Part 8
A small village extended at a short distance to our right and the tranquil houses with their sloping roofs of wood clustered about the church like little devout women who wished to enter. Our progress was now more difficult because at times our path was crossed by wire railings, by low walls which must be jumped, and every now and then there was no alternative but to travel along stretches of road where we were likely to have unpleasant encounters. A bluish smoke rose from the chimneys and through a thick curtain of leaves I got a glimpse of a peasant who having collected his heifers, urged them on with the tip of his staff. There was only a short distance left for us to cross and having followed for a few moments a wall along the road, and having crossed a small ditch, we again found ourselves in open country and fronting hills sloping toward the plain. We began to ascend and nature at once became wilder, the cultivation less cared for, and thick entanglements of shrubs and thorns encircled the sturdy, knotted trunks of the chestnut trees. These gently sloping hills followed one another in rapid succession, so that no sooner had the climber reached the top of one of them than up shot another elevation which required further ascent. But we had to descend again towards the bottom of the valley from which there rose a sudden cloud of smoke. Between the backs of two mountains which outlined their sharp shapes against the sky there appeared the square imposing mass of the Castle of Polcenigo. We quickened our pace while descending and passed near a small clearing in which a few trenches had been dug and above which projected several targets of cardboard. This must have been a practice field for the enemy, and therefore we could not delay long in its vicinity; for directly the sun rose, there would probably arrive enemy soldiers. Rapidly we traversed the distance which still separated us from the river and without removing our shoes or turning up our trousers we plunged into the water, which reached to our knees, and which separated us from another hill where the wood was so thick and compact that it would serve as a safe refuge in which to change our clothing.
A small rocky path rose towards the summit of the hill and the water of a brook eddied and leaped down through the rocks. The vegetation about us was composed largely of shrubs, and the climbing vines about the massive trunks of the chestnut trees formed intricate labyrinths which it was not easy to enter. At intervals a small clearing opened before us and we chose one of these, not too distant from the top of the hill, as a suitable place in which to make the necessary changes.
This was really a streak of luck because we were thoroughly wet, and it would do us no harm to change into dry clothes. The only thing we wanted to change was our shoes but on certain occasions one cannot afford to be too particular. We undressed and put on the coarse underwear and our heavy peasant suits. I glanced at the front of my uniform on which the three blue medal ribbons, which I did not wish to leave behind me even when I left my country, were pinned. Bottecchia made a bundle of our cast-off clothing and threw it under a tree which could be recognized at once for its height. Those suits might prove useful. If at a future date we should be found and made prisoners we could show our tallies and call ourselves Italian aviation officers who had been compelled to land in a camp near Aviano, because of a sudden damage to the motor. We could say we had ordered the pilot to destroy the plane and that we had obtained civilian clothes from some peasants in which we attempted to reach our own lines. The pilot instead of destroying the plane perhaps had succeeded in adjusting the magneto and had departed leaving us in enemy territory. To prove the truth of our tale we could show them our uniforms which we had left under the tree where they were at present. This version seemed plausible and I hoped that in case of necessity I should be able to convince the Austrians.
We stood up. The resplendent sun was already high in the heavens and all the plain was flooded with its light. The fields which we had traversed extended across the background of the picture and we recognized the rows of poplar trees towards which we had sped when we first alighted. Then we saw again all the cultivated district, the scattered houses we had encountered at the beginning and finally the compact mass of houses of Budoia which we miraculously passed without unpleasant rencontres. Everything about us seemed marvelous. The plants, the flowers, the bushes, the grass seemed to have a new fascination for us. The very rising of the sun astonished us, as though the sun should arise otherwise than in our own territory. Finally we began to consider the insurmountable barrier which separated us from our people, and looking towards the west we sought for a sign of something from the other side. Everywhere we were surrounded by enemy territory. Delay in this spot however was dangerous. We should try to get our bearings more definitely in mind; waiting then in some secluded nook until night fell once more.
