The Hippopotamus on the Mountain
An impossible journey of the Italian soldiers of the WWI
High in the Adamello range, where the wind howls and the snow never truly melts, stands an ancient sentinel of war—a cannon known as “L'Ippopotamo.” For nearly a century, climbers ascending Cresta Croce at 3,300 meters have stumbled upon this rusting relic, a silent witness to a feat of sheer determination and madness.
The Impossible Journey
In the bitter winter of 1916, Italy was locked in a brutal struggle against Austria-Hungary along the icy peaks of the Alps. Among the weapons dragged into this frozen hell was the Cannone G149, a medium-caliber cast-iron artillery piece, already outdated from its service in the 1911 Libyan War. But every gun counted in the Adamello, where the front was defensive.
On February 9, the cannon—weighing over 13,000 pounds (ca. 6 t)—began its impossible journey from Temù, pulled by horses on its own treads as far as Malga Caldea in Val d’Avio. Then, it was dismantled. The barrel alone weighed 6,600 pounds (ca. 3 t).
Sixty artillerymen, thirteen engineers, and two hundred soldiers labored to drag its pieces on custom-made sleds. They moved only at night or in storms, erasing their tracks to avoid Austrian eyes. Where the slopes grew treacherous, they used winches called “capre” (goats) to multiply their strength.
Then, disaster struck.
On March 8, an avalanche roared down, burying the cannon and killing 39 men. Walter Belotti, a historian of the Great War, recounts this tragedy with reverence. “They dug it out,” he says. “They had no choice.”
The Final Push
By April, the cannon had reached Rifugio Garibaldi. Just in time, six more days of inhuman effort brought it to Passo Venerocolo on Easter Sunday, April 23, 1916.
On April 29-30, L'Ippopotamo roared to life, its shells smashing Austrian positions from Fargorida to Passo di Cavento. It was designed to fire up to 5.8 miles (ca. 9 km) and reached an astonishing 6.8 miles (ca. 11 km) in the thin mountain air.
A year later, it was hauled even higher—to Cresta Croce—where it aided the assault on Corno di Cavento in June 1917. It fired its last shots in the summer of 1918 before falling silent forever.
The Ghost of Adamello
Today, the cannon remains, a rusted beast frozen in time. Luciano Viazzi, in his book “I diavoli dell’Adamello,” describes the men who pulled it: “Long lines of soldiers, straining on ropes in endless effort, an artilleryman behind each sled with a heavy pole to stop it from sliding back.”
They called it The Hippopotamus—a creature out of place in the snow, just like the men who brought it there.
And there it stays, a monument not to war, but to the impossible things men will do when the world demands it.
Img: https://www.ladige.it/territori/giudicarie-rendena/2016/02/11/cento-anni-fa-il-cannone-dell-adamello-venne-trascinato-dai-soldati-sui-ghiacciai-1.2687053
ARE YOU INTERESTED IN OTHER STORIES?
They are here: https://amzn.to/42zESYu with complete descriptions
P.S.
“Either My Son or Nobody” is now available in a third edition in digital formats.
“Those Eyes Behind The Glass Door” is available, too.
You can purchase them here by contacting me for €5.00
I do not have paperbacks.
Please email me at liudmila.books@gmail.com to request my stories and specify your preferred file format. I typically respond within one working day.
I can add dedication on request.