It was about the middle of last July that the laconic Italian bulletin
recorded, in effect, that the blowing of the top off a certain
mountain in the Dolomite region had been accomplished with complete
success, and that a considerable extension of line had been possible
as a consequence.
That was about all there was to it, I believe; and yet the wonder
engendered by the superb audacity of the thing had haunted me from the
first. There was no suggestion of a hint of how it was done, or even
why it was done. All that was left to the imagination, and the
result--in my own case at least--was the awakening of a burning
interest in the ways of the warriors who were wont to throw mountain
peaks and fragments of glacier at one another as the everyday
plains-bred soldier throws hand-grenades, which, waxing rather than
waning as the weeks went by, finally impelled me to attempt a visit to
the Austro-Italian Alpine Front at a time of year when the weather
conditions threatened to be all but, if not quite, prohibitive.
“With twenty-five degrees of frost at sea-level in France,” observed a
French officer at Amiens to whom I confided the plan, “what do you
expect to find at 10,000 feet on the Tyrol?”
“A number of things which they don’t do at sea-level in France or
anywhere else,” I replied, “but especially _why_ they blow the tops
off mountain peaks, and _how_ they blow the tops off mountain peaks.”
Even in Rome and Milan (though there were some who claimed social
acquaintance with the Titans who had been conforming Alpine scenery to
tactical exigency), they still spoke vaguely of the thing as
“_fantastico_” and “_incredibile_,” as men might refer to operations
in the Mountains of the Moon.
But once in the Zona di Guerra, with every rift in the lowering
cloud-blanket that so loves to muffle the verdant plain of Venezia in
its moist folds revealing (in the imminent loom of the snowy barrier
rearing itself against the cobalt of the northern sky) evidence that
the “mountain-top” part of the story had at least some foundation of
fact, whether the “blowing off” part did or not, things took on a
different aspect. On my very first day at General Headquarters I met
officers who claimed to have seen with their own eyes a mountain whose
top had been blown off; indeed, they even mentioned the names of the
_montagna mutilati_, showed me where they were on the map, pointed out
the strategical advantages which had already accrued from taking them,
and those which might be expected to accrue later.
They were still there, I was assured, even if their tops had been
blown off. They were still held by the Alpini. Two of the most
important of them were not so far away; indeed, both could be plainly
seen from where we were--if other and nearer mountains did not stand
between, and, of course, if the accursed storm-clouds would only lift.
And so, at last, the names of Castelletto and Col di Lano took
sharpened shape as something more than mystic symbols.
“But can I not go and see them?” I asked. “You have told me _why_ you
blew them up, but not _how_; yet that is the very thing that I came
out to find about at first hand.”
They shook their heads dubiously. “Not while this weather lasts,” one
of them said. “It has snowed in the Alps every day for over a month.
The _valangas_ are coming down everywhere, and (even if you were
willing to risk being buried under one of them) the roads in places
will not be open for weeks. You might wait here a month or so, and
even then be disappointed so far as getting about on the Alpine Front
is concerned. Best see what you can of the Isonzo Front now and come
back for the Alps in the spring.”
That seemed to settle it so far as seeing the Castelletto and Col di
Lano was concerned. Regarding the way in which they were mined,
however, one of the officers at the Ufficio Stampa said that he would
endeavour to arrange to have the Castelletto--much the greater
operation of the two--report put at my disposal, as well as a set of
photographs which had been taken to show the progress of this mighty
work.
“We have never given out any of the photographs before,” he said, “and
only portions of the report; but since you came to Italy on purpose to
learn about the mountain whose top was blown off, the Comando Supremo
may be moved to make a special dispensation in your favour.”
Exclusive permission to make use of both report and photographs was
granted me in due time, and since the former makes clear both the
“why” and the “how” of the unprecedented Castelletto operation, it
will perhaps be best to summarise it first as a sort of drab
background for the more vivid and intimate personal details which a
lucky turn of the fitful weather vane made it possible for me to
obtain later.
The first part of the report, by the Colonel commanding the Alpini
Group, makes plain why the mining of the Castelletto became a _sine
quâ non_ to further progress in this important sector.
“In the month of October, 1915,” he writes, “I was charged with the
carrying out of an attack with two battalions of Alpini against the
positions of Castelletto and Forcella Bois. This was the fourth time,
if I am not mistaken, that an attempt on these positions had been
made. In spite of the fact that the artillery preparation of the
opening day had been excellently performed I discovered, on the
evening of October 17, when I moved with my troops to the attack, that
its work had been absolutely of no avail.
