_How Pinocchio Complained Because He Was No Longer a Wooden Puppet_
It was no easy matter for Ciampanella and Pinocchio to reach their
company, which was intrenched about three miles away, on a declivity
as sharp as a knife-blade, bordered by jagged precipices. They could
not have held out against artillery up there, but the position was
well chosen from which to hammer the enemy's first trench that was
built on a little slope two hundred yards lower down and less than two
miles away. Farther along there opened up a pass of great strategic
importance which the Austrians apparently were intending to defend at
all costs. Yet it had seemed strange to Teschisso that the foe with
its numerous exits should try to attack his Alpine troops in force,
all the more that his first line of defense might be considered as
irretrievably lost. For this reason he had restrained the impulse of
his brave soldiers to fight and decided to intrench them on the
difficult slope to await a favorable moment for decisive action. In
the mean time he had been able to hammer the enemy's position with
four large pieces of artillery which he had placed on a summit above
his intrenchment. When Pinocchio related to him how, with the aid of
the mess-cook, he had made Franz and Stolz sing, and repeated the few
words which he had heard from their mouths, he had no longer any doubt
regarding the foe's strange behavior.
"Heavens! Those scoundrels wanted to blow us up! Luckily I was
prudent, but you'll see what a joke I'll invent to play on those dogs!
Call Corporal Scotimondo."
The most important duties were usually intrusted to this soldier with
a face like a cab-driver's, with a large blond beard and full, ruddy
cheeks, who at first sight looked so good-natured. But he was a man of
exceptional energy and extraordinary courage. Calm and quiet when
danger raged, he could inspire in his comrades a boundless
confidence.
"Corporal, from information received I have learned that we have
opposite us fifteen hundred men."
"All the better."
"And a mined zone."
"That's not so good, not good at all."
"I have determined to attack the foe from the rear and force him on to
the mined zone. I shall set off with the whole company, leaving only
eight men in the trench, which they must hold at all costs and keep up
a devilish fire to make the enemy think we are all here. Do you
understand?"
"Certainly, certainly."
"You will command the squad."
"Thanks, Captain."
"I will leave you also Pinocchio and Ciampanella, so that there will
be ten of you. Choose the other eight quickly, because I am going to
give immediate orders to depart."
"Draghetta, Senzaterra, Pulin, Cattaruzza, and the four Scagnol
brothers."
"All right! Go and tell them. Remember that I trust you. I am
attempting a big coup, but if I succeed, Heavens, what a stroke!...
They'll fly up like birds."
A little later Pinocchio was witness of a marvelous and fantastic
scene. The narrow trench was alive with a mass of black figures that
moved noiselessly. The Alpine troops armed themselves with rope and
hatchets, filled up their canteens, and replenished their
cartridge-belts, whispering quick, concise sentences, interrupted with
laughs, quickly smothered as the rattle of an officer's sword was
heard. All these shadows grouped themselves in the depth of the trench
against a heap of huge stones and merged into the profound darkness.
For a time still there was to be heard coming from down below a
subdued rustle, then a profound silence. Pinocchio was strangely
affected and was eager to find out what had happened. He ran to the
end of the trench--there was not a soul there. Where had his Alpine
troops gone? Had they perhaps been swallowed up by the abyss which
yawned a few feet away? He was so terrified that he began to yell
desperately.
"Captain! Captain Teschis ..."
He didn't get the chance to finish; he felt two rough, heavy hands
grab him by the ears and lift him up three feet from the ground.
"Less racket here. Don't be such an idiot. Don't you know that in the
trenches you've got to be as quiet as in church, and ... here I'm in
command, and when I command anything I've got to be obeyed."
"I'll obey," Pinocchio grumbled, keeping back a cry of pain.
Corporal Scotimondo put him down gently on the ground, face to face
with himself, and then asked, sharply:
"What did you want with Captain Teschisso?"
"I? Nothing."
"Why did you call him, then?"
"I thought perhaps ... something terrible had happened.... He's gone
... they're all gone."
"Gone? How gone? They haven't disappeared; they've only gone down ..."
"Where?"
"The precipice, and then they'll climb up again on the other side,
will reach the first trench, will get the better of the enemy and
drive them on the mined zone. Then we'll see a fine sight. But until
this minute comes we've got to keep quiet and not make a racket. Do
you understand? Now go to sleep because you have been mobilized and
will have to stand sentry also, and, besides, to-morrow there'll be
things to do. Now march!"