It would be interesting to be able to watch from an elevated point the movement on the Sarone-Polcenigo road and we therefore continued our walk towards the other side of the hill; that side which dominated the road. I threw a last glance towards the tree beneath which our uniforms rested, hoping I should never need to see them again. The wood was so thick and tangled that it was difficult to open a passageway among the dense foliage. At length we emerged on a large clearing. In the center the heavy walls of a large house arose. The chimney was tranquilly exhaling a bluish smoke which faded away in the clear atmosphere of the morning. We barely had time to hide before we saw a young woman carrying a large pail of milk come out from the half-open door. How we should have liked to step out and talk with her; how we should have liked to drink a glass of milk! But dared we do it when in that house there might be billeted some enemy soldiers? We turned away and resumed our weary march through the contorted coils of the climbing vines. Occasionally a lizard glided swiftly through the low juniper-bushes which were in bud and we turned, fearful that some suspicious person was following us. The wood became gradually thinner and the hill descended rapidly towards the road. We stopped in a sort of cave surrounded by shrubs from which we could see everything without being seen. In front of us rose the stony wall of the Cansiglio which is almost without vegetation; the sections nearer the lowland however, seemed more cultivated than in previous years. On one side the Livenza, which from its very source forms wide turns over a vast sloping tract of ground, divided our hill from the mountain in front of us. The Church of the Santissima could be distinguished on the further side of the valley and a few houses were scattered here and there over the slopes. We tried to get our bearings so as to study what road to follow as soon as night should fall. That village which we saw about two miles away in the gap between the hills and the Cansiglio was Sarone. Yes, certainly, because lower down, before the long zigzagging of the ascending road, I recognized the great furnaces which are marked on the map. We had to decide whether it would be more convenient to pass to the right or to the left of the village, and both of us decided to pass by way of the mountain where the dwellings are less frequent. For, by that way it would be easier for us to pass unobserved. I thought it would be better to follow a little mule-path which seemed to pass over several small precipices where, one could guess, there was a quarry, and thence, by keeping always towards the center, we should arrive at Belvedere.
The hours followed each other slowly; the sun was high and the noise of the cicadas made itself heard about us. The fields in front of us were peopled with workers and the furrows in which the wheat was planted glistened distinctly. Several women, easily identifiable from the black kerchiefs tied about their heads and the traditional full skirt, were hoeing near us. So far there had been no sign of the enemy, yet from what I heard at Sarone, there should be the command of a brigade of Honwed nearby and therefore also the command of the gendarmes. Several hours had passed and still not a single wagon nor a single soldier had been seen. Suddenly we heard the buzzing of a motor overhead. We raised our eyes and over us an enemy plane flew low, clearly distinguishable by the crosses on its wings. We now had to resign ourselves to the sight of seeing those colors, which we often fought on our front, pass over our heads. Here the machines which would fly at great height and would be followed by bursts of shrapnel would be the planes with the tricolor of our friends and comrades.
Noon had now passed. We inferred this from the position of the sun for we had no watch with us. Subdued whisperings were heard from among the rustling leaves as though persons were passing through the wood which we had crossed. They were the sweet sounds of children’s voices. We left the small clearings at once so as not to be espied and from the wood there came two little boys searching for strawberries. They took the road which led to the house on the top of the hill; after a few seconds every sound ceased. How we should have liked to stop them; how we wished to kiss them, to express to them all our love and how many questions we wished to ask them. But we did not deem it advisable to confide in little children who might talk and so focus on us the attention of soldiers who could not be far distant.
A slight noise of firing reached us from the other side of the valley. It must be, we thought, the Austrians practicing in the firing camp which we crossed. The time did not seem to pass, and although each of us had rested for a few hours while the other stood on guard, it seemed as if the great solar disk were always in the same spot in the heavens and had decided never to disappear behind the summits of the hills. A military cart drawn by four horses passed near us with heavy tread. The cart was full of knapsacks and munitions and this was the first sign, this was the first enemy we had encountered. Immediately afterward we heard a bugle, and a truck passed by noisily, the reverberation of its motor growing and then fading away among the mountain echoes. The sun at last was about to set and the women who were working in the fields took their children in their arms, and with the farming implements on their shoulders, wended their way towards home. Then followed the groups of peasants ascending slowly the road which leads to Sarone. A great calm seemed to rest over all; peace in a smile seemed to descend from heaven, and in the failing light it seemed as if all worries, all cares, became drowsy. The sunset hour passed quickly and the purple sky became tinged with violet in the higher regions.
_Era già l’ora che volge il desio Ai naviganti e intenerisce il core La, di, che han deteo ai dolci amici addio._ —Dante Purgatorio
The melancholy of night enveloped my soul and albeit no chimes from a bell wept for the dying day, yet a throng of memories crowded my mind during the first silences and shadows of the night.
