and has Amedeo’s full co-operation in writing this book. This is a very valuable and absolutely stunning story, beautifully told by O’Kelly.
320 pages, Paperback
First published May 20, 2002
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Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews
March 13, 2020
An interesting book that combines the life of Italian nobleman and officer, Amadeo Guillet, and the history of Italy's colonial ventures in Africa. The book is not as riveting as I expected it would be, because Amadeo had a full and interesting life, but sadly the writing style gets too romantical at times and off track sometimes when it focuses on other characters that bring very little to the story (chapter 15&17). Well worth the read though because of it's subject matter.
November 29, 2012
The book's a factual account of the story of Amedeo Guillet, an Italian commander during the second world war, in Italian occupied Libya and eastern Africa. The author mixes Amedeo's personal story with informational, occasionally detailed but always well written historical accounts and backgrounds for Italy's adventures as a colonial power in Africa.
Although Amedeo's story is quite spectacular, nearly being killed on numerous occasions, fighting on for the Italians long after the Italians surrendered to the Allied forces, escaping to the Yemen, struggling to get back to Italy, only to volunteer to continue fighting immediately, the first couple of chapters are a bit confusing at times when the mix of historical fact and personal (although factual) adventure is a bit too fluid. It not always being clear when historical accounts stop and personal memories continue.
Nevertheless, the author has captured quite an amazing story and has been able to write it down in an enjoyable style, keeping the suspense in the personal tale and supplying a very good backdrop of information on Italy's reasons for its conquests.
Although Amedeo's story is quite spectacular, nearly being killed on numerous occasions, fighting on for the Italians long after the Italians surrendered to the Allied forces, escaping to the Yemen, struggling to get back to Italy, only to volunteer to continue fighting immediately, the first couple of chapters are a bit confusing at times when the mix of historical fact and personal (although factual) adventure is a bit too fluid. It not always being clear when historical accounts stop and personal memories continue.
Nevertheless, the author has captured quite an amazing story and has been able to write it down in an enjoyable style, keeping the suspense in the personal tale and supplying a very good backdrop of information on Italy's reasons for its conquests.
August 19, 2022
(Sono debitore a Giorgio Ballario e al suo Le rose di Axum per avermi presentato Amedeo Guillet, su cui avevo letto qualcosa in un lontanissimo passato).
Che storia la storia di Amedeo Guillet! Avevo un vaghissimo ricordo della storia di una sorta di “Lawrence d’Arabia” italiano ma, siore e siori, qui siamo tre o quattro gradini più in alto.
Proverò a riassumere ma solo per invogliarvi alla lettura: campione di equitazione con tanto di convocazione pre-olimpica, militare di carriera, veterano della campagna d’Etiopia nel 1936 e, allo scoppio del secondo conflitto mondiale, protagonista prima di una delle ultime cariche di cavalleria che la storia militare ricordi e poi, dopo la disfatta dell’Asse, di una guerriglia contro le truppe inglesi al comando di soldati perlopiù autoctoni, da cui il Comandante Diavolo – questo il soprannome di Amedeo Guillet – aveva appreso con rispetto lingua e costumi. Dopo un contributo alla guerra di Liberazione, la seconda metà della sua lunga vita fu dedicata alla diplomazia: segretario di legazione in Egitto, incaricato d’affari nello Yemen, finalmente ambasciatore prima in Giordania, poi in Marocco e in India.
Di lui scrisse Montanelli: “Se, invece dell’Italia, Guillet avesse avuto alle spalle l’impero inglese, sarebbe diventato un secondo Lawrence. È invece soltanto un Generale, sia pure decorato di medaglia d’oro, che ora vive in Irlanda, perché lì può continuare ad allevare cavalli e (a quasi novant’anni) montarli. Quando cade e si rompe qualche altro osso (non ne ha più uno sano), mi telefona…”
Amedeo Guillet ci ha lasciato nel 2010, dopo aver compiuto 101 anni. Questo libro, scritto quando era ancora un gagliardo novantenne, ne racconta l’epopea, con due storie (bellissime) d’amore tra le pagine, il rispetto del nemico, la capacità di empatizzare con i popoli che lo stavano ospitando, il ritorno da anziano nelle terre che lo avevano visto protagonista.
Un bellissimo saggio storico che si legge come un grande romanzo.