“Having received orders at midnight to proceed to Vervei, where the
two battalions above mentioned were to take part in another operation,
I was forced to abandon the attack. I am convinced, however, that I
would not have succeeded in capturing the Castelletto position.”
“As known,” the report continues, “the Castelletto is a sort of a spur
of the Tofana (about 12,000 feet high), with a balcony shaped like a
horse-shoe, and with a periphery consisting of numerous jagged peaks.
In the rear of the balcony, and within this rocky spur, the enemy had
excavated numerous caverns in which machine-guns and light artillery
pieces, handled by isolated but able gun-crews, furnished an invisible
and almost impregnable position of defence, giving extraordinary
confidence and encouragement to the small forces occupying them.
“Costeana Valley was accordingly at the mercy of the enemy’s offence
and actually cut in two. From Vervei on, all movements of troops had
to be carried on only at night and with great difficulty. The conquest
of the Castelletto was rendered necessary not only for tactical but
for moral reasons as well, since our troops came to regard it as
absolutely imperative that such an obstacle should be overcome. After
completing my observations and researches regarding the Castelletto
position, I reached the conclusion that the only means of dislodging
the enemy therefrom was to blow it up.
“On November 19 I formally presented my plan to Headquarters, and
about the middle of December I was authorised to attempt it. The
unusual enterprise was a most difficult one, not only on account of
its magnitude, but also on account of the particularly unfavourable
conditions of the winter season. Having prepared the necessary
material for construction and excavation work, I began, on January 3,
1916, fortifying the position (entirely unprotected at the time) from
which we would have to work, and completing the construction of the
necessary buildings.
“Second Lieutenant Malvezzi, in his report on the subject, describes
concisely and modestly the development of the work. The accomplishment
of the enterprise, considered by many as chimerical, is due not only
to the technical ability of Lt. Malvezzi, and Lt. Tissi, his
assistant, but to their special military qualifications as well; also
to the courage and goodwill of the Alpini who, in a very short time,
became a _personnel_ of able miners and clever mechanics.
“The vicissitudes during more than six months’ work, at a distance of
only a few metres from the enemy, and under an incessant artillery
fire and shelling by _bombardas_, could well form the subject for a
book devoted to the study of character. Although fully aware of the
attendant dangers, including those of falling rocks due to the
counter-mining of the enemy, the Alpini of the Castelletto, during the
period of more than six months, gave proofs of brilliant valour and
unflinching perseverance. They were calm at all times, and moved only
by the spirit of duty.
“In transmitting to Your Excellency the enclosed copy of the report
compiled exclusively by Lt. Malvezzi (Lt. Tissi is at present lying
wounded in the hospital), I desire to recommend to you these two
officers (both as excellent engineers and brave soldiers), as well as
the Alpini who were co-operating with them. Without any exaggeration,
I consider their achievement as absolutely marvellous, both on account
of the great technical difficulties surmounted and the military
results obtained. The Austrian officers taken prisoner unanimously
confirm the fact that only by springing a mine could the Italians have
taken this position so important to the enemy.”
* * * * *
Lt. Malvezzi’s appended report launched at once into the “how” of the
titanic task which was set for him.
“On January 3, 1916,” he writes, “work was begun on the approach to
Castelletto, on the Tofana di Roches slope, levelling the soil and
enabling the construction of lodging quarters for officers and troops.
This work required the cutting of 660 cubic metres of rock. Next the
construction of quarters, and the concealing them was quickly
accomplished. Finally, there was garrisoned at this post the
Castelletto Detachment, commonly called the ‘T.K.,’ consisting of the
necessary _personnel_ for labour and the defence of the position.
“Our first work was to examine and disclose the enemy lines of
communication about the Castelletto and Tofana sides, and to gain full
knowledge of their position in detail. In order to accomplish this,
observation points were established which allowed us to carry out such
investigation and to make topographical sketches of the zone. Being as
we were always in the proximity of the enemy, this was a long and
fatiguing work. After a month, however, we succeeded in constructing a
series of positions at short distances from those of the enemy (from
50 to 150 metres). These were provided with cables and rope ladders to
enable us the more rapidly and easily to study (from all possible
points of vantage) the enemy’s positions and the development of his
works.
“The topographic work was begun by taking as a plan metric base
measurement 116 metres of ground on a four-triangle table, which
method enabled making all other drawings based on it. By basing our
findings on this table, we were able to draw up a series of points of
the enemy’s positions. Using the method of successive intersections,
we thus obtained all points of interest to us, as regards direction,
distance and height.
