* * * * *

We had slept for less than an hour, when we were hurriedly awakened.  The Italians had orders to set fire to the house.  Meanwhile Savogna, our Canadian Italian Corporal, had just returned from scouting for us, and reported that parties from the other Batteries were in a house half a mile away.  We marched off again through pouring rain, our path lit up by the flames, which in places thrust their long tongues right across the road.  The wind blew clouds of smoke in our faces.  The air was full of the roaring of the fires, the crackle of blazing woodwork, the crash of houses falling in, the loud explosions of ammunition dumps and petrol stores, which now and again for a few seconds lighted up the whole night sky for miles around with a terrific glare, and then died down again.  Far as the eye could reach the night was studded with red and golden fires.  Everywhere behind the front of the retreating Third Army a systematic destruction was being carried out.  The Third Army was retreating in good order, unbroken and undefeated, retreating only because its northern flank was in danger of being turned.  The Third Army was proving to the enemy that its movements were deliberate and governed by a cool purpose.  The enemy should advance into a wilderness.

Again I seemed to hear in the air the music of “1812,” and the bells of burning Moscow ringing out loud and clear above the triumph song of the invader.

* * * * *

Our men marched doggedly on, some looking puzzled and full of wonder, others tired but cheerful, others with expressionless, uncomprehending faces.  But in the faces of a few I read a consciousness of the tremendous tragedy of which we formed a tiny part.  We found the other Batteries in a house not yet marked down for burning.  The house was crowded out already and all the best places taken, such as they were.  There were pools of water everywhere on the floor.  Officers of the Group were there, knowing nothing, awaiting the appearance of Colonel Raven.  All our party got in somehow and lay down to sleep.  But half an hour later we were roused again.  Raven had come and ordered that all should push on to Palmanova.

Some of our men were sleeping very heavily and were hard to waken.  When we started it was still raining.  The roads were crowded with traffic, including many guns.  Our own went by with the rest, Winterton, Darrell, Leary and Manzoni with them.  Each Battery party marched independently, the easier to get through blocks in the traffic.  The Square at Palmanova had been fixed as the next rendezvous.

The stream of refugees with their slow-moving wagons drawn by oxen, or their little donkey carts, or trudging on foot carrying bundles, became gradually thicker and more painful.  For we were back now in country that yesterday or the day before had fancied itself remote from the battle zone.  I remember one elderly peasant woman, tall and erect as a young girl, with white hair and a face like Dante, calm, beautiful and stern.  She was alone, tramping along through the mud.  And she had the walk of a queen.