Book Two: 1805 - Chapter I

by Leo Tolstoy

　　In October, 1805, a Russian army was occupying the villages andtowns of the Archduchy of Austria, and yet other regiments freshlyarriving from Russia were settling near the fortress of Braunau andburdening the inhabitants on whom they were quartered. Braunau was theheadquarters of the commander-in-chief, Kutuzov.

　　On October 11, 1805, one of the infantry regiments that had justreached Braunau had halted half a mile from the town, waiting to beinspected by the commander in chief. Despite the un-Russian appearanceof the locality and surroundings- fruit gardens, stone fences, tiledroofs, and hills in the distance- and despite the fact that theinhabitants (who gazed with curiosity at the soldiers) were notRussians, the regiment had just the appearance of any Russian regimentpreparing for an inspection anywhere in the heart of Russia.

　　On the evening of the last day's march an order had been receivedthat the commander in chief would inspect the regiment on the march.Though the words of the order were not clear to the regimentalcommander, and the question arose whether the troops were to be inmarching order or not, it was decided at a consultation between thebattalion commanders to present the regiment in parade order, on theprinciple that it is always better to "bow too low than not bow lowenough." So the soldiers, after a twenty-mile march, were kept mendingand cleaning all night long without closing their eyes, while theadjutants and company commanders calculated and reckoned, and bymorning the regiment- instead of the straggling, disorderly crowd ithad been on its last march the day before- presented a well-orderedarray of two thousand men each of whom knew his place and his duty,had every button and every strap in place, and shone with cleanliness.And not only externally was all in order, but had it pleased thecommander in chief to look under the uniforms he would have found onevery man a clean shirt, and in every knapsack the appointed number ofarticles, "awl, soap, and all," as the soldiers say. There was onlyone circumstance concerning which no one could be at ease. It wasthe state of the soldiers' boots. More than half the men's bootswere in holes. But this defect was not due to any fault of theregimental commander, for in spite of repeated demands boots had notbeen issued by the Austrian commissariat, and the regiment had marchedsome seven hundred miles.

　　The commander of the regiment was an elderly, choleric, stout, andthick-set general with grizzled eyebrows and whiskers, and widerfrom chest to back than across the shoulders. He had on a brand-newuniform showing the creases where it had been folded and thick goldepaulettes which seemed to stand rather than lie down on his massiveshoulders. He had the air of a man happily performing one of themost solemn duties of his life. He walked about in front of the lineand at every step pulled himself up, slightly arching his back. It wasplain that the commander admired his regiment, rejoiced in it, andthat his whole mind was engrossed by it, yet his strut seemed toindicate that, besides military matters, social interests and the fairsex occupied no small part of his thoughts.

　　"Well, Michael Mitrich, sir?" he said, addressing one of thebattalion commanders who smilingly pressed forward (it was plainthat they both felt happy). "We had our hands full last night.However, I think the regiment is not a bad one, eh?"

　　The battalion commander perceived the jovial irony and laughed.

　　"It would not be turned off the field even on the Tsaritsin Meadow."

　　"What?" asked the commander.

　　At that moment, on the road from the town on which signalers hadbeen posted, two men appeared on horse back. They were anaide-decamp followed by a Cossack.

　　The aide-de-camp was sent to confirm the order which had not beenclearly worded the day before, namely, that the commander in chiefwished to see the regiment just in the state in which it had been onthe march: in their greatcoats, and packs, and without any preparationwhatever.

　　A member of the Hofkriegsrath from Vienna had come to Kutuzov theday before with proposals and demands for him to join up with the armyof the Archduke Ferdinand and Mack, and Kutuzov, not consideringthis junction advisable, meant, among other arguments in support ofhis view, to show the Austrian general the wretched state in which thetroops arrived from Russia. With this object he intended to meet theregiment; so the worse the condition it was in, the better pleased thecommander in chief would be. Though the aide-de-camp did not knowthese circumstances, he nevertheless delivered the definite order thatthe men should be in their greatcoats and in marching order, andthat the commander in chief would otherwise be dissatisfied. Onhearing this the regimental commander hung his head, silently shruggedhis shoulders, and spread out his arms with a choleric gesture.

　　"A fine mess we've made of it!" he remarked.

