My only pleasant recollection of Ascot is that once, about midnight, as we were keeping watch together, a young Italian gunner from the Romagna sang to me.

   “‘Addio, mia bell’, addio!’
    Cantava nel partir la gioventu,
    Mentre gl’ imboscati si stavano
    Divertire, giornale in mano
    E la sigaretta. 
    Per noi l’assalto
    Alla baionetta! 
    Come le mosche noi dobbiam morir,
    Mentre gl’ imboscati si stanno a divertir."[1]

[Footnote 1: 

   “Good-bye, my darling, good-bye!”
   Sang the young men as they went away,
   While the imboscati were standing about
   To amuse themselves, with a newspaper in their hand
   And a cigarette. 
   For us the bayonet charge! 
   Like flies we must die. 
   While the imboscati stand about to amuse themselves.

This is one of many front line versions of a patriotic drawing-room song.  It has an admirable tune.]

He sang me also another longer song, composed by a friend of his, which is not fit for reproduction.

* * * * *

We experienced great variations of weather on the Plateau.  When we first arrived in March the snow was in full thaw, and every road a sunlit, rushing torrent.  We climbed about at that time in gum boots.  Later it snowed again heavily and often.  Sometimes for several days running we were enveloped in a thick mist, and then suddenly it would clear away.  Once, I remember, it cleared at night, and one saw the full moon rising through the pine trees into an utterly clear, ice-cold sky, and under one’s feet the hard snow scrunched and glittered in the moonlight.  British, French and Italian Batteries were all mixed together in this sector.  On our left came first another British Battery, then two French, one in front of the road and one behind it, then another British, then an Italian.  On our right, slightly more forward, the Headquarters of an Italian Heavy Artillery Group, in front of them a British and an Italian Battery, one on each side of the road leading past Kaberlaba to the front line.  To the right of the Italian Headquarters, across the San Sisto road, was a French Battery, with two Italian Batteries in front of it.  To our own right rear was one Italian Battery and two French, and in rear of them, back along the road to Granezza, our own Brigade Headquarters.

This mixture was a good arrangement, stimulating friendly rivalry and facilitating liaison and exchange of ideas.  Our relations were specially cordial with the Italian-Group Headquarters and with one of the French Batteries on our left.  The Italian Major commanding this Group was a Mantuan and he and I became firm friends.  It was in his Mess one night, in reply to the toast of the Allies, that I made my first after-dinner speech in Italian.  I do not claim that it was grammatically perfect, but all that I said was, I think, well understood, and I was in no hesitation for words.