LETTERS FROM THE ITALIAN FRONT 



huts all along the Italian front. A few 

 already exist, but hundreds are needed. 

 The Austrians have them all along their 

 lines, six kilometers behind the fighting 

 zone, I am told, which is a proof that 

 they are not a luxury, but an absolute 

 necessity. They exist, as you know, in 

 great numbers along the French and 

 English fronts in France. 



The secretary of the Y. M. C. A. in 

 France is here — a delightful young en- 

 thusiast — and we are doing all we can to 

 get permission for him to work here. 

 Mr. Davis told me the other day that in 

 one of his huts in France one Sunday 

 morning 10.000 letters were posted. So 

 you can imagine how the paper bills 

 mount up. 



Oh, if you could have seen 14,000 sol- 

 diers, as I did in the little village where I 

 was stopping at the front, coming down 

 from the terrific fortnight's fighting in 

 the trenches ! They were quartered in 

 the village and in tents in the surround- 

 ing muddy fields — deep, sticky mud char- 

 acteristic of the Corso. There was much 

 rain, thunder-storms, and a cruel north 

 wind blowing : yet all the diversion they 

 found awaiting them was the osteria 

 (bar). What they absolutely revel in is 

 phonographs, but these are too expensive 

 to ask for. 



The inhabitants of this village were all 

 Austrians until a short time ago, for we 

 were on conquered territory and always 

 spoke of going back to Italy. Sign-posts 

 by the road still exist with Austrian des- 

 ignations upon them. 



We arrived in the midst of a great at- 

 tack, taking place about six kilometers 

 away. The Austrians fired on our little 

 village before our arrival and just after 

 we left, but not during our stay. The 

 cannon roared and thundered day and 

 night, and the sky at night was ablaze 

 with flashes of explosions, enemy search- 

 lights, green signal rockets, etc. 



After about three days the fighting 

 ceased and the men came down from the 

 hills to rest. Then it was that my heart 

 ached that there were no recreation huts, 

 warm and bright and cheerful, for them 

 to go to. A few days before we left an 

 even greater attack began. It started at 

 night, during a thunder-storm, and it was 



quite impossible to say which were re- 

 sounding peals of thunder and which the 

 firing of the 305's. By the time we 

 reached Rome the papers were full of re- 

 ports of the amazing advance the Italians 

 had made. 



BEAUTIFUL EXPRESSION ON FACES OE 

 THOSE WHO HAVE BRAVED DEATH 



Such an extraordinary sensation, being 

 surrounded by thousands of men who for 

 months have faced death day and night ! 

 It gives a peculiar and very beautiful ex- 

 pression to many of the faces. The 

 church was crowded, all seats taken and 

 aisles packed, when they came down from 

 the trenches and before they returned. I 

 have never been so moved and impressed 

 and could not bear it more than once. 



Many who had just arrived had not 

 had time for a bath and change, so the 

 uniforms were tattered and stained and 

 the fortnight's (they generally remain 

 about a fortnight at a time in the 

 trenches) beard was still upon the young 

 faces. They knelt for half an hour at a 

 time, immovable as images, in front of 

 the different altars, praying to their fa- 

 vorite saints and madonnas in thanksgiv- 

 ing or supplicating for protection. The 

 church was lit only by the candles they 

 had bought, very short or very long, ac- 

 cording to the number of "soldi" thev 

 could afford to pay; and then, with the 

 organ, they sang a beautiful song com- 

 posed since the war, "Oh, Santa Ma- 

 donna prega per noi." 



One cloudless, sunny afternoon I shall 

 never forget. In the little cemetery, just 

 outside the village, the sound of the ar- 

 tillery was continuous, but rather far 

 away, Over our heads Italian aeroplanes 

 were flying, and suddenly from the blue 

 came a strange rattle, an Austrian mit- 

 raliatricc, that was trying to bring them 

 down. Several soldiers were working 

 silently at some tombs of their comrades ; 

 one with a portrait bas-relief made by 

 the simple soldier friend. In a corner of 

 the cemetery other soldiers were busv 

 digging new graves to have them ready 

 for the men who were fighting a few kilo- 

 meters away and would not return alive. 

 Mingled with the sound of the spades 

 was a little son? of the soldier outside of 