IX
We had now to resume our journey; we had now to find water to drink, for during the entire day our lips had not touched a single drop and that with throats dried by the eating of chocolate which in truth is not the best sort of food when one has nothing to drink. We rapidly descended the hill and traveled for a short distance along the road until we came to a cross-road where the suffering arms of Our Saviour were extended upon a wide cross. At the base of the crucifix the signs of the passion were simply represented, and I recognized the hammer, the pincers, the sponge and the crown of thorns. We passed through the cultivated fields which we had seen from on high; we jumped across little ditches which separated us from the road and circling the branch of the Livenza where it disappears in a tunnel, whence it is absorbed by the electric factories, we arrived near the furnace. Immediately afterward we had to begin to climb again. I realized that we had not been foresighted in many things, and my shoes were surely not the kind suitable for a long cross-country tramp in mountainous regions. However, how could I have explained to the Austrians, had they captured us while landing, an aviator wearing shoes bound with iron? My soldier wore heavy, rough shoes, and I had great difficulty in following him in the steep climb; he changed his for mine, and I continued the road with less difficulty. We ascended rapidly; all the plain opened beneath our eyes. Below in the village of Sarone many lights glittered. A cart ascended heavily along the road leading to the little town and we distinctly heard the tinkling of the bells and the frequent lashes of the whip. Everything was silent.... Occasionally a distant voice reached us carrying sounds which were Italian. We had found again the mule-path over which we had decided to pass, and after following it for a long time we ascended still farther along the ragged, rocky edge. Suddenly, at a cave, the road lost itself and we had to find our way alone. If only we could have found a little spring to quench our thirst, but the unmerciful chain of mountains did not seem at present to offer us any watery vein. Perhaps if we could carry ourselves a little farther up we might find one of those holes which gather rain water, so we climbed higher, we climbed forever.
Every sign of vegetation had ceased. The ground was rocky and so irregular that we had to guard well our steps lest we fall in the deep valleys which opened at our feet. We were beginning also to feel tired, for it was many hours since we had last tasted food and our thirst was becoming greater. A searchlight had been lit in the distance and its light fell full on us. We hoped they had not seen us. On the field the green lights which annoyed us so the previous night renewed their fires. Probably the Austrian planes were preparing to depart as soon as the moon arose. We descended a steep valley at the bottom of which there ought to be water and the deep voice of the wind which blew between the rocks gave us the impression of hearing the murmur of a stream at the bottom. The descent was long and difficult and at the last when we had reached the point where the two broad bases of the mountain meet, we found nought but two enormous rocks which marked the impetuous course of a torrent, but had not a single drop of water between them. It seemed well then to follow the bottom of the valley, for there was no longer any reason why we should struggle through the high mountain, and perhaps we should be able to find some isolated house where we should have to decide to knock and trust to luck that we should encounter no gendarmes. We were continually descending. The rocky bottom of the torrent changed into a paved street. Beneath us glittered several lights which marked the site of some dwelling. We hastened our walk and, having reached a little hill overlooking the village, I stopped and suggested to Bottecchia that he descend cautiously to the first house to see if he could discover any indication that might suggest the presence of enemy soldiers. If he found nothing suspicious we were to take courage in both hands and dare knock at some isolated hamlet.
Bottecchia descended and I saw him disappear in the night. The moon had risen and everything was stained with its pale, yellowish light. I hid in a shadowy spot and awaited the return of my soldier. The few minutes he stayed away seemed interminable. Finally with great joy I saw him and when he got back to me he reported that he had found nothing to hinder us from carrying out our project. We continued along the rocky road and approached the village. Two small houses in front of us clearly indicated the poverty of the inhabitants. We chose the poorer one and knocked at the low, narrow door. No answer. We knocked again, and then knocked at a shutter and a closed window. Finally some noise! Someone had been awakened and sleepy voices reached us in the silence of the night. Immediately after the frightened voice of a woman asked us in the Venetian dialect, “Who are you and what do you want?”
“We are Italians and we ask you mercifully for a drop of water.”
Someone arose and shortly after we heard the slow heavy footsteps of an old man coming down the wooden stairs.
“Who are you Christians traveling at so late an hour?”
“We are prisoners who have escaped from a camp near Gemona. For pity’s sake give us a draught of water to drink. Tell us, too, what village is this? Are there any soldiers? Are there gendarmes?”
“This village is Sarone, but you can feel safe because all the soldiers left for the front several days ago and even the gendarmes who were here guarding the village have followed the brigade.”
At last we breathed.
“Thank heavens they have gone,” continued the old man in a tired voice, “for if things had kept on this way, we would not have had a single blade of grass left. They have taken everything away from us. Imagine, they have begun to dig up even the new potatoes which are no bigger than a pigeon’s egg. Everything, every vegetable which comes within their reach is devoured at once. Imagine, they even cook the tendrils of the vines in their soup.... But you do not look as if you had suffered much, you especially,” he said turning towards me, “you must have been a cook in some concentration camp.”
I did not answer but greedily drank the water from the cup he had offered me, and no liquor, no beverage has ever tasted better to me than that draught of water did.
“Tell me, my good man, why have the soldiers left for the front?”
