Book Two: 1805 - Chapter XXI

by Leo Tolstoy

　　The wind had fallen and black clouds, merging with the powder smoke,hung low over the field of battle on the horizon. It was growingdark and the glow of two conflagrations was the more conspicuous.The cannonade was dying down, but the rattle of musketry behind and onthe right sounded oftener and nearer. As soon as Tushin with his guns,continually driving round or coming upon wounded men, was out of rangeof fire and had descended into the dip, he was met by some of thestaff, among them the staff officer and Zherkov, who had been twicesent to Tushin's battery but had never reached it. Interrupting oneanother, they all gave, and transmitted, orders as to how toproceed, reprimanding and reproaching him. Tushin gave no orders, and,silently- fearing to speak because at every word he felt ready to weepwithout knowing why- rode behind on his artillery nag. Though theorders were to abandon the wounded, many of them dragged themselvesafter troops and begged for seats on the gun carriages. The jauntyinfantry officer who just before the battle had rushed out of Tushin'swattle shed was laid, with a bullet in his stomach, on "Matvevna's"carriage. At the foot of the hill, a pale hussar cadet, supporting onehand with the other, came up to Tushin and asked for a seat.

　　"Captain, for God's sake! I've hurt my arm," he said timidly. "ForGod's sake... I can't walk. For God's sake!"

　　It was plain that this cadet had already repeatedly asked for a liftand been refused. He asked in a hesitating, piteous voice.

　　"Tell them to give me a seat, for God's sake!"

　　"Give him a seat," said Tushin. "Lay a cloak for him to sit on,lad," he said, addressing his favorite soldier. "And where is thewounded officer?"

　　"He has been set down. He died," replied someone.

　　"Help him up. Sit down, dear fellow, sit down! Spread out the cloak,Antonov."

　　The cadet was Rostov. With one hand he supported the other; he waspale and his jaw trembled, shivering feverishly. He was placed on"Matvevna," the gun from which they had removed the dead officer.The cloak they spread under him was wet with blood which stained hisbreeches and arm.

　　"What, are you wounded, my lad?" said Tushin, approaching the gun onwhich Rostov sat.

　　"No, it's a sprain."

　　"Then what is this blood on the gun carriage?" inquired Tushin.

　　"It was the officer, your honor, stained it," answered theartilleryman, wiping away the blood with his coat sleeve, as ifapologizing for the state of his gun.

　　It was all that they could do to get the guns up the rise aided bythe infantry, and having reached the village of Gruntersdorf theyhalted. It had grown so dark that one could not distinguish theuniforms ten paces off, and the firing had begun to subside. Suddenly,near by on the right, shouting and firing were again heard. Flashes ofshot gleamed in the darkness. This was the last French attack andwas met by soldiers who had sheltered in the village houses. Theyall rushed out of the village again, but Tushin's guns could not move,and the artillerymen, Tushin, and the cadet exchanged silent glancesas they awaited their fate. The firing died down and soldiers, talkingeagerly, streamed out of a side street.

　　"Not hurt, Petrov?" asked one.

　　"We've given it 'em hot, mate! They won't make another push now,"said another.

　　"You couldn't see a thing. How they shot at their own fellows!Nothing could be seen. Pitch-dark, brother! Isn't there something todrink?"

　　The French had been repulsed for the last time. And again andagain in the complete darkness Tushin's guns moved forward, surroundedby the humming infantry as by a frame.

　　In the darkness, it seemed as though a gloomy unseen river wasflowing always in one direction, humming with whispers and talk andthe sound of hoofs and wheels. Amid the general rumble, the groans andvoices of the wounded were more distinctly heard than any othersound in the darkness of the night. The gloom that enveloped thearmy was filled with their groans, which seemed to melt into onewith the darkness of the night. After a while the moving mass becameagitated, someone rode past on a white horse followed by his suite,and said something in passing: "What did he say? Where to, now?Halt, is it? Did he thank us?" came eager questions from all sides.The whole moving mass began pressing closer together and a reportspread that they were ordered to halt: evidently those in front hadhalted. All remained where they were in the middle of the muddy road.

