To my surprise I learned that the greater part of his regiment was composed of men well on in years, as one understands soldier life, most of them being close on forty, and that in his particular detachment he had several who were nearer fifty, though they did not look it. Yet they were as cheery and “full of beans” as the youngsters, he told me.
The reason for putting men of “territorial” age in first line trenches I could not manage to ascertain, for however good physically they may be for their age, one would have thought that their place was in the rear and that younger men would always have been found in the van.
It is indisputable that modern warfare is not for “veterans,” but, as our friend, Rudyard Kipling, would put it, for “three-year olds only,” for only youth can stand for any length of time the terrific physical and moral strain it entails.
I learned that there are a few hardy old mountaineers fighting shoulder to shoulder with the youngsters up on the peaks; but these, of course, are exceptions such as one will find anywhere, for the capability of endurance is no longer the same as it was when on the right side of thirty, and the strain on the heart at these altitudes especially is enormously increased. But to revert to our excursion.
Our road for some distance skirted the shore of Lake Garda, which is intersected by the Austrian frontier at its northern end, where the important fortified town of Riva is situated.
Here again the extraordinary preparedness of Italy was demonstrated. There were military works everywhere—barricades of barbed wire and trenches right down to the edge of the water—with men behind them watching and in readiness for any emergency.
The war had even been carried on to the Lake itself, in the form of a flotilla of serviceable gun-boats which had made its appearance, almost miraculously, so it is said, within a few hours of the opening of hostilities, and practically bottling up the Austrians in their end of the lake.
This “fleet” was continually out patrolling—night and day and in all weather. What this means will be realized by anyone who knows Lake Garda, for there is probably no expanse of water in the world where navigation is more exposed to sudden peril than here. It bears the evil reputation of being the most treacherous of Italy’s inland seas. Owing to its peculiar configuration and entourage of mountains, tempests arise so unexpectedly that unless a vessel is handled by an experienced skipper it has but little chance to reach its port safely if it is caught in one of these Lake Garda hurricanes.
A gale from the North-East will raise waves equal to anything the open sea can produce. Italy’s inland Navy is therefore exposed to other perils than the guns of the Austrian batteries.
I was lucky enough to get a trip on the gun-boat “Mincio,” and saw much of great interest on board. Everything was carried out on strictly naval lines, so much in fact that one might have imagined oneself out at sea, this illusion being heightened by the strong wind blowing at the time and the unpleasantly lumpy seas which kept breaking over us.