FROM VENICE TO THE ISONZO FRONT
I left Venice next morning by the 5.55 train, and reached Palmanova at
half-past ten. As one goes eastward by this railway, there is a grand
panorama of hills, circling the whole horizon; to the north and
north-east the Carnic Alps and Cadore, their highest summits crowned
with snow even in the full heat of summer; eastward the Julian Alps,
beyond the Isonzo, stretching from a point north of Tolmino, down
behind the Carso, almost to Fiume in the south-east; and yet further
round the circle to the southward the mountains of Istria, running
behind Trieste and its wide blue gulf, whose waters are invisible from
this railway across the plain.
Of Palmanova I will write again. This was the Railhead and the
Ammunition Dump for the British Batteries. I stayed there that day
scarcely an hour, and then went on by motor lorry to Gradisca, the
Headquarters of "British Heavy Artillery, Italy." Here I lunched and was
well received by the Staff, who were expecting no reinforcements and
were astonished at my coming. It was decided, after some discussion, to
attach me temporarily to a Battery which had one officer in hospital,
slightly wounded by shrapnel. I continued my journey in another motor
lorry after lunch. Gradisca lies on the western bank of the Isonzo,
which is crossed close by at Peteano by a magnificent broad wooden
bridge, the work of Italian engineers. Gradisca had not been badly
damaged, the Austrians having made no great resistance here against the
Italian advance in May 1915, but Peteano had been laid absolutely flat
by Austrian twelve-inch guns. It had been utterly destroyed in half an
hour's intense bombardment some months before, and many Italian hutments
in the neighbourhood had been destroyed at the same time.
Within sight of this bridge, at a distance of a quarter of a mile, is
the confluence of the Vippacco with the Isonzo. From this point the road
follows the Vippacco to Rubbia, the Headquarters of Colonel Raven, who
commanded the Northern Group of British Batteries. which I was now
joining. The five Batteries of this Group, known as "B2," were all in
positions on or near the Vippacco, firing on the northern edge of the
Carso, and eastward along the river valley. The southern Group, "B1,"
were on the Carso itself and operating chiefly against the famous
Hermada, a position of tremendous natural strength, directly covering
Trieste. B2 had the more comfortable and better-shaded positions, but
B1, though their guns were among the rocks and in the full heat of the
sun, were in easy reach of the sea, and had a Rest Camp at Grado among
the lagoons.
Raven's Group, B2, formed part of an Italian Raggruppamento, or
collection of Groups, under the command of a certain Sicilian Colonel
named Canale, a dapper little man who generally wore white gloves, even
in the front line. He was a fearless and capable officer and did all in
his power for the comfort of our Batteries.
From Rubbia I drove in a car to the Battery. As I left the Group
Headquarters, a number of wooden huts at the foot of the wooded slopes
of Monte San Michele, which rise upwards from the road, I went under the
railway which in peace-time connects Gorizia with Trieste. It is useless
now, being within easy range of the Austrian guns, which have, moreover,
broken down the high stone bridge on which the line crosses the
Vippacco. A young Sicilian Sergeant accompanied me as a guide and
pointed out Gorizia, some six miles away to the north, a
widely-scattered town, very white in the sunlight, lying at the foot of
high hills famous in the history of the war on this Front, Monte
Sabotino, Monte Santo, Monte San Gabriele, of which there will be more
for me to say hereafter.
