The road from Vittorio to Sacile grew thicker with advancing troops, at first all Italian, then, as we approached Sacile, mixed Italian and British, much Italian Cavalry and Artillery, then British Infantry and some Batteries of Field Guns.  In Sacile itself, which British troops had liberated, the crush of troops was dense, and held us up for more than half an hour.  Union Jacks hung out from many houses, side by side with the Italian tricolour.  As we waited for a chance to go forward, a Battalion of the Bisagno Brigade went past along the side of the road, two deep, at a steady double.  Several officers I recognised, whom I had met at dinner at a little restaurant at Marostica many months before, and again near Casa Girardi on the Plateau.  We waved to one another and cheered as they passed.  When at last we moved on again, we found the road from Sacile to Pordenone pretty clear for several miles and were able to get up speed.  But what a sight this road presented!  Along it a confused mass of Austrian transport was moving yesterday in headlong retreat.  They were bombarded by Artillery, ceaselessly bombed and machine-gunned from the air.  The slaughter here had been great, the ditches were full of dead men and horses, and the loss in wrecked and abandoned material of every kind had been immense.  And the civilians, who had been practically without food for many days, had been cutting up and eating the dead horses.  “Poverini!” said an Italian officer to whom we gave a lift into Pordenone, “they are all starving and we have little chance yet to bring them food.”

Pordenone was ours.  It had fallen in the early hours of this morning, but the departing Austrians had burnt and wrecked it.  The streets were full of the debris and furniture which they had thrown out of the houses and shops in the last mad search for loot.  We pushed on, and came up with British Infantry advancing, and the transport wagons and the steaming field cookers of two Battalions, and some cyclist companies of Bersaglieri.  But the transport was at a standstill and the dismounted men only going forward slowly.  We soon discovered the cause.  The wooden bridge over the Meduna river was on fire, pouring forth clouds of smoke.  The Austrians had been here only four hours before and had blown up two spans as they retreated and soaked the rest with paraffin and set it alight.  The bridge was effectually destroyed.  Italian Cavalry, we heard, had gone through the water in pursuit, and likewise some British Infantry patrols, swimming and wading and making use of various ingenious, improvised devices.  But the Austrian had a good three hours start, and was running fast and travelling light, it was thought.