You entered by a tortuous passage, which from the outside gave no idea of the extraordinary arrangements inside. There were two storeys, and these were divided off into offices, dining rooms, sleeping quarters for the officers, bath room and general offices. All were well and almost luxuriously furnished; in fact, everything that could make for comfort in view of a lengthy tenancy.
On the side which was not exposed to the Italian fire, a wooden balcony with carved handrail, had been put across the opening, so from the road it presented a very quaint and finished appearance. Of course these quarters were absolutely safe against any shells, however big, as there was the thickness of the embankment above them.
There was a well-fitted little kitchen with wash-house a few yards away, so that the smell of cooking did not offend the cultured nostrils of the General and his staff, who evidently knew how to do themselves well if one could judge from the booty the Italians captured here in the shape of wines, tinned food, coffee, etc.
But the spoils here consisted of much more important materiel than “delicatessen,” and proved how hastily the Austrians took their departure. In a building adjoining the kitchen, which was used as a store-house, was a big accumulation of reserve supplies of every description, together with hundreds of new rifles, trenching tools, coils of barbed wire, and stacks of boxes of cartridges. There was little fear, therefore, of a shortage of anything.
This big store-house was also utilized for another purpose thoroughly “Hun-like” in its method. At one end of the building was a gruesome spectacle.
Lying on the ground, like so many bundles of goods, were about forty corpses tied up in rough canvas ready to be taken away. I don’t think I have ever seen anything quite so horrible as these human packages. They were only fastened in the wrappers for convenience in handling as there was no attempt to cover the faces. The callousness of it gave me quite a shock. Of course it was not possible to ascertain what was going to be done with them, but there was no indication of a burial ground anywhere near.
In the roadway opposite the entrance of the “Headquarters” was another motley collection of spoils of victory: rifles, bayonets, ammunition pouches, boxes of cartridges, and a veritable rag heap of discarded uniforms, coats, caps, boots, and blankets.
There was also a real “curio” which I much coveted, but which was too heavy to take as a souvenir, in the shape of a small brass cannon mounted on wheels. What this miniature ordnance-piece was used for I could not make out, as I had never seen one before. All this booty, of course, only represented what the Austrians had abandoned near here. The amount of rifle ammunition captured must have been enormous.
General Marazzi, with several of his staff officers, were using the entrance of the arch as a temporary orderly room, with table and armchairs. Though he was, of course, much occupied, he courteously gave us any information we wanted. He even went further by presenting us with an Austrian rifle apiece as souvenirs of the victory.
The roadway from here passed along the foot of Podgora, the ridge of sinister memories. Every yard of the ground here had been deluged with blood, and had witnessed some of the most desperate fighting in the war. It had once been thickly wooded but now nought remains of the trees on its hog-back and slopes but jagged and charred stumps.