We had now to resume our journey; we had now to find water to drink, for during the entire day our lips had not touched a single drop and that with throats dried by the eating of chocolate which in truth is not the best sort of food when one has nothing to drink. We rapidly descended the hill and traveled for a short distance along the road until we came to a cross-road where the suffering arms of Our Saviour were extended upon a wide cross. At the base of the crucifix the signs of the passion were simply represented, and I recognized the hammer, the pincers, the sponge and the crown of thorns. We passed through the cultivated fields which we had seen from on high; we jumped across little ditches which separated us from the road and circling the branch of the Livenza where it disappears in a tunnel, whence it is absorbed by the electric factories, we arrived near the furnace. Immediately afterward we had to begin to climb again. I realized that we had not been foresighted in many things, and my shoes were surely not the kind suitable for a long cross-country tramp in mountainous regions. However, how could I have explained to the Austrians, had they captured us while landing, an aviator wearing shoes bound with iron? My soldier wore heavy, rough shoes, and I had great difficulty in following him in the steep climb; he changed his for mine, and I continued the road with less difficulty. We ascended rapidly; all the plain opened beneath our eyes. Below in the village of Sarone many lights glittered. A cart ascended heavily along the road leading to the little town and we distinctly heard the tinkling of the bells and the frequent lashes of the whip. Everything was silent.... Occasionally a distant voice reached us carrying sounds which were Italian. We had found again the mule-path over which we had decided to pass, and after following it for a long time we ascended still farther along the ragged, rocky edge. Suddenly, at a cave, the road lost itself and we had to find our way alone. If only we could have found a little spring to quench our thirst, but the unmerciful chain of mountains did not seem at present to offer us any watery vein. Perhaps if we could carry ourselves a little farther up we might find one of those holes which gather rain water, so we climbed higher, we climbed forever.

Every sign of vegetation had ceased. The ground was rocky and so irregular that we had to guard well our steps lest we fall in the deep valleys which opened at our feet. We were beginning also to feel tired, for it was many hours since we had last tasted food and our thirst was becoming greater. A searchlight had been lit in the distance and its light fell full on us. We hoped they had not seen us. On the field the green lights which annoyed us so the previous night renewed their fires. Probably the Austrian planes were preparing to depart as soon as the moon arose. We descended a steep valley at the bottom of which there ought to be water and the deep voice of the wind which blew between the rocks gave us the impression of hearing the murmur of a stream at the bottom. The descent was long and difficult and at the last when we had reached the point where the two broad bases of the mountain meet, we found nought but two enormous rocks which marked the impetuous course of a torrent, but had not a single drop of water between them. It seemed well then to follow the bottom of the valley, for there was no longer any reason why we should struggle through the high mountain, and perhaps we should be able to find some isolated house where we should have to decide to knock and trust to luck that we should encounter no gendarmes. We were continually descending. The rocky bottom of the torrent changed into a paved street. Beneath us glittered several lights which marked the site of some dwelling. We hastened our walk and, having reached a little hill overlooking the village, I stopped and suggested to Bottecchia that he descend cautiously to the first house to see if he could discover any indication that might suggest the presence of enemy soldiers. If he found nothing suspicious we were to take courage in both hands and dare knock at some isolated hamlet.

Bottecchia descended and I saw him disappear in the night. The moon had risen and everything was stained with its pale, yellowish light. I hid in a shadowy spot and awaited the return of my soldier. The few minutes he stayed away seemed interminable. Finally with great joy I saw him and when he got back to me he reported that he had found nothing to hinder us from carrying out our project. We continued along the rocky road and approached the village. Two small houses in front of us clearly indicated the poverty of the inhabitants. We chose the poorer one and knocked at the low, narrow door. No answer. We knocked again, and then knocked at a shutter and a closed window. Finally some noise! Someone had been awakened and sleepy voices reached us in the silence of the night. Immediately after the frightened voice of a woman asked us in the Venetian dialect, “Who are you and what do you want?”

“We are Italians and we ask you mercifully for a drop of water.”

