Part 13

The hours and minutes seemed never to pass and I lived only to await the evening reports which would certainly be decisive. I thought I heard Rino coming slowly towards me and to lessen further the short time I still had to wait I ran out to meet him. Rino had a look of joy and as soon as he saw me he said smilingly, “Good news, good news. It seems they can’t go any farther, that they have been definitely stopped, and the full Piave is behind their backs. May they all get drowned in its currents!”

“Quick, give me the bulletin.” He handed me the precious sheet and I read it with avidity. The Austrians had been driven back to the other side of the Narvesa Montebelluna railroad and were being pressed by our men who were gaining ground on all sides and were approaching the village of Narvesa. The enemy command, in view of the torrential condition of the Piave had decided to retire. Five divisions which were in the vicinity of Belluno were being transferred towards Susegana to cover the retreat and to defend the left bank of the river in case the Italians decided on a counter-attack. All the Austrian attacks in the region of the lower Piave near Capo D’argine and Candulu had failed.... I could scarcely believe my own eyes, I wanted to die, I wanted to cry my joy to all, and throwing my arms about the neck of Bottecchia who met us, I told him the comforting news. Then they really had not passed; then the battle on which we had concentrated all our efforts, all our sacrifices for several months, was about to end more advantageously than I had ever dared to hope! In these four days of battle the Austrians were bound to have lost the flower of their troops. All their vain glory had been drowned forever in the whirlpools of the Piave and it was now for us to finish them. I thought of the poor dead we left in the distant trenches of the Carso, of all those whose sacrifice seemed useless to me during the terrible day of Caporetto and I felt they had been vindicated, that the hour was not far distant in which the great destinies of Italy would be fulfilled.

I had received information about the prisoners taken by the Austrians during the last offensive; they were left for several days without food and were assigned to the transportation of ammunition on the front line so that many of them had been severely wounded by the fire of our artillery. This treatment was, of course, in open contradiction of every international convention, and our kindness and generosity in the treatment of their prisoners embittered me.

The little old woman who had the task of finding eggs for us had been to the hospital at Vittorio and had spoken with several of our wounded who were still thrilled by the joy of combat and eagerly awaited news of the progress of the battle, of the outcome of which they were no longer in doubt. Among the wounded was a Captain of the Bersaglieri whose name the old woman had brought me in the hope that I might be of some help to him.

Our soldiers, who did not realize the conditions existing in the invaded regions, wondered why the population gave them nothing to eat and asked where the bakeries were from which they could buy bread. They were greatly surprised when they heard there were not only no more bakeries, but ever since our retreat, there had been no sale or trade whatever in eatables.

The Austrians, in an attempt to give a different impression to the population of the outcome of their attack and to feign that the number of prisoners taken was much greater than it was in reality added to the men taken in this offensive some of those taken at the time of Caporetto, and marched through the villages long lines of these poor young men who could barely hold themselves erect because they were so weak and hungry. But the intelligent population would not let itself be fooled, for how could they account for the great difference between the flourishing condition of some and the exhausted condition of others.

On this day the secretary at Vittorio sent me some sensational photographs of men who had been lynched. I recognized the square of Conegliano and was horrified when I read that the victims were Czecho-Slovaks who fought in our army and, being taken prisoners by the Austrians, were condemned to so terrible a fate. To complete the carnage their bodies were for four consecutive days exposed to the mockery of the troops marching toward the front. They were true martyrs and I bowed to their memory, mindful of the many occasions in which they had given proof of their loyalty and faith to the cause of the Allies.

June 24. As I had foreseen, on the last day the scales turned completely in favor of the Italians. On the Piave from the Montello to the sea the pressure of the Italian infantry continued strong, decisive, irresistible, while the artillery fired with extreme accuracy on the Austrian troops in retreat and scored direct hits on their defences, bridges, passageways, and back lines. The Piave, swollen from the recent rainfall, had torn away the bridges and by adding new difficulties increased the disaster of the enemy, who, pressed on all sides, had begun to retreat towards the river and had at last crossed back to the left bank of the Piave. On this night the situation was exactly the same as at the beginning of the offensive.

XVI

July 7. I thought it was much more difficult to become accustomed to joys than to sorrows. All the happenings of those recent days seemed so great, so incommensurable, so complete, that even though I had always had faith in the future of our arms, yet my expectations had been truly surpassed. After the complete failure of the Austrian offensive, after the situation had assumed the same status as before the offensive, I did not dare hope for more. But now reports reached me of our counter-offensive.

