Book Ten: 1812 - Chapter XXXI

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Having descended the hill the general after whom Pierre wasgalloping turned sharply to the left, and Pierre, losing sight of him,galloped in among some ranks of infantry marching ahead of him. Hetried to pass either in front of them or to the right or left, butthere were soldiers everywhere, all with expression and busy with someunseen but evidently important task. They all gazed with the samedissatisfied and inquiring expression at this stout man in a whitehat, who for some unknown reason threatened to trample them underhis horse's hoofs.

　　"Why ride into the middle of the battalion?" one of them shoutedat him.

　　Another prodded his horse with the butt end of a musket, and Pierre,bending over his saddlebow and hardly able to control his shyinghorse, galloped ahead of the soldiers where there was a free space.

　　There was a bridge ahead of him, where other soldiers stoodfiring. Pierre rode up to them. Without being aware of it he hadcome to the bridge across the Kolocha between Gorki and Borodino,which the French (having occupied Borodino) were attacking in thefirst phase of the battle. Pierre saw that there was a bridge in frontof him and that soldiers were doing something on both sides of itand in the meadow, among the rows of new-mown hay which he had takenno notice of amid the smoke of the campfires the day before; butdespite the incessant firing going on there he had no idea that thiswas the field of battle. He did not notice the sound of the bulletswhistling from every side, or the projectiles that flew over him,did not see the enemy on the other side of the river, and for a longtime did not notice the killed and wounded, though many fell near him.He looked about him with a smile which did not leave his face.

　　"Why's that fellow in front of the line?" shouted somebody at himagain.

　　"To the left!... Keep to the right!" the men shouted to him.

　　Pierre went to the right, and unexpectedly encountered one ofRaevski's adjutants whom he knew. The adjutant looked angrily athim, evidently also intending to shout at him, but on recognizinghim he nodded.

　　"How have you got here?" he said, and galloped on.

　　Pierre, feeling out of place there, having nothing to do, and afraidof getting in someone's way again, galloped after the adjutant.

　　"What's happening here? May I come with you?" he asked.

　　"One moment, one moment!" replied the adjutant, and riding up to astout colonel who was standing in the meadow, he gave him some messageand then addressed Pierre.

　　"Why have you come here, Count?" he asked with a smile. "Stillinquisitive?"

　　"Yes, yes," assented Pierre.

　　But the adjutant turned his horse about and rode on.

　　"Here it's tolerable," said he, "but with Bagration on the leftflank they're getting it frightfully hot."

　　"Really?" said Pierre. "Where is that?"

　　"Come along with me to our knoll. We can get a view from there andin our battery it is still bearable," said the adjutant. "Will youcome?"

　　"Yes, I'll come with you," replied Pierre, looking round for hisgroom.

　　It was only now that he noticed wounded men staggering along orbeing carried on stretchers. On that very meadow he had ridden overthe day before, a soldier was lying athwart the rows of scented hay,with his head thrown awkwardly back and his shako off.

　　"Why haven't they carried him away?" Pierre was about to ask, butseeing the stern expression of the adjutant who was also lookingthat way, he checked himself.

　　Pierre did not find his groom and rode along the hollow with theadjutant to Raevski's Redoubt. His horse lagged behind theadjutant's and jolted him at every step.

　　"You don't seem to be used to riding, Count?" remarked the adjutant.

　　"No it's not that, but her action seems so jerky," said Pierre ina puzzled tone.

　　"Why... she's wounded!" said the adjutant. "In the off foreleg abovethe knee. A bullet, no doubt. I congratulate you, Count, on yourbaptism of fire!"

　　Having ridden in the smoke past the Sixth Corps, behind theartillery which had been moved forward and was in action, deafeningthem with the noise of firing, they came to a small wood. There it wascool and quiet, with a scent of autumn. Pierre and the adjutantdismounted and walked up the hill on foot.

　　"Is the general here?" asked the adjutant on reaching the knoll.

　　"He was here a minute ago but has just gone that way," someonetold him, pointing to the right.

　　The adjutant looked at Pierre as if puzzled what to do with him now.

　　"Don't trouble about me," said Pierre. "I'll go up onto the knoll ifI may?"

　　"Yes, do. You'll see everything from there and it's lessdangerous, and I'll come for you."

　　Pierre went to the battery and the adjutant rode on. They did notmeet again, and only much later did Pierre learn that he lost an armthat day.

　　The knoll to which Pierre ascended was that famous one afterwardsknown to the Russians as the Knoll Battery or Raevski's Redoubt, andto the French as la grande redoute, la fatale redoute, la redoute ducentre, around which tens of thousands fell, and which the Frenchregarded as the key to the whole position.

　　This redoubt consisted of a knoll, on three sides of whichtrenches had been dug. Within the entrenchment stood ten guns thatwere being fired through openings in the earthwork.