Someone arose and shortly after we heard the slow heavy footsteps of an old man coming down the wooden stairs.

“Who are you Christians traveling at so late an hour?”

“We are prisoners who have escaped from a camp near Gemona. For pity’s sake give us a draught of water to drink. Tell us, too, what village is this? Are there any soldiers? Are there gendarmes?”

“This village is Sarone, but you can feel safe because all the soldiers left for the front several days ago and even the gendarmes who were here guarding the village have followed the brigade.”

At last we breathed.

“Thank heavens they have gone,” continued the old man in a tired voice, “for if things had kept on this way, we would not have had a single blade of grass left. They have taken everything away from us. Imagine, they have begun to dig up even the new potatoes which are no bigger than a pigeon’s egg. Everything, every vegetable which comes within their reach is devoured at once. Imagine, they even cook the tendrils of the vines in their soup.... But you do not look as if you had suffered much, you especially,” he said turning towards me, “you must have been a cook in some concentration camp.”

I did not answer but greedily drank the water from the cup he had offered me, and no liquor, no beverage has ever tasted better to me than that draught of water did.

“Tell me, my good man, why have the soldiers left for the front?”

“Why, don’t you know? You seem to be little informed of what is happening here. For the past two months we have seen nothing but cannon and soldiers passing and it seems that shortly the offensive will begin. If only they would put an end to this terrible war!”

This was the first military information I succeeded in obtaining in enemy territory.... Then the offensive was imminent! We must hasten on toward Vittorio to gather more exact information. I did not ask anything further of the old man for I did not wish to make him suspicious, and after asking about what roads we should follow, we left him on the threshold of his house. We believed we had traversed a large tract of land, we believed we had walked in the right direction but instead, after many hours of anxiety and errors, we had found ourselves back in the same village. Thank heaven there were no gendarmes in the village and that the old man told us of a short cut which led to where we had planned to arrive before dawn. We crossed the deserted village and reached a fountain which filled a square tank by the flow from its two jets. Oh, how pleasant is the noise of falling water to one who is thirsty! We drank our fill of the delicious liquid. When we had passed the last houses we turned to the left and ascended a hill along a safe path. The route we had to follow was in exactly the opposite direction to the one we had decided was correct and had intended to follow; we were somewhat reassured, our step was more elastic and we felt less weary than before. We passed near several demolished houses about which there were deep holes. Perhaps these were places where our soldiers had resisted. The path broadened and almost became a mule-path. We had emerged on a courtyard, and a dog tied to a long rope which ran along a suspended wire came toward us barking furiously. As soon as he saw we were dressed in civilian clothes he began to wag his tail and make a fuss over us. A good sign, thought we! Even the dogs here recognize friends. The house was large and indicative of a certain amount of comfort. A notice had been posted over a door. I approached to read it and recognized a manifest of the troops of occupation, with the enemy eagle at its head. “This warehouse has been set apart as a deposit for ammunition of the Imperial Royal Austro-Hungarian army. The inhabitants of this house are guarantors of the safe preservation of the same. Whoever, even indirectly, becomes guilty of damaging war materials will have to answer with his person and will have to face a firing squad.” One cannot accuse the enemy of not having expressed clearly his intentions.

We continued along the path, ascended the hill and saw beneath us the glittering lights of a large town; from the railroad station the clank and hiss of a steam locomotive in motion reached us. The city on the plain beneath was certainly Canova, where the Austrians had constructed an important railroad station. Dawn was not distant and soon we should have to hide and rest for a while. It would be better therefore to ascend the mountain awhile to get away from the frequented region. Hill followed hill, at times separated by a deep valley through which a brook flowed, and it was a great relief to us to think that we should not now lack water. Above, the heavy droning of the motors of the enemy planes following one another with mechanical regularity, continued. We arrived in a place where the rugged rocks left an opening barely large enough for a tiny road to wind up towards the mountain. On one side the ground sloped more gently and there were occasional bushes which protected us from indiscreet glances. It seemed best for us to lie behind one of these when we decided to rest for a few hours. A heavy sleep overcame us as soon as we stretched out on the ground and even my soldier permitted weariness to get the better of him.

