guns from which these shells came were cunningly hidden away in nooks
and glens on the other side of that distant range of hills, that the
men serving the guns had little if any idea what they were firing at,
and that the bombardment was being directed and controlled by an
officer seated comfortably at the small end of a telescope up there on
a mountain top among the clouds. Yet such is modern war. It used to be
one of the artillerist's tenets that his guns should be placed in a
position with a "commanding" range of view. But nowadays guns
"command" nothing. Instead they are tucked away in gullies and leafy
glens and excavated gun-pits, and their muzzles, instead of frowning
down on the enemy from an eminence, stare blindly skyward from behind
a wall of hills or mountains. The Italians evidently grew tired of
letting the Austrians have their way with the town, for presently some
batteries of heavy guns behind us came into action and their shells
screamed over our heads. Soon a brisk exchange of compliments between
the Italian and Austrian guns was going on over the shattered roofs of
the town. We did not remain overlong on our hillside and we were
warned by the artillery officer who was guiding us to keep close to
the ground and well apart, for, were the Austrians to see us in a
group, using maps and field-glasses, they probably would take us for
artillery observers and would send over a violent protest cased in
steel.

On none of the European battle-fronts is there a more beautiful and
impressive journey than that from Udine up to the Italian positions in
the Carnia. The Carnia sector connects the Isonzo and Trentino fronts
and forms a vital link in the Italian chain of defense, for, were the
Austrians to break through, they would take in flank and rear the
great Italian armies operating on the two adjacent fronts. West of the
Carnia, in Cadore, the Italians are campaigning in one of the world's
most famous playgrounds, for, in the days before the Great War,
pleasure-seekers from every corner of Europe and America swarmed by
the tens of thousands in the country round about Cortina and in the
enchanted valleys of the Dolomites. But now great gray guns are
emplaced in the shady glens where the honeymooners used to stroll; on
the terraces of the tourist hostelries, where, on summer afternoons,
men in white flannels and women in dainty frocks chattered over their
tea, now lounge Italian officers in field uniforms of gray;