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landscape or a trophy of fruits or flowers； and the harnessnow
much out of repairis studded with brass。 Again and again I
have passed strings of these gay carts； all Sicily must be swept
of them。
Through the dust I came to Aquileia； which is now an old
cathedral； built upon the remains of a very early basilica；
standing in a space in a scattered village。 But across this
dusty space there was carried the head of the upstart Maximinus
who murdered Alexander Severus； and later Aquileia brought Attila
near to despair。 Our party alighted； we inspected a very old
mosaic floor which has been uncovered since the Austrian retreat。
The Austrian priests have gone too； and their Italian successors
are already tracing out a score of Roman traces that it was the
Austrian custom to minimise。 Captain Pirelli refreshed my
historical memories； it was rather like leaving a card on Gibbon
/en route/ for contemporary history。
By devious routes I went on to certain batteries of big guns
which had played their part in hammering the Austrian left above
Monfalcone across an arm of the Adriatic； and which were now
under orders to shift and move up closer。 The battery was the
most unobtrusive of batteries； its one desire seemed to be to
appear a simple piece of woodland in the eye of God and the
aeroplane。 I went about the network of railways and paths under
the trees that a modern battery requires； and came presently upon
a great gun that even at the first glance seemed a little less
carefully hidden than its fellows。 Then I saw that it was a most
ingenious dummy made of a tree and logs and so forth。 It was in
the emplacement of a real gun that had been located； it had its
painted sandbags about it just the same； and it felt itself so
entirely a part of the battery that whenever its companions fired
t burnt a flash and kicked up a dust。 It was an excellent
example of the great art of camouflage which this war has
developed。
I went on through the wood to a shady observation post high in a
tree； into which I clambered with my guide。 I was able from this
position to get a very good idea of the lie of the Italian
eastern front。 I was in the delta of the Isonzo。 Directly in
front of me were some marshes and the extreme tip of the Adriatic
Sea； at the head of which was Monfalcone； now in Italian hands。
Behind Monfalcone ran the red ridge of the Carso； of which the
Italians had just captured the eastern half。 Behind this again
rose the mountains to the east of the Isonzo which the Austrians
still held。 The Isonzo came towards me from out of the
mountains； in a great westward curve。 Fifteen or sixteen miles
away where it emerged from the mountains lay the pleasant and
prosperous town of Goritzia； and at the westward point of the
great curve was Sagrado with its broken bridge。 The battle of
Goritzia was really not fought at Goritzia at all。 What happened
was the brilliant and bloody storming of Mounts Podgora and
Sabotino on the western side of the river above Goritzia； and
simultaneously a crossing at Sagrado below Goritzia and a
magnificent rush up the plateau and across the plateau of the
Carso。 Goritzia itself was not organised for defence； and the
Austrians were so surprised by the rapid storm of the mountains
to the north…west of it and of the Carso to the south…east； that
they made no fight in the town itself。
As a consequence when I visited it I found it very little injured
compared； that is； with such other towns as have been fought
through。 Here and there the front of a house has been knocked in
by an Austrian shell； or a lamp…post prostrated。 But the road
bridge had suffered a good deal； its iron parapet was twisted
about by shell bursts and interwoven with young trees and big
boughs designed to screen the passer…by from the observation of
the Austrian gunners upon Monte Santo。 Here and there were huge
holes through which one could look down upon the blue trickles of
water in the stony river bed far below。 The driver of our
automobile displayed what seemed to me an extreme confidence in
the margins of these gaps； but his confidence was justified。 At
Sagrado the bridge had been much more completely demolished； no
effort had been made to restore the horizontal roadway； but one
crossed by a sort of timber switchback that followed the ups and
downs of the ruins。
It is not in these places that one must look for the real
destruction of modern war。 The real fight on the left of
Goritzia went through the village of Lucinico up the hill of
Podgora。 Lucinico is nothing more than a heap of grey stones；
except for a bit of the church wall and the gable end of a house
one cannot even speak of it as ruins。 But in one place among the
rubble I saw the splintered top and a leg of a grand piano。
Podgora hill； which was no doubt once neatly terraced and
cultivated； is like a scrap of landscape from some airless；
treeless planet。 Still more desolate was the scene upon the
Carso to the right （south） of Goritzia。 Both San Martino and
Doberdo are destroyed beyond the limits of ruination。 The Carso
itself is a waterless upland with but a few bushy trees； it must
always have been a desolate region； but now it is an
indescribable wilderness of shell craters； smashed…up Austrian
trenches； splintered timber； old iron； rags； and that rusty
thorny vileness of man's invention； worse than all the thorns and
thickets of nature； barbed wire。 There are no dead visible； the
wounded have been cleared away； but about the trenches and
particularly near some of the dug…outs there was a faint
repulsive smell。。。。
Yet into this wilderness the Italians are now thrusting a sort of
order。 The German is a wonderful worker； they say on the Anglo…
French front that he makes his trenches by way of resting； but I
doubt if he can touch the Italian at certain forms of toil。 All
the way up to San Martino and beyond； swarms of workmen were
making one of those carefully graded roads that the Italians make
better than any other people。 Other swarms were laying water…
pipes。 For upon the Carso there are neither roads nor water； and
before the Italians can thrust farther both must be brought up to
the front。
As we approached San Martino an Austrian aeroplane made its
presence felt overhead by dropping a bomb among the tents of some
workmen； in a little scrubby wood on the hillside near at hand。
One heard the report and turned to see the fragments flying and
the dust。 Probably they got someone。 And then； after a little
pause； the encampment began to spew out men； here； there and
everywhere they appeared among the tents； running like rabbits at
evening…time； down the hill。 Soon after and probably in
connection with this signal； Austrian shells began to come over。
They do not use shrapnel because the rocky soil of Italy makes
that unnecessary。 They fire a sort of shell that goes bang and
releases a cloud of smoke overhead； and then drops a parcel of
high explosive that bursts on the ground。 The ground leaps into
red dust and smoke。 But these things are now to be seen on the
cinema。 Forthwith the men working on the road about us begin to
down tools and make for the shelter trenches； a long procession
going at a steady but resolute walk。 Then like a blow in the
chest came the bang of a big Italian gun somewhere close at
hand。。。。
Along about four thousand miles of the various fronts this sort
of thing was going on that morning。。。。
2
This Carso front is the practicable offensive front of Italy。
From the left wing on the Isonzo along the Alpine boundary round
to the Swiss boundary there is mountain warfare like nothing else
in the world； it is warfare that pushes the boundary backward；
but it is mountain warfare that will not； for so long a period
that the war will be over first； hold out any hopeful prospects
of offensive movements on a large scale against Austria or
Germany。 It is a short distance as the crow flies from Rovereto
to Munich； but not as the big gun travels。 The Italians；
therefore； as their contribution to the common effort； are
thrusting rather eastwardly towards the line of the Julian Alps
through Carinthia