The conduct of the enemy after his complete failure was really impressive. I saw despairing soldiers with the same lost, wondering look in their eyes as I saw in the eyes of our soldiers during the period of Caporetto. I heard it said that several Austrian officers had wept with rage, for they asserted that this was the first great offensive which Austria had really lost.

The reports sent to me by Brunora were truly comforting. The Austrians had lost more then 250,000 men, including dead, wounded and missing, and as though this were not enough, on this day I was able to read a report sent down to the population from the aeroplanes:

“All the region between the old Piave and the new Piave has been reconquered and, furthermore, since the fifteenth of June we have taken 24,000 prisoners, 63 cannon with a great deal of material and have also recaptured our guns which were in the advanced zone and which had to be abandoned during the early phases of the struggle. The side thrust, the terrible salient which menaced Venice exists no more. Venice is safe forever!”

My joy reached its culmination at the news of this counter-offensive; certainly it was attempted also because of the information given in all my pigeon messages. I had given them detailed information concerning the losses suffered by eighteen enemy divisions which could no longer be considered efficient; I told them of the exhaustion of forces on the lower Piave thus inviting our forces to attempt a counter-offensive if the condition of our army and that of the Allies permitted it. Everything had happened as I had foreseen, it had all ended in a victory which, if not decisive, had enabled us to take a great step forward towards the final solution, towards the end of the war. I had not even noticed that our aeroplanes had not come to fetch me as they had promised.

The long journey I had to take to arrive at the field of Praterie Forcate on the evening of the twenty-sixth did not seem long to me for I carried the joy of victory in my heart. I was not at all disappointed that I did not see the “Voisin” land, in fact, I felt pleased, for I believed my presence might still be useful on the enemy side of the lines.

It was really diverting to read the comments in the Austrian newspapers on the failure of the Piave offensive. The _Gazetta del Veneto_ said that events had followed exactly their outlined plans, that the aim of the offensive was not absolutely to break through the line, but to compel all the Italian troops to congregate on their front so that no reinforcements might be sent to the French that the Germans might thereby be enabled to obtain decisive results. These decisive results, however, had still to come to pass. The _Alkotmany_ of Budapest found solace in the fact that the Austrian command had been more considerate of the safety of the troops than of gaining tactical points. The _Az Uisag_ said that while the Italians had used their reserves, the Austrians still held theirs intact. The _Pesti Naplo_ wrote, “Our infantry did its best to try to achieve brilliant successes during the first days, but if the Italian artillery bombarded all our bridges and so made it impossible to send reinforcements of munition and food and heavy artillery, it certainly is not the fault of the Magyar troops.” Truly elegiac is the tone with which the _Budapesti Hirlap_ described the battle of the Montello: “Among the precipices of the Montello the horrors of the battle of Doberdó were renewed; there were Italian mortars of 40 cm., fire hurlers, heavy grenades, and above reappeared the reckless Italian aviators from whom it was impossible to find a refuge in the cruel ground.” The Italian aviators did not “re-appear,” they have always been active and the Austrian aviators, who at the time of Caporetto tried to be audacious, know something of the result of their activities.

But beside all these more or less ridiculous phrases which tried to hide the failure of the offensive, there was in the Hungarian press a strong resentment against the leaders who did not know how to lead the troops to the coveted victory, and all the factions which for the time being had been quieted in the hope of a decisive action, resumed their wrangling in tones more threatening than formerly.

The great work of cleaning up was in full blast. All the troops, especially those who had been put to the hardest test, were sent to regions far from the front to receive auxiliary forces and to renew their supplies of arms and equipment. Therefore, even the region we were living in, which at first was so calm, was now often traversed by soldiers who came to the woods to cut grass for their horses. Near Fregona artillery regiments which expected to be sent to France were stationed. According to the latest reports it seemed that five Austrian divisions would be sent to the French front. I reported this also to our command and as I did not know whether they had received my pigeon messages I wanted to try to find out. In my last message I had asked that our next plane coming to photograph the signals, fire as many shots as the number of pigeons received. Great was my satisfaction when the plane which came to photograph my signals (calm on all the front), fired five shots, indicating that they had received five pigeons. This was excellent news and I wished I might decorate the brave little creatures which had fulfilled their duty so well.