　　In line with the knoll on both sides stood other guns which alsofired incessantly. A little behind the guns stood infantry. Whenascending that knoll Pierre had no notion that this spot, on whichsmall trenches had been dug and from which a few guns were firing, wasthe most important point of the battle.

　　On the contrary, just because he happened to be there he thoughtit one of the least significant parts of the field.

　　Having reached the knoll, Pierre sat down at one end of a trenchsurrounding the battery and gazed at what was going on around him withan unconsciously happy smile. Occasionally he rose and walked aboutthe battery still with that same smile, trying not to obstruct thesoldiers who were loading, hauling the guns, and continually runningpast him with bags and charges. The guns of that battery were beingfired continually one after another with a deafening roar,enveloping the whole neighborhood in powder smoke.

　　In contrast with the dread felt by the infantrymen placed insupport, here in the battery where a small number of men busy at theirwork were separated from the rest by a trench, everyone experienceda common and as it were family feeling of animation.

　　The intrusion of Pierre's nonmilitary figure in a white hat madean unpleasant impression at first. The soldiers looked askance athim with surprise and even alarm as they went past him. The seniorartillery officer, a tall, long-legged, pockmarked man, moved overto Pierre as if to see the action of the farthest gun and looked athim with curiosity.

　　A young round-faced officer, quite a boy still and evidently onlyjust out of the Cadet College, who was zealously commanding the twoguns entrusted to him, addressed Pierre sternly.

　　"Sir," he said, "permit me to ask you to stand aside. You must notbe here."

　　The soldiers shook their heads disapprovingly as they looked atPierre. But when they had convinced themselves that this man in thewhite hat was doing no harm, but either sat quietly on the slope ofthe trench with a shy smile or, politely making way for thesoldiers, paced up and down the battery under fire as calmly as ifhe were on a boulevard, their feeling of hostile distrust graduallybegan to change into a kindly and bantering sympathy, such as soldiersfeel for their dogs, cocks, goats, and in general for the animals thatlive with the regiment. The men soon accepted Pierre into theirfamily, adopted him, gave him a nickname ("our gentleman"), and madekindly fun of him among themselves.

　　A shell tore up the earth two paces from Pierre and he looked aroundwith a smile as he brushed from his clothes some earth it had thrownup.

　　"And how's it you're not afraid, sir, really now?" a red-faced,broad-shouldered soldier asked Pierre, with a grin that disclosed aset of sound, white teeth.

　　"Are you afraid, then?" said Pierre.

　　"What else do you expect?" answered the soldier. "She has nomercy, you know! When she comes spluttering down, out go your innards.One can't help being afraid," he said laughing.

　　Several of the men, with bright kindly faces, stopped beside Pierre.They seemed not to have expected him to talk like anybody else, andthe discovery that he did so delighted them.

　　"It's the business of us soldiers. But in a gentleman it'swonderful! There's a gentleman for you!"

　　"To your places!" cried the young officer to the men gatheredround Pierre.

　　The young officer was evidently exercising his duties for thefirst or second time and therefore treated both his superiors andthe men with great precision and formality.

　　The booming cannonade and the fusillade of musketry were growingmore intense over the whole field, especially to the left whereBagration's fleches were, but where Pierre was the smoke of the firingmade it almost impossible to distinguish anything. Moreover, his wholeattention was engrossed by watching the family circle- separatedfrom all else- formed by the men in the battery. His first unconsciousfeeling of joyful animation produced by the sights and sounds of thebattlefield was now replaced by another, especially since he hadseen that soldier lying alone in the hayfield. Now, seated on theslope of the trench, he observed the faces of those around him.

　　By ten o'clock some twenty men had already been carried away fromthe battery; two guns were smashed and cannon balls fell more and morefrequently on the battery and spent bullets buzzed and whistledaround. But the men in the battery seemed not to notice this, andmerry voices and jokes were heard on all sides.

　　"A live one!" shouted a man as a whistling shell approached.

　　"Not this way! To the infantry!" added another with loud laughter,seeing the shell fly past and fall into the ranks of the supports.

　　"Are you bowing to a friend, eh?" remarked another, chaffing apeasant who ducked low as a cannon ball flew over.

　　Several soldiers gathered by the wall of the trench, looking outto see what was happening in front.

　　"They've withdrawn the front line, it has retired," said they,pointing over the earthwork.

　　"Mind your own business," an old sergeant shouted at them. "Ifthey've retired it's because there's work for them to do fartherback."

　　And the sergeant, taking one of the men by the shoulders, gave him ashove with his knee. This was followed by a burst of laughter.

　　"To the fifth gun, wheel it up!" came shouts from one side.

　　"Now then, all together, like bargees!" rose the merry voices ofthose who were moving the gun.

　　"Oh, she nearly knocked our gentleman's hat off!" cried thered-faced humorist, showing his teeth chaffing Pierre. "Awkwardbaggage!" he added reproachfully to a cannon ball that struck a cannonwheel and a man's leg.

