Gelmetti has inserted the handle of the silencer, and as though by magic the concert of the marvelous instruments which had echoed many distant songs in my mind ceases. We now feel as if we were sliding through air, the same impression one feels while coasting in an automobile whose engine has been shut off.
The enemy territory is less illuminated than ours. The lights in the villages are scarce, and there are few searchlights turned towards us. As though by magic the enemy anti-aircraft batteries become silent. The reason for their silence is obvious; the Austrians have many of their own bombing planes in the sky and they certainly have not noticed the slight humming of our motor. Along the road of Susegana to Conegliano Pordenone, great green lights are lit from which many colored rays shoot forth at intervals. It is the first time I have observed those lights in enemy territory but I have heard about them from Lieutenant Ancilotto who often goes on nocturnal flights to try to down some enemy bombing plane which finds in the obscurity of the night the courage to attempt what it dares not in the daytime. These signals are placed at convenient intervals so that if some enemy plane loses its way in the fog and cannot find its bearings, all it need do is to fly low over the lights which often indicate a safe place for a landing.
There is Conegliano.... The large tower and cypresses of the castle look small and flat and do not convey to me that feeling of reality which I felt as I looked at them from the bank of the Piave. Near the great stone quarry, from which even before our retreat powerful dredges had taken abundant construction material, there lies a large mansion with its lights aglow and surrounded by a vast garden. It is my own house! I recognize the tennis-court, the paths and barns, and I know who those are who are permitting themselves the luxury of so costly an illumination at this late hour. They are the surviving Austrian aviators of the 7th chasing squadron who miraculously escaped the fire of our guns. They who cannot allow themselves the joy of combat and do not dare face us by day in the sky are trying perhaps other struggles against the weaker, against the women who succumb. What a pity that I have not a bomb. I am certain I would not miss my aim! The long path which leads from Vittorio to the inn at Gai is outlined clearly against the green fields and the Villa of Querini Stampalia on the top of the hill unfolds in the night its huge arches. The Austrians have built a new connection on the railroad line, Sacile-Conegliano, which will enable their trains to arrive directly at the station of Ceneda without passing through Conegliano.
The altimeter marks 7500 feet. I think we can begin to descend because there is not more than about ten miles between us and the field on which we have decided to land. The fog which at first was dense has thinned out gradually and we can now recognize every detail on the ground beneath us as though it were daytime. The moon which is now high in the heavens follows its course, tipped up on one side. The vegetation beneath us changes gradually and in place of the cultivated fields, vineyards and rows of mulberry trees there is a flat, grassy region divided by many small streams of water lined with willow trees. The Meschio, a tributary of the Livenza, has already disappeared beneath the wing, and beyond glitter the tumultuous falls of the Livenza near Sacile. The river forms a huge “S” around the towers of this city whose sharp gables rise towards us. The streets are deserted and it seems as if no important movement had ever stained their whiteness. The still wing continues to descend. 4500 feet.... I stand up to inspect the ground because we must lean slightly towards the left in order to leave the road which leads from Sacile to Pordenone and take the road from Fontana Fredda to Aviano. The field on which we have decided to descend is called “Praterie Forcate” and is about a mile from the enemy flying field at Aviano. I strain my eyes to try to recognize the little trenches to the left of our field, trenches which I have seen in photographs of this region made by Gelmetti from his “Spad.” There they are, right in front of us! I examine the field beneath us and there does not seem to be anything abnormal about it. The sections where the grass has been cut and those where it is still high form little splotches which resemble camouflaged military works. We are about 3000 feet above ground and Gelmetti begins spiraling so that I lose my equilibrium for a moment, but when the plane resumes its horizontal position I suddenly see flashing on the ground beneath us one of those green lights which I had previously noticed from on high and which are accustomed to indicate directions to enemy planes. Three colored stars rise up towards us and tremblingly fall slowly back on the plain. There is no time to lose. We must at once modify all our plans because if in the field where we had decided to land there is a green light it means that nearby there are Austrians and if we do not wish to be captured at once we must attempt a landing in some other place. We describe a wide curve and resume our original route with our nose towards the camp of Aviano. Two searchlights suddenly blaze out on the ground and by their light we clearly see a “T” which is the sign used by the Austrians to indicate to their pilots the spot where they should place their wheels marked on the field. For a second we believe all is lost, we fear we must renounce our enterprise forever. If the rays of the searchlight succeed in enveloping us in their light we shall be discovered, fired at, and shall have to turn homeward. But instead of turning their lights towards us they concentrate the power of their rays on the ground, so that the field beneath us seems to tremble with a myriad sparks which dance in their broad embrace. The searchlights cross and intersect over the “T” of the landing spot. Through the air there passes a swift vision; a few yards from us an enemy plane which I have recognized from the flashes of the exhaust, cuts across us but swiftly withdraws and its light disappears towards the higher strata of air. Therefore, the enemy planes must be departing, their motors must be going and they must be making an infernal noise.
Suddenly a wild plan occurs to me. What if, instead of landing on the field near the one which we had picked out, we should land right on the outskirts of the enemy’s flying field? In the first place we should be certain of the favorable character of the land, and secondly we could not be discovered by the Austrians because they have the light of the searchlights in their eyes; they would not hear the indistinct noise of our motor because it is so slight that it would be drowned by the noise of their departing planes. Furthermore, the audacity of the project fascinates me; the risk tempts me; it would be too beautiful to be able to land right on their own field without having them notice it. In a second I unfold my plan to Gelmetti. He does not answer, but as a response he lessens still further the flow of gas. The earth rapidly approaches us. It seems as if it were coming towards us; with the rapidity of lightning everything retakes its just proportions. We are a few feet above a road; I am bent double so as not to hamper in the least the movements of the pilot. He concentrates all his efforts so as to make a safe landing, but perhaps because he is deceived by the distant light which, instead of helping, hinders us, he touches land too soon with his back wheels and the plane jerks forward suddenly; in a second he straightens it with great dexterity and we touch the ground gently and glide swiftly towards the end of the field.
