A rude altar of rough boxes was set up ([see page 45])
To face page 50
The effectual result of this cohesion between the rank and file in the Italian Army is proved by the zeal which animates all, and which helps to lighten the most irksome duties.
During the six weeks I spent in and around Udine practically alone I had ample opportunity for studying the character of the Italian officer and ordinary soldier under true war conditions, and the more I saw of them the more I liked them and admired their fine qualities.
These virile, self-possessed specimens of the Italy of to-day present a remarkable contrast to those one recollects of the older generation, for in the matter of physique the Italian army now in the field can compare favourably in every respect with any other army in the world.
From the highest officer to the most humble private, one and all are animated with but a single idea—that of thrashing the Austrians and restoring to Italy the territory which is hers by right. But there is no frothy bombast about them; in the town, as in the trenches, though the conversation always reverted to “la guerra,” it was to discuss it in the sober, self-contained manner of the strong man who knows his own strength and therefore does not deem it necessary to insist on it.
As might have been expected, Udine, owing to its proximity to the enemy’s lines, was crowded with soldiers, and during the evening, when officers and men were off duty, it was almost difficult to walk along the main streets.
The three great allied nations were represented in the throng also, as “military missions” soon arrived in the town, and it was very pleasing to see Russian, French and English officers in their respective uniforms, fraternising everywhere with the Italians. Since then Japan, Belgium, and Serbia have also sent representatives, so there is now quite a foreign military colony as it were, with officers and permanent staffs.
The shops, cafés and restaurants were evidently doing a big trade, but it was always a very orderly and sedate crowd of young fellows one saw everywhere, and displayed far less ebullition of animal spirits than one would see in a French garrison town.
Although fighting was taking place within an hour’s motor run, nothing in the usual life of Udine was changed. There were several good restaurants, which were crowded for lunch and dinner, the delightful old twelfth century market-place that is one of the artistic treasures of the town, presented every day the customary scene of peaceful animation and brilliant colour one always associates with Italy, and which has such charm for the painter; it was “business as usual,” although you could generally hear the thunder of the guns quite distinctly.