XV

On the following morning (June 17th), I went to Sarmede as I had

planned. With my jacket on my shoulder and my slow weary step, imitated

from that of the mountaineers, I did not arouse any suspicion, and

passed unnoticed.

All the streets were congested with a great deal of material and the

small number of wagons at the disposal of the Austrians surprised me.

They made great use of heavy steam tractors for hauling ordnance, and

as I was hiding behind a group of trees, I saw a long procession of

cannon, all covered with leaves, pass, which from their bulk looked

like “305’s.” These troops and this material seemed directed towards

the lower Piave. The roads were also congested by auto-ambulances full

of wounded, and wagons transporting the slightly wounded. In several

places the movement was so great and so badly regulated that the long

lines of cars had to stand still for some time to open up a passage for

other columns going in the opposite direction. The Austrians also made

extensive use of little low wagons with broad wheels, drawn by

Hungarian ponies which were lean and seemed to have suffered a great

deal. The freight belonged to the 41st army corps which was the one

operating towards the Grave di Pappadopoli and which had not succeeded

in passing.

I mingled with the soldiers and they permitted me to pass without

suspecting anything. On my return I was compelled to view a scene so

terrible that I shall never forget it. I had reached an isolated house

in front of which stood a platoon of Austrians commanded by a Bosnian

officer. (These troops could be readily recognized by their caps with a

fez which resembles somewhat the cap of our Bersaglieri.) A shapely

young woman was speaking with some soldiers who were trying to overcome

her reluctance and were trying to lay their hands on her. The young

girl tried to resist them and answered them brusquely and with

indignation. Even the officer approached and took part with his men in

the discussion, which seemed to me to be heated.

“Come on, now, don’t be affected, we know what you women of the Veneto

are worth, you, who do not give yourselves for love but know only how

to sell yourselves. Well then, I promise you that from Venice, where we

shall surely be within a few days, I will send you all sorts of

presents and a beautiful dress for Sundays so that you can play the

coquette with whomever you like.”

The girl drew up with pride, vehemently pushed aside the officer who

stood in front of her and exclaimed, “The only way in which you will be

able to see Venice will be through your binoculars.” The shove made the

officer lose his equilibrium and as he fell to the ground the girl

began to laugh. The officer sprang up at once, drew his revolver and

without uttering a word fired several shots at her. The poor girl bent

forward murmuring, “Oh mother, mother,” and fell in a pool of blood.

The Bosnian officer and the other soldiers hastened away without even

turning to look at the poor creature. And I had to stand by,

motionless, during this scene!... a scene more swift and violent than

the human mind can imagine. She was breathing no more and an abundant

flow of blood came from her temples giving a reddish tint to her

beautiful, disheveled hair. As though turned to stone I stood still a

long time contemplating her. In a courtyard nearby a red rose bush was

in bloom and close to it a white rose gave forth its fragrance. I

plucked the white rose, two large red ones and with a few green leaves

I placed them near the corpse. Our soldiers were buried enveloped in

the tricolor and this young martyr should receive from the hands of an

Italian officer the comfort and honor of the tricolor. She was not the

first nor the last victim of the Bosnians.

Still trembling with horror at the scene I had just witnessed I hurried

away towards the hill hoping to find there some important news; instead

I found nothing except another pigeon which a priest had given

Bottecchia. I wrote over again all I had sent in the former message,

adding a little about the possibility of action in the near future on

the lower Piave, and despatched the bird, which at once flew toward our

lines, disappearing soon in the region where the battle raged.

The cannonading began again and it seemed more intense to me than ever

before. Perhaps that depended on the acoustics, because to-day the

clouds were lower and the ground damp, and because the distance which

separated me from the Piave was less than that which separated me from

the Grappa.

Rino brought me the evening bulletin and the news was anything but good

and troubled me very much. The bulletin read:

“Between the Piave and San Mauro the Austrians have launched a

heavy attack and after a bloody struggle have succeeded in crossing

the Narvesa Montebelluna railroad reaching to Casa da Ruos. In the

region of the lower Piave, after a violent attack, the enemy has

succeeded, in the region of Zenson, in uniting its two bridge

defenses and in reaching Meolo and pushing forth some platoons

towards Monastir. The resistance of the Italians was weaker to-day.”

On the Narvesa Montebelluna railroad and around Meolo passed our line

of resistance, and therefore the report that the Austrians had

succeeded in forcing several points there was disturbing. If they

should succeed in widening their possessions there would be no

alternative but to withdraw; retreat would be inevitable.

I was still impressed by the barbarous event which I had been compelled

to witness without being able to assist the poor victim, and perhaps

fatigue helped to make things appear blacker, for I had had no sleep

for three days and three nights. I had to rest, and find again the

freshness, the optimism which now began to fail me.

On the 18th, nothing interesting happened. The bombardment lessened

slightly towards noon and began again with great violence later. I

asked myself how, after so heated a fight, both sides did not feel the

need of a brief respite; I wondered why the Austrians did not ease up a

little so as to gain new strength for a last desperate attack.