[Illustration]
Scotimondo emphasized this command with a kick which made Pinocchio
take the first steps and showed him the direction he was to go. The
unexpected disappearance of the Alpine troops still seemed miraculous
in spite of the simple explanation Scotimondo had given him, and
Pinocchio had a profound respect for everything that smacked of
magic.
[Illustration]
"Yes, gone down," he grumbled to himself while he was nearing the
other end of the trench. "That's quickly said, but I'd just like to
know how it is possible for men of skin and bones to do such a thing.
The precipice is so deep and so steep that if Ciampanella had not
pulled me by the collar I should never have got here. And how will
they manage to get down it? Hum! I am almost beginning to believe that
these Alpine soldiers are in league with the devil. I saw two of them
yesterday with some kind of shoes a couple of yards long which flew
over the snow like airplanes. I wanted to ask the mess-cook to explain
it to me, but from fear he would make fun of me I kept quiet. But from
now on I must keep my eyes more on those men. If I discover they
really have any dealings with the devil I'll take myself off on the
first occasion."
He stumbled and fell face downward into a soft warm mass from which
came a dull grunt. Overcome with terror, he was about to take flight
when he felt himself held fast by a leg as firmly as if by a trap.
"I wish you'd get killed. Couldn't you let me sleep a minute? You must
be either a creditor or that tyrant of a picket officer going his
rounds.... If you are a creditor come back six months after peace is
declared, because now I won't pay you a soldo even if I had one. If
you are the picket officer I tell you that when I have put out the
fires I have a right to take my ease ... and now let me sleep ... May
you be ..."
"Oh, Ciampanella, let me go. Don't you recognize me? I am Pinocchio."
"Oh, it's you, youngster, is it? Did you intend to make me sing like
Spizzete Spazzete? I have nothing to tell you, but if you insist upon
my singing something for you at all costs, I will sing for you to get
up off me."
Pinocchio, seeing that the mess-cook was in one of his "moments,"
thought it prudent to leave him in peace, so he lay down on a heap of
straw that was close by, intending to go to sleep.
But his sleep didn't last long. About four o'clock in the morning,
when dawn was peeping over the horizon, he heard a shot that seemed to
come from a spot not far from the trench.
"Get your guns, boys!" yelled Scotimondo, rushing to a machine-gun,
while the others, guns in hand, took their places before the
loopholes. "It was Draghetta who saw the enemy. Boys, I count on you.
We've got to make a racket, lots of noise as if all the company were
here, and don't expose yourselves ... let them have a continuous and
intense fire."
His glance took in Pinocchio, who was gazing at him, his eyes wide
open with terror, and Ciampanella tranquilly dozing. With a bound he
caught up a gun and put it into the boy's hands.
"Ho, lad, stop standing there doing nothing or I'll break your neck!
I'll smash your head before the potato-eaters knock it in."
With another spring he was on top of the cook, who was calmly dreaming
a culinary dream, and gave him such a kick that he jumped up like a
jack-in-the-box.
"I hope they'll eat you."
"Ready to fire! Fire! for Heaven's sake!" Scotimondo screamed at him
and ran to take his post, grumbling, "but why doesn't the sentinel
come back? What's that scoundrel of a Draghetta doing?"
Ciampanella rubbed his eyes and discovered Pinocchio, who stood there
turning his gun round and round without having yet discovered what
exactly it was that he held.
"May the dogs eat you! Instead of standing there fiddling with your
weapon that you know as much about as I know about training fleas, you
would do better to give a look at the saucepan that it doesn't burn
instead of making me get that kick from the corporal."
"But what saucepan? Are you still asleep?"
"Didn't you hear what he yelled at me when he kicked me? 'Fire!
Fire!'"
"Certainly, but he meant the fire of the battery, not that of the
stove. Don't you know that we are expecting an attack?"
"Who says so? There's no need to wait for it. You can wait if you want
to, but I'm off. I don't know anything about war and don't know how to
shoot. When there are necks to wring or beasts to butcher I'm ready,
because they are hens or lambs or such like beasts, but Christians I
_can't_, and toward the enemy I have the respect ordered by our
superiors. Listen, youngster, if two bullets hit me in the rear I'll
take them and won't protest, but I don't stay here at the front unless
they tie me."
He was just getting away when Scotimondo, who had an eye on him,
turned hurriedly and poked a revolver at his back.
