One saw every phase of soldier life along this interesting road, and one could not fail to be deeply impressed by the extraordinary “completeness,” I can think of no other word, of the arrangements on all sides, and the business-like air of readiness to go anywhere at a moment’s notice of every unit. Certain it is that the Austrians had no conception of what was ready for them behind these hills. It was like looking for a needle in a bundle of hay to find any particular field ambulance amongst such a multitude, and the more specially as these ambulance stations are continually being shifted as necessity arises. So, after trying for some time and going backwards and forwards up and down the road in the vicinity of Sdraussina, where we hoped to come across it, we had to give it up as a bad job. A somewhat striking feature of this vast camping area were the military cemeteries, where hundreds of soldiers’ graves were crowded together in serried lines. Of course there is no sentiment in warfare, and soldiers live in the midst of death, but it struck me as somewhat unnecessary putting this burial ground alongside a road so frequently traversed by the troops when there is so much space elsewhere. The Isonzo, which here is a broad, pelucid and swiftly running stream much divided up with gravel islets, presented a scene of much animation; hundreds of soldiers were taking advantage of a few hours peaceful interregnum to have a bath and do a day’s washing. We continued on past Sagrado, crossing the river lower down by a newly-placed pontoon bridge below San Pietro dell Isonzo. Here there was no regular road, but merely a rough track leading to the river, and it was only by the skilfulness of our chauffeur friend that the car was got through at all without accident. Round about here were many Austrian trenches that had been hastily abandoned, so we had a good opportunity for examining them. They struck me as being constructed on the most approved principles, and were finished in elaborate style with wicker work lining to the walls and along the floors. None of these trenches, however, had ever been used, so it was only possible to hazard conjectures as to their utility. Just here we met the cavalry division advancing dismounted in Indian file. A fine lot of well-equipped men with very serviceable looking horses. It may be of interest to mention here that most of the Italian cavalry officers who, as is well known, are magnificent horsemen, ride thoroughbreds of Irish descent. When we got back to Udine we learned that Gorizia was being heavily shelled from Monte Santo, so it looked as if the Austrians were attempting to destroy it by degrees, as the Huns are doing with Rheims in revenge for losing it. CHAPTER XVIII