Chapter 2 shifts to a medical examination that takes place before the hunt. Cantwell is a 50-year-old colonel of infantry in the United States Army who was recently demoted. To pass his required physical examination, he has taken a large dose of mannitol hexanitrate to control symptoms related to his heart and circulation. The army surgeon conducting the examination warns him that the drug is medically contraindicated, particularly given the colonel’s history of head injuries. The colonel admits to having had numerous head injuries over the years as a result of both military service and sports. Despite these concerns, the cardiograph results are excellent, and the surgeon concludes that the colonel is officially fit for duty. The colonel grows impatient during the interview, feeling nauseated from the medication and eager to leave.

As they talk, the colonel invites the surgeon to join him on the duck hunt, describing the shoot and the young Italian organizers. The surgeon declines, explaining that he prefers city comforts and has no interest in hunting. The surgeon offers no meaningful alternative treatment to replace the medication and allows the colonel to leave, noting that he is in “good shape.”

The day before the hunt, the colonel travels from Trieste to Venice. Riding in the front seat of a car, he reflects on the “flat country” he first encountered during World War I and notes how improved roads and his own altered perception of distance have changed his experience of the landscape. As they cross the Tagliamento River, he notes bomb damage near bridges and railways while he discusses the logic of destruction in war with the driver, Jackson. Their conversation ranges from military targets to art, as Jackson describes his experience viewing Italian paintings in “that big place in Florence” and offers a theory about religious art and Italian culture (14). The colonel responds with patience and knowledge, correcting and expanding on Jackson’s ideas.

As they continue through towns along the Piave, the colonel recalls past battles fought in the area and reflects on the lasting effects of war. He remembers Fossalta, where he was badly wounded decades earlier. He revisited the site alone a few weeks earlier, locating the approximate place of his injury and burying money in the soil as a symbolic payment connected to his military decoration. He reflected briefly on war, memory, and the physical landscape before returning to the car. He then woke the sleeping driver and directed him toward Treviso, insisting that they “[didn’t] need a map on this part” (18).

The colonel and Jackson cross the Piave River and travel through the flat countryside where the colonel once fought. As they pass along canal bordered roads, he recalls the “great killing” of World War I and the disposal of the dead in the canals during a major offensive. He notes that the remains were later reburied in an ossuary, observing that the land now appears calm, with waterfowl in the canals and men fishing. He speaks briefly with Jackson about the difficulty of fighting in such terrain and then turns the conversation away from war.

The colonel asks about Jackson’s life before the army and learns of his failed business after his brother’s death in the Pacific. Impatient to reach a familiar turnoff, the colonel directs Jackson onto a narrow secondary road and reassures him about the condition of the car. As they drive along a canal, the colonel notices a sailing barge moving inland with the mountain wind and reflects on the way in which the scene can “move [his] heart” (22). He discusses hunting plans and practical arrangements. They stop at a roadside viewpoint overlooking the lagoon. The colonel points out Torcello, Burano, Murano, and Venice, explaining the historical origins of Venice and its early settlers. He identifies the city as his own because he once fought to defend it. After encouraging Jackson to take in the “beautiful view,” the colonel instructs him to continue toward Venice.

As the colonel approaches Venice, he looks across the landscape that is “wonderful to him” (27). He recalls the winter fighting along the Piave and Sile rivers, where the Austrians repeatedly attacked in an effort to reach the road to Venice. At that time, he was a young lieutenant serving in the Royal Italian Army, often standing waist-deep in water and enduring constant bombardment. He remembers the routine of artillery fire followed by infantry assaults, the difficulty of caring for the wounded, and the necessity of killing advancing soldiers in the marshes. Though repeatedly wounded, he survived. However, a final serious injury ended his sense of “immortality.”