I do not know how many hours passed; I do not know how long we forgot ourselves and everything about us; I only remember awakening at the sound of the rhythmic, cadenced tread of many soldiers’ feet on the march. I tried to understand what was happening and looking through the branches a few yards ahead of us I saw a Hungarian battalion ascending the rocky road beneath. By good luck no one discovered us. Shortly afterward we heard the noise of shots, indicating that the battalion was at target practice. Soon we should have to renew our journey, keeping far from the plain so as to meet no living soul. Beneath us, surrounded by a vast garden, we recognized the Castle of Moncenigo with its broad, heavy walls.

Hunger now began to make itself felt insistently. The little chocolate we had with us would certainly not suffice to appease us. We knocked at a small house and the old man who opened the door surveyed us suspiciously. We asked him for a bit of bread, and added that we were willing to pay well for it, but he looked at us with a wondering air as if bread were an unheard-of thing.

“I have nothing for you,” he said, “and I believe you had better make off at once because this morning the gendarme who usually comes to get the milk for the command hasn’t shown up yet and I shouldn’t like to have him find you here.”

The word “gendarme” was so significant that we did not make him repeat it and hastening our steps we endeavored to place the greatest possible distance between us and that inhospitable house. We reached a vineyard where a man with a long, unkempt beard and a sort of apron all stained with green, was sprinkling sulphur about the vines. A youngster of about ten was helping him. My soldier recognizing him, saluted.

“Good morning, Andrea. I bet you don’t know who I am. I am one of the Bottecchia from Minelle, and as you see, after numerous vain attempts I have succeeded in escaping from the concentration camp at Gemona with my comrade here.”

“Oh, you are the driver who used to bring me the casks before the war. Now we don’t talk any more of casks or of wine; they have drunk it all up and in December when they wanted to build bridges across the Piave they took away even the vessels in which we used to keep it. This year, even if we had any grapes, we should not know where to put them, but the good Lord has taken care of this and so have the Germans who hitch their horses by the vines. As you see they are nearly all ruined, and then without any sulphur what kind of a crop can you expect? Were I to tell you of all the subterfuges we had to resort to, to keep this bit of sulphur I am spreading about the vines, it would take me till to-morrow morning. Would that sulphur were the only thing we did not have!” A painful expression spread over his face. “We don’t even have any bread. So these poor blameless people are dying of hunger!”

This sad news so impressed my soldier that he asked anxiously after his family. “Do you think my people are still alive?”

“Yes, I should believe they were, but one never knows for certain these times,” he answered carelessly and indifferently.

“Do you think it would be possible for me to get as far as home?”

“I would not advise you to try. Even I stay at home as little as possible, and furthermore, at Minelle there are always many gendarmes about. If you want to stop at some place it would be better for you to look up someone on the side of the mountain: for instance, your relatives who live near Fregona. That region is less frequented and you might find a way to settle down there and be able to see some of your people occasionally.”

The house mentioned by the mountaineer was the very place towards which we had been directed. We took leave of him; I caressed for a moment his child who stared at me with his large, frightened eyes. We continued our journey. The scenery which extended beneath us was truly beautiful. Frequent villages were scattered about it. We followed a small path among the high trunks of a wood of chestnut trees; this road seemed safe to us because it was improbable that anyone who did not know the ground inch by inch would venture here. We needed to be especially cautious when compelled to cross the road. Then we had to take a thousand precautions, we had to resort to a multitude of wiles lest we be surprised by some gendarme. For instance we had to go along the road for a short distance if we wished to reach a certain other wood on the opposite hill. It was with great precaution we left the shrubbery for that purpose. The road appeared deserted and we began to cross, but just as we had reached the center, we saw two men in uniform, with rifles slung over their shoulders turn the nearby corner. Only a second passed, but in that second I clearly perceived upon their sleeves the black and yellow band. Not a moment to be lost. Those two figures were two gendarmes and we needed to take to our heels at once in the hope that they had not seen us. Fortunately, immediately on the other side of the road the wood began again and we ran madly, changing our direction often to hide our tracks. We reached the thickest wood, and were compelled to stop, being out of breath. From above a cluster of rocks, thorny bushes curved their branches; we crouched under them and for a seemingly interminable length of time waited in the expectation of seeing one of those figures on our trail. But it appeared no one had followed us. Again we thanked heaven and our clothes which enabled us to get off so easily! After such an episode we had to make up for time lost. It was noon and if we wished to arrive at the house of my soldier’s aunts before nightfall we had to hasten.

