The opposite bank was steep and rocky, in curious contrast to the Grafenberg side, and was ascended by a narrow gully. The bridge ended with a wide flight of steps leading to the water’s edge, where there was a strip of gravel beach, and seen from below the structure had quite a picturesque appearance. The high banks made fine “cover,” and under their shelter troops were resting.
These were some of the courageous fellows who had forded the river, after having stormed the positions at Podgora. Their eyes were bloodshot, they looked dog-tired, and they were, without exception, the dirtiest and most bedraggled lot of soldiers it would be possible to imagine.
The uniforms of many of them were still wet, and they were covered with mud from head to foot.
Yet in spite of the fact that they had probably all of them been on the move the whole night, and under fire most of the time without a moment’s respite, they looked as game and cheerful as ever, and most of them seemed to be more anxious about cleaning the dirt from their rifles than resting. The shell-fire did not appear to trouble them in the least.
As we got amongst them, Barzini, with true Latin impulsiveness, shook hands effusively with all those around him, and complimented them on their plucky achievement. It was this little touch of human nature that explained to me the secret of his popularity with the soldiers.
Word was passed round “Ecco Barzini,” and the men crowded round to get a glimpse of the famous war correspondent.
Under cover of the overhanging rocks one was able to observe the curtain of shell-fire in comparative security, though at any moment one of these shells might drop “short” and make mincemeat of us.
The Austrians had got the range wonderfully, and every shell burst somewhere along the river which was really good shooting, but their real object was, of course, to endeavour to destroy the bridges and for the moment they were devoting all their attention to the iron one, which was about four hundred yards below where we were standing, and across which a stream of artillery and munition caissons was passing.
It was truly astonishing how close they got to it each time, considering they were firing from Monte Santo, nearly four miles away, and a slender iron bridge is not much of a target at that distance.
I have never seen such explosions before. They were firing 305mm. shells, and the result was appalling to watch. They might have been mines exploding, the radius of destruction was so enormous.