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Goodbye, weapons!
In
the
late
summer
of
that
year
we
lived
in
a
house
in
a
village
that
looked
across
the
river
and
the
plain
to
the
mountains
.
In
the
bed
of
the
river
there
were
pebbles
and
boulders
,
dry
and
white
in
the
sun
,
and
the
water
was
clear
and
swiftly
moving
and
blue
in
the
channels
.
Troops
went
by
the
house
and
down
the
road
and
the
dust
they
raised
powdered
the
leaves
of
the
trees
.
The
trunks
of
the
trees
too
were
dusty
and
the
leaves
fell
early
that
year
and
we
saw
the
troops
marching
along
the
road
and
the
dust
rising
and
leaves
,
stirred
by
the
breeze
,
falling
and
the
soldiers
marching
and
afterward
the
road
bare
and
white
except
for
the
leaves
.
The
plain
was
rich
with
crops
;
there
were
many
orchards
of
fruit
trees
and
beyond
the
plain
the
mountains
were
brown
and
bare
.
There
was
fighting
in
the
mountains
and
at
night
we
could
see
the
flashes
from
the
artillery
.
In
the
dark
it
was
like
summer
lightning
,
but
the
nights
were
cool
and
there
was
not
the
feeling
of
a
storm
coming
.
Sometimes
in
the
dark
we
heard
the
troops
marching
under
the
window
and
guns
going
past
pulled
by
motor
-
tractors
.
There
was
much
traffic
at
night
and
many
mules
on
the
roads
with
boxes
of
ammunition
on
each
side
of
their
pack
-
saddles
and
gray
motor
trucks
that
carried
men
,
and
other
trucks
with
loads
covered
with
canvas
that
moved
slower
in
the
traffic
.
There
were
big
guns
too
that
passed
in
the
day
drawn
by
tractors
,
the
long
barrels
of
the
guns
covered
with
green
branches
and
green
leafy
branches
and
vines
laid
over
the
tractors
.
To
the
north
we
could
look
across
a
valley
and
see
a
forest
of
chestnut
trees
and
behind
it
another
mountain
on
this
side
of
the
river
.
There
was
fighting
for
that
mountain
too
,
but
it
was
not
successful
,
and
in
the
fall
when
the
rains
came
the
leaves
all
fell
from
the
chestnut
trees
and
the
branches
were
bare
and
the
trunks
black
with
rain
.
The
vineyards
were
thin
and
bare
-
branched
too
and
all
the
country
wet
and
brown
and
dead
with
the
autumn
.
There
were
mists
over
the
river
and
clouds
on
the
mountain
and
the
trucks
splashed
mud
on
the
road
and
the
troops
were
muddy
and
wet
in
their
capes
;
their
rifles
were
wet
and
under
their
capes
the
two
leather
cartridge
-
boxes
on
the
front
of
the
belts
,
gray
leather
boxes
heavy
with
the
packs
of
clips
of
thin
,
long
6
.
5
mm
.
cartridges
,
bulged
forward
under
the
capes
so
that
the
men
,
passing
on
the
road
,
marched
as
though
they
were
six
months
gone
with
child
.
There
were
small
gray
motor
cars
that
passed
going
very
fast
;
usually
there
was
an
officer
on
the
seat
with
the
driver
and
more
officers
in
the
back
seat
.
They
splashed
more
mud
than
the
camions
even
and
if
one
of
the
officers
in
the
back
was
very
small
and
sitting
between
two
generals
,
he
himself
so
small
that
you
could
not
see
his
face
but
only
the
top
of
his
cap
and
his
narrow
back
,
and
if
the
car
went
especially
fast
it
was
probably
the
King
.
He
lived
in
Udine
and
came
out
in
this
way
nearly
every
day
to
see
how
things
were
going
,
and
things
went
very
badly
.
At
the
start
of
the
winter
came
the
permanent
rain
and
with
the
rain
came
the
cholera
.
But
it
was
checked
and
in
the
end
only
seven
thousand
died
of
it
in
the
army
.
The
next
year
there
were
many
victories
.
The
mountain
that
was
beyond
the
valley
and
the
hillside
where
the
chestnut
forest
grew
was
captured
and
there
were
victories
beyond
the
plain
on
the
plateau
to
the
south
and
we
crossed
the
river
in
August
and
lived
in
a
house
in
Gorizia
that
had
a
fountain
and
many
thick
shady
trees
in
a
walled
garden
and
a
wistaria
vine
purple
on
the
side
of
the
house
.