“Good, excellent!” I had time to say to Gelmetti and he answered, “Up to the very last moment you want to make fun of me.”
I jumped to the ground with my bundle of civilian clothes under my arm, and without waiting a moment I bent to kiss the ground for which I had suffered so much. My comrade also descended without uttering a word. We looked anxiously about but the searchlights continued to glow in their regular fashion as though no alarm had been given. Above us we heard the deep grinding noise of a “Gotha.” Not a moment to be lost. I went towards the tail and Bottecchia stood by the wing. The propeller revolved slowly and with a light, cadenced rustling moved the high grass and bent with its breeze the branches of the trees and the stalks of the flowers near it. I pushed all my weight against the triangular trellis of the tail of the “Voisin” and by making the front wheels of the plane rise, I caused it to circle on its hind wheels while Bottecchia helped me by pushing on the side of the wing. Quickly we removed our fur coats and helmets and I jumped on the plane to throw them in the bottom of the car. Gelmetti was moved and I could not say a word. I whispered in his ear, “Remember what you have promised; remember to come back for me after a month.” He nodded affirmatively and kissed me. I barely had time to place my feet back on the ground before he had fed the motor with gas and in the twinkling of an eye had disappeared. The dear old “Voisin” had again taken flight and we could only distinguish it by the rumbling of the silencer which was red-hot and resembled a red lamp wandering in the sky. For a few seconds we could still follow its glitter and then it disappeared....
* * * * *
We were alone! The moment which I had thought about so often, which I had so often dreaded, was come! The aeroplane, the last advanced sentinel of our country, the last safe refuge, had left us, but I did not tremble. There was within me all that calm which comes to us in most trying moments, all the faith I had ever felt in the success of my mission. Above us the tranquil stars twinkled and the vast plain beneath trembled as though an invisible hand were moving the flowers and stars which surrounded us. In the background the still profiles of the mountains lent to the picture a meek aspect of peace and we, who had passed from sudden motion to calm, from a great struggle to the silence of nature, found again in the wilderness of that broad plain the significance of deep things, the intimate feeling of life. Never as in that moment had I ever experienced the sensation that something within me had been cut short, that a new life was commencing for me; I felt like a sailor who, wrested from the current, has with difficulty reached the bank of a turbulent stream and looks anxiously towards the other bank to which he no longer has the strength or the courage to return. So I felt that the past was worth nothing and that I lived only for the strength of the present, that I lived only for the strength of the future.
We began to walk rapidly. I had taken Bottecchia by the arm and had clasped his hand with great emotion that he might feel we were now one, that a single, firm, indissoluble bond now bound us for the future. He too answered me with a prolonged, affectionate clasp, without uttering a word. Almost as if there had opened before us a mysterious way, unseen before, we hurried and ran towards the mountain guided by a sure instinct of direction. In moments of such great concentration it almost seems as if nature, through an egotistical strength of conservation gives to the organism an unimaginable calm. My impression was not of walking through a deserted field, but of following the track of a known path, and when we reached a small country road on whose rocky bed an enemy tractor had left the marks of its broad tracks, I had the impression of having already seen those marks, I felt as if I was reliving in a new life an old adventure.... We were happy! With us sang the voices of the insects. All the loves which breathe in the country about us seemed to raise a hosannah of glory in one single glorious melody. In my ears rang the chords of a Beethoven sonata which sings of the joys of the awakening. Without stopping we ran across a long expanse of field until we reached a file of poplars which rose in front of us. There we paused a moment for breath; to turn around and take stock of the real things about us.... The small roll of enemy money weighed in my hand, but I did not put it away because I wished to have it at hand to throw away at the first provocation. Beyond the file of trees there extended before us another field, as vast as the first. But the ground was less level, there were little grassy mounds, heaps of rocks, and occasional holes. With great satisfaction I reflected on the good fortune which guided us to land where the ground was level whereas we might have selected the ground we were now passing over, in which case a disaster would have been inevitable. At intervals we listened with our ears close to the ground to discern if there were any suspicious noises about. The only indications of the enemy and of the war were the beams of the searchlights which were still lit and the uninterrupted buzzing of the numerous enemy planes furrowing the paths of the sky. A small truck passed along the road which we had crossed and we heard its rumbling lose itself in the distance. We had now arrived in a cultivated region and large fields of wheat were swaying their stalks in the night breeze. We did not cross the field, but preferred to circle around it, because the stalks as they divide always leave a trace of the passing and if anyone were to have followed us, or had noticed our presence he could easily reach us by following our track through the wheat field. I did not expect the land to be so extensively cultivated. Even in the smallest patches of ground the little plants of wheat lifted up their heads and everywhere were the signs of the indefatigable hand of man. We followed a labyrinth of cultivated vines and every time we were about to step out into an opening, we looked anxiously about us to make sure there was no living creature near us. We threw ourselves prostrate on the ground at the slightest suspicious noise. We had traversed a great deal of road, but the distance between us and the mountain was still great and would be more difficult to cover because the dawn was not distant and because we were approaching a region where there were dwellings. The far-off voice of a dog barking at the moon reached us as we stepped out onto a road and this was the first indication that the presence of man was near. We passed a region cultivated with fruit trees and from behind a hedge which separated the field from the road there rose the outline of a small farmhouse.