CHAPTER XVII
After Gorizia—Method and thoroughness of General Cadorna—Amusing story—Result of the three days fighting—Employment for first time of cavalry and cyclists—Udine reverts to its usual calm—Arrival of visitors—Lord Northcliffe and others—Mr. Whitney Warren—Changes along the fighting Front—Monte San Michele—A misleading statement—“Big events” pending—A visit to Gorizia—My companions—Great change visible on road—Battlefield cleared away—Gorizia—Deserted streets—Rules and regulations for the inhabitants—The two cafés open—Rumours of counter-attack—The General’s Headquarters—Somewhat scant courtesy—A stroll round—We decide spend night in Gorizia—The deserted Hotel—We take possession of rooms—A jolly supper party—A glorious summer night—One long hellish tatoo—The Austrian counter-attack—A night of discomfort—The noise from the trenches—The cause of my “restlessness”—The “comfortable” beds—Gorizia in the early morning—Indifferent to the bombardment—Back to Udine via Savogna, Sdraussina and Sagrado—Panorama of military activity—Monte San Michele—Looking for a needle in a bundle of hay—The cemeteries—The pontoon bridge—The Austrian trenches—The cavalry division—Renewed shelling of Gorizia.
CHAPTER XVII
To describe what took place during the next few days might appear somewhat in the nature of an anti-climax were it not that there was no standing still on the part of the Italians. The Austrians would doubtless have gladly welcomed some respite, but they were not going to get it, as was soon realised.
The method and thoroughness of General Cadorna were displayed in every move, and it is probably no exaggeration to state that even in the most minute details everything had been reckoned upon, so that had the unexpected unfortunately happened, he would not have been taken unawares at any point.
I was told an interesting and amusing incident which conveys a good idea of this method and thoroughness, which is so characteristic of the Generalissimo.
On July 17th, 1915, the Mayor of Pavia, who is at present a captain of artillery, wrote to General Cadorna offering to present a silk Italian flag to the city of Gorizia the day it was occupied by the Italians. General Cadorna replied humorously: “Keep it in pepper for the present.” (Evidently as a preservative against moth).
The Mayor had quite forgotten the incident, when to his surprise, on the 10th August, 1916, the day after the fall of Gorizia, he received the following telegram from General Cadorna:
In reference to your letter of the 17th July, 1915, if you like you can send or bring what you offer. Salutations.
Cadorna.
Every hour almost brought further confirmation of the magnitude of the victory that had been achieved by the Duke of Aosta’s third army. During the three days fighting, 15,393 prisoners, including 350 officers, amongst whom were 20 senior officers, had been taken; 16 guns, a large number of machine guns, and an immense quantity of ammunition and materiel of every description.
Nor was this all; the entire front was now re-adjusted, and the Austrians driven out of positions they had got to look upon as impregnable. They had paid particular attention to the fortifications of Gorizia, and had made the place a strategic centre round which they had concentrated important forces.
It transpired that orders were given for the evacuation of the city some twenty-four hours before the bridge-head, the key to the whole position, was lost, which proved they realized the straits they were in; and it is certain that this state of affairs was pretty well known to General Cadorna.
Not the least interesting feature of the operations was the employment for the first time of masses of cavalry and the famous Bersaglieri cyclists, who preceded the advance of the main body of troops beyond the Isonzo, and from all accounts did most excellent work. I was fortunate enough to get some interesting sketches of the cavalry crossing the river under fire.
In Udine, after the first flush of excitement had worn off, everything reverted to its usual calm. The inhabitants took a remarkably sober view of the situation, and it was realized that the victory of Gorizia, glorious though it undoubtedly was, was but a step further on the hard uphill road to final victory, and the flags were therefore not left up more than 48 hours.
The importance of what Italy is doing was evidently being realized now, as several English visitors arrived in Udine during the next few days on flying visits; amongst others Lord Northcliffe, Mr. H. G. Wells, and Mr. Harold Cox, also a group of Spanish correspondents, and a very charming and erudite American citizen, Mr. Whitney Warren, the distinguished New York architect and membre de l’Institut de France.
He was bubbling over with enthusiasm for the cause of the Entente, and had a grip of the aims and doings of the war that made him at once a delightful and sympathetic comrade and a distinct addition to the Censorship Club.