"Oh, very well! There are certain arguments you can't dispute. I'll
remain, but I'll find me a hole where I can be safe, because if I die
the _Manual of War Cookery_ won't be written," and he threw himself
down on a big stone, signaling to the "youngster" to follow him.
A voice outside was calling for help, only a few feet away from the
trench.
"Stay where you are, all of you. I'll go," commanded Scotimondo, and,
wriggling like a serpent, with his revolver in his hand, he set off
and was lost in the darkness. Shortly after he returned, dragging in
Draghetta.
"What's the matter? Are you wounded?"
"No, not exactly wounded, but I can't stand up. I'm afraid my feet are
frozen."
"Let's have a look," and he made him sit down and began to free him
from his woolen puttees, his hobnailed boots, his waterproof
stockings, and to rub his red, swollen feet with snow, all the time
continuing to question him.
"Was it you who fired that shot?"
"Yes."
"Is the enemy in sight?"
"They tried to leave their trenches--two little groups--one of their
usual nasty little ways to draw us out, and as my superiors did not
see them, I thought it my duty to give the alarm signal."
"You were right."
"But I wasn't able to get back because my legs gave way, so I had to
try to crawl on my hands and knees until I had only breath enough left
to call for help, certain and sure that ..."
"Heavens! Swine!" Scotimondo swore and stopped rubbing.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing, nothing; take your place at the machine-gun; I'll take mine
in the trench."
"Why?"
"You have need of rest," and he went off, growling, "poor Draghetta!
He tried to warn the rest of us and couldn't get away himself."
He again left the trench to reconnoiter. Half an hour later he
returned, assembled his men, and told them that the foe had retreated
to their trenches, but that as soon as it was lighter they would have
to make themselves heard, so as to keep the enemy from attempting an
attack, which would undoubtedly be fatal to the little garrison. They
would have to make a lot of noise, but must not waste ammunition,
because when Captain Teschisso's company came into action they would
probably have to support it.
"And I impress upon you the importance of not exposing yourselves.
_The first who does so I'll send to the devil myself._ I have need of
every one of you, and it's too much that out of ten one should be
without feet, one a cook, and _one who isn't even a man_."
"Did you hear that, youngster?" Ciampanella asked Pinocchio, when the
laugh which followed Scotimondo's words had died down. "Did you hear?
They want to send you to the firing-line. What do you think of that?"
But Pinocchio didn't reply. His wooden leg just then seemed to have
nervous twinges and rattled like a rusty key in a lock. The sun had
scarcely begun to rise above the horizon and the snow to glisten in
its rays when from the trench cut out of the slope narrow as a
knife-blade came a sound of firing that was truly infernal. The
machine-gun was smoking, but poor Draghetta didn't let it rest a
minute. The others kept up a tremendous fire and an accurate one,
because they could see that the parapet of the enemy's trench was
marked by little red clouds. Every now and then above the crackle of
the musketry resounded the humming of larger projectiles that had
their own special tone. The Austrian commanders were evidently laying
plans for the whole day because there was not even the shadow of an
enemy to be seen. They contented themselves with replying with an
occasional shell. But what would they have done if they had known that
opposite them were only seven men, and one of them disabled, and that
the formidable _ta-pum, ta-pum, ta-pum_ which rose above the whine of
the musketry came from--the _mouths_ of Pinocchio and Ciampanella?
The coming of the twilight cast a veil of melancholy over the little
garrison, wearied by the fatigues imposed by its continual vigilance
and the continual answer to the firing of the foe.
They were all expecting every moment to see Captain Teschisso's
company come into action, the Austrians swept from their trenches with
the bayonets at their backs and thrown on the mined zone where they
would all be blown up. Yet nothing of the sort was taking place. The
enemy had never appeared more quiet and as sure of himself as to-day.
What had happened to the company? It wasn't possible that it had been
captured by superior forces. The Alpine troops would have fought like
lions; the noise of their battle would have reached the trench, and
some one would certainly have returned to bring the news of the
disaster. It was more likely that Captain Teschisso, knowing that he
would have to engage a superior force, had decided to attack at night.
The surprise and the impossibility of judging the number of the
assaulting force would certainly keep the enemy from resisting. But
Corporal Scotimondo was not altogether satisfied with his captain's
tactics.