Che storia la storia di Amedeo Guillet! Avevo un vaghissimo ricordo della storia di una sorta di “Lawrence d’Arabia” italiano ma, siore e siori, qui siamo tre o quattro gradini più in alto.
Proverò a riassumere ma solo per invogliarvi alla lettura: campione di equitazione con tanto di convocazione pre-olimpica, militare di carriera, veterano della campagna d’Etiopia nel 1936 e, allo scoppio del secondo conflitto mondiale, protagonista prima di una delle ultime cariche di cavalleria che la storia militare ricordi e poi, dopo la disfatta dell’Asse, di una guerriglia contro le truppe inglesi al comando di soldati perlopiù autoctoni, da cui il Comandante Diavolo – questo il soprannome di Amedeo Guillet – aveva appreso con rispetto lingua e costumi. Dopo un contributo alla guerra di Liberazione, la seconda metà della sua lunga vita fu dedicata alla diplomazia: segretario di legazione in Egitto, incaricato d’affari nello Yemen, finalmente ambasciatore prima in Giordania, poi in Marocco e in India.
Di lui scrisse Montanelli: “Se, invece dell’Italia, Guillet avesse avuto alle spalle l’impero inglese, sarebbe diventato un secondo Lawrence. È invece soltanto un Generale, sia pure decorato di medaglia d’oro, che ora vive in Irlanda, perché lì può continuare ad allevare cavalli e (a quasi novant’anni) montarli. Quando cade e si rompe qualche altro osso (non ne ha più uno sano), mi telefona…”
Amedeo Guillet ci ha lasciato nel 2010, dopo aver compiuto 101 anni. Questo libro, scritto quando era ancora un gagliardo novantenne, ne racconta l’epopea, con due storie (bellissime) d’amore tra le pagine, il rispetto del nemico, la capacità di empatizzare con i popoli che lo stavano ospitando, il ritorno da anziano nelle terre che lo avevano visto protagonista.
Un bellissimo saggio storico che si legge come un grande romanzo.
February 3, 2012
I couldn't quite become engaged with this. Whether that was because of the author's style or because I was suffering the worst side-effects of larium I've ever experienced, I don't know. Nevertheless, it's an account of both a fascinating life and a forgotten footnote to World War 2, African history and the collapse of European imperialism.
July 21, 2017
Worth the read for a different perspective on WWII. I've not read any before this on Italy in Africa, but not the best writing in the world. A unique personal story though.
May 31, 2026
When I first picked up this book, I went into it blindly, the way I often do with books. I rarely read synopsis because I love experiencing a story without expectation, allowing the book to reveal itself to me slowly, honestly and on its own terms.
The novel follows an Italian aristocrat, Amedeo, who joins the Italian invasion of Abyssinia, wrapped in patriotism, ambition and the illusion of glory. There is also a thread of romance woven through the narrative.
For me, the overwhelming presence in this book was colonialism. It was loud, unapologetic and deeply unsettling. This book frustrated me more than it moved me.
What disturbed me most was the way colonialism was constantly justified. Throughout the novel, Italy is portrayed as some grand civilizing force, as though it arrived in Africa carrying light, progress and development. Amedeo speaks about Libya and Tripoli with pride, praising the infrastructure and “improvements” brought by Italians, as if colonization was an act of generosity rather than violence. The narrative often carries this exhausting white savior undertone of we came to make your lives better, therefore, our invasion was justified.
There is something profoundly disturbing about watching colonial violence be reframed as heroism. The invasion of Abyssinia is spoken about almost like an honorable mission, especially because of Italy’s humiliation at the Battle of Adwa in 1896 under Emperor Menelik II. The war felt less like politics and more like revenge, an attempt to reclaim wounded imperial pride after Ethiopians defeated the Italians so decisively.
Ironically, one of my favorite moments in the book was reading about that very defeat.
As I read about the Battle of Adwa, I found myself smiling from ear to ear. It felt triumphant, victorious and powerful. In a history so often written by colonizers, Adwa remains one of the most important reminders that Africans resisted, fought back and won.
Another thing that stood out to me was the brutality that followed the attempted assassination of Governor Graziani. The violence inflicted upon Ethiopians afterward felt genocidal in nature. Entire communities suffered collective punishment, yet this is not something often discussed with the gravity it deserves. Reading those sections left me disturbed by how normalized colonial violence can become within historical narratives.
