With British Guns in Italy: A Tribute to Italian AchievementDalton, Hugh Dalton, Baron
History
With British Guns in Italy: A Tribute to Italian Achievement
Dalton, Hugh Dalton, Baron
World War, 1914-1918 -- Italy
We reached San Giorgio about 9 p.m. and here I got out of the car, which
two of Raven's Staff took on to try and arrange for transport to be sent
back for the Italian wounded. Having slept for an hour or two in the
car, I felt quite a different being and fit for anything. Stragglers
were coming in from the various Batteries' dismounted parties, and I
collected nearly a hundred of these men into a hall on the ground floor
of an Italian Field Hospital. They lay about on the stone floor,
sleeping like logs. Upstairs a panic had spread among the wounded that
they would be abandoned. Men were crying with terror and struggling to
get out of bed. Campbell, who had now joined us, went up and helped the
Italian medical personnel. Soon afterwards ambulances of both the
Italian and British Red Cross began to arrive, and the hospital was
quickly cleared. From one British Red Cross Driver I got a large box of
Cabin biscuits, which I distributed among our men, some of whom were
ravenously hungry. I also found a tap of good drinking water in the main
street and here we refilled all available water bottles, including those
of several men who were too fast asleep to waken.
The question then arose what to do with these stragglers. I went to the
station, but found that no more trains were running. Latisana was said
to be only "a few kilometres" away. It was in fact more than twenty. I
discovered that it was on the Tagliamento and I supposed that, once
across the river, we should be momentarily safe from risk of capture,
and, if ammunition was forthcoming, our Batteries might once more come
into action. Meanwhile we should push on as soon as possible. On the
other hand the men were very tired, having been marching for twenty-four
hours, with only a few short breaks. A few hours' sleep now might be
worth a lot to them later on.
Several civilians came up to me and asked when the Germans would be
here. "This is my house," one old man explained, pointing to a small
house near the Hospital, "and I shall have to leave everything if I go
away. But I cannot stay....," and he began to cry.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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