All that they cared about was
that they were close to the enemy. One cannot despair of an army which is
animated with such spirits. You would think, from the joy which brightens
the face of the soldiers you meet now about, that a victory had been
announced for the Italian arms.
DOLO, NEAR VENICE, July 20, 1866.
I returned from Noale to Padua last evening, and late in the night I
received the intimation at my quarters that cannon was heard in the
direction of Venice. It was then black as in Dante's hell, and raining
and blowing with violence--one of those Italian storms which seem to
awake all the earthly and heavenly elements of creation. There was no
choice for it but to take to the saddle, and try to make for the front.
No one who has not tried it can fancy what work it is to find one's way
along a road on which a whole corps d'amee is marching with an enormous
materiel of war in a pitch dark night. This, however, is what your
special correspondent was obliged to do. Fortunately enough, I had
scarcely proceeded as far as Ponte di Brenta when I fell in with an
officer of Cialdini's staff, who was bound to the same destination,
namely, Dolo.
Pages:
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768