“Why, don’t you know? You seem to be little informed of what is happening here. For the past two months we have seen nothing but cannon and soldiers passing and it seems that shortly the offensive will begin. If only they would put an end to this terrible war!”
This was the first military information I succeeded in obtaining in enemy territory.... Then the offensive was imminent! We must hasten on toward Vittorio to gather more exact information. I did not ask anything further of the old man for I did not wish to make him suspicious, and after asking about what roads we should follow, we left him on the threshold of his house. We believed we had traversed a large tract of land, we believed we had walked in the right direction but instead, after many hours of anxiety and errors, we had found ourselves back in the same village. Thank heaven there were no gendarmes in the village and that the old man told us of a short cut which led to where we had planned to arrive before dawn. We crossed the deserted village and reached a fountain which filled a square tank by the flow from its two jets. Oh, how pleasant is the noise of falling water to one who is thirsty! We drank our fill of the delicious liquid. When we had passed the last houses we turned to the left and ascended a hill along a safe path. The route we had to follow was in exactly the opposite direction to the one we had decided was correct and had intended to follow; we were somewhat reassured, our step was more elastic and we felt less weary than before. We passed near several demolished houses about which there were deep holes. Perhaps these were places where our soldiers had resisted. The path broadened and almost became a mule-path. We had emerged on a courtyard, and a dog tied to a long rope which ran along a suspended wire came toward us barking furiously. As soon as he saw we were dressed in civilian clothes he began to wag his tail and make a fuss over us. A good sign, thought we! Even the dogs here recognize friends. The house was large and indicative of a certain amount of comfort. A notice had been posted over a door. I approached to read it and recognized a manifest of the troops of occupation, with the enemy eagle at its head. “This warehouse has been set apart as a deposit for ammunition of the Imperial Royal Austro-Hungarian army. The inhabitants of this house are guarantors of the safe preservation of the same. Whoever, even indirectly, becomes guilty of damaging war materials will have to answer with his person and will have to face a firing squad.” One cannot accuse the enemy of not having expressed clearly his intentions.
We continued along the path, ascended the hill and saw beneath us the glittering lights of a large town; from the railroad station the clank and hiss of a steam locomotive in motion reached us. The city on the plain beneath was certainly Canova, where the Austrians had constructed an important railroad station. Dawn was not distant and soon we should have to hide and rest for a while. It would be better therefore to ascend the mountain awhile to get away from the frequented region. Hill followed hill, at times separated by a deep valley through which a brook flowed, and it was a great relief to us to think that we should not now lack water. Above, the heavy droning of the motors of the enemy planes following one another with mechanical regularity, continued. We arrived in a place where the rugged rocks left an opening barely large enough for a tiny road to wind up towards the mountain. On one side the ground sloped more gently and there were occasional bushes which protected us from indiscreet glances. It seemed best for us to lie behind one of these when we decided to rest for a few hours. A heavy sleep overcame us as soon as we stretched out on the ground and even my soldier permitted weariness to get the better of him.
I do not know how many hours passed; I do not know how long we forgot ourselves and everything about us; I only remember awakening at the sound of the rhythmic, cadenced tread of many soldiers’ feet on the march. I tried to understand what was happening and looking through the branches a few yards ahead of us I saw a Hungarian battalion ascending the rocky road beneath. By good luck no one discovered us. Shortly afterward we heard the noise of shots, indicating that the battalion was at target practice. Soon we should have to renew our journey, keeping far from the plain so as to meet no living soul. Beneath us, surrounded by a vast garden, we recognized the Castle of Moncenigo with its broad, heavy walls.
Hunger now began to make itself felt insistently. The little chocolate we had with us would certainly not suffice to appease us. We knocked at a small house and the old man who opened the door surveyed us suspiciously. We asked him for a bit of bread, and added that we were willing to pay well for it, but he looked at us with a wondering air as if bread were an unheard-of thing.
“I have nothing for you,” he said, “and I believe you had better make off at once because this morning the gendarme who usually comes to get the milk for the command hasn’t shown up yet and I shouldn’t like to have him find you here.”
The word “gendarme” was so significant that we did not make him repeat it and hastening our steps we endeavored to place the greatest possible distance between us and that inhospitable house. We reached a vineyard where a man with a long, unkempt beard and a sort of apron all stained with green, was sprinkling sulphur about the vines. A youngster of about ten was helping him. My soldier recognizing him, saluted.
“Good morning, Andrea. I bet you don’t know who I am. I am one of the Bottecchia from Minelle, and as you see, after numerous vain attempts I have succeeded in escaping from the concentration camp at Gemona with my comrade here.”