Within four days the Italians had recovered the whole of the lost positions, including Arsiero and Asiago, and the menace of invasion was ended.
For some time previously I had been in daily expectation of receiving my marching orders to go back to Italy, and at the height of the crisis I went down to see Charles Ingram and again pressed him to let me start forthwith. He didn’t exactly say no, but was inclined to temporize.
Later I gathered that with true journalistic acumen he had in his mind that the British public were not exactly hungering after pictorial representation of Italian reverses. There was no hesitation on his part as soon as the first indication of the successful “push” arrived. My marching orders then were as peremptory as on previous occasions. I forgot to mention that I had received a telegram from the Ministero del Interno in Rome telling me I was permitted to return to Headquarters when I wished; so I had no anxiety on that score.
I got back to the Italian Front, therefore, in time to witness the expiring effort of the Austrian thrust.
On my journey across Italy I found everywhere a refreshing calm and confidence and not the slightest indication of any nervousness. Milan had had one or two visits from Taubes, so was in darkness at night, otherwise there was no reminder of the war; the life and gaiety of the city was the same as ever, and it was apparently bubbling over with prosperity.
There was a noticeable improvement in the railway service to Udine. Instead of a rough and ready journey there were now a sleeping car and restaurant attached to the train, so one travelled in comfort.
Udine appeared to me much changed. There were far fewer soldiers to be seen in the streets, owing probably to the fact that the fighting lines were now so much farther away, and the old time bustling military activity was no longer noticeable. An air of stolid business seemed to have taken its place. Many of the big public buildings that had been temporarily utilized for staff purposes, and which used to overflow with martial activity were now closed; more convenient quarters having been found elsewhere.
To anyone, therefore, arriving in Udine now for the first time the little town must have appeared quite commonplace, apart from its historical and architectural features.
But the greatest change was at the Censorship. It had been improved beyond all recognition, and it was evident that the Government no longer regarded the representatives of the fourth estate as interlopers, but as honoured guests.
A fine, roomy old palace had been rented and transformed into a Press Bureau and club for the war-correspondents. The Censorship staff, consisting of three officers—Colonel Barbarich, Lt.-Colonel Clericetti, and Captain Weillschott, three courteous and genial gentlemen—did their utmost to make the lot of the correspondents as pleasant as possible. They were good friends rather than mentors, and you could not help having the greatest regard and esteem for them.