　　"There now! Didn't I tell you, Michael Mitrich, that if it wassaid 'on the march' it meant in greatcoats?" said he reproachfullyto the battalion commander. "Oh, my God!" he added, steppingresolutely forward. "Company commanders!" he shouted in a voiceaccustomed to command. "Sergeants major!... How soon will he be here?"he asked the aide-de-camp with a respectful politeness evidentlyrelating to the personage he was referring to.

　　"In an hour's time, I should say."

　　"Shall we have time to change clothes?"

　　"I don't know, General...."

　　The regimental commander, going up to the line himself, orderedthe soldiers to change into their greatcoats. The company commandersran off to their companies, the sergeants major began bustling (thegreatcoats were not in very good condition), and instantly the squaresthat had up to then been in regular order and silent began to sway andstretch and hum with voices. On all sides soldiers were running to andfro, throwing up their knapsacks with a jerk of their shoulders andpulling the straps over their heads, unstrapping their overcoats anddrawing the sleeves on with upraised arms.

　　In half an hour all was again in order, only the squares hadbecome gray instead of black. The regimental commander walked with hisjerky steps to the front of the regiment and examined it from adistance.

　　"Whatever is this? This!" he shouted and stood still. "Commanderof the third company!"

　　"Commander of the third company wanted by the general!...commander to the general... third company to the commander." The wordspassed along the lines and an adjutant ran to look for the missingofficer.

　　When the eager but misrepeated words had reached their destinationin a cry of: "The general to the third company," the missing officerappeared from behind his company and, though he was a middle-agedman and not in the habit of running, trotted awkwardly stumbling onhis toes toward the general. The captain's face showed theuneasiness of a schoolboy who is told to repeat a lesson he has notlearned. Spots appeared on his nose, the redness of which wasevidently due to intemperance, and his mouth twitched nervously. Thegeneral looked the captain up and down as he came up panting,slackening his pace as he approached.

　　"You will soon be dressing your men in petticoats! What is this?"shouted the regimental commander, thrusting forward his jaw andpointing at a soldier in the ranks of the third company in a greatcoatof bluish cloth, which contrasted with the others. "What have you beenafter? The commander in chief is expected and you leave your place?Eh? I'll teach you to dress the men in fancy coats for a parade....Eh...?"

　　The commander of the company, with his eyes fixed on his superior,pressed two fingers more and more rigidly to his cap, as if in thispressure lay his only hope of salvation.

　　"Well, why don't you speak? Whom have you got there dressed up asa Hungarian?" said the commander with an austere gibe.

　　"Your excellency..."

　　"Well, your excellency, what? Your excellency! But what about yourexcellency?... nobody knows."

　　"Your excellency, it's the officer Dolokhov, who has been reduced tothe ranks," said the captain softly.

　　"Well? Has he been degraded into a field marshal, or into a soldier?If a soldier, he should be dressed in regulation uniform like theothers."

　　"Your excellency, you gave him leave yourself, on the march."

　　"Gave him leave? Leave? That's just like you young men," said theregimental commander cooling down a little. "Leave indeed.... One saysa word to you and you... What?" he added with renewed irritation, "Ibeg you to dress your men decently."

　　And the commander, turning to look at the adjutant, directed hisjerky steps down the line. He was evidently pleased at his own displayof anger and walking up to the regiment wished to find a furtherexcuse for wrath. Having snapped at an officer for an unpolishedbadge, at another because his line was not straight, he reached thethird company.

　　"H-o-o-w are you standing? Where's your leg? Your leg?" shoutedthe commander with a tone of suffering in his voice, while therewere still five men between him and Dolokhov with his bluish-grayuniform.

　　Dolokhov slowly straightened his bent knee, looking straight withhis clear, insolent eyes in the general's face.

　　"Why a blue coat? Off with it... Sergeant major! Change hiscoat... the ras..." he did not finish.

　　"General, I must obey orders, but I am not bound to endure..."Dolokhov hurriedly interrupted.

　　"No talking in the ranks!... No talking, no talking!"

　　"Not bound to endure insults," Dolokhov concluded in loud, ringingtones.

　　The eyes of the general and the soldier met. The general becamesilent, angrily pulling down his tight scarf.

　　"I request you to have the goodness to change your coat," he said ashe turned away.