"By then the Duce... was a sick man, living on a diet of milk and rice, whose political strength at home was growing more feeble by the day. In late 1942, he had tried to talk Hitler into making peace with the Russians. It was their only chance to avoid disaster, he argued. The Fuehrer, of course, would have none of it. About all Mussolini was good for now, it seemed, was strutting about in one of his snappy getups. But then, at least he still looked like he amounted to something."