“Andiamo a casa!” a soldier shouted.
“They throw away their rifles,” Piani said. “They take them off and drop them down while they’re marching. Then they shout.”
“They ought to keep their rifles.”
“They think if they throw away their rifles they can’t make them fight.”
In the dark and the rain, making our way along the side of the road I could see that many of the troops still had their rifles. They stuck up above the capes.
“What brigade are you?” an officer called out.
“Brigata di Pace,” some one shouted. “Peace Brigade!” The officer said nothing.
“What does he say? What does the officer say?”
“Down with the officer. Evviva la Pace!”
“Come on,” Piani said. We passed two British ambulances, abandoned in the block of vehicles.
“They’re from Gorizia,” Piani said. “I know the cars.”
“They got further than we did.”
“They started earlier.”
“I wonder where the drivers are?”
“Up ahead probably.”
“The Germans have stopped outside Udine,” I said. “These people will all get across the river.”
“Yes,” Piani said. “That’s why I think the war will go on.”
“The Germans could come on,” I said. “I wonder why they don’t come on.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about this kind of war.”
“They have to wait for their transport I suppose.”
“I don’t know,” Piani said. Alone he was much gentler. When he was with the others he Was a very rough talker.