Important changes had occurred in our daily life. For several days now we had ceased to live in the little stable which sheltered us for more than a month and pitched our tent on the other side of the hill near the house of a poor woman who had assumed the task of feeding us. This change was instigated by the arrival of many soldiers in our region. The house of the Toneli which was near the road was not well-suited for sheltering us. Furthermore, after having been for so long in one place it was better to make a change so as not to make our presence too noticeable. The poor woman whose name was Maria de Luca and whose progeny was abundant, willingly prepared our frugal repast, and we gained a point because in this way we now ate warm meals. At night we slept in a little hut covered with straw which was well-concealed in a field of wheat surrounded by several rows of grape-vines. However, affairs in general were becoming more complicated and even Brunora reported that in these days the surveillance had greatly increased, because in the first place many of the gendarmes who were at the front with the troops had returned; secondly, because there were many deserters about, and finally because it seemed as if the Austrians were beginning to suspect something and to attribute the failure of their offensive to the presence of a spy in their territory. They had found several pigeons and had posted a notice at Vittorio announcing that whoever found a pigeon must bring it at once to the command and anyone found despatching a bird would be shot. Searches in the vicarages had been begun under the pretext of looking for precious metals. The gendarmes hoped to find through them some clue to the ramifications of the spy-work they suspected was being carried on in their midst. The pastor of Castel Roganziol whom I did not know at all had been arrested, and it was said he had been transported to the interior of Austria. Nevertheless I continued to wander about and now that I knew well the habits of the invading army I increased the number of my peregrinations and wandered far with Rino, because my soldier, especially on account of his youthful appearance, preferred to remain hidden.

In one of these trips I went as far as Cimetta, where my father owns vast tracts of land, and for a day I was the guest of the peasants there who greeted me cordially and with great hospitality. The meeting with old Tomasella, who was almost eighty years old, and who still remembered my great grandfather was really touching. Not to arouse suspicion and that the women might not learn of my presence, I stopped in a wheat-field near the house of our planters. The sun was high in the heavens and its burning rays gave life to the country and tinged with red the wheat in the fast ripening fields.

The old man had come to meet me at a spot whither one of his sons had escorted me. He leaned heavily on a stick and I found him completely changed; the strong man I knew formerly had been reduced to a truly pitiful condition by a few months of privation. When he saw me he took off his hat and embraced me. Out of respect for his venerable old-age I also removed my hat and kissed him with great feeling while several tears slowly streaked the bronzed cheeks of two other men who witnessed the scene.

“Make haste and return here, else I cannot hope to see you ever again. I shall die peacefully on the day that I know I shall die Italian.”

I started on my return journey and along the road I passed several Austrian aviation camps, among them the one in San Fior where the chasing machines were concentrated. Several “D-5’s” were practicing firing; they would make a few rapid evolutions and then volplane, directing their volley against a target. Perhaps the Austrians, anticipating an Italian counter-offensive and having realized the utility of their aviation branch in warfare through the heavy losses they had suffered at the hands of our airmen, were trying to prepare this weapon for use in future contingencies. The Austrians however, did not realize that the fault lay not in their machines but in their men.

I spoke several times, to the great terror of Bottecchia, who feared I was too hazardous, with Austrian soldiers I met in the woods. I adopted the theory that the best way in which not to arouse suspicion, and to avoid being seized, was to play one’s cards with audacity. For instance, at times when I must cross a district in which I feared to meet gendarmes, I waited for a military wagon with some kind-hearted driver, preferably an old soldier, and I asked him if I might ride with him. Usually he offered no objection and so I was certain to be safe because the gendarmes would not dream of arresting a man who was with one of their soldiers. To gain the good graces of the soldiers and to commence a conversation I asked them for a bit of tobacco and exchanged some flour for it. They were usually well pleased with this barter and so they adopted a rather friendly, confidential, tone and told me their feelings and opinions. I spoke to them in German which, I told them, I learnt during the many years I worked in Prussia as a mason, as might be true of many of our mountaineers. They spoke sincerely with me, but when their army was mentioned, even though they were not very enthusiastic about the war, they hid their true feelings and opinions, prompted by shame and a sense of discipline. The different nationalities which compose the Austro-Hungarian army mutually hated one another. An intelligent soldier explained to me that what we considered the weakness of the Austro-Hungarian army was really its strength, because the government, by taking advantage of the schisms and divergences, applied with excellent results the old system of “Divide at Impera.” For example, when a Bohemian regiment revolted, and in these times mutinies were frequent, it was easy to find a Hungarian regiment eager to fire on the rebels. With the exception of the few Italians, all the other peoples of the vast empire were united by their great sentiment of devotion towards the House of Hapsburg. For example, once on meeting a group of Slovene soldiers who seemed unusually hilarious and joyous, I stopped them on some pretext and asked them the reason for their unbounded glee, and one of them answered they had just seen the Emperor, their Charles; that he had stopped and spoken familiarly with them, and that they had been able to express all their reverence for him by repeating the word, “servus-servus.”

