The Outpost Vol 1 - The Royal Highland Fusiliers

THE OUTPOST. 11
A Roundabout Journey Home
from the Alps.
IT was on the 23rd July last, nearly a fortnight
before the outbreak of war, that our party of
three had crossed the English' Channel en route
for the Italian Alps. We were in anything but
a war-like mood, and the unusual sight of a
complete cordon of Britain's grim, grey
floating sentinels, extending from Calais as far
as the eye could see into the misty north-east,
onlv aroused a vague curiosity. It was only
e.'{tended man'ruvres of the Fleet-an attempt
to block the .:-;rorth Sea. 1hat evening at the
Gare de Lvon, Paris, rumours \\ ere rife of
trouble at 'the Mont Cenis Tunnel between
France and Italy. We could get no definite
information, ho\-ievcr. It was a land"lide or a
cloud-burst, anyhow we would know when we
reached there! The train was going and that
was sufficient for U8, not a ,>uspicion was
aroused as to the real cause. Next morning
when we awoke we found ourselves in Geneva
instead of the Italian fron tier town, Modane,
No one knew why; no one knew how we \\ ere
going on: certainly no one cared. Eventually
we did arrive at Turin, via Switzerland and the
Simplon Tunnel, ana our destination, Cogne,
late on Saturaay night, 25th July.
In this primitive little Italian Alpine village,
6 hours by a tortuous mountain track from the
nearest main road, situated at a height of 5,200
feet in the centre of the Graian Alps, we spent a
few energetic days among the snows.
On Wednesday, the 29th, we shouldered our
packs, about 25 to 30 Ibs. each, and aisappeared
into the mountains. Five days later we
emerged far to the south at Ceresole Reale,
having w-ith the aid of our compasses, aneroid
and map, traversed two peaks, one the Gran
Paradiso (13,350 feet), the highest in Italy, and
crossed two glacier passes. The Italian maps,
at lea8t those of Northern Italy, are shockingly
bad, being not only inaccurate, but so badly
reproduced as to make even their inaccuracies
irmocuous on account of the impossibility of
decyphering them. "Ve had, however, a map
specially prepared by the Italian Alpine Club on
the Sw-iss model, beautifully contoured and
shaded, scale, 2 centimeters to the lrilomitre
(R.F. 1/50,000). That night, Monday, 3rd
August, disquieting rumours began to reach
us of warlike preparations just over the border
in France, and before morning it appeared
certain that France and Germany were at war.
To ascertain definite news we set off on the 4th
for Turin by motor, bus, and train. There we
learned all that had happened in the previous
week, and how Europe awaited breathlessly the
entry of Britain into the_conflict.
Not knowing which way Italy would jump,
we at once made tracks for the station. The
railway officials were very polite. "Yes, yes,
certainly," we could go to Modane by the Paris
expres3. But could we get over the French
frontier? Ah I that was quite another matter.
They were extremely distressed, but there were
already over 3,000 refugees stranded at Modane
Station, without food or shelter. Possibly III a
week or two, but now-! Disgusted, we raided
the shipping offices. The only hope here was
an Orient Liner due at Naples on the 7th.
Genoa being pretty much on the route there, '
we resolved to go there first ana set off at once,
an'iving that night. .:-;rext morning the" star
turn" on the newspaper bills was " The King
of England declares war on the Teutons," and
in the opinion of the local scribes, all was over
for Wilhelm and his friend3, bar some shooting.
The unanimity of opinion was remarkable, and
wherever we \\eut we were received most
cordially. Everyone seemed eager for Italy
to join in and get some of her own back. The
enthusiasm for England, the Fleet, and our
nation::tl resources was almost amusing.
Unfortunately CL financial crisis in a small
scale ensued, and paper money depreciated
rapidly 100 per cent. This was annoying, not
to say inconvenient, as we were carrying mostly
Bank of England notes. These were found of
no value; low class money-lenders even would
not look at them, and so we did what in the
circumstances was probably the best thing,
assumed an air of prosperity and put up at the
best hotel. Having no money we gave up all
thought of Naples, and applied ourselves to
raising cash at Genoa, primarily to book
passages on the British India Coy.'s steamer,
Nevasa, due on the 7th, en route for England,
and secondly. if possible, to buy tobacco, etc.,
and pay our trusting host. After a wearisome
day of great heat and many rebuffs, we managed
to raise some 700 Lire through business
connections. And then, of course, the Nevasa
never arrived, hav-1ng been scared off by the
Goeben and the Bres/au, and we had to start all
over again. Each morning we padded softly
along the shady side of the narrow Via Balbi to
the shipping offices, and then from there out
into the fierce glare of the newer city to the
British Consulate. Here we sat on cool marble
steps and met our friends in misfortune, mostly
English vicars, honeymoon couples and the
usual quaint mixture of the British tourist
abroad. The excitement was always immense:
no one had money; everyone wanted it;
nothing ever happened and no progress seemed
to be made.
Meantime Italy was busy mobilising, and
long lines of dusty troops passed daily through
the city. "A fine body of men" they were too.