Of course our chauffeur pulled up without hesitating: he knew that _Carabinieri_ have to be obeyed without parley. My companion got out, and I was following him when, scarcely had I got my foot off the step, than there was a deafening report like a thunderclap a few yards away. For a moment I thought my head had been blown off. “Sonoi Nostri Canoni,” remarked my companion, who had been there before, and who knew of an Italian big gun hidden in the trees within a few yards of us; one of many along the outskirts of the forest, I was told later, and which were giving the Austrians much trouble. We left the car here to await our return and walked on. A hundred yards or so and we were clear of the forest, which ended abruptly on the edge of a slight acclivity. A little below us was a wide expanse of grass-covered plain, and in the centre of it, about a mile away, were the white houses of the little town of Asiago, of which one had read so much during the past few weeks. Just beyond the town a line of low-lying hills stood out against the horizon. On the crest of one of these hills—Monte Interrotto—about two and a half miles distant were the Austrian batteries, and on the slopes below were the Austrian and Italian trenches. In the far distance to the North, Monte Zebio stood out amongst some rugged peaks. For the moment the scene was fairly peaceful, that is to say the guns on either side were only firing in a desultory way; but, of course, one could not tell how long this would last and what might “come over” at any moment; however, as we had come here with the intention of going right into Asiago, this had to be chanced. My companion advised hurrying across as quickly as possible as there was no cover anywhere, and the road was quite exposed to the view of the Austrian gunners. It was a typical summer morning, with the birds singing merrily on all sides, so it was somewhat difficult to realize that there was danger in strolling along leisurely, but before we had gone far we met stretcher-bearers coming towards us with their sad burdens, and quite a number of soldiers carrying wounded men on their backs. No big engagement was in progress we learned, but the guns and rifles were taking their steady and relentless daily toll all the time. This constant stream of wounded ended by getting on one’s nerves, and made you wonder what the fates had in store for you. The town, from a distance, appeared to be quite undamaged, but on getting near to it one found it was in a sad state of ruins. Very few of the houses had escaped the ravages of fire or bombardment. The position of Asiago, midway between the opposing batteries, had, of course, in a great measure brought this about, and was responsible for its gradual destruction.