“The method of priming adopted was suggested by Lieut.-Col. Tatoli, of the Engineers Corps. This consisted of five priming groups, each of three friction tubes. One of the groups ran along the central axis of the chamber, while the other four, parallel with the first, were disposed symmetrically facing the four corners of the chamber. Each tube (1-1/4 inches inside diameter by 4·50 metres in length) was alternately charged with gelatine and gun-cotton and pierced by picric acid detonating fuse, ending in a gun-cotton cartridge with electric percussion cap. In the very centre of the charge there were inserted two cases of gun-cotton, with electric percussion cap and detonating fuse, with a view to securing a second springing of the mine to follow the first. “We thus had in all seventeen electric circuits divided into three groups, each formed by the circuits of five tubes, connected with the five groups of friction tubes. Two of these electric groups were composed of six circuits each, by adding the two circuits of the above-mentioned cases containing the gun-cotton. Each of these electric groups ended with a Cantone exploder, placed at about 4·50 metres distance from the mine-chamber. “The tamping was effected with cement and with sandbags, with heavy wooden beams between the latter. It was made more effective by dividing into sections at right angles to each other. The theoretical length of the tamping was 25 metres. “The charging of the mine chamber began July 3, 1916, at 5 p.m., and was completed at 3 p.m. of July 9 this work including tamping, priming, and laying of electric circuits. The final connections between the latter and the exploders, by means of wires suspended in the air, were made on July 10. The mine was sprung on July 11 at 3.30 p.m., and responded fully to our calculations and expectations. “(Signed) L. MALVEZZI, 2nd Lieut. 7th Regiment Alpini.” * * * * * A week of unspeakable weather went by--an interval the days of which I spent among the “Cave-men” of the Carso, and the nights of which were largely devoted to puzzling through the mysteries of the Castelletto report with the aid of my Italian dictionary--and then the unexpected miracle happened. Rain and snow ceased, the sky cleared, and a spell of sparkling days succeeded the interminable months of storm and lowering clouds. From the high Alps came word that the grip of the frost had paralysed the avalanches for the moment, and that rapid progress was being made in opening up the roads for traffic. “Now is your chance to see the Castelletto,” they told me at headquarters. “If you start at once you ought to be able to get through without much trouble; and, if the weather holds good, you may even be able to get back without long delay, though on that score you’ll have to take your chances. Doubtless they will be able to get you out in some way whatever happens.”