"I'm not a Napoleon," he grumbled, in his patois, striding with long
steps through the narrow passageway of the trenches, every now and
then making a right-about face. "I'm not a Napoleon. It's easy to say
'hold fast at all costs,' but in order to hold fast you have to have
men. My men are not made of iron; I am not made of iron; they need
rest and yet even to let them rest I can't allow the trench to be
without sentinels all night. If I change sentries every half-hour,
nobody sleeps; if I make them stay at the posts for two hours
according to regulations, they'll come back to me with their feet
frozen like Draghetta, and then we couldn't hold fast. Plague take it!
This is certainly a situation to upset a corporal. If ..."
He stopped suddenly because Pinocchio barred his way. He looked at him
for a minute in amazement, gestured with his head for him to move to
one side, but, seeing that he stood there as firmly as if he had taken
root, he grunted, I don't know whether with anger or surprise.
"Skip, boy, skip. Don't you understand anything? Don't you understand
I want you to get from under my feet?"
"Just a question, corporal."
"What is it?"
"You need a sentinel for to-night."
"Yes, a new one every half-hour."
"I have come to volunteer."
"Why not? I like the idea ... you, too, will take your half-hour's
turn, but this doesn't help me solve my problem of ..."
"But I have come to volunteer for the whole night."
"Really? Are you in earnest?"
"Yes, indeed. You see, Corporal Squassamondo, I should have liked to
remind you this morning early that I have a wooden leg, but I prefer
to tell you now. Wood doesn't freeze and so I can stand guard for ten
hours even without any danger, if you only give me enough to cover
myself with and plenty to eat."
"And the other leg?"
"Ciampanella has told me that storks sleep all night standing on one
leg and don't fall over. I am a man 'that's not a man,' but if I were
no more good than a stork I shouldn't have got a wooden leg on the
battle-field."
The little lesson had sunk in and Scotimondo felt it like a pinch on
the shins. He tried to be furious, but didn't succeed. He let out a
terrible "Good Heavens!" then was overcome with emotion, caught
Pinocchio in his arms, pressed him to himself, and kissed him again
and again.
* * * * *
It was a night blacker than a German conscience. Two shadows glided
over the snow and stopped in the shelter of a rock which dominated all
the narrow slope, the enemy's trenches, the awful mass of peaks and
jagged ridges. At the side of the adversary's position the snow was
marked with an enormous black streak which was lost in the depth of
the mountains. It was the abyss, a frightful wedge-shaped crack which
looked like an enormous interrogation point drawn with charcoal on an
immense white sheet.
"You feel all right?"
"Fine as possible."
"Did they give you a good supper?"
"I'm so full that I can't draw a long breath with all this stuff I've
got on me. I certainly sha'n't feel cold."
"In your right pocket you'll find a thermos bottle of hot coffee; in
the other, chocolate."
"Splendid."
"Do you want a gun?"
"What should I do with it? In case of alarm I'll keep sounding
'_ta-pum_' like this morning."
"Then you understand. You must keep a lookout down there all the time,
there where the white of the snow meets the black of the sky. If you
see anything white on black or black on white which moves give the
alarm; if not, keep still. Take good care not to fall asleep, because
if I should go the rounds and find you asleep I should be compelled to
kill you at your post."
"In that case wake me up ... five minutes beforehand."
"Well, I'm off."
"Good luck."
"I want to impress it on you--no racket now."
"Good-by, Scrollamondo. Don't worry."
* * * * *
Pinocchio had the courage of a lion that night, and if the Austrians
had attempted an attack he would have felt equal to them all by
himself. As soon as he was alone he took out from the pockets of his
cloak, so full of food that they seemed a military depot, a thin rope
a couple of yards long, knotted one end of it, stuck his head through,
bending his good leg, put his foot on the rope, which he swung in
front of him at the height of his knee, and, leaning against the rock,
stood there still, resting on his wooden leg.
[Illustration]
"And now I am ready," he muttered, contentedly; "now let them come on.
I'm not afraid of any one, not even of the snow. There's no denying
it--my idea was magnificent. If that simpleton Toni Salandra had had
one as good he would have saved the Ministry. Two feet of rope and the
trench is saved. With two soldi's worth of soap he could have saved
the finest Parliament our poor country has ever seen.... It's queer
that I haven't the slightest sensation of fear.... It's dark, but I
seem to see as well as by day. It must be that a sentinel's duty
clears the sight. I could swear that I could see a flea a mile away.