The fall of Gorizia brought about such changes along the fighting front that there was little fear, for the present at any rate, of any further period of stagnation so far as work for the correspondents was concerned; we looked like being “full up” for some time.
On the Carso, Monte San Michele had been captured after a desperate assault and hand to hand fighting, simultaneously with the Gorizia bridge-head, so the long-standing menace and which had hitherto barred any possibility of an advance in this direction was removed.
The potentialities opened up therefore by the conquest of the portal, as it were, of the Carso, were immense; and it is certain that no one knew this better than the Austrians themselves, for next to the actual bridge-head there was no position to which they attached more importance than that of Monte San Michele.
I regret to have to be at variance with the distinguished English correspondent who wrote of the “towering mountains” and “beetling crags” of the Carso; but I must point out, if only to convey some sense of proportion, that Monte San Michele which is the highest point in this part of the Carso, is only 275 metres in altitude, and cannot therefore by the wildest stretch of imagination be described as anything but a lofty hill; as a matter of fact, there are no greater eminences in the entire Carso area than 450 metres.
Monte San Michele, in spite, however, of not being a “mountain,” dominated the whole of this portion of the valley of the lower Isonzo, so it would be difficult to overestimate what its loss meant to the Austrians.
Its elimination form their line of defence in this direction gave the Italians a secure tenure of the towns of Gradisca and Sagrado, which for fifteen months had only nominally been in their possession owing to their being constantly under the fire of the Austrian batteries on its crest. These two towns now became habitable for troops and available as centres for Red Cross work.
It was rumoured that more “big events” were pending in the near future in this quarter; one was therefore constantly motoring out there in order to gain a clear conception of what was taking place. There was now so much of interest along the new line of Front that I did not remain in Udine any longer than was necessary to work on my sketches and get them passed by the Censor.
A few days after the fall of Gorizia I motored over there with Baccio Bacci, of the Nuovo Giornale, of Florence, and with Bitetti, of the Corriere della Sera (of whom I have already spoken), as chauffeur, to see how things were looking there. Not a week had elapsed since the victory, yet the changes along the road were simply incredible, and reflected enormous credit on the organization of the troupes sanitaires (the sanitation brigade). The iron bridge had been so damaged by the Austrian curtain fire that it was out of commission for the time being, so we had perforce to go by the road Barzini and I had taken.
I therefore had an opportunity of judging for myself what had been accomplished in five days. The village of Lucinico had now been so cleared of débris that there was no longer any occasion to leave the car. We found to our surprise that the road was quite open all the way to Gorizia, across the battlefield round by Podgora and through Grafenberg.
The Austrians were still busy sending big shells over at intervals, and a car just ahead of us had a very narrow escape; it was little short of a miracle it was not blown to pieces, and it makes me feel cold when I think of it.
The change everywhere was positively bewildering; if I had not seen it for myself I should never have believed it possible. With the exception of the ruined houses and the shattered trunks of the trees there was no trace remaining of the battle.
The trenches had been filled in, thus forming ready-made graves for the dead; the wreckage of barbed-wire entanglements; the shell-holes, the gruesome litter of blood-stained garments; all had disappeared as though by magic.
Perhaps, though, the most startling transformation was to be seen at the archway under the railway I described in a previous chapter. It was positively unrecognizable.
Everything had been cleared away. Unless you had seen it before, you would never have believed that this very commonplace tunnel for the road under the embankment, such as one sees everywhere and through which we drove without stopping, was less than a week before the elaborately fitted-up Headquarters and domicile of an Austrian General and his staff.
The store-house in which I had seen the ghastly array of human packages was now but an ordinary empty shed, the kitchen close by only a simple wooden hut, the very last place one would have expected to find an elaborate cuisine in.
To my companion this meant nothing, as it was the first time he had come this way, but I must confess to a slight feeling of disappointment that there should have been so much haste to remove all traces of Austrian Military Kultur.
I felt I should have liked to see it all again, though I suppose had I been able to, the impression would not have been the same as it was on that morning when the place had only just been vacated by the Austrians and the battlefield was, as it were, still red-hot.
There was nothing to stop for in Grafenberg, so we drove straight on till we came to a wooden bridge which brought us right into Gorizia. This was one of the bridges which had been partially destroyed on the day of the battle, but was now repaired.
