in the mess tent, over the liqueurs and cigars. The idea of leading
from the rear seemed not only to be practical and sensible, but
downright inspired. This enthusiasm lasted only until they learned
that the new philosophy applied not to the entire officer cadre of
the
Third Battalion, but to the Colonel only. The rest of them were to be
given every opportunity to make the supreme sacrifice for God, country
and Benito Mussolini. At this stage the new philosophy lost much
popular support.
In the end, only three persons stood to benefit from the rearrangement
the Count, Gino and Major Luigi Castelani.
The Major was so overjoyed to learn that he now had what amounted to
unfettered command of the battalion that for the first time in many
years he took a bottle of grappa to his tent that evening, and sat
shaking his head and chuckling fruitily into his glass.
The following morning's burning, blinding headache that only grappa can
produce, combined with his new freedom, made the Major's grip on the
battalion all the more ferocious. The new spirit spread like a fire in
dry grass. Men cleaned their rifles, burnished their buttons and
closed them to the neck, stubbed out their cigarettes and trembled a
little while Castelani rampaged through the camp at
Chaldi, dealing out duties, ferreting out the malingerers and
stiffening spines with the swishing cane in his right hand.
The honour guard that fell in that afternoon to welcome the first
aircraft to the newly constructed airfield were so beautifully turned
out with polished leather and glittering metal, and their drill was so
smartly performed, that even Count Aldo Belli noticed it, and commended
them warmly.
The aircraft was a three-engined Caproni bomber. It came lumbering in
from the northern skies, circled the long runway of raw earth, and then
touched down and raised a long rolling storm of dust with the wash of
its propellers.
The first personage to emerge from the doorway in the belly of the
silver fuselage was the political agent from Asmara, Signor Antolino,
looking more rumpled and seedy than ever in his creased, ill-fitting
tropical linen suit. He raised his straw panama. in reply to the
Count's flamboyant Fascist salute, and they embraced briefly, the man
stood low on the social and political scale before the Count turned to
the pilot.
"I wish to ride in your machine." The Count had lost interest in his
tanks, in fact he found himself actively hating them and their
Captain. In sober mood he had refrained from executing that officer,
or even packing him off back to Asmara. He had contented himself with
a full page of scathing comment in the man's service report, knowing
that this would destroy his career. A complete and satisfying
vengeance, but the Count was finished with tanks. Now he had an
aircraft. So much more exciting and romantic.
"We will fly over the enemy positions," said the Count, at a
respectable height." By which he meant out of rifle shot.
"Later," said the political agent, with such an air of authority that
the Count drew himself up in a dignified manner, and gave the man a
haughty stare before which he should have quailed.
"I carry personal and urgent orders from General Badogho's own lips,"
said the agent, completely unaffected by the stare.
The Count's stiffly dignified when altered immediately.
"A glass of wine, then," he said affably, and took the " man's arm
leading him to the waiting Rolls.
The General stands now before Ambo Aradam. He has the main
concentration of the enemy at bay upon the mountain, and under heavy
artillery and aerial bombardment. At the right moment he will fall
upon them and the outcome cannot be in doubt."
"Quite right," nodded the Count sagely; the prospect of fighting a
hundred miles away to the north filled him with the reflected warmth of
the glory of Italian arms.
"Within the next ten days, the broken armies of the Ethiopians will be
attempting to withdraw along the road to Dessie and to link up with
Baile Selassie at Lake Tona but the Sardi Gorge is like a dagger in
their ribs. You know your duty." The Count nodded again, but warily.
This was much closer to home.
"I have come now to make the final contact with the Ethiopian Ras who
will declare for us, the Emperor-designate of Ethiopia our secret ally.
It is necessary to coordinate our final plans, so that his defection
will cause the greatest possible confusion amongst the ranks of the
enemy, and his forces can be best deployed to support your assault up
the gorge to Sardi and the Dessie road."
"Ah!" the Count made a sound which signified neither agreement nor
dissent.
"My men, working in the mountains, have arranged a meeting with the
Emperor-designate. At this meeting we will make the promised payment
that secures the Ras's loyalty." The agent made a moue of distaste.
"These people!" and he sighed at the thought of a man who would sell
his country for gold. Then he dismissed the thought with a
J wave of his hand. "The meeting is fixed for tonight. I have brought
one of my men with me who will act as a guide.