Now
the
fighting
was
in
the
next
mountains
beyond
and
was
not
a
mile
away
.
The
town
was
very
nice
and
our
house
was
very
fine
.
The
river
ran
behind
us
and
the
town
had
been
captured
very
handsomely
but
the
mountains
beyond
it
could
not
be
taken
and
I
was
very
glad
the
Austrians
seemed
to
want
to
come
back
to
the
town
some
time
,
if
the
war
should
end
,
because
they
did
not
bombard
it
to
destroy
it
but
only
a
little
in
a
military
way
.
People
lived
on
in
it
and
there
were
hospitals
and
cafés
and
artillery
up
side
streets
and
two
bawdy
houses
,
one
for
troops
and
one
for
officers
,
and
with
the
end
of
the
summer
,
the
cool
nights
,
the
fighting
in
the
mountains
beyond
the
town
,
the
shell
-
marked
iron
of
the
railway
bridge
,
the
smashed
tunnel
by
the
river
where
the
fighting
had
been
,
the
trees
around
the
square
and
the
long
avenue
of
trees
that
led
to
the
square
;
these
with
there
being
girls
in
the
town
,
the
King
passing
in
his
motor
car
,
sometimes
now
seeing
his
face
and
little
long
necked
body
and
gray
beard
like
a
goat
’
s
chin
tuft
;
all
these
with
the
sudden
interiors
of
houses
that
had
lost
a
wall
through
shelling
,
with
plaster
and
rubble
in
their
gardens
and
sometimes
in
the
street
,
and
the
whole
thing
going
well
on
the
Carso
made
the
fall
very
different
from
the
last
fall
when
we
had
been
in
the
country
.
The
war
was
changed
too
.
The
forest
of
oak
trees
on
the
mountain
beyond
the
town
was
gone
.
The
forest
had
been
green
in
the
summer
when
we
had
come
into
the
town
but
now
there
were
the
stumps
and
the
broken
trunks
and
the
ground
torn
up
,
and
one
day
at
the
end
of
the
fall
when
I
was
out
where
the
oak
forest
had
been
I
saw
a
cloud
coming
over
the
mountain
.
It
came
very
fast
and
the
sun
went
a
dull
yellow
and
then
everything
was
gray
and
the
sky
was
covered
and
the
cloud
came
on
down
the
mountain
and
suddenly
we
were
in
it
and
it
was
snow
.
The
snow
slanted
across
the
wind
,
the
bare
ground
was
covered
,
the
stumps
of
trees
projected
,
there
was
snow
on
the
guns
and
there
were
paths
in
the
snow
going
back
to
the
latrines
behind
trenches
.
Later
,
below
in
the
town
,
I
watched
the
snow
falling
,
looking
out
of
the
window
of
the
bawdy
house
,
the
house
for
officers
,
where
I
sat
with
a
friend
and
two
glasses
drinking
a
bottle
of
Asti
,
and
,
looking
out
at
the
snow
falling
slowly
and
heavily
,
we
knew
it
was
all
over
for
that
year
.
Up
the
river
the
mountains
had
not
been
taken
;
none
of
the
mountains
beyond
the
river
had
been
taken
.
That
was
all
left
for
next
year
.
My
friend
saw
the
priest
from
our
mess
going
by
in
the
street
,
walking
carefully
in
the
slush
,
and
pounded
on
the
window
to
attract
his
attention
.
The
priest
looked
up
.
He
saw
us
and
smiled
.
My
friend
motioned
for
him
to
come
in
.
The
priest
shook
his
head
and
went
on
.
That
night
in
the
mess
after
the
spaghetti
course
,
which
every
one
ate
very
quickly
and
seriously
,
lifting
the
spaghetti
on
the
fork
until
the
loose
strands
hung
clear
then
lowering
it
into
the
mouth
,
or
else
using
a
continuous
lift
and
sucking
into
the
mouth
,
helping
ourselves
to
wine
from
the
grass
-
covered
gallon
flask
;
it
swung
in
a
metal
cradle
and
you
pulled
the
neck
of
the
flask
down
with
the
forefinger
and
the
wine
,
clear
red
,
tannic
and
lovely
,
poured
out
into
the
glass
held
with
the
same
hand
;
after
this
course
,
the
captain
commenced
picking
on
the
priest
.