　　"Now then, you foxes!" said another, laughing at some militiamenwho, stooping low, entered the battery to carry away the wounded man.

　　"So this gruel isn't to your taste? Oh, you crows! You're scared!"they shouted at the militiamen who stood hesitating before the manwhose leg had been torn off.

　　"There, lads... oh, oh!" they mimicked the peasants, "they don'tlike it at all!"

　　Pierre noticed that after every ball that hit the redoubt, and afterevery loss, the liveliness increased more and more.

　　As the flames of the fire hidden within come more and more vividlyand rapidly from an approaching thundercloud, so, as if inopposition to what was taking place, the lightning of hidden firegrowing more and more intense glowed in the faces of these men.

　　Pierre did not look out at the battlefield and was not concernedto know what was happening there; he was entirely absorbed in watchingthis fire which burned ever more brightly and which he felt wasflaming up in the same way in his own soul.

　　At ten o'clock the infantry that had been among the bushes infront of the battery and along the Kamenka streamlet retreated. Fromthe battery they could be seen running back past it carrying theirwounded on their muskets. A general with his suite came to thebattery, and after speaking to the colonel gave Pierre an angry lookand went away again having ordered the infantry supports behind thebattery to lie down, so as to be less exposed to fire. After this fromamid the ranks of infantry to the right of the battery came thesound of a drum and shouts of command, and from the battery one sawhow those ranks of infantry moved forward.

　　Pierre looked over the wall of the trench and was particularlystruck by a pale young officer who, letting his sword hang down, waswalking backwards and kept glancing uneasily around.

　　The ranks of the infantry disappeared amid the smoke but theirlong-drawn shout and rapid musketry firing could still be heard. A fewminutes later crowds of wounded men and stretcher-bearers came backfrom that direction. Projectiles began to fall still more frequentlyin the battery. Several men were lying about who had not been removed.Around the cannon the men moved still more briskly and busily. Noone any longer took notice of Pierre. Once or twice he was shoutedat for being in the way. The senior officer moved with big, rapidstrides from one gun to another with a frowning face. The youngofficer, with his face still more flushed, commanded the men morescrupulously than ever. The soldiers handed up the charges, turned,loaded, and did their business with strained smartness. They gavelittle jumps as they walked, as though they were on springs.

　　The stormcloud had come upon them, and in every face the firewhich Pierre had watched kindle burned up brightly. Pierre standingbeside the commanding officer. The young officer, his hand to hisshako, ran up to his superior.

　　"I have the honor to report, sir, that only eight rounds are left.Are we to continue firing?" he asked.

　　"Grapeshot!" the senior shouted, without answering the question,looking over the wall of the trench.

　　Suddenly something happened: the young officer gave a gasp andbending double sat down on the ground like a bird shot on the wing.Everything became strange, confused, and misty in Pierre's eyes.

　　One cannon ball after another whistled by and struck theearthwork, a soldier, or a gun. Pierre, who had not noticed thesesounds before, now heard nothing else. On the right of the batterysoldiers shouting "Hurrah!" were running not forwards but backwards,it seemed to Pierre.

　　A cannon ball struck the very end of the earth work by which hewas standing, crumbling down the earth; a black ball flashed beforehis eyes and at the same instant plumped into something. Somemilitiamen who were entering the battery ran back.

　　"All with grapeshot!" shouted the officer.

　　The sergeant ran up to the officer and in a frightened whisperinformed him (as a butler at dinner informs his master that there isno more of some wine asked for) that there were no more charges.

　　"The scoundrels! What are they doing?" shouted the officer,turning to Pierre.

　　The officer's face was red and perspiring and his eyes glitteredunder his frowning brow.

　　"Run to the reserves and bring up the ammunition boxes!" heyelled, angrily avoiding Pierre with his eyes and speaking to his men.

　　"I'll go," said Pierre.

　　The officer, without answering him, strode across to the oppositeside.

　　"Don't fire.... Wait!" he shouted.

　　The man who had been ordered to go for ammunition stumbled againstPierre.

　　"Eh, sir, this is no place for you," said he, and ran down theslope.

　　Pierre ran after him, avoiding the spot where the young officerwas sitting.

　　One cannon ball, another, and a third flew over him, falling infront, beside, and behind him. Pierre ran down the slope. "Where amI going?" he suddenly asked himself when he was already near the greenammunition wagons. He halted irresolutely, not knowing whether toreturn or go on. Suddenly a terrible concussion threw him backwards tothe ground. At the same instant he was dazzled by a great flash offlame, and immediately a deafening roar, crackling, and whistling madehis ears tingle.

　　When he came to himself he was sitting on the ground leaning onhis hands; the ammunition wagons he had been approaching no longerexisted, only charred green boards and rags littered the scorchedgrass, and a horse, dangling fragments of its shaft behind it,galloped past, while another horse lay, like Pierre, on the ground,uttering prolonged and piercing cries.