Ta pum is the sound of the shot of a hundred year old rifle. Ta pum is the echo that still bounces eternally on the Alpine front, the scenario of the bloody clash between Italians and Austrians. A century after the end of the First World War, this echo still lives among the rocks, the crags and the ice of that sinuous front frozen in history. After a hundred years on the battleground, in addition to the echo of the memory of far battles, many rusty pieces of time remain: scraps of history abandoned among the stones. Today those same mountains still wounded by bombs have become the stage of an often unaware tourism that does not know how to look at history as well as the land on which it walks. Sometimes the lightness with which the mountain is experienced puts emphasis on landscapes, walks and contact with nature rather than on an awareness of history in relation to places. And this is how today's mountain tourist treads without realizing the bloody and chipped earth as well as the countless ferrous remains of human suffering. The mountains today have a second and new life born on the rusty ashes of a distant and omnipresent war.