With the exception of soldiers, the streets were deserted; there was not a civilian to be seen anywhere, and the shops were still closed, the inhabitants, it appeared, only being allowed out of doors a few hours during the daytime. I think it was for two hours in the morning, and the same in the afternoon; after dark no inhabitant was allowed in the streets under any pretext. This system saved a lot of difficult policing, and gave the troops greater freedom of movement.
We found that two cafés were open now, the “Grosses” and another next to the Theatre, but they were practically deserted. Coffee was about all you could get to drink; wine and beer being quite out of the question, and food also, as we discovered later.
We arrived somewhat late in the afternoon, but the evenings were still long, and there was a full moon, so we knew there would be no difficulty in getting back to Udine even if we remained till after dark.
It was rumoured that the Austrians were going to make a big counter-attack on Gorizia that night, and it was with the idea of perhaps seeing something interesting and getting some good “copy” that we had come. Luckily, as will be seen, we ran across a confrère, Arnaldo Fraccaroli, of the Corriere della Sera, who had driven in earlier in the afternoon with the same idea as ourselves, and he joined us, as the man he had come with was returning to Udine at once.
But for reasons which we were unable to fathom, it was soon pretty evident that we were not wanted in Gorizia that day.
At the Headquarters of the General in a big house on the Corso, we were received by an aide-de-camp with but scant courtesy; in fact, this was my first experience of anything of the kind in Italy, and was the more surprising as we all represented important papers, and our passes were in order in every respect. We were curtly informed, after being kept waiting in the street for some time, that the General was “out”; so we decided to go for a walk and return later.
Except that more damage had been done by shells, there was little or no change in the streets, and from what we could gather there was little likelihood of the city resuming its normal aspect for a very long time; such of the inhabitants as could get away were doing so, and the Italian authorities were putting no obstacles in their way; as a matter of fact, Gorizia was not a place for non-combatants, as it was continually being bombarded.
When we got back to the General’s Headquarters we found he had returned, but it was, however, one thing finding him in, quite another matter getting him to receive us.
After again being kept waiting outside the garden gate till it was almost dark, we were coolly told by a sergeant that the General had nothing to tell us, so could not receive us. This was very disappointing, but there was no help for it. He was evidently peevish about something and did not want visitors.
We walked away slowly through the deepening gloom. There was not a light to be seen anywhere. Now and again the loud report of a big gun awakened the echoes of the empty streets.
My companions were much upset at the reception we had received, and were discussing the matter at great length as we went along; meanwhile I was gradually feeling very hungry and tired and heartily sick of this aimless wandering along in the obscurity.
Suddenly they came to a decision, and announced to me that we were going to spend the night in Gorizia, as it would be a pity to return to Udine and perhaps just miss something important, as there was no doubt, they explained to me, there was something en l’air.
Of course I had no opinion to offer in the matter as I understood so little Italian, so there was nothing for it but to fall in with their views. Moreover, there was no possibility of my getting away without them since the car was theirs.
It having, therefore, been decided to remain in Gorizia, the next important question was where to put up for the night.
There was, as I have said, not a light to be seen anywhere; not a soul was about, the soldiers having long since returned to their quarters. The two cafés were closed, and we were prowling along in the dark like a lot of tramps in a city of the dead.
Had I been able to join in the conversation of my companions I might perhaps have found the adventure amusing, but as it was, from my point of view, it was deadly dull and uninteresting; however, I tried to buck myself up with the idea that something exciting might happen later, and so it did, as will be seen.
Our car, it appeared, had been left in the entrance of an hotel opposite the theatre, so we made our way there to make sure it was safe. The hotel we found was not locked up, although it was quite deserted. On a table in the vestibule we, fortunately, discovered a piece of candle, and, lighting it, we started to explore the place to see if there was a chance of fixing ourselves up for the night in any of the rooms.
It was a curious experience, and one that I shall long remember. The hotel was quite a large one, and to our astonishment all the rooms were in perfect order, with beds made, water in the jugs and bottles, and soap, towels, everything in fact in readiness for visitors. We could have wished for nothing better, except, perhaps, to have found a whole candle instead of a piece of one; for the idea of being left in the dark in a short time rather nullified the comfort by which we were surrounded.
There were so many rooms to choose from that we were inclined to be fastidious; it is not often that one has the run of a whole hotel, and gratis at that; however, we settled on two, with a sitting room in between and with two beds in each.