The soldiers of the Austro-Hungarian army were very badly informed on military matters and when they asserted one thing, the very opposite was sure to occur. For instance, they now assured me that the places of Austrian divisions, which were leaving for the French front, would be taken by German troops, whereas, I was certain from reports received from Brunora that the condition of the Germans would not permit them to send a single man to our front.

I was now beginning to believe that my presence in enemy territory was commencing to be useless. I was convinced that the conditions of the Austrian army were such as would not permit of another offensive for a long time; in fact, I was certain that they would never again be able to attempt a heavy offensive and that hereinafter their program would have to be limited to defensive warfare for the protection of the boundaries of the empire.

I learned of great fortification works which were being constructed on the Tagliamento and from several prisoners who worked recently on the Carso I heard that the majority of the artillery which took part in the last move had been sent back to be stationed beyond the Isonzo in view of a possible future offensive by our forces.

Lately, in Brunora’s messages I had read a certain fear, not so much for the military situation, as for our personal safety. He told me that from certain circumstances which he could not yet explain and which perhaps were not yet ripe he inferred it was very dangerous for us to delay much longer in enemy territory. He therefore advised me to hasten my preparations for arriving on the other side even without the help of aeroplanes. Brunora told me that he knew the surveillance on the Piave near Vidor had been so reduced that several prisoners succeeded in crossing to the other side. The river there is so broad and shallow that it is easily waded. Furthermore, our supply of food which, during the first days of our stay was abundant, had gradually decreased and all those who at first helped us in the belief that our stop would be very brief, now found they could not continue to give us aid. Our supply of money had also decreased and I had had to send to my agent at Vittorio for funds. However, all he sent me was a few crowns and a great many Venetian bank notes, issued by the Austrians but considered worthless by the population. For all these reasons it was no longer possible for us to remain in this region and it seemed well for us to try to escape in the direction indicated by Brunora. I had found out that in the region about Vidor, in many wheat-fields which had been sown before the retreat, the grain was now ripe. I had further learnt that the Austrian authorities, cognizant of the terrible condition of the people in the invaded territories because of the depleted food stocks, had at times stretched a point and permitted the refugees from those districts to return and reap the wheat. Therefore, I did not see why we might not venture so far. Not to arouse suspicion, it seemed well to have some refugee from those districts to act as our guide. In the very house in which they now prepared our meals there were refugees who used to live in the region about Vidor before the retreat, and several of the women were eager to attempt a return in the hope that they might bring back with them something to eat for the nestful of hungry children they had to feed.

XVII

July 18. The sun was very high. It was noon, the hour in which the gendarmes were accustomed to begin their period of rest. We started on our journey. Before arriving at Vittorio we met numerous squads of Russian and Italian prisoners working on the roads, breaking stones with hammers. The roads were so badly kept that whenever a vehicle passed huge clouds of white dust arose. Those miserable remnants of men whose faces and bodies were evidence of the unheard of sufferings they had endured, staggered and swayed, for they were drunk from the heat of the sun and fatigue. An enemy soldier, armed with rifle and drawn bayonet, superintended the work and another oppressor held a whip in his hand. As soon as one of them fell, overcome by heat and weariness, the watchman cracked his whip in the air, and unless the prisoner resumed his work at once the watchman struck him heavily on the poor, lacerated shoulders and the torn flesh. I should have liked to delay a moment with one of them; I should have liked to pour out to them all my compassion, all my sympathy, but I restrained myself to avoid arousing suspicion and the need for explaining to them who I was, for, from my way of talking, they might suspect that I was an Italian officer.

It was very warm and the pack on my shoulders weighed heavily upon me. The bundle was full of wood which I took with me as a precaution, since I intended to go into my house which had been turned into an Austrian headquarters. If someone were to ask me the reason why I entered I could say that I was a peasant who had come to bring some wood to the civilians who were still living in the house. Along the entire road there was a great deal of commotion and everywhere the hungry, weary prisoners trailed heavily about. An immense sultriness weighed us down, and the mountains, burned and tanned by the sun, flung back their heat upon the white roads. We arrived at Costa where the Austrians had constructed a large station for despatching the aerial cable cars with material and food for the army at the front. On that day I scarcely recognized the scenery which I have known for so many years, because it was so changed. Where there used to be broad, tranquil cultivated fields there was now the noise and excitement of a great railroad station despatching along many tracks the traffic of its trains. Only one thing had survived, the little church surrounded by cypress trees which adjoined the cemetery.