During the early part of the night detachments of the Casale and Pavia brigades had crossed the Isonzo and consolidated themselves on the left bank, and the heights west of Gorizia were completely occupied by the Italian infantry. The enemy was in full retreat, and had abandoned large quantities of arms, ammunition and materiel. Over 11,000 prisoners had been taken, and more were coming in. Everything was going à merveille, and Austria’s Verdun was virtually in the hands of the Italians already.
The object of this being to hide movements of troops and convoys ([see page 195])
To face page 210
There was no time to lose if we were to be in “at the death.” Half a mile further on we reached Lucinico. The Italian troops had only passed through a couple of hours before, so we were close on their heels. The village was in a complete state of ruin, hardly a house left standing, and reminded one of what one got so accustomed to see on the Western Front.
The car had to be left here, the road being so blocked that driving any further was out of the question; so, accompanied by two officers and our chauffeur and his friend, we set off on foot with the idea of attempting to cross the battlefield.
Beyond Lucinico we were right in the very thick of it. The railway line to Gorizia ran through the village, but just outside the houses the rails had been pulled up and a solid barricade of stones had been erected across the permanent way.
We got a splendid view of Gorizia from here—it looked a beautiful white city embowered in foliage, with no sign at all of destruction at this distance.
On the high hills beyond, which one knew to be Monte Santo and Monte San Gabriele, little puffs of smoke were incessantly appearing—these were Italian shells bursting—the booming of the guns never ceasing.
The Austrian trenches commenced a few hundred yards beyond Lucinico, and we were now walking along a road that for fifteen months had been “No man’s land.”