behind the crest, and
our registration point, a white house on the top of the ridge, was
almost completely blown away by a big French shell while we were
watching, and waiting our turn to fire. We saw another shell burst in
the Isonzo just above Gorizia, causing a huge waterspout. Colonel Canale
arrived while we were firing. His white gloves were a little soiled, and
he seemed rather worried and more serious than usual. He was
disappointed at the stoppage of the offensive on the Carso.

CHAPTER XVI

THE FALL OF MONTE SANTO

Even when our guns were turned against San Marco, we continued to man
Sant' Andrea O.P., for one could get good general observation to the
northward from the other side of the ruined house which was the old
O.P., and most of the trenches on San Marco were invisible except from
aeroplanes. I spent the night there several times during the August
offensive, watching by turns with one of our Bombardiers, to whom I
explained that wars were made by small groups of wicked men, generally
also rich, sitting and planning in secret. I proposed to him the need
to shell such groups, while they were yet forming, with the shrapnel of
public opinion.

It was also at Sant' Andrea that I met a young Lieutenant of Italian
Field Artillery, a Sardinian from Cagliari. He had still the face of a
child, and he had, too, that perfect self-possession and that wonderful,
soft charm which are so often found together in the Italian youth. I
think of him often with affection, and with an eager hope that he passed
unharmed through all the vicissitudes which were to follow.

He and I spent many hours together, watching those bloody, memorable
hills. I met him first on the 24th of August, and we drank a bottle of
Vermouth together, and discussed with enthusiasm many subjects. We even
worked out in detail a scheme for the interchange of students, for
periods of a year at a time, between Italian and British Universities
after the war. We then turned to modern history and I noticed that he
did not respond as much as I had expected to the name of Garibaldi. He
held the historical theory that, broadly speaking, there are no really
great men, but only lucky ones. He put forward in support of this view
the distribution of death, wounds and decorations in this war. This
theory of history has in it larger elements of wholesomeness and truth
than has, for instance, the pernicious bombast of Carlyle. I told my
Sardinian friend that I