The weather was still fair, in fact, it was almost too warm for us, who had to do so much walking. Heavy clouds veiled at times the disk of the sun and threw huge shadows on the mountain sides. To our left rose the hills of San Martino and upon them the village of Minelle where the relatives of Bottecchia lived. My soldier stopped for a moment to recognize his dwelling. Suddenly, having climbed over the ridge of a hill which obstructed the view, there appeared before us the chain of mountains surrounding Vittorio Veneto and pricked up between the sides of two hills there rose the lofty spire of the belfry of Fregona. The steeple seemed very near to us, though distances among the mountains are very deceiving. At last the road became familiar to us. Bottecchia knew it in every detail. We passed near a little wooden house with a sloping roof all covered with reeds closely bound together. An old woman and a girl were standing before the door. The girl was eating. This did not make us linger, but these two followed us with so goodly a smile and gave us so pleasant a “Good day,” that for a moment we forgot all danger and stopped to speak with them. They wanted to know whence we came. Hearing we had traveled afar they inquired whether we were hungry and offered us a cup of milk. We drank it with avidity especially as it was offered with such homely grace and by the gentle hands of the pretty brunette who looked at us with interest.

“It is so seldom,” she said, “that one meets able-bodied men now. The few remaining were recently taken away by the gendarmes who have now increased their guard, and no one whose papers are not exactly in accord with all the regulations can risk staying in any house or traveling on the roads. And you too, if you are not strictly within the orders and if you have not, in addition to your legitimization papers, your classification papers, also refrain from showing yourselves or they will take you to headquarters. We have the good fortune to be living in an isolated spot and are so poor that they do not bother us. Our great fortune is a little cow which we succeeded in hiding from the very beginning, and which we keep always in the deep woods so that no one can lay hands on her. When do you think the Italians will come to liberate us? And to think there were some who, at the retreat, said we were all comrades and that the Germans would treat us as the Italians had. In the first place they are Germans, and if I had no other reason for hating them I should always remember that I have two brothers fighting on the other side. One is a corporal in a regiment of Alpini, and let us hope he was not taken prisoner, for I’d rather know he was dead than see him subjected to the privations and indescribable sufferings endured by those unfortunates who have fallen into their hands. Tell me, do you think our soldiers will be able to resist the tremendous offensive they are preparing? We are terribly afraid for we have seen such huge preparations. The other day I was passing near Vittorio and I saw them unloading a quantity of cases with red bands. A soldier from Trieste told me those cases were filled with projectiles containing a new asphyxiating gas from which the Austrians expect extraordinary results. Damn them!... If I could find one of them alone and I had your strong fists I swear I should not be afraid to kill him as one does a mad dog.”

Such deep faith moved me and I knew not how to hide from her the force of my thoughts and sentiments.

“Rest assured; wait yet awhile; wait until the grain is ripe and the grapes on the vines begin to redden; for I tell you truly that the time of your liberation cannot be far distant.”

She looked at me, and reaching forth for my hand asked, “But who are you who know the secrets of the future?”

“I cannot disclose my name, but I come from afar, and you must ask no more. All you have suffered recently will be repaid to you; for all the tears you have shed you will live again in the great joyous days of triumph, for you have believed, and your faith cannot be deceived. I see you are poor and I want to leave you a slight token; some day, not far distant, you may learn my name and rank.” I took a bill from the roll of crowns I held in my hand, and we hastened away before the young woman had time to thank us or question us further.