But it turned out that we were in an outlying district, so I had to pay the penalty of my forgetfulness by being famished all day, as one does not like to ask anything of the soldiers if one can help it: they usually only have sufficient for themselves, and would be too good-natured to refuse you. Returning to Udine for lunch, to my mind, always gave a touch of the unreal to the scenes you had just witnessed. There were, as I have said, several really decent restaurants in the town, where everything was well served, and the appointments were quite good. These would be crowded of a day, and one always saw many ladies at lunch-time and dinner. At one or other of these places you could be sure of meeting friends, and as one was usually much too hot and tired after a long motor drive to trouble to go back to one’s rooms to change, you would drop into a restaurant just as you were, in campaigning kit, and covered with dust or mud. It generally happened, therefore, that you attracted as much attention amongst the well-dressed _habitués_ of the place as if you were “got up” for a fancy-dress ball. At times, when one came back after a surfeit of horrors, it almost seemed unjustifiable to be sitting down to a civilised meal in a cheerful restaurant. Of course it goes without saying that Udine was not by any means inclined to be light-hearted, and usually the sole topic of conversation everywhere was “la Guerra” and the operations on the different Fronts. There was an entire absence of excitement at all times, in spite of the daily thrills provided us by the local press, and the arrival in the evening of the big daily papers of Milan, Rome, etc. When things were quiet at the Front, life in Udine was stagnant, and I often used to wonder what the Italian correspondents could find to write or wire about every day, for they always seemed to be hard at it, even when the _communiqués_ were of the very briefest character. Meanwhile events were undoubtedly shaping well, and day by day one heard of minor successes in Trentino, and steady Italian progress all along the line. It was only what we all expected, but there was nothing yet of a sufficiently startling nature going on anywhere to induce one to start on motor trips to witness long range artillery duels. Moreover, you had got to know every mile almost of the road leading to the front lines, and it ended by becoming as monotonous as it had been interesting at first, as you seldom saw any change. The guns were always booming in the distance, the “drachen” hung motionless in the still air, and Taubes came over and were fired on assiduously but generally without result by the anti-aircraft guns.