World War, 1914-1918; World War, 1914-1918 -- France; World War, 1914-1918 -- Italy; World War, 1914-1918 -- United States
The young officer at Genzano had no doubt that war was coming, nor
had the handsome boy whom we at last ran to ground in an old Franciscan
convent. He talked eagerly of the "promise" his regiment had received "to
go first." His mother's face contracted with a spasm of pain as he spoke,
but like a Latin mother she made no protest. If his country needed him,
if war had to be.... On our way back to Rome across the Campagna we saw a
huge silver fish swimming lazily in the misty blue sky--one of Italy's new
dirigibles exercising. There were soldiers everywhere in their new gray
linen clothes--tanned, boyish faces, many of them fine large fellows,
scooped up from villages and towns all over Italy. The night was broken
by the sound of marching feet, for troop movements were usually made at
night. The soldiers were going north by the trainload. Each day one saw
more of them in the streets, coming and going. Yet Baron Macchio and
Prince von Bülow were as busy as ever at the Consulta on the Quirinal
Hill, and rumor said that at last they were offering real "compensations."
* * * * *
The shops of Rome, as those of every city and town in Europe, were
hung with war maps, of course. In Rome the prevailing map was that highly
colored, imaginative rearrangement of southern Europe to fit the national
aspirations. The new frontier ran along the summits of the Alps and took
a wide swath down the Adriatic coast. It was a most flattering prospect
and lured many loiterers to the shop windows. At the office of the
"Giornale d'Italia" in the Corso there was displayed beside an irredentist
map an approximate sketch of what Austria was willing to give, under
German persuasion. The discrepancy between the two maps was obvious and
vast. On the bulletin boards there were many news items emanating from the
"unredeemed" in Trent and Trieste, chronicling riots and the severely
repressive measures taken by the Austrian masters. The little piazza in
front of the newspaper office was thronged from morning to night, and the
old woman in the kiosk beside the door did a large business in maps.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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