“In addition to this work, executed with the greatest care and
accuracy, we made two independent drawings of the enemy’s positions by
simpler but less exact methods. The first was made with a topographic
compass and Abney level; the other with a Monticole field-square. By
these means we obtained excellent checks on the base system, and so
grounded our work entirely on the trigonometric table and on the
drawings by intersections.
“From the middle of February to the end of March the tools used for
piercing consisted only of mallets and chisels. Our progress was
necessarily slow, yet it was sufficient in this time to give us,
besides 14 metres of tunnel, room for installing the perforating
machinery. At the end of March, notwithstanding heavy snowstorms, the
machinery--some pieces of it weighed as much as 500 and 600 kilos--for
beginning work was installed. This was all brought up by hand, and
without incident.
“The mechanical work was begun on April 2. We utilised two plant as
follows:
“(1) A complete group of benzo-compressors, consisting of a 30-40
horse-power kerosene motor adjusted to a Sullivan compressor by means
of a belt. This machinery was installed, on a solid base of cement, at
the beginning of the tunnel, in a 5 × 8 metre space dug out in the
side of the mountain for that purpose.
“(2) An Ingersoll compressor mounted on a four-wheel truck.
“Both machines were of American manufacture, and gave complete
satisfaction at all times. Each compressed the air to a density of
about seven atmospheres, injecting it into an air-chamber, whence, by
means of a rigid tube, ending in one of flexible rubber, it was
conveyed to the respective drills.
“Four squads worked at a time, each one consisting of a foreman and
from 25 to 30 miners. Each squad worked six hours without
interruption. This shift, apparently light, was found, on the
contrary, to be very heavy, owing principally to the development of
nitric gases which poisoned the air, and to the dust caused by the
drills.
“At first the only explosive used was military gelatine; later,
dynamite-gelatine. The system of over-charging the holes was always
adopted, in order to reduce the _débris_ to minute particles, easier
to be transported and unloaded. The work was carried on in sections,
varying from 1·80 by 1·80 metres to 2 by 2. The flat stretches of the
tunnel were laid with Decauville rails. All material was carried out
in cars and dumped into a hopper discharging into a large pipe. (The
dump was accumulated at a point beyond the observation of the
Austrians.) The average rate of progress was 5·10 metres per day.”
It may be well to explain here that it was not possible to begin
tunnelling on the same level at which the mine was to be exploded, but
considerably more than 150 feet below that level. The tunnel, had,
therefore, to be driven on a steep gradient. Another point which the
report does not make clear should be borne in mind, viz., that the
tunnel divided in the heart of the Castelletto, the main bore being
driven on to where the mine was to be exploded, while a smaller
branch--referred to below as the “Loop-holed Tunnel”--was run up to a
point where favourable exit could be obtained for charging into and
occupying the crater of the exploded mine. In all 507 metres of tunnel
had to be driven, involving the excavation of 2,200 cubic metres of
rock. The details of this work are given in the report as follows:
(A) Chamber for Sullivan Compressor: Dimensions: 5 × 8 metres; average
height 2·20 metres.
(B) First part of gallery to second dump of material. Length 72
metres; inclination 38·70 per cent.; elevation gained 25·90 metres.
(C) Second dump of material, established in order to free space for
further work and reduce the length of transportation.
(D) Ingersoll Group chamber. Dimensions: 4 × 6·50 metres; average
height 2 metres.
(E) Cut from the gallery of the second dump of material to the
beginning of the ascent to the mining chamber. Length 136 metres;
inclination 4·70 per cent.; elevation gained 6·40 metres.
(F) Ascent to mining chamber. Length 22 metres; inclination 36·30 per
cent.; elevation gained 10·75 metres. (This ascent, in order to
facilitate tamping, was worked by dividing it into three sections of 1
× 1·60 metres, at nearly right angles.)
(G) Mining chamber. Dimensions: 5 × 5·50 metres; average height 2·30
metres.
(H) Loop-holed tunnel. Length 162 metres; inclination 60 per cent.;
elevation gained 83·50 metres in this tunnel itself, or a total of
168·50 from the second dump. This tunnel (the one through which the
men were to pass for the attack after the explosion of the mine) had
to be strictly confined to the rocky stratum between the Tofana and
the Castelletto; its planimetry appears (see map), therefore, rather
uneven due to the constant elevation of the rock.
(I) Line of communication--partly in a natural cavern--measuring about
250 metres in length and giving access from the lodging quarters to
the works.
