CHAPTER III
_How Pinocchio Sent a Solemn Protest to Francis Joseph to Rectify anOfficial Bulletin_
May had come with her blossoms, but up there a sharp wind was blowingso that it seemed still February. Pinocchio, half naked as he was,shivered like a leaf, and every now and then let out a sneeze whichsounded like a bursting shell. At every sneeze Mollica gave him akick, Corporal Fanfara a box on the ear, and Drummer Stecca a pinch.The only one who didn't abuse him was Bersaglierino, the blond youngsoldier, more melancholy than his companions, whom he had firstaccosted in the station when they were setting out. I have told youthat Pinocchio trembled with cold, and I will tell you that it wasalmost a good thing for him to do so; otherwise they would have seenhim tremble with fear. If this had happened, his teasing companionswould have driven him to despair. Pinocchio was to be pitied. He wasat the front, the frontier several miles behind them, and any minutemight bring Austrian bullets whistling through the air. The generalhad spared the youngster from being shot in the back, but he had givenorders to put him in the very front line during the advance and tokeep him well guarded. In one case the guns of the enemy would dojustice to the suspected spy; in the other, Pinocchio would clearhimself by his conduct and at the same time would lose his desire fora close view of the enemy.
Private Mollica was furious with him.
"Che-chew! che-chew! che-chew!"
"Plague take you!" Another kick. "Keep still, you little beast! If youlet the enemy spot us I'll stick this bayonet in your backbone."
"I can't stand it any longer. I am frozen--che-chew!"
"Stop it!" Another box on the ear. "You are all right. You wanted tobe a volunteer; now you see how much fun it is."
"I?"
"Yes, you.... You were the cause of the fine talking-to my generalgave me, and you made me lose my place as an orderly where I had achance to make extra soldi. If you hadn't gone and told him that youhad helped me to carry his things and if you hadn't slipped under theseat of that same officer to listen to what he said, I shouldn't havebeen punished by being sent to the front."
"Are you afraid, then, Mollica?"
"I afraid? But don't you know that if I catch sight of an AustrianI'll eat him?"
"Like the food you took from the general," that rascal of a Pinocchiodared to remark.
There was a chorus of laughs that stopped as if by magic at the soundof a certain roar in the distance and of something whistling throughthe air and very near.
"There they are!"
"We're in it."
"Where?"
"Where are they?"
Who paid any attention now to Pinocchio? All of them had drawn closeto one another and had rushed to the edge of the road, their gunspointed, to examine the distant landscape. The mountain was verysteep there and covered with thick vegetation. Down at the bottom,toward the plain, there seemed to be an unexpected rise ... after thesteep descent a green stretch through which a river ran like a silverribbon. Still farther, was a chain of low mountains, almost like acloud on the edge of the peaceful horizon.
There was the roar of some more shots and the whistling of the shells,and a branch of a tree was splintered and fell.
Pinocchio, alone in the middle of the road, felt a creeping up anddown his spine and experienced a trembling in his legs that shook likea palsied man's. The second time he heard a shell whistle he felt thathe must find a hole in which to hide himself. He looked about him andcaught sight near by of an enormous larch-tree which pointed directlytoward the heavens. I don't know how to explain it, but the sight ofit took away from Pinocchio the desire to hide himself under theground and made him wish to climb toward the stars. He gave a springand shinned up the big trunk in a flash. I bet you a plugged soldoagainst a lira that you would have done the same....
"I SEE THE SUET-EATERS"]
"I see them! I see them!"
"Who?"
"Whom do you see?"
"Where are they? Where are you that we can't see you?"
"I am up here."
"Bravo! And whom do you see?" Bersaglierino asked.
"I see the suet-eaters."
"Where are they?"
"Down there where there is a kind of slope there is a town hiddenamong the trees ... up here you can see a roof and the spire of abell-tower ... you can see people on the roof ... you can seesomething glisten ... now they are firing."
This time there were several reports, but they seemed to be aiming inanother direction, because there was not the usual whistle in the air.
"Whom are they 'strafing'?" Corporal Fanfara asked himself.
