A Visit to Three Fronts, June 1916 | Page 9

in future international legislation--if such a thing
as international law still exists. The Italian headquarter town, which I

will call Nemini, was a particular victim of these murderous attacks. I
speak with some feeling, as not only was the ceiling of my bedroom
shattered some days before my arrival, but a greasy patch with some
black shreds upon it was still visible above my window which
represented part of the remains of an unfortunate workman, who had
been blown to pieces immediately in front of the house. The air defence
is very skilfully managed however, and the Italians have the matter
well in hand.
My first experience of the Italian line was at the portion which I have
called the gap by the sea, otherwise the Isonzo front. From a mound
behind the trenches an extraordinary fine view can be got of the
Austrian position, the general curve of both lines being marked, as in
Flanders, by the sausage balloons which float behind them. The Isonzo,
which has been so bravely carried by the Italians, lay in front of me, a
clear blue river, as broad as the Thames at Hampton Court. In a hollow
to my left were the roofs of Gorizia, the town which the Italians are
endeavouring to take. A long desolate ridge, the Carso, extends to the
south of the town, and stretches down nearly to the sea. The crest is
held by the Austrians and the Italian trenches have been pushed within
fifty yards of them. A lively bombardment was going on from either
side, but so far as the infantry goes there is none of that constant
malignant petty warfare with which we are familiar in Flanders. I was
anxious to see the Italian trenches, in order to compare them with our
British methods, but save for the support and communication trenches I
was courteously but firmly warned off.
The story of trench attack and defence is no doubt very similar in all
quarters, but I am convinced that close touch should be kept between
the Allies on the matter of new inventions. The quick Latin brain may
conceive and test an idea long before we do. At present there seems to
be very imperfect sympathy. As an example, when I was on the British
lines they were dealing with a method of clearing barbed wire. The
experiments were new and were causing great interest. But on the
Italian front I found that the same system had been tested for many
months. In the use of bullet proof jackets for engineers and other men
who have to do exposed work the Italians are also ahead of us. One of

their engineers at our headquarters might give some valuable advice. At
present the Italians have, as I understand, no military representative
with our armies, while they receive a British General with a small staff.
This seems very wrong not only from the point of view of courtesy and
justice, but also because Italy has no direct means of knowing the truth
about our great development. When Germans state that our new armies
are made of paper, our Allies should have some official assurance of
their own that this is false. I can understand our keeping neutrals from
our headquarters, but surely our Allies should be on another footing.
Having got this general view of the position I was anxious in the
afternoon to visit Monfalcone, which is the small dockyard captured
from the Austrians on the Adriatic. My kind Italian officer guides did
not recommend the trip, as it was part of their great hospitality to shield
their guest from any part of that danger which they were always ready
to incur themselves. The only road to Monfalcone ran close to the
Austrian position at the village of Ronchi, and afterwards kept parallel
to it for some miles. I was told that it was only on odd days that the
Austrian guns were active in this particular section, so determined to
trust to luck that this might not be one of them. It proved, however, to
be one of the worst on record, and we were not destined to see the
dockyard to which we started.
The civilian cuts a ridiculous figure when he enlarges upon small
adventures which may come his way--adventures which the soldier
endures in silence as part of his everyday life. On this occasion,
however, the episode was all our own, and had a sporting flavour in it
which made it dramatic. I know now the feeling of tense expectation
with which the driven grouse whirrs onwards towards the butt. I have
been behind the butt before now, and it is only poetic justice that I
should see the matter from the other point of view. As we approached
Ronchi we could see