(J) Tunnel dug out to the extreme south end of the Castelletto, 30
metres long, with two portholes (each 4 metres wide) for two Depfort
guns, with closed cavern for the guns and ammunition.
“It was originally intended to divide the explosive charge between two
chambers, each having a mining line of resistance of 20 metres, with a
16-ton explosive charge of 92 per cent. gelatine. However, owing to
the countermining work carried on by the enemy--we were only a few
metres from one of his positions during the charging of the mine
chamber--we were obliged to confine the entire charge to a single
chamber.
“The enemy meanwhile, with a view to avoiding the effects of our mine
beneath the peaks of the Castelletto, had transferred most of his
shelters to the side of the Tofana and the Selletta. This necessitated
a considerable alteration in the location of the mine as originally
planned, in order that it should act against the enemy shelters on
both the Castelletto and Tofana flanks.
[Illustration: PLAN OF THE CASTELLETTO MINING OPERATION.
The worm-like tunnel on the left had to be driven in this way in
order to avoid fissures in the rock which would have revealed
what was going on. It was this tunnel through which the Alpini
were to pass to occupy the crater after the explosion of the
mine, but this plan was defeated through the presence of gas
from detonated Austrian asphyxiating bombs.]
“The charge was computed on a basis of minimum resistance of 20
metres, taking into consideration the nature of the rock (which was
fissured) and the existence of numerous splits and caverns. The
co-efficient of overcharge was, therefore, rather high. In order to
obtain the maximum effect under these conditions, only 92 per cent.
explosive nitro-glycerine was used. The total charge was 35 tons.
“The method of priming adopted was suggested by Lieut.-Col. Tatoli, of
the Engineers Corps. This consisted of five priming groups, each of
three friction tubes. One of the groups ran along the central axis of
the chamber, while the other four, parallel with the first, were
disposed symmetrically facing the four corners of the chamber. Each
tube (1-1/4 inches inside diameter by 4·50 metres in length) was
alternately charged with gelatine and gun-cotton and pierced by picric
acid detonating fuse, ending in a gun-cotton cartridge with electric
percussion cap. In the very centre of the charge there were inserted
two cases of gun-cotton, with electric percussion cap and detonating
fuse, with a view to securing a second springing of the mine to follow
the first.
“We thus had in all seventeen electric circuits divided into three
groups, each formed by the circuits of five tubes, connected with the
five groups of friction tubes. Two of these electric groups were
composed of six circuits each, by adding the two circuits of the
above-mentioned cases containing the gun-cotton. Each of these
electric groups ended with a Cantone exploder, placed at about 4·50
metres distance from the mine-chamber.
“The tamping was effected with cement and with sandbags, with heavy
wooden beams between the latter. It was made more effective by
dividing into sections at right angles to each other. The theoretical
length of the tamping was 25 metres.
“The charging of the mine chamber began July 3, 1916, at 5 p.m., and
was completed at 3 p.m. of July 9 this work including tamping,
priming, and laying of electric circuits. The final connections
between the latter and the exploders, by means of wires suspended in
the air, were made on July 10. The mine was sprung on July 11 at 3.30
p.m., and responded fully to our calculations and expectations.
“(Signed) L. MALVEZZI,
2nd Lieut. 7th Regiment Alpini.”
* * * * *
A week of unspeakable weather went by--an interval the days of which I
spent among the “Cave-men” of the Carso, and the nights of which were
largely devoted to puzzling through the mysteries of the Castelletto
report with the aid of my Italian dictionary--and then the unexpected
miracle happened. Rain and snow ceased, the sky cleared, and a spell
of sparkling days succeeded the interminable months of storm and
lowering clouds. From the high Alps came word that the grip of the
frost had paralysed the avalanches for the moment, and that rapid
progress was being made in opening up the roads for traffic.
“Now is your chance to see the Castelletto,” they told me at
headquarters. “If you start at once you ought to be able to get
through without much trouble; and, if the weather holds good, you may
even be able to get back without long delay, though on that score
you’ll have to take your chances. Doubtless they will be able to get
you out in some way whatever happens.”
And so it chanced that on a diamond-bright morning in early January I
found myself, after a couple of days of strenuous motoring, speeding
in a military car past the old custom-house and up into the heart of
that most weirdly grand of all Alpine regions, the Dolomites. Already
we were well over into what had once been Austrian territory, and the
splintered pinnacles which notched the skyline ahead of us were, as my
escorting officer explained, held in part by both the Italians and
the enemy. As we coasted down into Cortina di Ampezzo--which in its
swarming tourist hotels of motley design rivals St. Moritz or
Chamonix--Capt. P---- pointed to where a clean-lined wall of
snow-capped yellow rock reared itself against the deep purple of the
western sky.