"I'll 'strafe' that scoundrel Pinocchio. If you don't come down aliveI will bring you down dead with a bullet in the seat of yourtrousers."
"But listen! Look down there and see whom they're giving it to," criedthe enraged Bersaglierino, pointing out a marching column which washurrying below them.
"Our infantry!"
"Yes, indeed. They will beat us to it. It's a shame."
"Our company ought to start off at a double-quick."
"It must be a half-mile away."
"But the bersaglieri must get there first ... even if there are onlythe four of us."
"Sure thing."
"Do you hear?"
"Forward, Savoy!"
And, heads lowered and bayonets fixed, they rushed down the slope.
* * * * *
"Ho! boys! Ho! Mol-li-ca! Cor-po-ral!... Oh! They are going offwithout me! What a mean thing to do! They leave me here at the top ofthis tree and run off.... But if they think they can play me such atrick they are mistaken.... I am hungry as a wolf, and if I don't getthem to feed me, whom can I join? Run, run.... We'll see who getsthere first!"
He climbed down the tree, grumbling as he went, tightened the belt ofhis trousers, drank in several deep breaths of air, and then tore offlike an express train behind time.
I will tell you at once, not to keep you in suspense, that thebersaglieri got there the first, the infantry second, and Pinocchio... a good third. I call it a "good third" merely as a way ofexpressing it, because when he arrived at the village our soldiers hadalready passed through it and had advanced some distance beyond,following the Austrians, who had taken to their heels and who weresuffering a sharp fire at short range.
The village was so small that it didn't even deserve the name of one.There were ten houses in all besides the church with the bell-tower,and a long shed over which waved the white flag with the red cross.There was a deathlike silence everywhere. On the little square beforethe church some bodies of Austrian soldiers were lying; among them wasthat of an officer so ugly that he seemed to have died of fright, butthere was a red spot on his back. Pinocchio was terrified at the sightof him, but he had such a longing for his sword, his automatic pistol,his handsome belt, his light-blue cape, and his cap that he persuadedhimself it was perfectly silly to be afraid of a dead Austrian,particularly when they weren't afraid of live ones. Without too muchreflection, he buckled on the dead man's belt, armed himself with thepistol, wrapped himself in the blue cape, and pressed the cap down onhis head. He was good to look at, I can assure you.
The Hapsburg army had never had an officer who could be compared withthis puppet who had now become a real boy. Pinocchio was prancing upand down in his new disguise, his sword clanking against the pavement,just like any little lieutenant, when he heard a horrible roar high upoverhead, then, a moment later, an explosion which shook the ground!When he lifted up his head to see what had happened he thought hecaught sight of some one walking about on the church's bell-tower. Hesaw a rag tied to a pole waving and, as if in reply to a signal,brumm! another shot that fell closer. Pinocchio, who was suspicious,went into the vestry and, pistol in hand, rushed up the steep littlewooden stairs. He got to the top without even making the oldworm-eaten stairs squeak. In the space where the bells hung a man incivilian's clothes had his back turned toward him. He was looking offfrom the balcony,
and kept on waving the red cloth. You could see thevast expanse of the plain, and among the green a strange, intermittentflash ... then a puff ... then you heard a roar, followed by a crash,like a moving train rapidly approaching, then a tremendous explosion.The shells never fell as far as the town, but burst all around it,sending up columns of earth and smoke. And off there Pinocchio couldsee the bersaglieri, the soldiers of his country. The traitor with hissignals was directing fire on the Italian troops.
Tell me truly, what would you have done if you had been in Pinocchio'splace? Would you have fired at the traitor? Yes or no. Well, Pinocchiodid the same--cocked his pistol, shut his eyes, pulled the trigger,and pum-pum-pum-pum-pum-pum-pum, seven shots went off. He had expectedonly one, and was so frightened that he pitched his weapon away andtook to his heels, down the steps, without thought of the wretch, who,for his part, did no more signaling, I assure you!