The gun positions of my new Battery were situated just outside the
little village of Pec, inhabited mostly by Slovene peasantry before the
war, now all vanished. The village had been much shelled, first by
Italian and then by Austrian guns, and there was not a house remaining
undamaged, though several had been patched up as billets and cookhouses
by British troops. Another of our Batteries had their guns actually in
the ruins of the village, but ours were alongside a sunken road, leading
down to the Vippacco. The guns themselves were concealed in thick bowers
of acacias, the branches of which had been clipped here and there within
our arc of fire. I doubt if anywhere, on any Front, a British Battery
occupied a position of greater natural beauty. The officers' Mess and
sleeping huts were a few hundred yards from the guns, right on the bank
of the Vippacco, likewise hidden from view and shaded from the sun by a
great mass of acacias, a luxuriant soft roof of fresh green leaves. Our
Mess, indeed, had no other roof than this, for there was seldom any
rain, and, as we sat at meals, we faced a broad waterfall, a curving
wall of white foam, stretching right across the stream, which was at
this point about seventy or eighty yards wide. Innumerable blue
dragon-flies flitted backwards and forwards in the sunlight. Though the
weather was warm, it was less hot than usual at this time of year, and
the surroundings of our Mess reminded me vividly of Kerry. In the first
days that followed I could often imagine myself back in beautiful and
familiar places in the south-west corner of Ireland. Only Italian
gunners coming and going, for several of their Battery positions were
close to ours, and the Castello di Rubbia across the water, slightly but
not greatly damaged, broke this occasional illusion.
These Italians took us quite for granted now, and that evening I began
to learn about their Front. Things were pretty quiet at present on both
sides, but greater activity was expected soon. I made the acquaintance
of Venosta, an Italian Artillery officer attached to the Battery. He was
from Milan, a member of a well-known Lombard family, and had a soft and
quiet way with him and a certain supple charm. At ordinary times he
preferred to take things easily, and was imperturbable by anything which
he thought unimportant. But in crises, as I learned later on, he could
show much calm resource and energy.
* * * * *
I woke next morning to the sound of the Vippacco waterfall, and the
following day I got my first real impression of this part of the Italian
Front. The Battery was doing a registration shoot and I went up in the
afternoon with our Second-in-Command to an O.P. on the top of the Nad
Logem to observe and correct our fire. It was a great climb, up a stony
watercourse, now dry, and then through old Austrian trenches,
elaborately blasted in the Carso rock and captured a year ago. The Nad
Logem is part of the northern edge of the Carso, and from our O.P. a
great panorama spread out north, east and west, with the sinuous
Vippacco in the foreground, fringed with trees. From here I had pointed
out to me the various features of the country. The play of light and
shade in the distance was very wonderful. Our target that afternoon was
a point in the Austrian front line on a long, low, brown hill lying
right below us, known officially as Hill 126. The Austrians some days
before had sent us an ironical wireless message, "We have evacuated Hill
94 and Hill 126 for a week so that the British Batteries may register on
them." They evidently knew something of our whereabouts and our plans!
Coming back we stopped at the foot of a hill on which stands the
shell-wrecked monastery of San Grado di Merna, a white ruin gaunt
against the darker background of the Nad Logem. Here a new Battery
position was being prepared for us, only three hundred yards behind the
Austrian front line, but admirably protected by the configuration of the
ground from enemy fire. An Italian drilling machine was at work here,
operated by compressed air, drilling holes in the rock for the insertion
of dynamite charges, and, by means of gradual blasting, gun pits and
cartridge recesses and dug-outs were being created in the stubborn rock.
Here a heavy thunderstorm broke and we sheltered in the Headquarters of
an Italian Field Artillery Brigade, likewise blasted out of the mountain
side. I returned with Venosta. I asked him to show me the famous
Bersagliere trot, and by way of illustration we doubled along the road
for about half a mile. On the British Front the spectacle of two
officers thus disporting themselves for no apparent reason would have
caused much remark and amusement. But the Italians, whom we passed,
seemed to see nothing remarkable in our behaviour. They are, perhaps,
more tolerant of eccentricity than we are.
It may be of interest at this point to say a few words about some of
the special characteristics of the Italian Army. Every modern Army has
adopted a distinctive colour for its war-time uniform, chosen with a
view to minimising visibility. Thus we wear khaki, the French
horizon-blue, the Germans field-grey. The Italians have adopted an olive
colour, commonly spoken of as "grigio-verde," or grey-green.