“That high mountain ridge is the Tofana _massif_,” he said, “and that
partly isolated mass of lighter-coloured rock (crowned with towers
like a mediæval stronghold) at its further end is what is left of the
famous Castelletto. It is twenty kilometres or more away, but you can
see even from here how it dominated the valley and road, the latter
the much-pictured Dolomite road, which is also a route of great
military importance.
“Now look at the end of the Castelletto toward the wall of the Tofana.
Do you see where it seems to have been sliced off smoothly at an angle
of about forty-five degrees? Well, that is the part they blew off last
July. Up to then that end, like the other, was crowned with a lofty
spire. That spire, the base from which it sprung, the Austrian
barracks and munition depôts, together with the men stationed
there--all were blown up and destroyed in the explosion.
“Take a good look at it while you have a chance, for the skyline view
is better from a distance than from close at hand, where we shall go
this afternoon if the way is open. To see the effect of the explosion
at its best,” he added, “one should look at it from the Austrian
lines, as it was the blowing out of the other side of the mountain
which undermined and let down the top. If you come back here in the
spring doubtless we will be in occupation of a number of interesting
observation points over there.”
Viewed even from a distance of a dozen miles or more the alteration
wrought in the skyline by the explosion was not difficult to imagine.
It was, indeed, literally true--what I had never been fully able to
make myself believe until that moment--that a mountain peak had been
blown off--hundreds of feet of it, and thousands of tons. My eyes
remained focussed in awed fascination on the unnaturally even profile
of the wound until our snorting car skidded round a bend of the frozen
road and the thick-growing pine forest shut it from sight.
It was not until, after ten miles of precarious climbing and clawing
up the ice-paved, snow-walled road, our car brought up in the midst of
a neat little group of Alpine buildings nestling in the protection of
the last of the timber, that Capt. P---- revealed the surprise that
had been prepared for me.
“Our host here,” he said, “will be Colonel X----, who conceived and
directed the Castelletto project, and at dinner to-night you will
meet, and can talk as long as you like, with Lieutenant Malvezzi, who
did the work. He is still quartered here, and will be glad to tell you
all that he can about Alpine military engineering. We have already
sent him word that you came to Italy expressly to see him.”
After a hasty lunch Capt. P---- and I, accompanied by an officer of
Alpini from the camp, started for the Castelletto. Our powerful
military car, which, in spite of the fact that it had non-skid tyres,
had been giving a good deal of trouble on the ice, was left behind,
and a smaller but heavily-engined machine, with sharp spikes clamped
over the rims to grip the glassy surface of the road, was taken for
the few miles of the latter which were still open. Abandoning this in
a snow-bank at a little advanced camp well up under the towering wall
of the Tofana, we took our alpenstocks and started on the 2,000-foot
climb up to the base of the Castelletto.
The hard-packed snow on the thirty to forty degree slope must have
averaged from ten to twenty feet deep all the way, while, for a
half-mile or so midway, it was humped up in crumpled fold where, a
fortnight before, one of the largest and most terrible slides ever
known in the Alps had plunged down on its sinister mission to the
bottom of the valley. The full story of that avalanche will hardly be
told until after the war.
Slightly softened by the brilliant sun, the snow gave good footing;
but even so it was a stiff pull to the little ice and rock-begirt
barracks at the base of the cliff, and I gained some idea of the
titanic labour involved in getting guns, munitions, machinery, food,
and thirty-five tons of high explosive up there, all by hand, in every
sort of weather, and much of it (to avoid enemy observation and fire)
at night.
Midwinter was not, of course, the time to see anything of the real
effects of the great explosion, for the huge crater torn by the latter
was drifted full of snow, and snow was also responsible for the
complete obliteration of the countless thousands of tons of _débris_
that had been precipitated down the mountain side. A dizzy climb up
the ladder-like stairway, and a crawling clamber through a hundred
yards of the winding tunnel from the rock chambers which had housed
the compressors, revealed about all that was visible at the time of
the preparations and consequences of the mighty work; but a peep from
the observation port of a certain cunningly concealed gun-cavern
discovered a panorama which gave illuminative point to the concluding
words of the artillery officer who, pointing with the shod handle of
an ice-pick, explained the situation to me from that vantage.
