swept past him. The Austrian, who was flying high, gradually seemed to
lose his head and hesitate in what direction to fly, then he began to
turn over and over, recovered for a moment, but finally lost all control
and came down nose first into his own trenches, just across the river.
Another evening, about ten o'clock, a whole squadron of Austrian planes
came over, flying in regular formation and signalling to one another
with Morse lamps. They were going, it appeared, to bomb Gradisca. They
were heavily shelled by the "archies" as they came over us, and several
fragments of shell fell on our terrace. The night sky was full of starry
shell-bursts, and a dozen of our searchlights fussily got busy. Then
suddenly all our artillery, as it seemed, began to go off, and for about
five minutes there was a deafening burst of fire from guns of all
calibres. And then all grew suddenly quiet again. Perhaps it was a raid,
perhaps only the fear of one.

One day an Italian plane dropped some booklets into the Austrian
trenches, and some were blown back into our own lines. They contained
photographs of Austrian prisoners of war in Italian camps, very
contented apparently, and explanations in German, Magyar and various
Slav tongues, showing "men who yesterday were living from hour to hour
in peril of death, now waiting happily and calmly in perfect safety for
the war to end, when they shall return to their homes to embrace once
more their wives and little children. Here you will be able to recognise
many of your friends." A good propaganda to induce desertions and
surrenders! The Italians generally had the mastery over the Austrians
in the air. Their machines, and especially their Capronis, could always
be distinguished from the Austrians' by the deeper hum of their engines.

Venosta had a gramophone, which played most evenings after dinner on the
terrace, chiefly marches and martial music and Italian opera. Italy's