The various Italian Corps, Regiments and Brigades wear distinctively
coloured collars on their tunics which, except in the case of the
Arditi, fit closely round the neck. For example, the Granatieri, or
Grenadiers, who both in their high physical standards and military
prestige resemble our own Guards Battalions, wear a collar of crimson
and white. The colour of the Artillery is black with a yellow border,
that of the Engineers black with a red border. Of the Infantry, the
Alpini collars are green and the Bersaglieri crimson, the bands of
colour being shaped in each case like sharp-pointed flames turning
outwards. For this reason the Alpini are often called the "fiamme
verdi," or green flames, and the Bersaglieri "fiamme rosse," or red
flames. The Infantry Brigades of the line, who bear local names,--the
Avellino Brigade, the Como Brigade, the Lecce Brigade and so
forth,--have each their distinctively coloured collars.
These local names mean very little, for, as a matter of policy, men from
all parts of Italy are mixed indiscriminately together in each Brigade.
The Parma Brigade, for example, will contain only a few men from Parma,
and them by chance. One of the objects of this policy is to help to
break down those regional barriers, which still linger owing to
historical causes, between different districts of Italy. It is often
remarked that men from many parts of Italy know more of foreign
countries than of other parts of their own country, and most of the
numerous local dialects are hardly intelligible to men who live far from
the districts where they are spoken. Ordinary Italian, which is in fact
the local dialect of Rome, is, as it were, the _lingua franca_ of the
whole country, but the great majority of Italians speak not only Italian
but one, or sometimes several, local dialects, and the latter are used
by all classes in their own homes. Some of these dialects differ widely
from Italian. In many remote districts some of the peasants cannot speak
Italian at all.
The Alpini and the two Sardinian Brigades, Cagliari and Sassari, are
exceptions to the rule mentioned above. The Alpini are in peace-time
recruited entirely from the men who dwell in the Alps, though I believe
that during the present war a certain number of men from the Apennines
have also been included in Alpini Battalions. The Alpini are specially
used for warfare in the mountains. They wear in their hats a single long
feather. Closely attached to the Alpini are the Mountain Artillery,
armed with light guns of about the same calibre as our own
twelve-pounders. They too are recruited from the mountaineers and wear
the Alpino hat and single feather. The Alpini have a magnificent
regimental spirit and, in my judgment, are the equals of any troops in
the world.
The Cagliari and Sassari Brigades, two of the best in the Italian Army,
are composed entirely of Sardinians. When in the front line they use the
Sardinian dialect on the telephone. Even if the Austrians succeed, by
means of "listening sets," in overhearing them, it hardly matters, for
it is not likely that anyone in the Austrian front line will understand!
The Bersaglieri, another famous Italian Regiment, are recruited from all
parts of Italy, but only from men of high physical fitness. They
correspond roughly to the Light Infantry of other Armies, and always
drill and march to a very quick step, even when carrying machine guns on
their shoulders. Their hats decked with a mass of green cocks' feathers
are familiar in illustrations. The Bersagliere Cyclist Companies, used
for scouting purposes, form part of the Regiment. The Bersagliere
undress cap is a red fez with a blue tassel.
The Arditi, or Assault Detachments, correspond to the German
Sturmtruppen. They were instituted in the Italian Army in 1917. They
also consist of picked men, and undergo a special training to accustom
them to bomb-throwing at close quarters and to other incidents of the
assault. In the course of this training casualties often occur. Only
young unmarried men of exceptionally good physique can become Arditi.
They are only used in actual attacks and never for the purpose of merely
holding trenches. They therefore spend a large part of their time behind
the lines and receive, I believe, extra pay and rations. They are armed
with rifles and _pugnali_, or small daggers, and wear a low-cut tunic,
with a black knottie and a black fez. On each lapel of their tunic they
wear two black flames, similar to the crimson flames on the collars of
the Bersaglieri. They are, therefore, known as "fiamme nere," or black
flames.
A large proportion of Arditi are Sicilians, and their fighting quality
is very high. Certain detachments of Bersaglieri are also classified as
Assault Detachments and wear low-cut tunics like the Arditi.
The Italian Mountain and Field Artillery are excellent; their Heavy
Artillery is handicapped, in comparison with ours, by its smaller
ammunition supply and fewer opportunities for prolonged practice, but
its methods are scientific and its personnel very keen and capable. The
Italian Engineers have done much wonderful work, to which I shall refer
later.