The report of the guns, and the shriek of the projectiles passing overhead, echoed through the empty streets with weird effect. It is difficult to describe the uncanny feeling all this produced on one: it was as though you were walking in a dream, but the reality of it all was soon brought home to you when a shell burst amongst the houses.
An officer conducted us into the centre of the town, through an archway and up to the first floor of an old building. Here a large room, with three windows, was used as a sort of observatory-post, as it directly faced the Austrian lines about fifteen hundred yards away on M. St. Michael.
The sashes of the windows had been removed, and big panels of sheet iron, painted black, were propped up in front of the openings, so that one could get a sideways glimpse outside without exposing one’s self to view.
The room was bare of furniture, with the exception of some armchairs, placed where one could sit comfortably and observe at one’s ease what was going on. There would have been almost a touch of the theatrical in it all had it not been for the occasional ping of bullets striking the iron screens.
One got a remarkable view of this much talked about corner of the Carso, for the possession of which the Italians were staking so much.
We saw the shells bursting with mechanical precision, and in endless succession, along the summit, which was being gradually pounded to bits.
Through your binoculars you searched in vain for some sign of life or man’s handiwork on the desolate ridge, and it was difficult to realize the importance attached to it. Yet it was certain that the enemy was concealed there, and in great strength otherwise this incessant and methodical bombardment would not have been deemed necessary.
We had a bit of a stroll round on our way back to the car, and found that, considering the town was midway between the Italian and Austrian batteries, remarkably little damage had been done. What struck me as particularly interesting was that many of the heavy calibre Austrian shells had failed to explode.
There was a huge one I was shown that had wrecked a small house simply by its weight alone. It was lying on the ground amongst a heap of débris, quite unimpaired except for a few small scratches. If it had exploded it would probably have destroyed half the side of the street. One had heard so many rumours of the deterioration in the quality of the Austrian projectiles that you wondered whether this was a proof of it.
The visit to Gradisca practically concluded our tour of the fighting Fronts. We made another excursion to Cervignano Aquileia and Grado, but this was practically outside the range of military operations, so it was more in the nature of a pleasure trip than anything else. Still it helped to convey a good idea of what had already been accomplished in the conquered area.