The rain fell abundantly during these days and I thought with horror of

the conditions on the battlefield, where the wounded must lie for hours

immersed in the mud under the torrential fall of water which seemed to

have no intention of abating. The evening bulletin reported the

situation as stationary and said that the successive Austrian attacks

in the conquered regions of the Montello and Meolo had failed in front

of the indomitable resistance of our men. Again I breathed freely

because the former reports had truly been little comforting. Who knows

but that these might be the last efforts of the enemy, and once the

crisis had been overcome, as in a terrible sickness, our organism might

rapidly recover all its energies and its formidable character. Four

days had already passed and I did not believe the Austrians would be

capable of a further great drive. The night was even more agitated than

usual, but it seemed to me as if in answer to the constant fire of the

Austrian artillery there had been no little action by our cannon as

though in preparation for a counter-attack. Could it be that the point

of equilibrium had been reached and the scales were now turning in our

favor?

The hours and minutes seemed never to pass and I lived only to await

the evening reports which would certainly be decisive. I thought I

heard Rino coming slowly towards me and to lessen further the short

time I still had to wait I ran out to meet him. Rino had a look of joy

and as soon as he saw me he said smilingly, “Good news, good news. It

seems they can’t go any farther, that they have been definitely

stopped, and the full Piave is behind their backs. May they all get

drowned in its currents!”

“Quick, give me the bulletin.” He handed me the precious sheet and I

read it with avidity. The Austrians had been driven back to the other

side of the Narvesa Montebelluna railroad and were being pressed by our

men who were gaining ground on all sides and were approaching the

village of Narvesa. The enemy command, in view of the torrential

condition of the Piave had decided to retire. Five divisions which were

in the vicinity of Belluno were being transferred towards Susegana to

cover the retreat and to defend the left bank of the river in case the

Italians decided on a counter-attack. All the Austrian attacks in the

region of the lower Piave near Capo D’argine and Candulu had failed....

I could scarcely believe my own eyes, I wanted to die, I wanted to cry

my joy to all, and throwing my arms about the neck of Bottecchia who

met us, I told him the comforting news. Then they really had not

passed; then the battle on which we had concentrated all our efforts,

all our sacrifices for several months, was about to end more

advantageously than I had ever dared to hope! In these four days of

battle the Austrians were bound to have lost the flower of their

troops. All their vain glory had been drowned forever in the whirlpools

of the Piave and it was now for us to finish them. I thought of the

poor dead we left in the distant trenches of the Carso, of all those

whose sacrifice seemed useless to me during the terrible day of

Caporetto and I felt they had been vindicated, that the hour was not

far distant in which the great destinies of Italy would be fulfilled.

I had received information about the prisoners taken by the Austrians

during the last offensive; they were left for several days without food

and were assigned to the transportation of ammunition on the front line

so that many of them had been severely wounded by the fire of our

artillery. This treatment was, of course, in open contradiction of

every international convention, and our kindness and generosity in the

treatment of their prisoners embittered me.

The little old woman who had the task of finding eggs for us had been

to the hospital at Vittorio and had spoken with several of our wounded

who were still thrilled by the joy of combat and eagerly awaited news

of the progress of the battle, of the outcome of which they were no

longer in doubt. Among the wounded was a Captain of the Bersaglieri

whose name the old woman had brought me in the hope that I might be of

some help to him.

Our soldiers, who did not realize the conditions existing in the

invaded regions, wondered why the population gave them nothing to eat

and asked where the bakeries were from which they could buy bread. They

were greatly surprised when they heard there were not only no more

bakeries, but ever since our retreat, there had been no sale or trade

whatever in eatables.

The Austrians, in an attempt to give a different impression to the

population of the outcome of their attack and to feign that the number

of prisoners taken was much greater than it was in reality added to the

men taken in this offensive some of those taken at the time of

Caporetto, and marched through the villages long lines of these poor

young men who could barely hold themselves erect because they were so

weak and hungry. But the intelligent population would not let itself be

fooled, for how could they account for the great difference between the

flourishing condition of some and the exhausted condition of others.

On this day the secretary at Vittorio sent me some sensational

photographs of men who had been lynched. I recognized the square of

Conegliano and was horrified when I read that the victims were

Czecho-Slovaks who fought in our army and, being taken prisoners by the

Austrians, were condemned to so terrible a fate. To complete the

carnage their bodies were for four consecutive days exposed to the

mockery of the troops marching toward the front. They were true martyrs

and I bowed to their memory, mindful of the many occasions in which

they had given proof of their loyalty and faith to the cause of the

Allies.

June 24. As I had foreseen, on the last day the scales turned

completely in favor of the Italians. On the Piave from the Montello to

the sea the pressure of the Italian infantry continued strong,

decisive, irresistible, while the artillery fired with extreme accuracy

on the Austrian troops in retreat and scored direct hits on their

defences, bridges, passageways, and back lines. The Piave, swollen from

the recent rainfall, had torn away the bridges and by adding new

difficulties increased the disaster of the enemy, who, pressed on all

sides, had begun to retreat towards the river and had at last crossed

back to the left bank of the Piave. On this night the situation was

exactly the same as at the beginning of the offensive.