The book also made me reflect on collaboration during colonialism. Some Ethiopian lords and regional leaders sided with the Italians against Emperor Haile Selassie due to internal political tensions. That aspect of the story was painful because it mirrors a larger truth across African history. The colonial powers often succeeded not only through military strength, but through division and collaboration from within. It raises difficult questions about unity, resistance and what Africa’s history may have looked like if there had been a united front against imperialism.
As for the characters, Khadija was the one who truly stayed with me. She felt layered, intelligent and quietly rebellious in a world determined to limit women. To me, she embodied a kind of feminism before the language of feminism had fully reached her world. Even though her relationship to colonial structures is complicated, I still found her compelling and memorable.
Amedeo himself, however, never earned my sympathy. I did not see him as heroic or admirable. Instead, he came across as a man trying to rationalize colonial violence and convince himself that war in Africa had purpose and nobility.
Would I read this book again? No.
Would I recommend it? Also no.
Not because books about colonialism should never be read, but because this particular narrative felt too invested in romanticizing imperial conquest instead of interrogating it. I am not interested in glorifying colonial fantasies or white savior narratives disguised as historical reflection.
Still, the book did provoke thought, anger and reflection and perhaps that is its greatest value. It reminded me how important it is for Africans to continue reclaiming and retelling our own histories, through our own voices, without colonizers standing at the center of the story.
The novel follows an Italian aristocrat, Amedeo, who joins the Italian invasion of Abyssinia, wrapped in patriotism, ambition and the illusion of glory. There is also a thread of romance woven through the narrative.
For me, the overwhelming presence in this book was colonialism. It was loud, unapologetic and deeply unsettling. This book frustrated me more than it moved me.
What disturbed me most was the way colonialism was constantly justified. Throughout the novel, Italy is portrayed as some grand civilizing force, as though it arrived in Africa carrying light, progress and development. Amedeo speaks about Libya and Tripoli with pride, praising the infrastructure and “improvements” brought by Italians, as if colonization was an act of generosity rather than violence. The narrative often carries this exhausting white savior undertone of we came to make your lives better, therefore, our invasion was justified.
There is something profoundly disturbing about watching colonial violence be reframed as heroism. The invasion of Abyssinia is spoken about almost like an honorable mission, especially because of Italy’s humiliation at the Battle of Adwa in 1896 under Emperor Menelik II. The war felt less like politics and more like revenge, an attempt to reclaim wounded imperial pride after Ethiopians defeated the Italians so decisively.
Ironically, one of my favorite moments in the book was reading about that very defeat.
As I read about the Battle of Adwa, I found myself smiling from ear to ear. It felt triumphant, victorious and powerful. In a history so often written by colonizers, Adwa remains one of the most important reminders that Africans resisted, fought back and won.
Another thing that stood out to me was the brutality that followed the attempted assassination of Governor Graziani. The violence inflicted upon Ethiopians afterward felt genocidal in nature. Entire communities suffered collective punishment, yet this is not something often discussed with the gravity it deserves. Reading those sections left me disturbed by how normalized colonial violence can become within historical narratives.
The book also made me reflect on collaboration during colonialism. Some Ethiopian lords and regional leaders sided with the Italians against Emperor Haile Selassie due to internal political tensions. That aspect of the story was painful because it mirrors a larger truth across African history. The colonial powers often succeeded not only through military strength, but through division and collaboration from within. It raises difficult questions about unity, resistance and what Africa’s history may have looked like if there had been a united front against imperialism.
As for the characters, Khadija was the one who truly stayed with me. She felt layered, intelligent and quietly rebellious in a world determined to limit women. To me, she embodied a kind of feminism before the language of feminism had fully reached her world. Even though her relationship to colonial structures is complicated, I still found her compelling and memorable.
Amedeo himself, however, never earned my sympathy. I did not see him as heroic or admirable. Instead, he came across as a man trying to rationalize colonial violence and convince himself that war in Africa had purpose and nobility.
Would I read this book again? No.
Would I recommend it? Also no.
Not because books about colonialism should never be read, but because this particular narrative felt too invested in romanticizing imperial conquest instead of interrogating it. I am not interested in glorifying colonial fantasies or white savior narratives disguised as historical reflection.
