Part 5 (1/2)
”Right away, but on one condition--that when I have guided you, you will give me something to eat, because I am so hungry that I could eat that miserable Mollica.”
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”YOU BEASTLY LITTLE CREATURE, WHAT GAME ARE YOU PLAYING?”]
”Come on, boy, to the village. Double quick!”
Who would have imagined that his regiment had been fighting continuously for ten hours, leaving some dead on the field and sending not a few wounded to the ambulance? There on the square of the village won by Italy, beneath the shadow of the red, white, and green flag that waved from the summit of the little tower, the brave boys gave vent to unrestrained joy. It was time for rations. In the camp kitchens big pots were steaming, but the soldiers did not crowd around them as usual to fill their canteens. The bersaglieri's attention was held by a sight which put them in good humor, and good humor in war is a rare thing. Pinocchio was eating! He had swallowed three platefuls of soup in five minutes, and as he continued to grunt that he was hungry, they had given him a canteen full to the top and slipped into it a piece of meat that would have been sufficient to satisfy the hunger 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 pork is more indigestible than a.s.ses' 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 of yours.”
”Then let me eat in peace. You are all staring at me as if I were a Zulu chewing a hen with her feathers on. My tongue can't be dainty both talking and eating.”
”Let's murder him.”
And then there was a loud burst of laughter from all. Pinocchio was shoveling food into his mouth with both his hands, so that his face was red as a c.o.c.k's comb and he could scarcely breathe.
They were already as fond of him as if he were their son. His achievements had won for him a certain respect even from the officers whom he amused with his monkeys.h.i.+nes. It had been decided to adopt Pinocchio as the ”son of the regiment” and to keep him at the front as a mascot. He was to live with the troops and to wear the uniform of a Boy Scout. The soldiers with common accord had put off his costume to an opportune moment. Do you want to know the reason? The brave boys were afraid to stick Pinocchio into puttees with so many spiral bands because his little thin legs would have frightened people. For the time being they had him put on a pair of short trousers which dragged behind him on the ground, a little cape like a bersagliere's, and a fez with a light-blue ta.s.sel so long that it touched his heels. This ta.s.sel was Pinocchio's delight, who, in order to look at it, always walked along with his head over his shoulder, and so would keep b.u.mping into first one thing and then another. One day the mischievous Mollica made him run into one of the quarter-master-corps mules, and Pinocchio saluted and asked its pardon. But when he ran into officers, sergeants, corporals, and soldiers, instead of saluting he swore at them all.
It is three days later. General Win-the-War's troops have not advanced. Our bersaglieri are still in camp near ----. It is a sultry, thundering afternoon. Many of the soldiers are sleeping. The Bersaglierino is playing cards with Mollica. Corporal Fanfara is shaving. Stecca is practising on his cornet, trying a variation on a well-known tune. Pinocchio, in the back of the tent, is snoring so loudly that Mollica every now and then hurls a handful of earth at his nose to make him lower his note.
Suddenly the boredom is broken, every one jumps up and runs out to a certain point and crowds around an automobile that has just arrived.
Pinocchio wakes up with a start, finds his mouth full of grit, his nose 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 scarcely outside before he feels himself caught up by his legs and whirled around on the ground. He gets up again and is face to face with Bersaglierino, who has not left his post and who laughs loudly at Pinocchio's plight.
”What has happened?”
”The mail has come.”
”And you're making all this racket for that? I thought it was the Austrians.”
”You little coward, you!”
”That's enough, Bersaglierino, if you say that to me again I'll give you such a kick that will change your shape. But why don't you, too, go to see if you have any letters?”