Italian alpine troops going up the alps to fight the Austrians, World War I.
Morning in a british trench during the Battle of the Somme, 1916.
As he rounded the corner, he saw two dozen men, naked to the waist, digging a hole thirty yards square at the side of the path. For a moment he was baffled. It seemed to have no agricultural purpose; there was no more planting or ploughing to be done. Then he realized what it was. They were digging a mass grave. He thought of shouting an order to about turn or at least to avert their eyes, but they were almost on it, and some of them had already seen their burial place. The songs died on their lips and the air was reclaimed by the birds.
Cippi della prima guerra mondiale (1915-1918) sul fronte alpino (Italia e Impero Austro-Ungarico)
Memorial stones of the WWI (1915-1918) on the Alps frontline (Italy Vs. Austrian-Hungarian Empire)
- 6th Rgt. 143rd co. “Monte Berico” Italian Alpine Troops Google Maps
- Heroes Grave of Austrian-Hungarian “Imperial and Royal Army” of 3rd Riflemen Regiment Google Maps
- Field Hospital #3 - 1st co. Army Medical Corps “Turin” Google Maps
- Austrian-Hungarian Empire symbol Google Maps
- 6th Rgt. “Vicenza” B. Italian Alpine Troops Google Maps
- Our Heroes … (Austrian-Hungarian “Imperial and Royal Army” Grave) Google Maps
- 80th Italian Gun Battery (“Pax” Latin for Peace) Google Maps
- Austrian-Hungarian Army War Cemetery Google Maps
- Austrian-Hungarian Army, Croatian Troops Google Maps
- Italian Grave Google Maps
Thanks for any help in translations.
Over an order of planked whitefish at a downtown club,
Horace Wild, the demon driver who hurled the first aeroplane
that ever crossed the air over Chicago,
Told Charley Cutler, the famous rassler who never touches
And Carl Sandburg, the distinguished poet now out of jail,
He saw near Ypres a Canadian soldier fastened on a barn door
with bayonets pinning the hands and feet
And the arms and ankles arranged like Jesus at Golgotha 2,000
Only in northern France he saw
The genital organ of the victim amputated and placed between
the lips of the dead man’s mouth,
And Horace Wild, eating whitefish, looked us straight in the
And piled up circumstantial detail of what he saw one night
running a truck pulling ambulances out of the mud near
Ypres in November, 1915:
A box car next to a field hospital operating room… filled
with sawed-off arms and legs…
Faces in the gray and the dark on the mud flats, white faces
gibbering and loose convulsive arms making useless
And Horace Wild, the demon driver who loves fighting and can
whip his weight in wildcats,
Pointed at a blue button in the lapel of his coat, “P-e-a-c-e”
spelled in white letters, and he blurted:
"I don’t care who the hell calls me a pacifist. I don’t care who
the hell calls me yellow; I say war is the game of a lot of
The four big brothers are out to kill.
France, Russia, Britain, America—
The four republics are sworn brothers to kill the kaiser.
Yes, this is the great man-hunt;
And the sun has never seen till now
Such a line of toothed and tusked man-killers,
In the blue of the upper sky,
In the green of the undersea,
In the red of winter dawns.
Eating to kill,
Sleeping to kill,
Asked by their mothers to kill,
Wished by four-fifths of the world to kill—
To cut the kaiser’s throat,
To hack the kaiser’s head,
To hang the kaiser on a high-horizon gibbet.
—Carl Sandburg, 1917