Still, the book did provoke thought, anger and reflection and perhaps that is its greatest value. It reminded me how important it is for Africans to continue reclaiming and retelling our own histories, through our own voices, without colonizers standing at the center of the story.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 6, 2020
This biography of Amedeo Guillet is remarkable for 2 reasons; first for the intimate detail it encompasses, and secondly for the exceptional life it relates. Guillet was from and aristocratic Italian family , joining the Royal Italian army at the age of 18. A great equestrian, his departure for the Ethiopian War in 1936, prevented his taking part in the Olympics that year. He then saw service in the Spanish Civil War. In the build up to the Second World War, he was posted back to Africa Orientale Italiana (Eritrea, Somalia and Ethiopia) where, under the Duke of Aosta, he formed a highly effective group of native cavalry, earning the nickname of 'the Devil Commander'. At one stage he led a cavalry charge against British tanks with remarkable success. As Italian forces withdrew, Guillet went 'underground' and was, more than once, within inches of losing his life. Throughmany tortuous adventures he made it back to Italy, leaving the army for a successful diplomatic career. After retirement he settled in Ireland, where he hunted enthusiastically. The author of the book, Sebastian O'Kelly, was a neighbour, affording the time to garner the fascinating detail that appears in the work.
Through all the story runs a thread of romance and, as a background, the rise and fall of Mussolini and fascism, the end of the Monarchy and the growth and loss of Africa Orientale Italiana.
Easy to read, with copious photographs, and just a truly fascinating tale of a very remarkable man.
Through all the story runs a thread of romance and, as a background, the rise and fall of Mussolini and fascism, the end of the Monarchy and the growth and loss of Africa Orientale Italiana.
Easy to read, with copious photographs, and just a truly fascinating tale of a very remarkable man.
December 1, 2020
It is amazing to see how one man managed to have such an impact on affairs in Africa and the Middle East during their lifetime. Even more amazing is how the late Amedeo Guillet (incredibly he was 101 years old when he died) isn't as recognised as he ought to be. This book is definitely worth the read.
June 30, 2022
Magari se lo rileggessi adesso gli darei meno ma a 16 anni bellissimo libro proprio figo
July 21, 2023
Le vicende romanzesche di Amedeo Guillet, comandante "shaitan" per gli eritrei e della sua resistenza agli Inglesi durante la seconda guerra mondiale.
March 23, 2025
A great read that acts as a story as well as historical documentation of Italys time in Eritrea. There’s not many books that cover this era and this one was exceptionally well written.
June 28, 2010
OK. Some things the world needs to stop romanticizing: fascism, colonialism, and the exploits of soldiers who dedicate their bodies as weapons in pursuit of these goals. That said, the cover of Amedeo promised "sabres, horses, and women," and it sure did deliver! God damn that Amedeo was a motherfucker, leading cavalry charges against tanks, beheading dudes in said tanks when they peaked out to see what the hell was going on, refusing to stop fighting when the entire rest of his country gave up, crawling through deserts and getting his ass beat and getting gangrenous in prison and generally suffering in horribly brutal ways, but persevering and living to tell his World War II story to an Irish journalist in 2002! The author sort of forgives his fascism by pretending Amedeo was actually fighting for Eritrean independence from British-supported Haile Selassie's Ethiopian Empire, but, getting real here, we understand that the dude was a total soldierly bastard, the kind that willingly gives up all independent moral thought to become a fighting automaton. What makes Amedeo cool is that his fuse short circuited, and despite a rich wife in Italy and a gun-totin girlfriend in Tigray, both of whom only wanted to make a happy, settled home with the guy, he just kept fighting for no reason whatsoever regardless of the number of opportunities for peaceful, comfortable existence offered him. Dude tells a good story.
February 15, 2010
The book conveys the story of Amedeo Guillet an Italian cavalry officer who was sent out to Abyssinia as part of Mussolini's army to establish and command a troupe of 2000 cavalry. He met and fell in love with Khadija, a beautiful Ethiopian who became his constant companion during the early years of World War II. Amedeo had only a ragged band of followers who alone were fighting on against the British as guerilla fighters after the rest of the army had surrendered. After The war Amedeo entered the Italian diplomatic service representing Italy in Egypt, Yemen, Jordan, Morocco and finally as ambassador to India.
May 31, 2008
I loved this story and think it should be made into a huge movie. I find this part of the world fascinating so I am a little biased.
October 1, 2017
Che incredibile avventura!
Una vita che è un romanzo. Il romanzo di una vita. Storia di un eroe italiano che il nostro Paese ha dimenticato troppo in fretta.
Una vita che è un romanzo. Il romanzo di una vita. Storia di un eroe italiano che il nostro Paese ha dimenticato troppo in fretta.
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