White is their uniform
As the icy soil where they walk
Towards the highest mountains
To domain the sky
Cold is the front line
White is their uniform
As the clouds in which they walk
Marching towards the tops
Pure is their valour
The "white war" has started
The austrian tentacle
Never shall embrace these lands
In which our tricolour flies pride
Entrapped by the eternal frost
And the fire of the enemy soldiers
They fight with honour and heroism
Never have abandoned the trench
Never they have lost the italic pride
"Solemn hour of national claim has ringed,
Soldiers! Your is the glory to plant the italian tricolour
over the holy lands that Nature
paid as borders of our Motherland;
your is the glory to carry out
the work begun with much heroism
by our Fathers! With secure faith
in victory that your bravery, your abnegation,
your discipline will obtain"
(V.Emanuele 26/05/1915)
White is their uniform
As the icy soil where they walk
To domain the sky
We will remember them
We shall honour their memory
Pure is their valour