When he had got down to the square Pinocchio rushed across it, and wasabout to run in the direction where he had seen his bersaglierifighting, when, passing by the shed where the Red Cross flag waved, hethought he heard the sound of several voices in a lively discussion.He stopped suddenly and very, very quietly approached a big windowclosed merely by a wire netting. Inside he saw on one side of thelarge room two rows of beds, in the middle a group of rough-lookingsoldiers, with waxed mustaches, completely armed, who were busyplotting together. Just at that moment they separated to go to bed.They took off their weapons, hid them under the sheets, and slippedthemselves into bed, drawing the covers up to their noses.
HE SAW A RAG TIED TO A POLE WAVING]
"_Wunderschoen!_" ("Fine.")
"When Italian pigs come we make a colossal festival," grunted a Croatand laughed boisterously. "We sick get well, and Italians all croak."
"I'll croak you," muttered Pinocchio, who in a twinkle had understoodthe deviltry the wretches were planning. He made himself as small ashe could, so that the cape dragged on the ground like a petticoat,slunk along the walls of the shed, then rushed off at full speedtoward the fields. He was just passing the last house of the villagewhen he found himself unexpectedly surrounded by a score of Austriansoldiers in a half-tipsy condition, so that they took him for theirsuperior officer. He thought himself lost.
"Lieutenant, don't go farther. 'Talians still near and make croak allCroats."
"Croat? I a Croat!"
"'Talians make croak Slovaks, too."
"Oh! Mamma!"
"_Ja, ja!_"
"_Ja, ja!_"
Pinocchio had a flash of intuition; he hid his hand under his cape,unsheathed the sword, and, assuming so martial a manner that then andthere he could have been taken for a handsome brother of William, heyelled and swore some doggerel which the dolts might think wasHungarian, Dalmatian, or Rumanian, spun 'round and continued on hisway to the Italian position. The Austrians followed him, bayonetsfixed, convinced that the spirit of Tegetoff had come to life and wasleading them to victory. But instead, when they had gone a hundredyards they were showered with bullets and had to fling themselves onthe ground in order to escape immediate extermination. Pinocchio sawthat he was being shot at more than the others, and didn't know why.All around him the torn-up earth was strewn with plumes.
"I should like to know why they are after me especially, who am noteven firing, while they are sparing these monkeys who have followed meand are shooting like mad. Oh! Perhaps it is on account of the uniformof that miserable officer. If that is the case, my dear ones, enoughof your sport. 'Oho! I am an Italian. Stop firing, for Heaven's sake,so that I can tell you something important. Oho! Enough, I say!'"
And standing up straight, he hurled the cape and the cap away fromhim, and with no thought of danger, made for the spot from which camethe Italian fire.
Then came the end of the scene. The Croats behind him jumped to theirfeet like so many jacks-in-the-box, threw their arms about and wavedtheir hands in the air.... From a hedge not far off, a company ofbersaglieri came running up and surrounded them, yelling, "Surrender!"
"If one of them moves, stick him like a toad," commanded a lieutenant.
"Don't worry, sir, I'll spit him for your roasting."
"Secure their officer."
"Heh, boys! don't joke ... lower your bayonets. I'm no Austrianofficer. I am Pinocchio. Mollica, don't you recognize me?"
"You beastly little creature, what game are you playing? But I'll runyou through, all the same."
"What's up now?"
"Lieutenant, Mollica wants to make believe that I am an Austrianlieutenant, because I was the cause of his losing his place asorderly with General Win-the-War, but I am Pinocchio. Do you know me?I am glad. Order these twenty apes, which I have brought all the wayhere, to be bound, and then if you give me thirty men I will guaranteeto catch some others that I have put to bed in the big barracks underthe protection of the Red Cross, who pretended they were ill, but whohad hidden their guns under the covers to 'croak Italian hogs.'"
"Where are they?"
"I'll tell you now ... then I'll show you up on the tower what apretty thing I found--a traitor who was making signals to some one faroff, and then, boom! there came one of those shells that burst. Imeant to let him have one little bullet, but the pistol fired so manyat him that I threw everything away...."
"But come on! Come on! Show me the way!"
"Right away, but on one condition--that when I have guided you, youwill give me something to eat, because I am so hungry that I could eatthat miserable Mollica."
"YOU BEASTLY LITTLE CREATURE, WHAT GAME ARE YOUPLAYING?"]
"Come on, boy, to the village. Double quick!"
