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against that blessed Whig 〃principle of nationality；〃 but the
King of Italy was not to be drawn into any statement about that。
He left the question with his admission of its extreme complexity。
He went on to talk of the strange contrasts of war； of such
things as the indifference of the birds to gunfire and
desolation。 One day on the Carso he had been near the newly
captured Austrian trenches； and suddenly from amidst a scattered
mass of Austrian bodies a quail had risen。 that had struck him
as odd； and so too had the sight of a pack of cards and a wine
flask on some newly…made graves。 The ordinary life was a very
/obstinate/ thing。。。。
He talked of the courage of modern men。 He was astonished at the
quickness with which they came to disregard shrapnel。 And they
were so quietly enduring when they were wounded。 He had seen a
lot of the wounded； and he had expected much groaning and crying
out。 But unless a man is hit in the head and goes mad he does
not groan or scream！ They are just brave。 If you ask them how
they feel it is always one of two things： either they say quietly
that they are very bad or else they say there is nothing the
matter。。。。
He spoke as if these were mere chance observations； but everyone
tells me that nearly every day the king is at the front and often
under fire。 He has taken more risks in a week than the Potsdam
War Lord has taken since the war began。 He keeps himself acutely
informed upon every aspect of the war。 He was a little inclined
to fatalism； he confessed。 There were two stories current of two
families of four sons； in each three had been killed and in each
there was an attempt to put the fourth in a place of comparative
safety。 In one case a general took the fourth son in as an
attendant and embarked upon a ship that was immediately
torpedoed； in the other the fourth son was killed by accident
while he was helping to carry dinner in a rest camp。 From those
stories we came to the question whether the uneducated Italians
were more superstitious than the uneducated English； the king
thought they were much less so。 That struck me as a novel idea。
But then he thought that English rural people believe in witches
and fairies。
I have given enough of this talk to show the quality of this king
of the new dispensation。 It was； you see； the sort of easy talk
one might hear from fine…minded people anywhere。 When we had
done talking he came to the door of the study with me and shook
hands and went back to his deskwith that gesture of return to
work which is very familiar and sympathetic to a writer； and with
no gesture of regality at all。
Just to complete this impression let me repeat a pleasant story
about this king and our Prince of Wales； who recently visited the
Italian front。 The Prince is a source of anxiety on these
visits； he has a very strong and very creditable desire to share
the ordinary risks of war。 He is keenly interested； and
unobtrusively bent upon getting as near the fighting as line as
possible。 But the King of Italy was firm upon keeping him out of
anything more than the most incidental danger。 〃We don't want
any historical incidents here；〃 he said。 I think that might well
become an historical phrase。 For the life of the Effigy is a
series of historical incidents。
6
Manifestly one might continue to multiply portraits of fine
people working upon this great task of breaking and ending the
German aggression； the German legend； the German effigy； and the
effigy business generally； the thesis being that the Allies have
no effigy。 One might fill a thick volume with pictures of men up
the scale and down working loyally and devotedly upon the war； to
make this point clear that the essential king and the essential
loyalty of our side is the commonsense of mankind。
There comes into my head as a picture at the other extreme of
this series； a memory of certain trenches I visited on my last
day in France。 They were trenches on an offensive front； they
were not those architectural triumphs； those homes from home；
that grow to perfection upon the less active sections of the
great line。 They had been first made by men who had run rapidly
forward with spade and rifle； stooping as they ran； who had
dropped into the craters of big shells； who had organised these
chiefly at night and dug the steep ditches sideways to join up
into continuous trenches。 Now they were pushing forward saps
into No Man's Land； linking them across； and so continually
creeping nearer to the enemy and a practicable jumping…off place
for an attack。 （It has been made since； the village at which I
peeped was in our hands a week later。） These trenches were dug
into a sort of yellowish sandy clay； the dug…outs were mere holes
in the earth that fell in upon the clumsy； hardly any timber had
been got up the line； a storm might flood them at any time a
couple of feet deep and begin to wash the sides。 Overnight they
had been 〃strafed〃 and there had been a number of casualties；
there were smashed rifles about and a smashed…up machine gun
emplacement； and the men were dog…tired and many of them sleeping
like logs； half buried in …clay。 Some slept on the firing steps。
As one went along one became aware ever and again of two or three
pairs of clay…yellow feet sticking out of a clay hole； and
peering down one saw the shapes of men like rudely modelled
earthen images of soldiers； motionless in the cave。
I came round the corner upon a youngster with an intelligent face
and steady eyes sitting up on the firing step； awake and
thinking。 We looked at one another。 There are moments when mind
leaps to mind。 It is natural for the man in the trenches
suddenly confronted by so rare a beast as a middle…aged civilian
with an enquiring expression； to feel oneself something of a
spectacle and something generalised。 It is natural for the
civilian to look rather in the vein of saying； 〃Well； how do you
take it？〃 As I pushed past him we nodded slightly with an effect
of mutual understanding。 And we said with our nods just exactly
what General Joffre had said with his horizontal gestures of the
hand and what the King of Italy conveyed by his friendly manner；
we said to each other that here was the trouble those Germans had
brought upon us and here was the task that had to be done。
Our guide to these trenches was a short； stocky young man； a cob；
with a rifle and a tight belt and projecting skirts and a helmet；
a queer little figure that； had you seen it in a picture a year
or so before the war； you would most certainly have pronounced
Chinese。 He belonged to a Northumbrian battalion； it does not
matter exactly which。 As we returned from this front line；
trudging along the winding path through the barbed wire tangles
before the smashed and captured German trench that had been taken
a fortnight before； I fell behind my guardian captain and had a
brief conversation wit this individual。 He was a lad in the
early twenties； weather…bit and with bloodshot eyes。 He was； he
told me； a miner。 I asked my stock question in such cases；
whether he would go back to the old work after the war。 He said
he would； and then addedwith the events of overnight on his
mind： 〃If A'hm looky。〃
Followed a little silence。 Then I tried my second stock remark
for such cases。 One does not talk to soldiers at the front in
this war of Glory or the 〃Empire on which the sun never sets〃 or
〃the meteor flag of England〃 or of King and Country or any of
those fine old headline things。 On the desolate path that winds
about amidst the shell craters and the fragments and the red…
rusted wire； with the silken shiver of passing shells in the air
and the blue of the lower sky continually breaking out into
eddying white puffs； it is wonderful how tawdry such panoplies of
the effigy appear。 We knew that we and our allies are upon a
greater； graver； more fundamental business than that sort of
thing now。 We are very near the waking point。
〃Well；〃 I said； 〃it's got to be done。〃
〃Aye；〃 he said； easing the strap of his rifle a little； 〃it's got
to be done。〃
THE WAR IN ITALY （AUGUST； 1916）
I。 THE ISONZO FRONT
1
My first impressions of the Italian war centre upon Udine。 So
far I had had only a visit to Soissons on an exceptionally quiet
day and the sound of a Zeppelin one night in Essex for all my
experience of actual warfare。 But my bedroom at the British
mission in Udine roused perhaps extravagant expectations。 There
were holes in the plaster ceiling and wall； betraying splintered
laths； holes； that had been caused by a bomb that had burst and
killed several people in the little square outside。 Such
excitements seem to be things of the past now in Udine。 Udine
keeps itself dark nowadays； and the Austrian sea…planes； which
come raiding the Italian coast country at night very much in the
same aimless； casually malignant way in which the Zeppelins raid
England； apparently because there is nothing else for them to do；
find it easier to locate Venice。
My earlier rides in Venetia began always with the level roads of
the plain； roads frequently edged by watercourses； with plentiful
willows