As the car nears Mestre, the colonel takes medication and gives Jackson directions to avoid traffic. He feels growing happiness at returning to Venice. Driving along canals lined with fishing boats, he admires their clean lines and practical beauty. He imagines places along the Brenta where he might rest as part of the land. Crossing the causeway into Venice, he reflects on the city’s toughness, self-sufficiency, and “good manners,” comparing it to American towns. As they arrive at a garage, the colonel enters a bar while Jackson parks and unloads their bags.

In the bar, the colonel immediately notices a wealthy businessman, “fat and hard as only Milanese can be” (32), drinking at a table with his young mistress. He observes their manner, clothing, and apparent wealth, reflecting on postwar profiteering and the social divide created by money. After they stare at him rudely, he addresses them directly in Italian, asserting the legitimacy of his uniform, and then goes to the bar without waiting for a response. He briefly considers the woman’s beauty and contrasts her life with his own, concluding that he is content with what he has.

At the bar, the colonel greets the bartender, an anarchist with whom he has developed a friendly rapport. Their conversation mixes humor, politics, and shared memories of war. They joke about Italian defense, the impracticality of modern military leadership, and the symbolic figure of the minister of defense. Throughout, the colonel remains alert, becoming irritated when he realizes that he momentarily lost awareness of the entrance. When Jackson arrives, the colonel offers him a drink, which Jackson declines. The colonel checks his impatience and prepares to leave.

Outside, they proceed to the imbarcadero, where the colonel hires a motor launch rather than taking the cheaper public transport. He speaks easily with the boatman, discussing the condition of the engine and offering to procure a new one. During the ride through the canals, the colonel reflects on the “strange, tricky town” that he loves deeply (37). He imagines living there in retirement and considers its physical layout, tides, and rhythms. As they move into the Grand Canal, he identifies buildings connected to friends and historical figures, recalling personal memories and wartime associations. The colonel reflects at length on Gabriele d’Annunzio, a Royal Italian Army officer during World War I, recalling his public heroism, personal flaws, and theatrical approach to war. He contrasts d’Annunzio’s symbolic gestures with the lived reality of infantry service. He recounts a wartime episode involving one of d’Annunzio’s speeches and the response of his own platoon, remembering it with irony and affection.

The boat finally arrives at the Gritti Hotel. The colonel pays the boatman generously, exchanges brief jokes with the porter, and gives clear instructions for checking in. He notes that acquaintances are already looking for him and states that he will be found at the hotel bar.

At the bar of the Gritti Hotel, the colonel orders a double martini and looks out over the Grand Canal, observing the winter light, the water traffic, and a wood barge moving upstream. Shortly after, the gran maestro, the hotel’s head waiter, enters the bar. The two men greet each other warmly, having bonded over their wartime experience and their shared love for the city, “much fought over and always triumphant in defeat” (46). They briefly drink together, despite the gran maestro technically being on duty.

Their conversation turns to the fictitious Order they have invented together, the Ordine Militar, Nobile y Espirituoso de los Caballeros de Brusadelli, founded as a satirical response to war profiteers and false heroes. They speak jokingly, using exaggerated military language as they recall the many methods soldiers used to avoid combat, including self-inflicted wounds and deliberate illness. They agree that the Order was created out of solidarity with those men and contempt for exploitation and empty heroics.

The colonel dismisses Jackson, ordering him to enjoy himself in the city until late the next morning. Although Jackson finds the colonel unpredictable, the exchange ends with mutual respect. After Jackson leaves, the colonel and the gran maestro continue their conversation, comparing past and present soldiers and reflecting on campaigns fought at Pasubio, Grappa, and the Piave. They briefly imagine hypothetical wars fought as Condottieri, with the colonel speaking as if he were again a general officer. The gran maestro becomes uncomfortable as the colonel’s thinking moves beyond the scale of shared experience.

The colonel breaks off the military fantasy and returns to practical matters, ordering another drink and discussing dinner arrangements. The two men part on friendly terms, though the colonel privately reflects on his “brusque [and] brutal” tone and wishes he could be kinder in the time he has left (53). He leaves the bar, greets familiar staff, confirms his room and Jackson’s accommodations, and proceeds upstairs. The unreliable current slows the elevator, which is a minor irritation.

