The last bit up into the trenches had to be done at the double, and crouching down, as we were here in full view of the Austrian lines, and snipers were constantly at work. Once inside the sand-bag ramparts we were in comparative security. The entrenched position on Pal Grande was undoubtedly the most interesting and impressive of all we had visited so far, and amply repaid one for the tiring climb to get to it. Perhaps the contrast it presented to the somewhat tame excursions we had previously made had something to do with this impression, but it is certain that here we were in the very midst of the “real thing,” and were sharing the same perils as the officers and soldiers around us. It was the spice of ever-present danger that gave, as it were, an extra zest to being there, and made one the more appreciate all one saw. The Austrian artillery was firing continuously over us, and there was an incessant fusillade from their trenches, which were not more than a couple of hundred yards away—so close in fact that you could have plainly seen the men in them had they shewn themselves. The difference between this entrenched position in the mountains and others we had been into was very great; in fact, it struck me as being unlike anything I had seen elsewhere. Here the enemy’s trenches were below us, and we were midway between the Austrian and Italian batteries, so that in the violent artillery duel which was going on all the time we were on Pal Grande the projectiles were passing overhead continuously, with a noise reminding one of a big railway junction with an endless succession of express trains going by. Of course all the shells did not pass over us, but exploded round about on the mountain side, too near in several instances to be pleasant, especially when their objective appeared to be the direction in which we had come up. At times, in fact, one began to wonder if it would not be too “hot” for us to get back that day, and that a big attack was developing. Fortunately, the Austrian gunners did not know how close to the Italian position they were dropping their shells, as they were only firing blindly in our direction. The view one got from here was magnificent. Towering above us on our right, as we faced the Frontier, was Timau, nearly 10,000 feet high; in the near distance, and just behind it, across the Frontier was Avostaunis, only slightly less in height. Almost facing us to the left were the precipitous slopes of the Freikoffel, which the Alpini had captured at the point of the bayonet, and under the fire of the Austrian guns a short time previously. How mortal man could be found to scale these giddy heights at all, leave alone under such awful conditions, baffles me. There are no tracks at all to ascend by it, so it is a mystery how it was accomplished.