* * * * *
Who would have imagined that his regiment had been fightingcontinuously for ten hours, leaving some dead on the field and sendingnot a few wounded to the ambulance? There on the square of the villagewon by Italy, beneath the shadow of the red, white, and green flagthat waved from the summit of the little tower, the brave boys gavevent to unrestrained joy. It was time for rations. In the campkitchens big pots were steaming, but the soldiers did not crowd aroundthem as usual to fill their canteens. The bersaglieri's attention washeld by a sight which put them in good humor, and good humor in war isa rare thing. Pinocchio was eating! He had swallowed three platefulsof soup in five minutes, and as he continued to grunt that he washungry, they had given him a canteen full to the top and slipped intoit a piece of meat that would have been sufficient to satisfy thehunger of four city employees.
"Look out for bones!"
"Are you going to eat them all?"
"If he stays with us he'll break the Government."
"Look out, boys, he'll end by bursting."
"Don't you split open with all the Austrians you have eaten, for porkis more indigestible than asses' meat."
"Heh! don't find fault with the food."
"And what kind of meat do you call this?"
"The best beef."
"Lie! I am familiar with animals ... you give beef to the officers;donkey-meat to the soldiers."
"Look out, you Pinocchio, you'll get into trouble with that tongue ofyours."
"Then let me eat in peace. You are all staring at me as if I were aZulu chewing a hen with her feathers on. My tongue can't be daintyboth talking and eating."
"Let's murder him."
And then there was a loud burst of laughter from all. Pinocchio wasshoveling food into his mouth with both his hands, so that his facewas red as a cock's comb and he could scarcely breathe.
They were already as fond of him as if he were their son. Hisachievements had won for him a certain respect even from the officerswhom he amused with his monkeyshines. It had been decided to adoptPinocchio as the "son of the regiment" and to keep him at the front asa mascot. He was to live with the troops and to wear the uniform of aBoy Scout. The soldiers with common accord had put off his costume toan opportune moment. Do you want to know the reason? The brave boyswere afraid to stick Pinocchio into puttees with so many
spiral bandsbecause his little thin legs would have frightened people. For thetime being they had him put on a pair of short trousers which draggedbehind him on the ground, a little cape like a bersagliere's, and afez with a light-blue tassel so long that it touched his heels. Thistassel was Pinocchio's delight, who, in order to look at it, alwayswalked along with his head over his shoulder, and so would keepbumping into first one thing and then another. One day the mischievousMollica made him run into one of the quarter-master-corps mules, andPinocchio saluted and asked its pardon. But when he ran into officers,sergeants, corporals, and soldiers, instead of saluting he swore atthem all.
It is three days later. General Win-the-War's troops have notadvanced. Our bersaglieri are still in camp near ----. It is asultry, thundering afternoon. Many of the soldiers are sleeping. TheBersaglierino is playing cards with Mollica. Corporal Fanfara isshaving. Stecca is practising on his cornet, trying a variation on awell-known tune. Pinocchio, in the back of the tent, is snoring soloudly that Mollica every now and then hurls a handful of earth at hisnose to make him lower his note.
Suddenly the boredom is broken, every one jumps up and runs out to acertain point and crowds around an automobile that has just arrived.Pinocchio wakes up with a start, finds his mouth full of grit, hisnose dirty, and hears all the noise about him--has a terrible fright,lets out a yell, and rushes out of the tent. But he is scarcelyoutside before he feels himself caught up by his legs and whirledaround on the ground. He gets up again and is face to face withBersaglierino, who has not left his post and who laughs loudly atPinocchio's plight.
"What has happened?"
"The mail has come."
"And you're making all this racket for that? I thought it was theAustrians."
"You little coward, you!"
"That's enough, Bersaglierino, if you say that to me again I'll giveyou such a kick that will change your shape. But why don't you, too,go to see if you have any letters?"
"Who do you think would write me? I am as alone in the world as a dog,just like you, it seems."
"Yes, that's so," replied Pinocchio, swallowing hard, because he hadsuddenly felt his throat tighten at the thought of Papa Geppetto, fromwhom he had had no news for many a long day.
