In the days of calm that followed, word spread through the brigade that we were finally going to be given a rest. Among ourselves, that was all we could talk about. The division commander was informed of this and responded with a daily order that ended with, “Let it be known to everyone, officers and soldiers alike: Short of victory, the only rest is death.” There was no more talk of rest.
The event had no repercussions in the history of the war, but to allow for a better understanding of these notes, I must inform the reader that I was promoted to lieutenant in command of a company. Lieutenants with a red stripe, they were called back then. I took over command of the 10th Company, in which I had served since the beginning of the war and which I had commanded on the Carso.
On the same day, almost as though they were celebrating my advancement, the Austrians installed a trench cannon and fired several volleys against the trench occupied by my company. From one of its shells that we picked up unexploded, we concluded it was a 37mm. The piece never fired more than a few consecutive rounds, now on one loophole, now on another, and two of our lookouts were wounded. Despite our efforts to locate it, we weren’t able to figure out if it had been set up in a trench or behind the lines.
Each day at a different time, with unprovoked volleys, the little cannon pelted our line. The division commander heard the shots and asked for an explanation. The brigade command gave him all the information it had received. The general was not satisfied and came up to the trench.
At that time I was on the line. My company occupied the right side of the battalion’s sector and extended out as far as a few meters short of loophole 14, which was at the line’s highest elevation. Further to the right, and immediately after us, connected to my company, was the machine-gun section, with two weapons, commanded by Lieutenant Ottolenghi. He was responsible for the sector’s right flank.
General Leone came directly into the trench without stopping at the battalion command. I saw him arrive and went to greet him.
He immediately asked me for news about the little cannon. I told him what I knew. When my exposition was over, he peppered me with questions, and I admired yet again his interest in the details and his desire for mathematical control. He insisted on checking, one by one, about fifty loopholes and remained in my company’s sector for at least an hour.
“Your loopholes,” he said to me finally, “look down at the ground like the traps in the Palazzo della Signoria, and they look more like they were made for hunting crickets than for observing the enemy trenches.”
I was careful not to smile, he spoke in such a somber tone. Nevertheless, I explained to him the reasons why, in my sector, the loopholes couldn’t have been made any other way, because of the lay of the terrain and the position of the trees and rocks in front of the trench.
“It’s not the fault of the builders but of the nature of the terrain. Take a look at this loophole here, general. If we move its range of fire more to the left, we end up running into that fir tree out there, and we can’t see anything anymore. If we move it right, we’re blocked by that rock. Nor can we raise it any higher, because those bushes there would block our vision.”
“You’re right,” he told me in the end. “We can’t make the loopholes the way we’d like them to be. But how am I supposed to figure out the position of that annoying little cannon? I want to silence it once and for all with my artillery.”
The general had turned reasonable and moderate. When we came to the last loophole in my sector he even became courteous.
“I saw you for the first time on Mount Fior, I think.”
“Yes, sir, general.”
“You can call yourself lucky. You still haven’t been killed.”
“No, sir, general.”
To my great surprise, he pulled out a cigarette case and offered me one. But he didn’t light his and I didn’t dare light mine.
We had arrived at the far end of my company. I said, “This is where my sector ends, and the machine-gun sector begins. Would you like me to accompany you farther?”
“Yes, accompany me. Thank you. Be so kind as to accompany me.”
He couldn’t have been more courteous. I was enchanted with him. Had he undergone some kind of character change?
We were already in the machine-gun sector and I was walking in front of the general. Having most likely been informed, Lieutenant Ottolenghi came to meet us. I pointed him out to the general and said, “Here is the lieutenant in command of this sector.”
I let him pass and the general found himself facing Lieutenant Ottolenghi. The lieutenant introduced himself.
“Show me your loopholes,” said the general. “Do you know your loopholes? Have you been in this sector for a long time?”
“For over a week, general. I’ve had all the loopholes repositioned myself. I know them well.”
Ottolenghi led the way, and the general followed. I was behind him, and behind me were the two carabinieri with whom the general had come up to the line, and my orderly. The trenches were calm. During that entire inspection, the little cannon hadn’t made itself heard. There was nothing coming from the enemy line except, every now and again, a rifle shot, which got a response from our lookouts.
Ottolenghi stopped between two loopholes, which he defined as secondary, and said, “These are loopholes made for shooting at the foot of our entanglements, not for observation.”
The general took a long look, first at one and then at the other.
