He sipped his wine and, becoming more animated, went on: “They roamed about the fields in droves like sheep, always silently, and as if they meant business. We used to scatter them, threatening them with our bayonets sometimes. Now and then we struck them with the butts of our rifles. Without showing much fear, they dispersed in leisurely fashion, but always came together again. It was a tedious business, like mass, and it lasted for days, like an attack of fever. Luoto, our non-commissioned officer, a fine fellow from Abruzzi, himself a peasant, was anxious and troubled: he turned quite yellow and thin, and more than once he said to us:
“‘It’s a bad business, boys; it will probably be necessary to shoot, damn it!’
“His grumbling upset us still more; and then, you know, from every corner, from every hillock and tree we could see peeping the obstinate heads of the peasants; their angry eyes seemed to pierce us. For these people, naturally enough, did not regard us in a very friendly light....
“Once I stood on a small hillock near an olive grove, guarding some trees which the peasants had been injuring. At the bottom of the hill two men were at work, an old man and a youth. They were digging a ditch. It was very hot, the sun burnt like fire, one felt irritable, longed to be a fish, and I remember I eyed them angrily. At noon they both left off work, and got out some bread and cheese and a jug of wine. ‘Oh, devil take them!’ thought I to myself. Suddenly the old man, who previously had not once looked at me, said something to the youth, who shook his head disapprovingly, but the old man shouted: ‘Go on!’ He said this very sternly.
“The youth came up to me with the jug in his hand, and said, not very willingly, you know: ‘My father thinks that you would like a drink and offers you some wine.’
“I felt embarrassed, but I was pleased. I refused, nodding at the same time to the old man and thanking him. He responded by looking at the sky. ‘Drink it, signor, drink it. We offer this to you as a man, not as a soldier. We do not expect a soldier to become kinder because he has drunk our wine!’
“‘D— you, don’t get nasty,’ I thought to myself, and having drunk about three mouthfuls I thanked him. Then they began to eat down below. A little later I was relieved by Ugo from Salertino. I told him quietly that these two peasants were good fellows. The same night, as I stood at the door of a barn where the machinery was kept, a slate fell on my head from the roof. It did not do much damage, but another slate, striking my shoulder edgewise, hurt me so severely that my left arm dropped benumbed.”
The speaker burst into a loud laugh, his mouth wide open, his eyes half-closed. “Slates, stones, sticks,” said he, through his laughter, “in those days and at that place were alive. This independent action of lifeless things made some pretty big bumps on our heads. Wherever a soldier stood or walked, a stick would suddenly fly at him from the ground, or a stone fall upon him from the sky. It made us savage, as you can guess.”
The eyes of his companion became sad, his face turned pale and he said quietly: “One always feels ashamed to hear of such things.”
“What is one to do? People take time to get wise. Then I called for help. I was led into a house where another fellow lay, his face cut by a stone. When I asked him how it happened he said, smiling, but not with mirth: