That night we helped empty the field hospitals that had been set up in the least ruined villages of the plateau, taking the wounded down to Plava on the river-bed: and the next day hauled all day in the rain to evacuate the hospitals and clearing station at Plava. It rained steadily and the army of the Bainsizza moved down off the plateau in the October rain and across the river where the great victories had commenced in the spring of that year. We came into Gorizia in the middle of the next day. The rain had stopped and the town was nearly empty. As we came up the street they were loading the girls from the soldiers' whorehouse into a truck. There were seven girls and they had on their hats and coats and carried small suitcases. Two of them were crying. Of the others one smiled at us and put out her tongue and fluttered it up and down. She had thick full lips and black eyes.
I stopped the car and went over and spoke to the matron. The girls from the officers' house had left early that morning, she said. Where were they going? To Conegliano, she said. The truck started. The girl with thick lips put out her tongue again at us. The matron waved. The two girls kept on crying. The others looked interestedly out at the town. I got back in the car.
"We ought to go with them," Bonello said. "That would be a good trip."
"We'll have a good trip," I said.
"We'll have a hell of a trip."
"That's what I mean," I said. We came up the drive to the villa.
"I'd like to be there when some of those tough babies climb in and try and hop them."
"You think they will?"
"Sure. Everybody in the Second Army knows that matron."
We were outside the villa.
"They call her the Mother Superior," Bonello said. "The girls are new but everybody knows her. They must have brought them up just before the retreat."
"They'll have a time."
"I'll say they'll have a time. I'd like to have a crack at them for nothing. They charge too much at that house anyway. The government gyps us."
"Take the car out and have the mechanics go over it," I said. "Change the oil and check the differential. Fill it up and then get some sleep."
"Yes, Signor Tenente."
The villa was empty. Rinaldi was gone with the hospital. The major was gone taking hospital personnel in the staff car. There was a note on the window for me to fill the cars with the material piled in the hall and to proceed to Pordenone. The mechanics were gone already. I went out back to the garage. The other two cars came in while I was there and their drivers got down. It was starting to rain again.
"I'm so--sleepy I went to sleep three times coming here from Plava," Piani said. "What are we going to do, Tenente?"
"We'll change the oil, grease them, fill them up, then take them around in front and load up the junk they've left."
"Then do we start?"
"No, we'll sleep for three hours."
"Christ I'm glad to sleep," Bonello said. "I couldn't keep awake driving."
"How's your car, Aymo?" I asked.
"It's all right."
"Get me a monkey suit and I'll help you with the oil."
"Don't you do that, Tenente," Aymo said. "Ifs nothing to do. You go and pack your things."
"My things are all packed," I said. "I'll go and carry out the stuff that they left for us. Bring the cars around as soon as they're ready."
They brought the cars around to the front of the villa and we loaded them with the hospital equipment which was piled in the hallway. When it was all in, the three cars stood in line down the driveway under the trees in the rain. We went inside.
"Make a fire in the kitchen and dry your things," I said.
"I don't care about dry clothes," Piani said. "I want to sleep."
"I'm going to sleep on the major's bed," Bonello said. "I'm going to sleep where the old man corks off."
"I don't care where I sleep," Piani said.
"There are two beds in here." I opened the door.
"I never knew what was in that room," Bonello said.
"That was old fish-face's room," Piani said.
"You two sleep in there," I said. "I'll wake you."
"The Austrians will wake us if you sleep too long, Tenente," Bonello said.
"I won't oversleep," I said. "Where's Aymo?"
"He went out in the kitchen."
"Get to sleep," I said.
"I'll sleep," Piani said. "I've been asleep sitting up all day. The whole top of my head kept coming down over my eyes."
"Take your boots off," Bonello said. "That's old fish-face's bed."
"Fish-face is nothing to me." Piani lay on the bed, his muddy boots straight out, his head on his arm. I went out to the kitchen. Aymo had a fire in the stove and a kettle of water on.
"I thought I'd start some pasta asciutta," he said. "We'll be hungry when we wake up."
"Aren't you sleepy, Bartolomeo?"
"Not so sleepy. When the water boils I'll leave it. The fire will go down."
"You'd better get some sleep," I said. "We can eat cheese and monkey meat."
"This is better," he said. "Something hot will be good for those two anarchists. You go to sleep, Tenente."
"There's a bed in the major's room."
"You sleep there."
"No, I'm going up to my old room. Do you want a drink, Bartolomeo?"
"When we go, Tenente. Now it wouldn't do me any good."
"If you wake in three hours and I haven't called you, wake me, will you?"
"I haven't any watch, Tenente."
"There's a clock on the wall in the major's room."
"All right."
I went out then through the dining-room and the hall and up the marble stairs to the room where I had lived with Rinaldi. It was raining outside. I went to the window and looked out. It was getting dark and I saw the three cars standing in line under the trees. The trees were dripping in the rain. It was cold and the drops hung to the branches. I went back to Rinaldi's bed and lay down and let sleep take me.
We ate in the kitchen before we started. Aymo had a basin of spaghetti with onions and tinned meat chopped up in it. We sat around the table and drank two bottles of the wine that had been left in the cellar of the villa. It was dark outside and still raining. Piani sat at the table very sleepy.
"I like a retreat better than an advance," Bonello said. "On a retreat we drink barbera."
"We drink it now. To-morrow maybe we drink rainwater,"
Aymo said.
"To-morrow we'll be in Udine. We'll drink champagne. That's where the slackers live. Wake up, Piani! We'll drink champagne tomorrow in Udine!"
"I'm awake," Piani said. He filled his plate with the spaghetti and meat. "Couldn't you find tomato sauce, Barto?"
"There wasn't any," Aymo said.
"We'll drink champagne in Udine," Bonello said. He filled his glass with the clear red barbera.
"We may drink--before Udine," Piani said.
"Have you eaten enough, Tenente?" Aymo asked.
"I've got plenty. Give me the bottle, Bartolomeo."
"I have a bottle apiece to take in the cars," Aymo said.
"Did you sleep at all?"
"I don't need much sleep. I slept a little."
"To-morrow we'll sleep in the king's bed," Bonello said. He was feeling very good.
"To-morrow maybe we'll sleep in--," Piani said.
"I'll sleep with the queen," Bonello said. He looked to see how I took the joke.
"You'll sleep with--," Piani said sleepily.
"That's treason, Tenente," Bonello said. "Isn't that treason?"
"Shut up," I said. "You get too funny with a little wine." Outside it was raining hard. I looked at my watch. It was half-past nine.
"It's time to roll," I said and stood up.
"Who are you going to ride with, Tenehte?" Bonello asked.
"With Aymo. Then you come. Then Piani. We'll start out on the road for Cormons."
"I'm afraid I'll go to sleep,"
Piani said.
"All right. I'll ride with you. Then Bonello. Then Aymo."
"That's the best way," Piani said. "Because I'm so sleepy."
"I'll drive and you sleep awhile."
"No. I can drive just so long as I know somebody will wake me up if I go to sleep."
"I'll wake you up. Put out the lights, Barto."
"You might as well leave them," Bonello said. "We've got no more use for this place."
"I have a small locker trunk in my room," I said. "Will you help take it down, Piani?"
"We'll take it," Piani said. "Come on, Aldo." He went off into the hall with Bonello. I heard them going upstairs.
"This was a fine place," Bartolomeo Aymo said. He put two bottles of wine and half a cheese into his haversack. "There won't be a place like this again. Where will they retreat to, Tenente?"
"Beyond the Tagliamento, they say. The hospital and the sector are to be at Pordenone."
"This is a better town than Pordenone."
"I don't know Pordenone," I said. "I've just been through there."
"It's not much of a place," Aymo said.