Now came the vital subject of supper. My car mates, with their usual inconsequence, had brought nothing at all in the shape of food or drink with them, always relying on “something turning up.” I had as usual taken the precaution of putting in my haversack a box of sardines, bread, cheese, chocolate, and my water flask was filled with wine; but, of course, this was not sufficient for us all.
Then it turned out that after all we were in luck’s way. Fraccaroli suddenly recollected that he had had the happy thought of bringing a hamper with him in case of accident, and we found that it had been put in our car when he had joined us.
It was brought in amidst general acclamation, and on opening it we saw that whoever had packed it had, fortunately for us, had broadminded views as to what one man’s appetite should be like. There was ample for four people. Cold meat, cooked ham, butter, bread, fruit, and last, but certainly not least, a magnum bottle of excellent wine.
One could not have wished for a better supper anywhere, and the mere sight of it, when I had arranged it artistically on sheets of newspaper, put us in the highest spirits, and the empty corridors echoed with our laughter as we tackled it, for we were pretty ravenous by now. I am sure that no jollier supper party than ours that night ever took place in Gorizia.
After we had finished, Fraccaroli and Bitetti suggested, as the moon was now up, our having another attempt at seeing the General. Bacci and I, however, thought we had done enough walking for one day, so decided to remain where we were and have a quiet smoke before turning in. The two men, therefore, went out, and we heard their footsteps resounding through the empty corridor and down the staircase with ghostly effect.
We filled our glasses again and lit up our pipes, and then Bacci suggested that as there was only a tiny bit of candle left we might dispense with it for a while as it was brilliant moonlight, so we extinguished it and sat by the open window enjoying the cool breeze. The room looked on to a small courtyard, and facing us was a high wall, so we could not see far.
It was a glorious summer night, and all was so quiet and peaceful that it was difficult for the moment to realise how near were the horrors of war.
I was fortunate enough to get some interesting sketches of the cavalry crossing the river under fire ([see page 238])
To face page 246
It was just the sort of night to engender depth of thought, and we were both in poetic vein, and soliloquizing on the iniquity of warfare while nature was always so beautiful, when the loud report of a gun rang out in the stillness of the night and brought us back to stern reality. It was so close that had it not been for the wall in front of us we could have seen where it came from.
There were a few seconds of dead silence, and then there broke out the most terrific fusillade it would be possible to imagine; machine gun and rifle fire mixed up in one long hellish tatoo; whilst, as though to punctuate the unearthly music, at intervals one heard the isolated bang of trench mortars and the sharp detonation of hand-grenades.
The extraordinary suddenness of it all was so remarkable that it was as if it had been timed to commence at a certain minute.
All quietude was now at an end, and although the firing varied in intensity it never ceased. At moments there would be a lull, and it appeared as though about to die out, and then it would recommence with renewed violence.
It could certainly not have been more than a few hundred yards away, so near in fact that now and again one heard shouts and yells, and several stray bullets actually struck the upper part of the hotel.
The fighting was still continuing when our companions returned. They told us that they had found out that this was the commencement of the expected counter-attack, but that so far it was not developing to any serious extent, though what the night might bring forth might alter matters considerably; anyhow, the Italians were not being taken unawares as the Austrians were discovering.
This was interesting news, and made one feel that we were not spending the night in Gorizia for nothing, and that we might have an exciting time before the morning. For the moment, however, since there was nothing to be seen, we thought the best thing to do was to lie down and have a rest for an hour or so.
Our companions had had an extra bit of luck whilst they were out, in the shape of a whole candle which had been given them, so we ran no further risk of being left in darkness.
Of course we all lay down in our clothes, boots and all, ready for any emergency; when big “counter-attacks” are on the tapis it is as well to take no chances.
The beds looked very comfortable, and had clean sheets and pillow cases, but although I was very tired, I could not somehow get to sleep for a long while. I felt a sensation of discomfort which was almost unbearable, and had it not been that I did not wish to disturb my companions, I should have got up and walked about the room.
It is not pleasant lying on a soft bed with all your clothes on, including field boots, on a hot night, and I put my restlessness down to this. However, I managed to doze off fitfully after a while, though for what appeared to be hours I was being continually woke up by what I took to be the noise made by men wearing heavy boots running down the stone stairs and slamming the street door.
This at last woke me completely, when I realized that the noise came from the trenches, and was caused by the rattle of machine guns and rifles and the booming of mortars. I managed to get to sleep after this; the monotony of the noise ended by exercising a sedative effect on my nerves.