"It is a red-letter day for the others. Mollica will have a letterfrom his father, Fanfara news from his two babies, Stecca kisses fromhis wife.... I might be killed to-morrow by a bullet in the stomachand they would let me rot in a ditch and that would be the end."
Mollica came back, his arms full of newspapers. His father, anews-dealer in Naples, sent him a copy of every unsold publication,knowing that anything may come in useful in war-times, even old news.
"Heh! Bersaglierino! You want us to play the postman and yet you don'ttake any trouble to get your scented letter."
"You are joking?"
"No, it's no joke. Here is one really for you, and I congratulate youbecause if you are engaged she must be at least a countess."
The Bersaglierino took the letter his comrade held out to him and readthe address over several times. There was no doubt; it was his namethat was written on the scented envelope the color of a blush rose. Heturned pale and stood for a moment undecided, then he tore it open andread:
DEAR BERSAGLIERINO,--I saw how sad and alone you were at the moment of your departure, so I felt it was my duty as a patriotic Italian girl to write to you. Go and fight for our country; do your duty bravely, and remember that in thought I follow and will follow you every minute. If you return valorously I will meet you and tell you how happy I am; if you fall wounded I will go to your hospital bed to soothe your suffering; if you die for your country my flowers shall lie on your grave and your name will always be written in my heart. Long live Italy!
Your war-godmother,
FATINA.
"Long live Italy!" Bersaglierino shouted like mad. He caught up hishat with its cock plumes and tossed it in the air with all his force,seized Pinocchio who was standing by him, and lifted him up in bothhis arms, pulled his cap off his head, and then twirled it round onhis pate, scratching the poor boy's nose.
"What's got into you? Are you crazy?"
"Am I crazy? I am happy! I am not alone any more, do you understand? Iam no longer an unlucky fellow like you with no one belonging to him.But I am fonder of you than ever. Give me a kiss ..." and he pressedsuch a hearty kiss on his nose that his comrades laughed. ButPinocchio longed to cry. The heart in his body beat a violenttick-tock, tick-tock.
"Have you read what Franz Joe's newspapers say?--'Italian soldiers arebrigands who do not respect civilians or the wounded in thehospitals.' That means you, dear Pinocchio, because you shot thetraitor on the tower. You can be sure that if the suet-eaters win theywill make you pay for the crime."
"Me?"
"Yes, indeed, you! You don't intend to say that I killed him, do you?And you, thank God, are not an enlisted Italian soldier, therefore..."
"I understand."
The camp was quiet once again; indeed, I might say that tendermemories had softened its youthful exuberance. The voices from homewere keeping the soldiers silent. It was as if every letter their eyesfell on was speaking to them quietly and they were blessed inlistening, their faces shining with happiness. Corporal Fanfara held asheet of paper on which there was nothing but some strange scrawls. Hegazed at it with delight, and while two big tears ran down his cheekshe murmured in his Venetian dialect, "My darling little rascals!"These scrawls of theirs were more welcome to him than the letter fromhis wife which told of privations, anxiety, and troubles. PrivateMollica was acting like a detective, searching through the newspaperpages for his father's dirty finger-marks; and as there was littletrouble in finding them he kept repeating every moment, "This was madeby my dear old man." Then he kissed the marks so often that his wholemouth was black with printer's ink.
Shortly after every one was writing, some bent over theirwriting-tablets, some on the back of a good-natured comrade, somestretched out on the ground, some on the edge of a bench, on thestaves of a barrel, on a tree-trunk, with pencils, fountain-pens, onpost-cards, envelopes, letter-paper spilled out miraculously fromportfolios, bags, and canteens. Every one was writing. TheBersaglierino seemed to be composing a poem. He gesticulated, whackedhimself on the ear, beat time with his pen that squirted ink in everydirection, and every now and then declaimed under his breath certainphrases that were so moving that they made even him weep.
Pinocchio was as silent and gloomy as the hood of a dirty kitchenstove. Squatting at the entrance to the tent, he kept glancing at hiscompanions, and every now and then he would scratch his head sovigorously that he might have been currycombing a donkey. WhenPinocchio scratched his head in that way ... Well, now you know thatmatters were serious, but I tell you they were so serious that he hadthe courage to interrupt the Bersaglierino in his literary studies.