28
As we moved out through the town it was empty in the rain and the dark except for columns of troops and guns that were going through the main street. There were many trucks too and some carts going through on other streets and converging on the main road. When we were out past the tanneries onto the main road the troops, the motor trucks, the horse-drawn carts and the guns were in one wide slow-moving column. We moved slowly but steadily in the rain, the radiator cap of our car almost against the tailboard of a truck that was loaded high, the load covered with wet canvas. Then the truck stopped. The whole column was stopped. It started again and we went a little farther, then stopped. I got out and walked ahead, going between the trucks and carts and under the wet necks of the horses. The block was farther ahead. I left the road, crossed the ditch on a footboard and walked along the field beyond the ditch. I could see the stalled column between the trees in the rain as I went forward across from it in the field. I went about a mile. The column did not move, although, on the other side beyond the stalled vehicles I could see the troops moving. I went back to the cars. This block might extend as far as Udine. Piani was asleep over the wheel. I climbed up beside him and went to sleep too. Several hours later I heard the truck ahead of us grinding into gear. I woke Piani and we started, moving a few yards, then stopping, then going on again. It was still raining.
The column stalled again in the night and did not start. I got down and went back to see Aymo and Bonello. Bonello had two sergeants of engineers on the seat of his car with him. They stiffened when I came up.
"They were left to do something to a bridge," Bonello said. "They can't find their unit so I gave them a ride."
"With the Sir Lieutenant's permission."
"With permission," I said.
"The lieutenant is an American," Bonello said. "He'll give anybody a ride."
One of the sergeants smiled. The other asked Bonello if I was an Italian from North or South America.
"He's not an Italian. He's North American English."
The sergeants were polite but did not believe it. I left them and went back to Aymo. He had two girls on the seat with him and was sitting back in the corner and smoking.
"Barto, Barto," I said. He laughed.
"Talk to them, Tenente," he said. "I can't understand them. Hey!" He put his hand on the girl's thigh and squeezed it in a friendly way. The girl drew her shawl tight around her and pushed his hand away. "Hey!" he said. "Tell the Tenente your name and what you're doing here."
The girl looked at me fiercely. The other girl kept her eyes down. The girl who looked at me said something in a dialect I could not understand a word of. She was plump and dark and looked about sixteen.
"Sorella?" I asked and pointed at the other girl.
She nodded her head and smiled.
"All right," I said and patted her knee. I felt her stiffen away when I touched her. The sister never looked up. She looked perhaps a year younger. Aymo put his hand on the elder girl's thigh and she pushed it away. He laughed at her.
"Good man," he pointed at himself. "Good man," he pointed at me. "Don't you worry." The girl looked at him fiercely. The pair of them were like two wild birds.
"What does she ride with me for if she doesn't like me?" Aymo asked. "They got right up in the car the minute I motioned to them." He turned to the girl. "Don't worry," he said. "No danger of --," using the vulgar word. "No place for --." I could see she understood the word and that was all. Her eyes looked at him very scared. She pulled the shawl tight. "Car all full," Aymo said. "No danger of ---- . No place for --." Every time he said the word the girl stiffened a little. Then sitting stiffly and looking at him she began to cry. I saw her lips working and then tears came down her plump cheeks. Her sister, not looking up, took her hand and they sat there together. The older one, who had been so fierce, began to sob.
"I guess I scared her," Aymo said. "I didn't mean to scare her."
Bartolomeo brought out his knapsack and cut off two pieces of cheese. "Here," he said. "Stop crying."
The older girl shook her head and still cried, but the younger girl took the cheese and commenced to eat. After a while the younger girl gave her sister the second piece of cheese and they both ate. The older sister still sobbed a little.
"She'll be all right after a while," Aymo said.
An idea came to him. "Virgin?" he asked the girl next to him. She nodded her head vigorously. "Virgin too?" he pointed to the sister. Both the girls nodded their heads and the elder said something in dialect.
"That's all right," Bartolomeo said. "That's all right."
Both the girls seemed cheered.