Besides, my duty is simple: I am to stay here and do nothing; I am not
to get my feet frozen, and as far as that is concerned there's no
danger; and I am to look out for white moving on black or black on
white. Then, _ta-pum_, _ta-pum_, _ta-pum_, like this morning, then
throw myself on the ground and creep back to the trench like a
cat.... What a fire we kept up this morning, I and Ciampanella! He
fired so often and so vigorously that he ended by falling over with
fright.... If he hadn't had to sleep off his fatigue I couldn't have
done the fine deed I'm doing. I am sure he wouldn't have let me get
cold like this ... because ... I didn't feel it at first, but now I
feel chills creeping up my spine!"
When Pinocchio stuck his hand into his pocket it touched the rounded
form of the thermos bottle. He took it out, put it to his lips, and
drank a mouthful. Five minutes later the boy felt the heat mounting to
his brain as if he were at the mouth of a furnace.
"Ah-ha! That's good! When I am a general like Win-the-War I'll heat
the railway compartment with coffee instead of with a radiator. I wish
they'd 'murder' the garments I got on, as Ciampanella says: When I
think that he made me run the risk of having eight bullets in my
stomach I don't know what to do. But before I would have him burned
up, it would be nice to sleep here under this upholstered seat, with
the lullaby of the train that sounds as if my nurse were singing it.
If he found me now I should like to drop into one of those dozes from
which even Ciampanella's _ta-pum_ wouldn't wake me.... If I go to
sleep I'll be cold. That tyrant of a Scotimondo would just as lief
wake me up with a revolver at my head.... I'd like to know what's the
fun of keeping a poor sentinel out in the cold where there's nothing
to watch, because I bet a soldo against a lira that the Austrians are
sleeping soundly to-night--I seem to hear them snoring like so many
suckling pigs.... No, I said I wouldn't go to sleep, and to keep my
word I won't go to sleep, but I can allow myself a nod, just a little
nod. There's no black on white, or white on black; it seems to me to
be getting more cloudy ... so that ... Scotimondo? But what is it? I
am no Napoleon ... he said it. But even Napoleon when he found a
sleeping sentinel took his gun and waited till he waked up. He would
do the same ... with the difference that I haven't any gun ... so that
... not so much noise ... Scotimon ...? but where is Scotmona ...
Scoti ... mon ... do..."
* * * * *
Just at this moment the snow began to fall gently, so gently, and as
dry as flour just from the mill. The corporal, who was about to set
out on his usual tour of inspection, glanced at the sky, then growled,
as he rubbed his hands: "The Austrians won't come out in such weather.
It will be a foot thick in less than an hour. I'll go and sleep,
myself."
* * * * *
[Illustration]
Pinocchio woke up with a start. It was dawn!... He found himself
buried in the snow up to his chest. He looked about and could no
longer see the enemy's trench; he looked behind him and couldn't
recognize the Italian post. What under the heavens had happened? He
was on the point of becoming despondent and ready to give the alarm
when on the side of the enemy's position in the wide wedge-sloped
cleft, which looked like an exclamation point drawn with charcoal on
an immense white sheet, he thought he saw a curious movement like many
ants. He fixed his eyes on it, and while his heart beat so loudly that
he thought he would suffocate, he concentrated all his attention, all
his mind, on the point there below. He saw the jagged rock swarming
with Alpine troops, saw little clusters of men suspended over the
abyss, and ropes hanging in space slowly lifting up soldiers; and at
the sight of this miracle of daring and dexterity he naturally forgot
the fear of his wakening. Anxiously he followed the maneuvers of these
brave sons of Italy, saw them suddenly disappear.... Then a cry of
terror rose from the enemy's trench, a rattle of guns and almost at
the same moment two or three hundred Austrians were in flight and
flinging themselves on the slope, pursued by a steady fire. It was
time to give the alarm. Pinocchio wanted to let out one of his
extraordinary _ta-pums_, but just then a terrible explosion shook the
earth and clouded the sky.... A horrible yell, a cry from hundreds of
throats struck him to the marrow ... then there was silence.
Captain Teschisso, returning victorious from his expedition, found
Pinocchio there, and tenderly gave him first aid, but, seeing that he
didn't come to, he intrusted him to four soldiers, saying:
"Take him to the first ambulance, with Draghetta and the other
wounded, and tell the surgeon to care for him as my best friend. Poor
youngster, who will have to have another wooden leg! But we have
avenged him and given those dogs what they deserved. Heavens, what a
fight!"