"Excuse me, but will you do me a favor?"
"What do you want? Keep quiet ... leave me alone ... you make me losemy thread of thought ..."
"So you write with thread, do you? Are you aware that they don't usethis any more?"
"Stop your nonsense. Leave me alone, puppet."
"Do me a favor and then ..."
"What is it? Spit it out!"
"Lend me a pencil and a piece of paper."
"You want to write, too?"
"Yes."
"Then you, too, have some one in the world who interests you?"
"Yes ... perhaps."
"A godmother like mine?"
"Hum! No indeed."
"You are serious about wanting to write?"
"Yes."
"Here's paper and pencil, then. Do you know how to write?"
"Once I knew how."
"All right. Then let me see it."
"Gladly."
Pinocchio rested his elbows on his knees, chin on his clasped hands,and, biting his pencil, lost himself in profound meditation.
* * * * *
"Excuse me, Bersaglierino."
"Ho! Finished already?"
"No ... that is ... yes, I have finished beginning, but ... I don'tknow what you put before the beginning."
"Write, 'Dear So-and-so,' or 'My darling, etc., etc.'"
"But you see I can't put either 'dear' or 'my darling.'"
"So you are writing to a creditor?"
"Something like that."
"Heavens! Put his first name, his last name, swear at him, and that'senough."
* * * * *
"Excuse me, Bersaglierino..."
"Oh, are you still there?"
"Yes.... I haven't been able to start the beginning because ..."
"Do you or do you not know how to write?"
"Like a lawyer."
"Then?"
"I don't know what his last name is."
"Whose?"
"Franz Joe's."
"Writing to him? You want to write to him? To that miserableHapsburg?"
The news spread like lightning through the camp. The soldiers passedit from mouth to mouth, laughing like mad: Pinocchio was writing toEmperor Franz Joseph! This was interesting. They must know what theletter said. It would certainly be something to amuse them. So walkingquietly, as if they were all eager to take him in the very act, theyapproached the tent where Pinocchio was composing his missive, notwithout difficulty. He had not been writing for several minutes andthe words seemed so long to put down on paper. He had to keep thinkingof the spelling, and the verbs bothered him terribly. When he raisedhis head to draw a breath of relief before re-reading what he hadmanaged to write, he found himself surrounded by all the regiment.
"Oh, you are well brought up, aren't you? Who taught you to stick yournoses into other people's business?"
"To whom have you written?"
"To the one I wanted to."
"Let's see the scribbling."
"Look in your mirror and you will see worse lines on your own face."
"We want to read the letter."
"But if you are a pack of illiterates ..."
"Listen, either you will let me see it or I will take you by one earand the letter with the other hand, and I'll carry you both off to thecensor, who will haul you before a court martial that will condemn youto be shot in the back."
"Oh, do you really want to see it, Mollica?"
"You heard what I said."
"On one condition."
"What's that?"
"That you will take charge of it and see that it gets to its address."
"All right. Hand it here, you puppy. Listen to what he writes:
"MR. FRANZ HAPSBURG,
In his house in Austria,
"You wrote in the papers that the Italian soldiers are rascals because they kill civilians and wounded Ostrians. I want you to know that you are mistaken, because as you know the traitor was killed by a pistol that shot off Ostrian bullets by itself while it was in my hands who am not in the army. That's how our soldiers found the traitor already dead, the traitor who made signals from the church tower, so that the shells fell on the ruins. As for the wounded in the horspital I can asshure you that they were better off than me and you, and that they had guns between their leggs under the sheets. He who tells lies goes to hell and you will certainly go there, but just now I'd like to send you there myself who don't give a hang for you.
"PINOCCHIO."
I can't describe to you what took place after the letter had beenread.
They gave the poor youngster such a feast that they had to put him tobed in a hammock. Before Private Mollica went to sleep he keptrepeating: "I have promised to take your letter to Franz Joseph....You see if I don't send it through all the ranks till it reaches hisown hands. On Mollica's honor!... I have promised to take your letterto Franz Joseph!"