Stories of the Forgotten Heroes

Caporetto: The 1917 Italian Struggle for Survival

This was the Kingdom of Italy's second year in the war, and it was nearly ending without much to show for all the hardships and sacrifices the people made. Cadorna bellowed that the cowardice of his troops was the only cause for his strategic disasters, forgetting his conflicting orders or sheer common sense. Originally part of the Central Powers, Vittorio Emanuele III kept his nation neutral for a year, electing to ignore the pleas of his allies to join the fray, thus earning the sympathies of the Entente. This proved to be a wise choice for the latter promised somehing which Italians had only dreamt of - national unity. With the Veneto, Alto Adige,Istria and the Damatian Coast firmly under the rule of the Habsburg emperor, one which would rather perish than relinquish any more territory to its neighbours the scene was set. Unfortunately though, the King elected to declare Luigi Cadorna as Marshal of Italy in 1914, hopng that he could bring victory for il Regno. On the 24th of October 1917, the Central Powers would begin an operation which would nearly crumble the military capacity of its former ally and remain in the annals of Italian military history a stain.

Fire and brimstone rained upon the unprepared Italians in the trenches at the base of the mountain that fateful morning. The generals had repeatedly assured the men in the field that nothing would come from the Austrians since they were still weakened by the various actions they had undertaken in the last months. Unfortuantely, the previous battles on the Isonzo River had ended in disaster with only minimal results to show for the great cost of life. Lulled into a false sense of security by their own dillusion, the Italian commanders failed to observe that the enemy had looked for weaknesses in their defences for the last months and now they charged towards them with murderous intent. Luca Bianchi had just dodged a bullet when his friend, Lorenzo came out from the dugout with his rifle and a bag of grenades. The two men looked at each other and with a smirk began assaulting the attackers with the deadly projectiles. The trenches were deep enough to protect the men defending the line, but to withstand the intensity of the bombardment was another story altogether. The two former school mates had found a winning  combination, and they stuck to it ever since. One of them usually shot his gun in order to pin the enemy to a specific position and then the other would throw the grenades. Since morning, two waves of enemy soldiers had come and the Italians had kept them at bay with great casualties on both sides. That was until the Austrians had retreated and the Germans began the second phase.

The Tedeschi as the Italians called them employed most of the tactics their Austrian ally also had but with more precision and fury than the prior could ever muster. The German Empire had better equipment and their soldiers benefitted from a High Command which was ambitious and innovative. For the Italians this represented a huge disadvantage for their leaders were unimaginative and complacent. From the way they fought, it seemed that the Germans were intent on pushing the enemy to the brink of extinction. The Earth now shook at the fury of the Teutons. Hundreds of thousands of projectiles began crossing the sky. Some hit the trenches and when they did most of the soldiers died on the spot. Few survivors would come about. Others hit the ground and buried the men alive under the weight of the Earth.

Luca silently prayed to the Virgin Mary that he would get to live another day but it seemed unlikely during this battle. His face was gaunt, from severe lack of sleepFor days they were pushed backwards continuously, and sometimes even encircling them, giving his comrades no other solution than surrender. If it wasn't the regular bombardment it was the very air the men breathed which became dangerous as they fired gas over and over again. As he was taking a machine gun from the grip of a dead comrade Luca was chilled to the bone when he saw the enemy charge through the poisonous gas. They were the Kaiser's Elite and soon enough they'll reach the forward trench where he was posted. Removing fear from his mind Luca positioned the machine gun towards the main direction the enemy was descending from and began shooting. The gas mask stifled him and made it hard to shoot but he ignored it. Everything depended on their courage now. For some time their advance was halted but then they would be bombarded with the heaviest ordinance the Germans had, thus rendering all their efforts moot. To survive such intensity they had to fall back, an action which they did day after day, in hopes that the steamroller would run out of fuel.

Unfortunately, it was not enough as Luca would find out throughout the operation. Their military planners were unable to understand the new type of warfare they now faced. Mobile units backed by heavy artillery could now humble the old trench warfare with surgical precision. Being in the middle of the titanic struggle between iron and flesh meant that they were fighting for survival every second, and it seemed very likely it would end badly. On the 13th of November the bombardment proved so harsh that he lost consciousness. Luca woke up at nightfall from the aftershock suffered from one of the projectiles which had exploded near him and mangled the bodies of his friends, nay, brothers. He threw the heavily battered helmet off and got on his feet. It was a miracle he had survived, one that his friend Lorenzo could have used some days prior when a German machinegunner riddled him with bullets. His head hurt and felt like the bells of S. Pietro had been wrung behind him, whilst his legs felt like he had fallen in a vat of warm butter. Once he was up though he did not stop. The surrounding environment looked like one of Dante's Circles of Hell; bloody ash stuck to his boots, the tree stumps burning peacefully. If this is Italia I do not want to see Hell, Luca said loudly. As he walked through what had been once the Italian frontline trenches surviving soldiers started to get on their feet and follow him. He had no idea what should be done, but there was one instinct that kept pushing them all: survival.

They walked slowly, with most soldiers being overly cautious, but some were brazen enough to keep their heads up, like some statues from the old masters. For them, the war was over. As this army of zombies slowly walked, the Austrians and the Germans appeared from nowhere to arrest the survivors. Luca felt disgusted but living in a POW Camp was better than being dead. His friends lay dead everywhere he looked. What a horrible fate, AND FOR WHAT? They abandoned us and the enemy took us, prisoners. One of the captors shoved one of Luca's boys, and to make it worse he was already limping, and he fell to the ground.

In an instant, Luca took a swing at the jeering face of the Austrian. He fell to the ground and in an instant, the Italian found itself surrounded but he wasn't afraid. Not now. Not ever. The German Lieutenant shook his hand and patted his back. He was impressed that even when faced with death, this man would rather die fighting than cowardly fleeing away. The man ordered something in his harsh German tone and a new reality set in for Luc. He ended with the rest of the men from his unit in one of the largest POW camps created by the Austrians. The conditions were relatively good, the Red Cross more than happy to help them deliver letters to and from loved ones. Their captors still jeered at them, but when news of Cadorna's dismissal came, the German speaking troops were surprosed to hear their shout of hapiness at what they thought was a great offense.

When the Armistice was signed, the news were met once again with hurrahs but for him, there was no victory. The generals had abandoned them in their hour of need and he would never forgive them for that. Luca would go on and join the Italian Black Shirts and invade Fiume with that ragtag band. The violence he endured throughout his life did not catch with him, for he died in his bed, at the age of 32 from a fever he caught during a fishing expedition.