“These loopholes can’t be used for observation or for shooting,” he concluded. “You will do me the favor or ordering them to be destroyed. Have two new ones built. Where are your main loopholes?”
The general had become authoritarian again.
“Up ahead here we have the best loophole in the whole sector,” replied Ottolenghi. “You can see all the terrain in front of it and up and down the whole enemy line, every part of it. I don’t think a better loophole exists. It’s right here. Loophole fourteen.”
Loophole 14, I said to myself. Since I hadn’t seen that sector for several days, I deduced that Ottolenghi must have eliminated some loopholes, shifted the numbers, and attributed number 14 to another loophole.
At the first curve in the trench, Ottolenghi stopped. There had been no changes made in the trench. The loopholes were all the same. Detached from the others, beyond the curve, higher than the others and easily distinguishable, was loophole 14 with its steel plate. Ottolenghi had stopped beyond the loophole, leaving it between him and the general.
“Look here,” said the general, raising the shutter and immediately letting it drop. “The hole is small and doesn’t allow observation by more than one person.”
I made some noise, banging my walking stick against some stones, trying to get Ottolenghi’s attention. I looked for his eyes in order to make a sign that he should desist. He didn’t look at me. He certainly understood, but didn’t want to look at me. His face had turned white. My heart was trembling.
Instinctively, I opened my mouth to call out to the general. But I didn’t speak. I don’t want to pretend that I had no responsibility for what might have happened then. A general was about to be killed. I was present, I could have prevented it, and I didn’t say a word.
The general walked over in front of the loophole. He moved in behind the shield, bent his head down until it touched the steel, raised the shutter, and put his eye up to the hole. I closed my eyes.
How long that wait lasted I couldn’t say. I kept my eyes closed the whole time. I didn’t hear any shots.
The general said, “It’s magnificent! Magnificent!”
I opened my eyes and saw the general still at the loophole. Without moving, he started talking, “Here, now, it looks to me like … the little cannon is positioned in the trench, but it seems unlikely … Maybe yes … where the trench is in a staggered line, it’s possible … But I don’t think so … You can see so well from here … Bravo, lieutenant!… It’s likely that it’s positioned behind the trench, a few meters behind … in the trees …”
Ottolenghi suggested, “Look closely, general, to the left, where there’s a white sack. You see it?”
“Yes, I see it, it’s very clear. Everything is very clear.”
“I have the impression that the little cannon is there. You don’t notice anything, can’t see any smoke, but that’s where the noise comes from. Can you see that?”
“Yes, I see.”
“Look carefully, don’t move.”
“It’s likely … it’s likely …”
“With your permission, now, I’ll have our line come to life. I’ll have a machine gun open fire. That should provoke the little cannon into shooting back, for reprisal.”
“Yes, lieutenant, have them start shooting.”
The general stepped back from the loophole and let the shutter fall. Ottolenghi gave the order to a machine gun to fire. A second later it opened fire. The general went back to the loophole and raised the shutter again.
The little cannon was silent. The only response from the enemy trench was a few rifle shots. Two or three times, the general pulled his face away from the loophole to say something to Ottolenghi, and the sunlight burst in through the hole. As the machine gun kept on firing, the general looked out first with his left eye then with his right.
The noise of the isolated shots and the machine-gun fire failed to rouse the Austrian sharpshooter manning the tripod rifle.
The general moved away from the loophole. Ottolenghi was vexed.
“I’ll order the artillery to fire some volleys,” he proposed to the general. “You’d do well to keep looking a little longer.”
“No,” replied the general, “enough for now. Bravo, lieutenant! Tomorrow I’ll have my chief of general staff come here, so he can get a better idea of the enemy positions. Good-bye.”
He shook both of our hands and walked off, followed by his two carabinieri. We were left alone.
“You must be crazy!” I exclaimed.
My orderly was only a few steps away. It didn’t appear that he was looking or listening.
Ottolenghi didn’t even answer me. He was red in the face and walking around in circles.
“You want to bet that if I open the loophole that imbecile sharpshooter will wake up?”
He took a coin out of his pocket, grasped its edge lightly between his thumb and index finger, raised the shutter, and held the coin up to the hole. A strip of sunlight lit up the hole. And what came next was all one: the hissing of the bullet and the crack of the rifle shot. The coin, shot out of his hand, flew off into the fir trees.
Ottolenghi seemed to have lost all self-control. Furious, he stamped his feet on the ground, bit his fingers, and cursed.
“And now he wants to send us his chief of staff!”
That night we dismantled loophole 14.