CHAPTER SEVEN

The road we traveled down was hidden from the Austrian's side by a wall of dry grass the Italian Army had built. It was growing dark. I could see balloons high up in the sky. They were used by the Austrians to watch us.

When we arrived at the medical tent, I found the man in charge and asked him to show me around. Everything seemed to be ready for that evening's battle. I was told that we were to drive the injured soldiers to safety using the road behind the wall of dry grass. It seemed dangerous, for surely the Austrians would bomb it like crazy. The major offered me a drink and then informed me that the fighting would start as soon as it was completely dark. After drinking, the other drivers and I went to one of the hiding holes to take a rest and wait for the fighting to start.

"I hope we can eat before the fighting begins!" Manera said.

"Which soldiers are fighting for the Italians tonight?" I asked.

"Just some common peasants. It's not meant to be a serious battle. They want to get the Austrians fighting here so that they can surprise attack them in another place."

"Do those peasants realize this?"

"No way. They would refuse to fight."

"Just think, if everyone refused to fight, there would not be any war."

"If you don't fight, the Italian government will have you shot. It happened before."

"Well, I think we need to hurry up and win this war. Quitting now would not solve the problems between these countries. War is terrible, but losing a war is worse."

"So what if we lose. We still get to go home."

"It's not that simple. The Austrian would come and take control of everything. You think you could be happy under their leadership? They would make your life and your family's life hell on earth."

"War is hell on earth. You and I really know nothing about fighting. We only drive our ambulances around. It's those poor men out there who have to get shot at. They could tell you how bad it is."

"I know how terrible it is, but we don't have any choice. Things will only get worse if we don't beat the enemy," I said.

"I don't think it would be so bad, Tenente. If we stopped fighting, the Austrians would leave us alone. They have their own country and their own problems to deal with."

"The only reason we're at war is because the people in our government want us to fight. They benefit from the war somehow," said Passini, another driver, "They become richer. The common people get nothing but a bullet."

"I think you speak too highly of the government. They are not intelligent enough to have a real purpose. They are just fighting because they are idiots," said Manera.

"I know it's useless to say this now, Tenente," Passini said, "We'll stop!"

I got up and went to see about our dinner. The shyest driver among us, Gordini, followed me out the door. It was totally dark now, except for the search lights we were shining up into the mountains. Gordini and I walked over to the medical tent, and entered. There, I found the major talking on a telephone. His assistant informed me that the fighting would begin immediately. I listened carefully to the last few seconds of silence before the firing would begin. As soon as the major hung up the phone, the guns behind our tent began to shoot.

"So is there any food?" I asked. A bomb then fell nearby, followed by several others. The Major gave us some noodles and cheese, and said, "It's a bad idea to go outside now. You'd better just stay here."

Suddenly, two soldiers entered the tent carrying a wounded man. As the major began to treat him, Gordini and I headed for the door. Once again, the major warned us not to leave, but we insisted that the other drivers needed food.

As soon as we left, a bomb fell near us. A few seconds later, another one came and dirt went flying everywhere. We had to lay on the ground until the air cleared, and then we ran to the hole where the other drivers were waiting.

The food tasted like iron and dirt, but we were so hungry we ate it anyway. Suddenly, just outside of our hole, a bomb exploded. The ground shook under our feet. Then more explosions soon followed.

"Those boys sure have big guns, don't they?"

"Yeah, and here we are, hiding in this little hole."

Just then, a bright light came between us and threw me off my feet. I thought for sure I was dead, but then I felt myself breathing again. I opened my eyes and saw that the area where we had been standing was now completely destroyed. Nearby, someone was screaming. I turned to see who it was and found that it was Passini. One of his legs was missing, and the other looked like chopped meat.

"Oh, my god! It hurts! Please, kill me! Someone kill me!" he cried.

I started to attempt to pull myself free from the dirt and wood that had fallen on top of me. I managed to get out, but I found that my legs were almost useless. I pulled myself over to Passini and tried to tear my clothes in order to tie it around his leg to stop the bleeding. However, he soon stopped screaming. When I turned him over toward me, I found that he was dead.

I then looked down at my legs and saw that my knee was missing. I began to scream, "Someone help me!" And then I felt a pair of hands take hold of me under my arms and pull me up. Then a second pair of hands took hold of my legs.

"I'm not the only one," I said, "There are four of us here."

"We're alright," said Manera, who had me under the arms, "Only Passini got killed. How do you feel, Tenente? It was a big bomb!"

I was put down near the door of the medical tent. There were many people lying around me. I could see through the doorway that the doctors were working inside of the dressing station. Their arms and shirts were all bloody. The people who carried the wounded were rushing in and out.

Manera asked a doctor to come and look at my legs.

"You're lucky that so much dirt got into your wound. It prevented you from losing a lot of blood," said the doctor. He then wrapped my legs with bandages and told me that I would be sent to the hospital soon. Manera then told me that Gordini could not drive because his shoulder hurt too badly. Only he and Guvuzzi could drive now. Gordini then approached us with a British ambulance driver. The Englishman greeted me politely and asked me how I felt.

"I understand that you have four ambulances, but only two drivers now," he said, "Would it be alright if we took two of your vehicles? I promise we'll bring them back to you in Gorizia. I know exactly where you live."

"Sure, why not," I answered.

"Excellent! Now, let's see about getting you away from here."

The Englishman then walked over to the dressing station, and Gordini gently put his hand on my shoulder. "You'll be safe with that fellow," he said.

Moments later, the British driver returned with two other men and had me carried over to the dressing area.

"I can wait," I said, "Let someone else get treatment first. There are so many wounded. Some of them are more serious!"

"Come on, just stop talking!" They carried me into the dressing station room. It was very smelly and bloody! I saw the major was there too.

"He's the son of a very important American leader. Make sure he's treated right away," said the Englishman, "When you finish, let me know. We'll put him into our ambulance and take him with us." Then he went away.

The doctor finished the wounded man on the table and had me brought over to him. I heard him telling another doctor, as they worked on me, that both of my legs and knees and my right foot were damaged. My head was possibly badly hurt, as well. The pain was terrible as they cut into my legs.

"If you think this hurts," said the doctor, "Just wait a little while longer. That's when the real pain will start. Does your head hurt?" he asked.

"Terribly!"

"Your skull is broken. Don't move it anymore!" He then wrapped my head in a bandage and said, "That's it. Long live the French."

"He's not French," said someone I could not see.

They carried me out. A minute later, the pain the doctor had warned me about started. They put me into the ambulance next to another wounded man. Above me lay a second injured fellow. Soon, the British driver climbed into the front seat, and we began our journey back to the field hospital.

After a while, the man above me began to bleed. Thick, red drops of blood fell from his bed down onto my shirt. I shouted to the Englishman that the man above me needed help, but he said that he could not stop in the middle of the hill. He went on driving and the blood soon stopped coming. Once we reached the top of the hill, the driver turned around and asked how the man was doing. I told him he was dead.

(end of section)