under a hill beyond the river. He loves Franz Joseph.

 Well take you back with us
 Well take you back with us. Rinaldi said that the French had mutinied and troops marched on Paris. We are mechanics. Manera said. you met British men and sometimes women.I say its rotten. Miss Ferguson was with her. I did not want to go there anyway.The day had been hot. Let everybody defend his home. There was one fine cemetery thoughthe one at Pisa. Tenente Gavuzzi asked.

 The officers all came from such good families. smoking. You see Im not mad and Im not gone off. Ill wrap you up and dont bounce your head around. . Perhaps. chemical smells and the sweet smell of blood. They were big and shy and embarrassed and very appreciative together of anything that happened.We wont quarrel.She laughed. They were bersaglieri. for your own good.

 sitting in my trousers and an undershirt in front of the open window.I stopped to ask if you were better. she said. This took place at B?ziers. sometimes now seeing his face and little long necked body and gray beard like a goats chin tuft; all these with the sudden interiors of houses that had lost a wall through shelling.I did not say anything. We went on and passed the regiment about a mile ahead.He shook his head. So I went to the jail.This is a rotten game we play. said Miss Ferguson. I liked to watch her move.

 when they wouldnt attack and they shot every tenth manNo. The hall too. He bandaged. The others were shouting.Im perfectly all right. she said.No Yes. His mother sent it to me.That will be nice. the leather shiny with oil. We drove slowly in this matting covered tunnel and came out onto a bare cleared space where the railway station had been.In the ward at the field hospital they told me a visitor was coming to see me in the afternoon.

 He is a priest; he will appreciate it. wiped off the blade and pared off the dirty outside surface of the cheese. He had to sign the proposition for the citation. Fillipo Vincenza Bassi or Bassi Fillippo Vicenza had never touched a drop all evening and what was his name anyway He said was my name Frederico Enrico or Enrico Federico I said let the best man win.Wonderful. Carabinieri shot them. I said. with plaster and rubble in their gardens and sometimes in the street. the drivers walking along beside the mules wearing red fezzes. Maybe she would. How is your headGood Christ I said. We all sang.

 Ireland of Wisconsin. I just tell you. I asked him what happened and he said.Isnt there anywhere we can goNo.Leave him alone. Shell be off then. said the major. yes ) with possible fracture of the skull. The mountain that was beyond the valley and the hillside where the chestnut forest grew was captured and there were victories beyond the plain on the plateau to the south and we crossed the river in August and lived in a house in Gorizia that had a fountain and many thick shady trees in a walled garden and a wistaria vine purple on the side of the house. there was a soldier sitting on a bench outside in the sun. It was Passini and when I touched him he screamed. the major said.

 It was a hot day and there were many flies in the room. Every day I am better.Open the bottle. Priest wants Austrians to win the war. and then there were mountains far off beyond all these that you could hardly tell if you really saw.Rinaldi was talking with the other nurse. English.65 caliber with a short barrel and it jumped so sharply when you let it off that there was no question of hitting anything. although I learned it later.Goodnight. Thats all I know. You are a dear.

 and relaxed. Id be glad to kiss you if you dont mind.Rinaldi was talking with the other nurse. Let him go to centres of culture and civilization. We read. I said. The cars would be all right with their good metaltometal brakes and anyway.Rinaldi picked up the candle. I feigned acquaintance. At first it dropped slowly and regularly. How is your headGood Christ I said. yes.

No. Yes. You will be decorated. They lifted me and the blanket flap went across my face as we went out. The two captains took off their coats. and his hair shone. He came back with a handful of roasted coffee beans. Genoa was the place to see the bad marbles. That was all left for next year. How is your poor head I looked at your papers. They picked me up and took me into the dressing room. I believe we should get the war over.

 He was dressed. I said. I kept my arm where it was.We kissed and she broke away suddenly. close behind the lines. Are you badly hitIn the leg. They were sitting in the dugout talking and when I came in they stopped. I said. The captain spoke pidgin Italian for my doubtful benefit. cloudy with snowwater and running fast through the spiles of the bridge.We sat on the flat stone bench and I held Catherine Barkleys hand. Doesnt anybody work nowSince you are gone we have nothing but frostbites.

I cut the cheese into pieces and laid them on the macaroni. Bring him a glass of brandy. There was a cough.Ill bring it to you. holding below the target and trying to master the jerk of the ridiculous short barrel until I could hit within a yard of where I aimed at twenty paces and then the ridiculousness of carrying a pistol at all came over me and I soon forgot it and carried it flopping against the small of my back with no feeling at all except a vague sort of shame when I met Englishspeaking people. The ground was torn up and in front of my head there was a splintered beam of wood. I havent any papers for you. How is your poor head I looked at your papers. When I came back to the front we still lived in that town. I was cold and my leg hurt so that it made me sick. That left three. Rinaldi was lying on his bed.

 locked in the trunk. but not losing sight of the priest. baby. soldiers would.After a while we said good-night and left. How are the girlsThere are no girls. Bacchus barred. All alone at the war with no new girls. I unwound the puttee and while I was doing it I saw there was no need to try and make a tourniquet because he was dead already. said the lieutenant.It belonged to a boy who was killed last year. I felt I had a certain advantage.

 You ought to wash. warmed from the sun on the wall.Ill walk down with you. We parked the cars beyond a brickyard. I said. It is one for The Lancet. The carabinieri waved us to go on. an ambulance was waiting by the side door and inside the door. I knew I did not love Catherine Barkley nor had any idea of loving her. It was impossible to salute foreigners as an Italian. under a hill beyond the river. He loves Franz Joseph.