the enemy Powers strained to the
utmost by the blockade and Italy dependent on the Allies for shipping,
food and coal. The Germans would have done far more wisely, if, instead
of attacking, they had aimed only at holding the Italian Army along its
old line.

[Footnote 1: "No one in the trenches this winter."]

I walked on from Quarto to Nervi and, as it was getting dark, I decided
to take a tram for the last few kilometres. But all the trams were
standing still, the current having been switched off for several hours.
So I stood on the step of a tram and talked to the conductor about the
war, and tried to cheer him up by telling him that the Germans were on
their last legs, and were making their last great effort, and that the
Allies had only to hold together a little longer, and throw sufficient
force against the enemy here in Italy, in order to see a far bigger and
more precipitate and disastrous retreat than Caporetto, and next time in
the other direction. All this I not only said, but firmly believed (and
it all came true within a year). At first he was very despondent, but he
warmed up as I proceeded, and began to gesticulate again and regain
animation and compliment me on my Italian. And then the current also was
restored, and the tram moved on, and we came to Nervi, where I dined
well and slept at the Albergo Cristoforo Colombo. I am not in general an
admirer of palm trees, but they are sometimes impressive in the dusk,
towering over one's head, as they do at Nervi, in the long mixed avenue
of palms and orange trees which leads down to the station from the town.

Next morning I got up early and walked back towards Genoa along the Via
Marina. The sun was shining on the sea and the dark rocks, the stone
pines and the great aloes and the brightly coloured villas. There was an
exhilaration in the air and I was in the midst of beauty, and, for the
first time for many days, I was for a little while really happy. Later
on I took a tram back to Genoa, and walked up to the tall lighthouse on
the further side of the town, and looked westward at the great curve of
the shore, beyond the breakwater and the sands.

In some of the stations along the line were placards, "Long live great
old England," "Welcome to the valiant British Army," "Vive la France,"
"Vive la victorieuse Armee de Verdun." The first of the Allied
reinforcements were arriving.

At Arquata station I met an advance party of the Northumberland
Fusiliers. T