I asked myself with anxiety and incredible emotion what would happen when the fatal struggle began. I was not kept waiting long, for suddenly, as if a diabolical orchestra had been let loose, a thousand sounds spread through the mountain repeated by the echoes in the valleys. The din increased, traveled, stopped at times and then recommenced; it seemed as if a giant machine-gun were winding off shots from a long ribbon. The voices of the cannon of different caliber followed without interruption in their clamor. The piercing shrieks from the meadows were at intervals drowned by the round rumblings of the medium calibers followed by the hideous roars from the firing mouths of large caliber. The bombardment seemed to be on the side of the mountain, but lighter in the region of the Montello and again became intensive in the region towards the sea. I could not keep still, I was restless and ran madly to the top of the hill, towards the spot I had selected as my observation post. The entire plain beneath me was in flames, the line of the Piave was easily recognizable, even at night, from the shooting stars incessantly ascending; it seemed as if a wonderful forest of resplendent flowers was rising and far off on the horizon was blossoming in a metamorphosis of light. The white, red, and green intermingled in a golden rain. The region before the Piave was continually broken by the enemy’s flashes and in answer came shelling from our artillery grouped on the slope of the Montello. The flare of the gun discharges seemed, in the diffused light, like the leaping flash of magnesium light illumining at intervals a certain region. A shell of large caliber struck not far from us in the direction of Carpesica; our soldiers could not have been taken by surprise, they answered, they regulated their fire, they prevented the masses of the enemy from flooding the roads which lead to the front. My signals had been significant; they must have understood....