"We make our way on foot through quiet country lanes. Through the trees, the glimmer of the searchlights' flashes comes and goes like giant fireflies. The clear notes of a nightingale ring out in the stillness of the night. Nestling in the valley lies a large town, which only a fortnight ago was filled with civilians, 'redeemed Italians,' who had enjoyed eight months of prosperity and liberty under Italian rule. Now these have been evacuated and scattered in the four corners of Italy, and the deserted houses and empty streets add to the unreality of the scene. The whirring of the field-telephone wires which hang low, hastily looped over the branches of olive and mulberry trees, alone indicates any activity of man. There are no troops in sight, save a patrol which stops us and examines our papers. It seems difficult to realize that a great battle is impending. No scene could be more peaceful. In the marshes, frogs are croaking in loud unison. The scent of new-mown hay is wafted across the valley.
"The minutes hang heavily. A half hour passes. An hour seems interminable. This afternoon, beyond the mountains, in the next valley, not more than nine miles away as the crow flies, a bloody action was fought. Not a sound of the cannonade reached us; what had happened there we did not know, for the Austrians are attacking from a single base, and their battle line is not more than fifteen miles long, pivoting on a central position, whereas the Italian forces in this same sector are compelled, by the configuration of the mountains and the intersecting valleys, to fight separate actions which can only be coordinated with utmost difficulty.
"Shortly before one o'clock in the morning the Austrian batteries open fire. From the west, the north, the east, the hail of shell and shrapnel tears open the crest of the hill, the Monte Collo, against which the attack is directed. So intense an artillery fire has not hitherto been witnessed on the Italian front; 380's, 305's, 240's, 149's, 105's rain upon the short line of Italian intrenchments.
"For more than three hours the bombardment continues. The Italian guns apparently refrain from answering. But every battery is in readiness, every Italian gun is trained on the spot where the enemy must pass. Every man is at his post, waiting, waiting. It is just before dawn. The air of this Alpine Valley is cold and raw. A bleak wind blows through the trees. The cannonade slackens. From our position we cannot see the enemy advancing, but the black, broad strip of newly-upturned soil on the crest of the Monte Collo shows the effect of the bombardment. Split wide open like a yawning crater, the hilltop has been plowed up in every direction. Barbed wire, parapets, and trench lines have disappeared, buried under the tangled earth clumps.
"A minute, perhaps five or ten! 'They are coming,' is whispered in the observation post. A thunder of Italian artillery greets the attacking forces. On they come. Instinctively one can discern a shadowy mass moving forward. Huddled together, they crouch low. Shells are falling and then cease, and the 'click,' 'click,' of the machine gun's enfilading fire is heard. The enemy reaches the Italian advance trenches. The first streaks of light, gray and cold, show new attacking forces coming up over the hill. They penetrate deep into the plowed soil. They seem to hold the hill. Stumbling through the cratered terrain the Austrians advance toward the Italian positions. Then from out of the tawny earth an Italian battalion springs up. One can almost imagine that one hears their hoarse battle cry, 'Avanti, Savoia! Avanti!' as they fall upon their enemies.
"We learn later that the losses have been heavy. The Italian possessions have been badly damaged and have been temporarily evacuated. Both sides have taken prisoners, and what was the battle ground is now a neutral zone. Some hours later I again look across to the Monte Collo. The hill crest is deserted. Below the summit fresh Italian troops are occupying new and stronger positions, while an endless stream of pack-mules is winding slowly up the mountainside."
On May 20, 1916, the battles in southern Tyrol, on the Lavarone Plateau, increased in violence as the result of Italian attacks. The Austrians reached the summit of the Armentara Ridge and on the Lavarone Plateau penetrated the first hostile position.
The troops of Archduke Charles Francis Joseph also added to their successes. They captured the Cima dei Laghi and the Cima di Nesole. The Italians also were driven from the Borgola Pass toward the south and lost three more twenty-eight centimeter howitzers and 3,000 men, 84 officers, 25 guns and 8 machine guns.
Austrian aeroplanes dropped bombs on Vicenza.
Although the Italian line still held in the main, it could not deny Austrian advances at certain important points. Slowly the Austro-Hungarians pushed on everywhere toward the Italian frontier. On May 21, 1916, an attack of the Graz Corps on Lavarone Plateau was attended with complete success. The Italians were driven from their entire position. Other Austrian troops captured Fima, Mandriolo and the height immediately west of the frontier from the summit as far as the Astico Valley.