in silence as part of his everyday life. On this occasion, however, the
episode was all our own, and had a sporting flavour in it which made it
dramatic. I know now the feeling of tense expectation with which the
driven grouse whirrs onwards towards the butt. I have been behind the
butt before now, and it is only poetic justice that I should see the
matter from the other point of view. As we approached Ronchi we could
see shrapnel breaking over the road in front of us, but we had not yet
realised that it was precisely for vehicles that the Austrians were
waiting, and that they had the range marked out to a yard. We went down
the road all out at a steady fifty miles an hour. The village was near,
and it seemed that we had got past the place of danger. We had in fact
just reached it. At this moment there was a noise as if the whole four
tyres had gone simultaneously, a most terrific bang in our very ears,
merging into a second sound like a reverberating blow upon an enormous
gong. As I glanced up I saw three clouds immediately above my head, two
of them white and the other of a rusty red. The air was full of flying
metal, and the road, as we were told afterwards by an observer, was all
churned up by it. The metal base of one of the shells was found plumb
in the middle of the road just where our motor had been. There is no
use telling me Austrian gunners can't shoot. I know better.

It was our pace that saved us. The motor was an open one, and the three
shells burst, according to one of my Italian companions who was himself
an artillery officer, about ten metres above our heads. They threw
forward, however, and we travelling at so great a pace shot from under.
Before they could get in another we had swung round the curve and under
the lee of a house. The good Colonel B. wrung my hand in silence. They
were both distressed, these good soldiers, under the impression that
they had led me into danger. As a matter of fact it was I who owed them
an apology, since they had enough risks in the way of business without