“So you see,” he had said, “that the Castelletto in the enemy’s hands
was a stone wall which effectually barred our further progress; while
in our hands it becomes a lever which--whenever we really need to take
them--will pry open for us positions of vital importance. We simply
_had_ to have it; and so we took it in the one way it could be taken.
* * * * *
“Save for his Alpini uniform Lieutenant Malvezzi, when I met him at
dinner that evening, might well have passed for the typical musician
of drama or romance. His skin and hair and eyes were dark, and his
long nervous fingers flitted over the paper on which he sketched
various phases of the Castelletto work very much as those of a pianist
flit above his ivory keys. The dreamy, far-away look in his eyes was
also suggestive of the musician, but that I had long come to recognise
as equally characteristic of all great engineers, the men whose
tangible achievements are only the fruition of days and nights of
dreaming.
“Where shall I begin the story?” he had asked as the diners in the
regimental mess began to resolve into little knots of threes and fours
over coffee and cigars; and I had suggested that he take it up where
his report left off. “That stopped just as things began to happen,” I
said. “Now tell what _did_ happen.”
The Tenente laughed a laugh suggestive of rueful reminiscence, and a
smile ran round among those of the officers who had heard and
understood my words. “So far as I am concerned,” he replied, “that
covers about five minutes of activity--five minutes for which we had
been preparing for six months. You understand that we had constructed
a branch tunnel through which our men were to rush and occupy the
crater as soon after the explosion as possible.
“_Ecco._ The men were all massed ready on and under the terrace, and
nothing remained but the making of the connection firing the mine. I
took one long look around and then threw over the electric switch
closing the circuit. Every one seemed to be holding his breath as he
waited. One, two, three seconds passed in a silence so intense that I
heard the sharp ‘ping’ of the water dripping from the roof of the
chamber and striking the pool it had formed below.
“Then, before any other sound was audible, the whole mountain gave a
quick convulsive jerk, strong enough to throw some of the men off
their feet. A heavy grinding rumble in the earth came with a shivering
that followed the jerk, but the real roar of the explosion (from the
outside) was not audible for a second or two later. Only those
watching from a distance of several kilometres saw the right-hand
pinnacle of the Castelletto give a sudden heave, and then sink out of
sight in a cloud of dust and smoke.
“In addition to the honour of firing the mine that of leading my men
into the crater had also been reserved for me, and as soon as I heard
the roar of the explosion I gave the order for them to follow me up
into the tunnel. Well----” he paused and ran his laughing eyes around
the grinning circle of his fellow officers, “that is about as far as
my evidence is good for anything. As I went clambering up the slippery
steps of the tunnel an almost solid wall of choking fumes struck me in
the face, and I--and all of my men except those near or outside of the
portal--dropped coughing in my tracks.”
“Had the mine blown back through the tamping?” I asked.
“Not exactly,” he replied, his rueful smile becoming almost sheepish,
as of one who had allowed himself to become the victim of a prank.
“The Austrians had a big store of asphyxiating bombs on hand to use
against us, and these, exploded by our mine, vented their spite on
friend and foe alike. We were not able to occupy the crater for
twenty-four hours.
“I am glad to say that I spent what would otherwise have been an
intolerably anxious interval unconscious in the hospital. By the time
I had been revived a friendly breeze had thinned the gas sufficiently
to allow our Alpini to move into the crater and reap--in spite
of the delay--every advantage we had at any time counted
upon from the operation. Our most cherished capture was the
‘perforator’--practically intact--with which the Austrians were
driving an almost completed counter-mine directly under us.”
“The nervous tension must have been rather strong toward the end,
wasn’t it?” I asked; “especially when you knew the enemy had at last
got your work definitely located and was rushing his counter-mine?”
The smile of whimsical ruefulness died out of the dark sensitive face,
leaving behind it lines I had not noticed before--lines that only
come on young faces after weeks or months of incessant anxiety. The
backward cast shadows of a time of terrible memory were lurking behind
his eyes as he replied:
“For seven days and nights before the mine was sprung neither I nor
the officers working with me slept or even rested from work.”
That was all he said; but I saw the eyes--brimming with ready
sympathy--of his fellow officers turn to where he sat, and knew the
time for light questionings was past. Not until that moment did a full
appreciation of the travail involved in the blowing up of the
Castelletto sink home to me, and I nodded fervent assent to the words
of the English-educated Captain of Alpini next me when he observed
that “Malvezzi’s little ‘Order of Savoie’ was jolly well earned, eh?”