I left them sitting together with Aymo sitting back in the corner and went back to Piani's car. The column of vehicles did not move but the troops kept passing alongside. It was still raining hard and I thought some of the stops in the movement of the column might be from cars with wet wiring. More likely they were from horses or men going to sleep. Still, traffic could tie up in cities when every one was awake. It was the combination of horse and motor vehicles. They did not help each other any. The peasants' carts did not help much either. Those were a couple of fine girls with Barto. A retreat was no place for two virgins. Real virgins. Probably very religious. If there were no war we would probably all be in bed. In bed I lay me down my head. Bed and board. Stiff as a board in bed. Catherine was in bed now between two sheets, over her and under her. Which side did she sleep on? Maybe she wasn't asleep. Maybe she was lying thinking about me. Blow, blow, ye western wind. Well, it blew and it wasn't the small rain but the big rain down that rained. It rained all night. You knew it rained down that rained. Look at it. Christ, that my love were in my arms and I in my bed again. That my love Catherine. That my sweet love Catherine down might rain. Blow her again to me. Well, we were in it. Every one was caught in it and the small rain would not quiet it. "Good-night, Catherine," I said out loud. "I hope you sleep well. If it's too uncomfortable, darling, lie on the other side," I said. "I'll get you some cold water. In a little while it will be morning and then it won't be so bad. I'm sorry he makes you so uncomfortable. Try and go to sleep, sweet."
I was asleep all the time, she said. You've been talking in your sleep. Are you all right?
Are you really there?
Of course I'm here. I wouldn't go away. This doesn't make any difference between us.
You're so lovely and sweet. You wouldn't go away in the night, would you?
Of course I wouldn't go away. I'm always here. I come whenever you want me.
"--," Piani said. "They've started again."
"I was dopey," I said. I looked at my watch. It was three o'clock in the morning. I reached back behind the seat for a bottle of the barbera.
"You talked out loud," Piani said.
"I was having a dream in English," I s
aid.
The rain was slacking and we were moving along. Before daylight we were stalled again and when it was light we were at a little rise in the ground and I saw the road of the retreat stretched out far ahead, everything stationary except for the infantry filtering through. We started to move again but seeing the rate of progress in the daylight, I knew we were going to have to get off that main road some way and go across country if we ever hoped to reach Udine.
In the night many peasants had joined the column from the roads of the country and in the column there were carts loaded with household goods; there were mirrors projecting up between mattresses, and chickens and ducks tied to carts. There was a sewing machine on the cart ahead of us in the rain. They had saved the most valuable things. On some carts the women sat huddled from the rain and others walked beside the carts keeping as close to them as they could. There were dogs now in the column, keeping under the wagons as they moved along. The road was muddy, the ditches at the side were high with water and beyond the trees that lined the road the fields looked too wet and too soggy to try to cross. I got down from the car and worked up the road a way, looking for a place where I could see ahead to find a side-road we could take across country. I knew there were many side-roads but did not want one that would lead to nothing. I could not remember them because we had always passed them bowling along in the car on the main road and they all looked much alike. Now I knew we must find one if we hoped to get through. No one knew where the Austrians were nor how things were going but I was certain that if the rain should stop and planes come over and get to work on that column that it would be all over. All that was needed was for a few men to leave their trucks or a few horses be killed to tie up completely the movement on the road.
The rain was not falling so heavily now and I thought it might clear. I went ahead along the edge of the road and when there was a small road that led off to the north between two fields with a hedge of trees on both sides, I thought that we had better take it and hurried back to the cars. I told Piani to turn off and went back to tell Bonello and Aymo.
"If it leads nowhere we can turn around and cut back in," I said.
"What about these?" Bonello asked. His two sergeants were beside him on the seat. They were unshaven but still military looking in the early morning.
"They'll be good to push," I said. I went back to Aymo and told him we were going to try it across country.
"What about my virgin family?" Aymo asked. The two girls were asleep.
"They won't be very useful," I said. "You ought to have some one that could push."
"They could go back in the car," Aymo said. "There's room in the car."
"All right if you want them," I said. "Pick up somebody with a wide back to push."
"Bersaglieri," Aymo smiled. "They have the widest backs. They measure them. How do you feel, Tenente?"
"Fine. How are you?"
"Fine. But very hungry."
"There ought to be something up that road and we will stop and eat."
A Farewell to Arms Page 15