The colonel returns to his hotel room, accompanied by the waiter, Arnaldo. Once inside, the colonel orders the windows opened despite the cold, insisting on exposure to the winter air and the canal’s harsh light. He asks Arnaldo to telephone the Contessa, learning that she is not at home and may be at Harry’s Bar. Arnaldo brings gin and Campari he has purchased himself, explaining that he wished to spare the colonel the expense of the hotel bar. The colonel accepts the drink even while recognizing it is bad for his condition. Their conversation turns to the ducks the colonel previously gave Arnaldo’s family. Arnaldo describes the meal in vivid, grateful terms, and the colonel expands on his plans to hunt again. The colonel reflects briefly on the Russians as “our potential enemy” yet expresses admiration for them as people (57).

As Arnaldo continues trying to locate the Contessa, the colonel looks out over the canal. He feels true tenderness only for those who have been wounded or maimed; he reluctantly admits to himself that love, rather than pleasure alone, gives meaning to life. Arnaldo then reports on the current scene at Harry’s Bar, listing familiar aristocrats, social regulars, and American consular staff. The colonel decides that he will go only after the Americans leave, expressing fatigue with their drinking, gossip, and confidences. He reflects on Venice as a city where everything becomes known and accepts this inevitability without resentment. Arnaldo notes that the colonel is “very well liked” in the city (61), a statement the colonel accepts with restrained gratitude. When the call finally comes confirming that the Americans have departed, the colonel prepares to leave. He arranges for a corner table at Harry’s, briefly insults his own face in the mirror, exchanges a final joke with Arnaldo, and departs for the bar.

Colonel Cantwell leaves the hotel at dusk and walks toward Harry’s Bar. He notes the cold wind, the positioning of the gondoliers, and the fading light while monitoring his physical condition, including pain and a persistent buzzing in his head. As he crosses bridges and streets, he maintains his accustomed stride despite discomfort. He briefly notices young women in the street and forces himself to keep moving toward his destination. Upon entering Harry’s Bar, the colonel greets Count Andrea, an old friend. They exchange exaggerated compliments that both recognize as untrue. Andrea tells him that Baron Alvarito has been looking for the colonel and then points out Renata as she enters, “shining in her youth and tall striding beauty” (64). Andrea encourages the colonel to take her to their usual corner table and withdraws, leaving them together.

Renata joins the colonel, apologizing for being late. They order martinis, and the colonel expresses affection for her. She responds with uncertainty about what love means, though she says she feels it as well. Renata is 18 and waiting to leave for school to learn English. The colonel watches her closely, though their physical contact remains limited to hands on the table.

They observe other patrons in the bar, commenting on groups of women and an unfamiliar man whom the colonel asks a waiter, Ettore, to identify. Ettore reports that the man drinks and writes late into the night. The colonel loses interest. His attention returns to Renata. Their conversation deepens, touching on age, illness, and mortality. Renata directly acknowledges that she loves a man (the colonel) much older than herself, who is dying. The colonel minimizes this but admits that he should take his medicine, which she offers to give him.

They continue drinking while people come and go around them. The colonel grows slightly dizzy but conceals it. He reassures Renata not to pity him, though she insists that she only loves him. He considers her to be his “last and true and only love” (68). They discuss her family, her mother’s mourning, and hypothetical futures, including marriage and children, which Renata ultimately rejects as unrealistic. The colonel refers obliquely to past military decisions that still trouble him but refuses to explain them. He also begins to refer to Renata as “daughter.” Renata offers the colonel a painted portrait of herself that hangs in her family home and arranges to have it sent to him that evening. They decide to dine together at the Gritti restaurant, with Renata sending word to her house rather than asking permission. They order more drinks, prepare for dinner, and consciously resume “the having of the fun” (80).