lry charged the massed machine guns of the
enemy and, when the horses went down, the men went on, and then the men
went down, all but a few, and those few for a moment broke the line and
held up the advance, and gave to the mass of the retreating troops just
that little space of extra time, which spans the gulf between escape and
destruction.

And away up north on Monte Nero, left behind when the rest of the Army
retired, Alpini and Bersaglieri resisted for many days, and aeroplanes
flew back and dropped food and ammunition from the skies for them. And
when their ammunition was all shot away, that garrison came down into
the plains, and a few survivors fought their way through with bombs and
bayonets back to the Italian lines.

And many other such deeds were surely done that will never be known,
because the men that did them died out of sight of any of their comrades
who survived.

* * * * *

In the small hours of the 30th of October, I left our guns in Leary's
charge and determined to walk on to Latisana, to see if I could not find
some person in authority and get something done to move things on. I had
only gone a little way when I met Bixio, a Captain of Mountain
Artillery, attached to Raven's Headquarters. He had come back to see how
far behind our rearmost guns were. I saw him several times during the
retreat. He did fine work more than once in creating order out of
confusion. He looked a magnificent, almost a Mephistophelian, figure,
with his dark features, his flashing angry eyes, his air of decision,
his sharp gestures, his tall body enveloped in a loose cloak, his Alpino
hat, with its long single feather. He told me that all traffic along
this road into Latisana had been stopped for the past three hours, in
order to let traffic from the north get on, for it was from that
direction that the advance of the enemy was most threatening.

I walked on and found a British Red Cross Ambulance stuck in the block.
I talked for a few moments to the driver, who gave me a piece of cake
and some wine. When I reached Latisana, I found traffic pouring through
along the road from the north. I crossed the bridge over the Tagliamento
and looked down at the broad swift current, glistening beneath. Hope
leapt again within me at the sight. Here, at last, I said to myself, is
a fine natural obstacle. We shall turn here and stand at bay, and the
invader will come no further.

I had been told that t