When I awoke it was quite early, but to my surprise I had the rooms to myself, my companions having already gone out. I found them downstairs, and learned that they had passed the night seated in the car; they had decided that anything was preferable to the “comfortable” beds of the hotel.
I then comprehended the cause of my “restlessness.” It was a striking instance of “Where ignorance is bliss,” etc., for I had managed to have a good sleep in spite of it all.
Gorizia, in the early morning sunshine, looked delightful, and everybody we met seemed bright and cheerful like the weather; and quite indifferent to the bombardment which still continued at intervals. An officer told me that one often ended by trying mentally to calculate what all this senseless waste of ammunition was costing per hour.
Nothing had come of the counter-attack, except to give the Italians a chance of further consolidating their front here, and as there appeared no likelihood of anything important happening that day we arranged to return to Udine forthwith.
Instead, however, of going via Grafenberg, we took the road which follows the left bank of the Isonzo and goes through Savogna, Sdraussina, and Sagrado, as Bacci was anxious to shake hands with a doctor friend of his who was with a field hospital somewhere this way.
This gave us an opportunity of seeing the wonderful cantonments of the troops waiting to advance on the Carso.
From Savogna right on to Sagrado, a distance of, roughly speaking, six miles, was one continuous encampment on either side of the road. A whole army corps must have been gathered here, cavalry, artillery, infantry, motor transport, cyclists and motor ambulances, in endless encampments.
It was as interesting a panorama of military activity as I had seen anywhere on the Italian Front, and was alone worth coming here to see. The troops were fully protected from shell fire, as the road all the way is sheltered by Monte San Michele and the adjacent hills, which tower above the route, so it was possible to construct permanent huts on the slopes of the hill, and also to take advantage of the many caves which are a feature of this region, to quarter the men in.
Monte San Michele, as I shall describe in my next chapter, was captured simultaneously with Gorizia, and one saw from here the formidable series of trenches the Italians, with a courage which will pass into history, constructed and gradually pushed forward up the hill, under the fire of the Austrian guns, until the final assault, when the whole position was taken.
Unless this operation had been successful, no troops would have been here now, as this road was, prior to the victory, a “No man’s land.”
One saw every phase of soldier life along this interesting road, and one could not fail to be deeply impressed by the extraordinary “completeness,” I can think of no other word, of the arrangements on all sides, and the business-like air of readiness to go anywhere at a moment’s notice of every unit. Certain it is that the Austrians had no conception of what was ready for them behind these hills.
It was like looking for a needle in a bundle of hay to find any particular field ambulance amongst such a multitude, and the more specially as these ambulance stations are continually being shifted as necessity arises. So, after trying for some time and going backwards and forwards up and down the road in the vicinity of Sdraussina, where we hoped to come across it, we had to give it up as a bad job.
A somewhat striking feature of this vast camping area were the military cemeteries, where hundreds of soldiers’ graves were crowded together in serried lines. Of course there is no sentiment in warfare, and soldiers live in the midst of death, but it struck me as somewhat unnecessary putting this burial ground alongside a road so frequently traversed by the troops when there is so much space elsewhere.
The Isonzo, which here is a broad, pelucid and swiftly running stream much divided up with gravel islets, presented a scene of much animation; hundreds of soldiers were taking advantage of a few hours peaceful interregnum to have a bath and do a day’s washing.
We continued on past Sagrado, crossing the river lower down by a newly-placed pontoon bridge below San Pietro dell Isonzo. Here there was no regular road, but merely a rough track leading to the river, and it was only by the skilfulness of our chauffeur friend that the car was got through at all without accident.
Round about here were many Austrian trenches that had been hastily abandoned, so we had a good opportunity for examining them.
They struck me as being constructed on the most approved principles, and were finished in elaborate style with wicker work lining to the walls and along the floors. None of these trenches, however, had ever been used, so it was only possible to hazard conjectures as to their utility.
Just here we met the cavalry division advancing dismounted in Indian file. A fine lot of well-equipped men with very serviceable looking horses.
It may be of interest to mention here that most of the Italian cavalry officers who, as is well known, are magnificent horsemen, ride thoroughbreds of Irish descent.
When we got back to Udine we learned that Gorizia was being heavily shelled from Monte Santo, so it looked as if the Austrians were attempting to destroy it by degrees, as the Huns are doing with Rheims in revenge for losing it.