The weather continued to be unfavorable, and if on the one hand I grieved because it interfered with our progress in getting into communication, on the other hand I was glad we knew how to take advantage of the only time in which it was possible to accomplish the undertaking. Then, too, the offensive surely could not begin, while it rained, because despite the fact that the Austrians do not usually attach much importance to the climatic conditions, yet this time they had a river in front of them and they must realize with a degree of apprehension that if their first attempt should not succeed in driving back our resistance, they might find themselves in the critical condition of having many troops on the other side with a high river at their backs. This might indeed prove rather inconvenient, because the Piave at times becomes a rushing torrent such as hinders the building of any bridges or the sending over of any reinforcements of food or ammunition.
For several days we had not seen a ray of sun even for a second. The rain continued to fall unceasingly, so that the wood had become a veritable bog. We hardly dared thrust our heads out of our little stable for fear of a drenching. During these days the refugee brought me for the first time a copy of the Gazetta del Veneto, a filthy newspaper published at Udine by a renegade Italian in the pay of Austria. It was really impressive to read those pages in which were printed sentiments and opinions which, written in German, would not astonish me in the least, but which disgusted me profoundly when written in our beautiful language. They invented a multitude of things about the internal situation in Italy. According to them a revolution was about to break out because of the lack of food, a lack become more severe owing to the intensive submarine warfare. “Our enemies,” the newspaper said, “have little reason to rejoice because they hoped to see many Americans arrive on their front, in the springtime, but instead thanks to the indefatigable work of our submarines, these reinforcements cannot come and all the provisions sent from the other side of the ocean are regularly lost at sea.”
The days seemed interminable, especially because we could not venture out from our lowly hut. We did not even dare return to the house of the Toneli because we feared to upset them and that our presence might annoy them. We trusted to the little woman who lost her son to find us eggs, and at once she began to go about offering money for them, but found it difficult because most of the peasants bring the little they produce to the board of the Austrian officers at Vittorio so as to get some flour in exchange.
On awakening on the morning of June 7th we had a pleasant surprise. We found the sun shining. The trees, on which the dewdrops still trembled, swayed their branches in the slight wind from across the mountain. The mountains seemed clear and clean-cut in the atmosphere about them. As the sun peeped over the top of the Cansiglio an anti-aircraft battery near Conegliano began firing and soon the aerial bombardment increased. All the sky was dotted with little pink and grayish clouds which blossomed and then dissolved in the clear upper air of the morning.... Even the battery at Vittorio had begun to fire. Soon after we observed in the pure sky above us the powerful wings of many of our “Caproni” in single file surrounded by many little chasing planes. The Caproni were directed towards an aviation camp near San Giacomo di Veglia, and meanwhile our chasing planes, gathered in a compact formation, were patrolling the air above the aerodrome of the enemy chasers in order to down any such impudent plane as dared to take rise and molest our bombing planes. A bombing machine with a chasing plane near it gives the impression of a young girl about whom a young colt cuts a thousand capers. All the people from the nearby houses came out into the open, unmindful of the shower of splinters which fell from the air. The women raised their arms towards the sky in supplication, and pointing out the Italian wings to the children murmured, “They are ours, ours.” An old white-haired man raised his hat as the Italian flag passed above him.
But the Austrians, who cannot be accused of extreme temerity, waited until all our planes had departed before rising in flight and as the last of our planes was passing over our lines on its return flight, the heavy enemy chasers arose, filling the sky with the coarse, deep roaring of their motors. Their method of flying is altogether different from ours. At times I enjoyed watching them in their movements; I found none of that agility, none of that rapidity of movement which so distinguishes our chasers.
If the weather continued favorable we intended that afternoon at one o’clock to begin placing our sheets. I decided to set a signal on the field which would indicate that the offensive was imminent on the sector of the Montello. I examined my conscience and questioned whether this report was not premature, but as time passed and I gathered more information from all sides, I became all the more convinced that the day could not be far distant when a rumbling, rolling bombardment would indicate that the offensive had been begun. Even the weather, which was now fair, could but help hasten events.
The sister of Bottecchia had brought me the sheets which we were going to use as signals and cautiously we approached the place where they were to be extended. We traversed the little field once again so as to be certain we were not making a mistake, and by half-past twelve the sheet was in its proper place. We hid behind a tree on the other side of the river to guard it and hinder any petty thief from stealing the precious material.
The sky which at first was very clear was streaked with those small light clouds which indicate that in the higher strata of the air a swift wind is blowing. Above the clouds a squadron of enemy planes, readily recognizable from the heavy noise of their motors, was completing a series of slow evolutions. These aeroplanes, whose task was certainly to obstruct the way for any of our planes, cruised continually between Vittorio and Pordenone. We glanced at the little watch given to Giovanni by his sister; it was 12.55. Suddenly the anti-aircraft battery near us began to fire. Yes, they had come. After a few seconds we glimpsed among the clouds a reconnoitring plane escorted by three chasing planes. And now what would happen; now that four of our aeroplanes would be against twelve of theirs? The adversary’s chance in attack was better than ours because they were able to rise above the clouds and crash down unexpectedly on our planes which, flying beneath them, were certainly not aware of their presence. I distinctly heard the cadenced, sibilant note of our motors and the deeper, heavier noise of the enemy motors. In a second the enemy had divided into two platoons of six planes each and each had selected its own objectives. Six had placed themselves against our reconnoitring plane and six were combating our three chasing planes. From among the clouds I heard the first faint reports of the machine-guns. The reconnoitring plane which appeared and disappeared among the white curls did not let itself be surprised; at times it made some daring evolutions and seemed as if it were going to nose-dive forever but retook its position and answered with brief rallies to the prolonged bursts of fire from the enemy guns. The Austrians in accord with their usual tactics tried to keep our plane in play with a concentration of their forces so that finally one of them could attempt a fatal volley, but our pilots did not lose heart and with repeated tricks and wiles endeavored to escape the net. There!—five planes had surrounded it, and one all painted red, the swiftest, a “D 5,” tried to take position on its tail. I held my breath; the enemy plane was but a few yards from our plane and fired lengthy bursts at it but ours answered only with a brief volley. Suddenly the Austrian plane reeled and seemed to go out of control; for a time it spun downward like a dead leaf, and finally nose-dived in a great flame. I raised my arms in the air; I wished to express to that little speck with the tricolor all my joy, all my satisfaction. The other planes, who had viewed the havoc, divided and turned towards their aerodromes. Our planes remained lords of the air. One flew several times over our signals as if the observer wished to take many negatives so as to make certain that one good photograph would result. I looked into the eyes of Bottecchia who was near me, and I could not conceal the emotions I felt within me.
Within a few hours the staff would know of our signals; of what was about to happen; it would be certain that the offensive was imminent and that it was about to be loosed against the sector of the Montello. From that moment I was certain that events favored us. From the combat which took place above our heads I had received another proof of the superiority of our race and from this I derived pleasant predictions for the future. In the sky, as always, we were absolute masters, in this sky which they had tried to take from us but which remained ever ours. Soon, I was certain this mastery would extend even to the land. We would win, absolutely we would win! And how could a nation, which in enemy territory exhibits such feats as those I had just witnessed, do otherwise than win? And furthermore, my modesty did not forbid me to forget that I too was a sample of the country which would win. Even on land Italy was not unworthily represented.