Six months on the Italian front

by Julius M. Price

Of course I had no opinion to offer in the matter as I understood so little Italian, so there was nothing for it but to fall in with their views. Moreover, there was no possibility of my getting away without them since the car was theirs.

It having, therefore, been decided to remain in Gorizia, the next important question was where to put up for the night.

There was, as I have said, not a light to be seen anywhere; not a soul was about, the soldiers having long since returned to their quarters. The two cafés were closed, and we were prowling along in the dark like a lot of tramps in a city of the dead.

Had I been able to join in the conversation of my companions I might perhaps have found the adventure amusing, but as it was, from my point of view, it was deadly dull and uninteresting; however, I tried to buck myself up with the idea that something exciting might happen later, and so it did, as will be seen.

Our car, it appeared, had been left in the entrance of an hotel opposite the theatre, so we made our way there to make sure it was safe. The hotel we found was not locked up, although it was quite deserted. On a table in the vestibule we, fortunately, discovered a piece of candle, and, lighting it, we started to explore the place to see if there was a chance of fixing ourselves up for the night in any of the rooms.

It was a curious experience, and one that I shall long remember. The hotel was quite a large one, and to our astonishment all the rooms were in perfect order, with beds made, water in the jugs and bottles, and soap, towels, everything in fact in readiness for visitors. We could have wished for nothing better, except, perhaps, to have found a whole candle instead of a piece of one; for the idea of being left in the dark in a short time rather nullified the comfort by which we were surrounded.

There were so many rooms to choose from that we were inclined to be fastidious; it is not often that one has the run of a whole hotel, and gratis at that; however, we settled on two, with a sitting room in between and with two beds in each.

Now came the vital subject of supper. My car mates, with their usual inconsequence, had brought nothing at all in the shape of food or drink with them, always relying on “something turning up.” I had as usual taken the precaution of putting in my haversack a box of sardines, bread, cheese, chocolate, and my water flask was filled with wine; but, of course, this was not sufficient for us all.

Then it turned out that after all we were in luck’s way. Fraccaroli suddenly recollected that he had had the happy thought of bringing a hamper with him in case of accident, and we found that it had been put in our car when he had joined us.

It was brought in amidst general acclamation, and on opening it we saw that whoever had packed it had, fortunately for us, had broadminded views as to what one man’s appetite should be like. There was ample for four people. Cold meat, cooked ham, butter, bread, fruit, and last, but certainly not least, a magnum bottle of excellent wine.