For this reason one made of Udine a _pied à terre_, as it was obvious there was nothing to be gained by motoring from place to place on the offchance of seeing something dramatic. At Headquarters one got to know anything there was in the shape of news, and one could arrange one’s movements accordingly. From the point of view of the journalist, the Censorship Club-room was an ideal “news” centre, since it is not absolutely necessary for him to see what he writes about—so much can be done from hearsay—but for me, as an illustrator, it was obviously a very different matter, and doubtless I missed many a good subject for my pencil through not being fortunate enough to be in the vicinity when some dramatic incident was taking place. It has always struck me that a pen picture has therefore an advantage over a pencil one. You can, if forced to, make it through the medium of your ears, and your eyes are not essential for its accuracy, as is the case with an artist’s notes. For several weeks the correspondents were all gathered together at Udine, and only left it occasionally for short excursions. The Isonzo Front was, from the motoring point of view, so short a distance away that you could start off in the car at six o’clock in the morning, be right up to the firing line by half-past seven, see all there was to see and be back in Udine easily in time for lunch. This, of course, would not have been possible before the advent of the petrol engine. In the old days of the war correspondent, when he could only get about by means of horses, a “trip” such as is now made easily in a morning would have meant a real “journey” of probably a couple of days, and providing himself with food and probably sleeping outfit as well, so as to be prepared against all contingencies. With the car we could, bar accidents, time our return to a minute almost, if we wanted to; and it was really remarkable how seldom any _contretemps_ occurred on the road—an occasional puncture, nothing more. Such confidence, in fact, did the Italian correspondents place in their cars, or the offchance of “getting something somewhere,” that they hardly ever guarded against accidents by providing themselves with food and drink when on an excursion, and my companions were always surprised when I insisted on taking a parcel of creature comforts for us all, in case we wanted them, for I had discovered what it meant to be really hungry and thirsty. [Illustration: The least severely wounded occupants jumped out of the wagon (_see page 179_) _To face page 186_] One day, when visiting a position, I had forgotten to take anything with me, but consoled myself with the idea that I should at least be able to get a crust of bread and a drink of wine on the way.