Contessa Renata, a key secondary character and the colonel’s love interest, is the 19-year-old daughter of a wealthy, aristocratic, and storied Venetian family. In a very literal sense, her family is entwined with the history and mythos of Venice itself—as traders who enriched the city and, she explains, as “Doges.” The way in which Renata’s family history is fundamentally entwined with the history of her home speaks to the depth and longevity of European history, something that fascinates the colonel when compared to his native United States. As he deplores the recent renovations of the city that abandon the traditional aesthetic and purpose of the buildings, he is drawn to Renata because she is a symbol of a legacy and tradition that he cannot find in his native country. Added to this, Renata belongs in Venice in a way that the colonel—in spite of his enduring love for the city—never can. In this respect, the colonel’s love for Renata is an extension of his love for Venice itself. His love for her is a love for the old world that she represents.

The colonel’s idealization of Renata as the embodiment of historical Venice overlooks the fact that her immediate life has been marked by tragedy. She, like many Venetians, lost loved ones during the war. She describes to the colonel how “they killed [her] father and burned [her family’s] villa on the Brenta” (98), which is why she cannot take as tolerant an attitude to the ex-fascists or the German soldiers as does the colonel. The paternal void created in her life by the war is implied to inform her love for the colonel in much the same way that he calls her “daughter”: He is a strong, determined military man who fought against the same army that killed her father. In her bereavement and trauma, Renata represents many from her generation of Venetians. For Renata, the desire to fill the void with the colonel becomes an act of agency. She felt powerless amid the war during which she was just a child, so she purposefully builds a different kind of existence and identity after the war. In particular, she probes the colonel for information about his wartime experiences so that, through his memories, she can fight against those who killed her father. As he is vicariously recapturing lost time through her, she is vicariously refighting World War II through him. Her character thus demonstrates The Impact of War on Identity, though in a way very different than the colonel’s.

Unlike her portrait, Renata will grow older. Her relationship with the colonel begins and ends before she is even 20, suggesting that there will be a future for her in a way that there simply will not be for him. To the extent that she embodies the city, Renata thus represents the capacity of the city to endure great tragedy: The death of the colonel, as with the death of her father and the trauma of the Venetians, will become a part of her history and the history of her city. Renata’s future is largely invisible in the novel because the colonel loves her for the past she represents; however, this invisibility is also essential, offering a blank slate. In this way, Renata is a counterbalance to the colonel, the suggestion of the optimism of the future as it moves beyond the trauma of the past.

Jackson is a supporting character who, though largely flat, is key to the novel’s themes and the colonel’s character development. Other than the colonel, Jackson is the only depiction of an American soldier in the novel’s present. Significantly, he is much younger than the colonel and has not experienced The Impact of War on Identity. This relative lack of experience makes him a suitable traveling companion for the colonel. Jackson quickly apologizes if his comments seem to “be insolent or lacking in respect” (16), but it is precisely this ambivalence and inexperience that allow the colonel to flex his knowledge of the country. The colonel has a long and storied understanding of Venice and Italy, a stark contrast to Jackson. In Jackson, therefore, the colonel has an empty vessel into which he can pour his knowledge and experience. To this extent, the character of Jackson acts as a surrogate for the son that the colonel could not have with his ex-wife. Jackson is a counterpart to Renata in this dynamic, as both of the colonel’s younger acquaintances look to him for knowledge and understanding. Tellingly, Jackson and Renata never interact; they exist from his perspective as vehicles through which he can relive his life and his youth.

Jackson is absent for most of the novel. In the chapters in which he does appear, the gruff, demanding colonel typically orders him around. Jackson does as he is told, but there is little in the way of warmth or affection between the two characters, particularly in comparison to the friendliness that characterizes the colonel’s interactions with the old acquaintances whom he meets in Venice. There is an irony, then, in the fact that Jackson is the only character present for the colonel’s death. Jackson is not with the colonel because he loves him but because he is obeying his orders. This evokes the colonel’s fears that he has wasted his life: The only person present at his death is a representative of the same military that defined his life. In his final moments, the colonel writes a note. Effectively acting as a last request, the colonel asks Jackson to return his possessions to Renata, the “rightful owner.” Jackson, ever the institutional representative, agrees to satisfy the colonel’s final request, but to do so “through channels.” He will stick to the plan, adhering to the expectations of the institution. Jackson does everything by the book because he is more allied to the institution of the army than the colonel, emphasizing the lonely nature of the colonel’s death.

The gran maestro is a supporting character and an employee at the famous Gritti Hotel in Venice. He is the highest-ranking employee portrayed in the novel but remains, fundamentally, a worker. His relationship with the colonel is warm, friendly, and sincere, but it is built on a mutual understanding of their respective roles in the hotel. In this sense, the gran maestro is the embodiment of the workers in the hotels and restaurants of Venice. Like the gran maestro, they treat the colonel with the deference and respect that would usually be accorded a celebrity or artist. Unlike such figures, however, the colonel has forged these bonds through apparent force of will. He is a relatively minor figure in status or stature, but he can compel the gran maestro (and others) to break from their routine and share a drink with him.

At the same time, the Gran Maestro’s bond with the colonel shows a mutual respect born out of fraternity that is present throughout Venice. The enduring friendship between the colonel and the gran maestro is shown through their shared membership of “the Order of Brusadelli; noble, military and religious, and there were only five members” (49). These five members include the colonel, the gran maestro, and other hotel employees. The parody association reflects a real bond shared by the men who fought for Venice during the war. Whether the existence of the Order is real enough to transcend the traditional client/employee dynamic is never fully resolved, but it is significant that the gran maestro is never named or identified. He vanishes behind his title, his nickname, and his employee status; this renders him a flat character, reducing his individuality to the colonel’s needs in any given moment. The implication is that theirs remains a fundamentally transactional relationship, one that ends with the colonel paying his bill and paying a tip to the hotel employees. This hints at an insincerity that defines postwar Europe and, for men like the colonel, postwar life.