　　Fires were lighted and the talk became more audible. Captain Tushin,having given orders to his company, sent a soldier to find adressing station or a doctor for the cadet, and sat down by abonfire the soldiers had kindled on the road. Rostov, too, draggedhimself to the fire. From pain, cold, and damp, a feverish shiveringshook his whole body. Drowsiness was irresistibly mastering him, buthe kept awake kept awake by an excruciating pain in his arm, for whichhe could find no satisfactory position. He kept closing his eyes andthen again looking at the fire, which seemed to him dazzlingly red,and at the feeble, round-shouldered figure of Tushin who was sittingcross-legged like a Turk beside him. Tushin's large, kind, intelligenteyes were fixed with sympathy and commiseration on Rostov, who sawthat Tushin with his whole heart wished to help him but could not.

　　From all sides were heard the footsteps and talk of the infantry,who were walking, driving past, and settling down all around. Thesound of voices, the tramping feet, the horses' hoofs moving in mud,the crackling of wood fires near and afar, merged into one tremulousrumble.

　　It was no longer, as before, a dark, unseen river flowing throughthe gloom, but a dark sea swelling and gradually subsiding after astorm. Rostov looked at and listened listlessly to what passedbefore and around him. An infantryman came to the fire, squatted onhis heels, held his hands to the blaze, and turned away his face.

　　"You don't mind your honor?" he asked Tushin. "I've lost my company,your honor. I don't know where... such bad luck!"

　　With the soldier, an infantry officer with a bandaged cheek cameup to the bonfire, and addressing Tushin asked him to have the gunsmoved a trifle to let a wagon go past. After he had gone, two soldiersrushed to the campfire. They were quarreling and fighting desperately,each trying to snatch from the other a boot they were both holdingon to.

　　"You picked it up?... I dare say! You're very smart!" one of themshouted hoarsely.

　　Then a thin, pale soldier, his neck bandaged with a bloodstained legband, came up and in angry tones asked the artillerymen for water.

　　"Must one die like a dog?" said he.

　　Tushin told them to give the man some water. Then a cheerful soldierran up, begging a little fire for the infantry.

　　"A nice little hot torch for the infantry! Good luck to you,fellow countrymen. Thanks for the fire- we'll return it withinterest," said he, carrying away into the darkness a glowing stick.

　　Next came four soldiers, carrying something heavy on a cloak, andpassed by the fire. One of them stumbled.

　　"Who the devil has put the logs on the road?" snarled he.

　　"He's dead- why carry him?" said another.

　　"Shut up!"

　　And they disappeared into the darkness with with their load.

　　"Still aching?" Tushin asked Rostov in a whisper.

　　"Yes."

　　"Your honor, you're wanted by the general. He is in the hut here,"said a gunner, coming up to Tushin.

　　"Coming, friend."

　　Tushin rose and, buttoning his greatcoat and pulling it straight,walked away from the fire.

　　Not far from the artillery campfire, in a hut that had been preparedfor him, Prince Bagration sat at dinner, talking with somecommanding officers who had gathered at his quarters. The little oldman with the half-closed eyes was there greedily gnawing a muttonbone, and the general who had served blamelessly for twenty-two years,flushed by a glass of vodka and the dinner; and the staff officer withthe signet ring, and Zherkov, uneasily glancing at them all, andPrince Andrew, pale, with compressed lips and feverishly glitteringeyes.

　　In a corner of the hut stood a standard captured from the French,and the accountant with the naive face was feeling its texture,shaking his head in perplexity- perhaps because the banner reallyinterested him, perhaps because it was hard for him, hungry as he was,to look on at a dinner where there was no place for him. In the nexthut there was a French colonel who had been taken prisoner by ourdragoons. Our officers were flocking in to look at him. PrinceBagration was thanking the individual commanders and inquiring intodetails of the action and our losses. The general whose regiment hadbeen inspected at Braunau was informing the prince that as soon as theaction began he had withdrawn from the wood, mustered the men who werewoodcutting, and, allowing the French to pass him, had made abayonet charge with two battalions and had broken up the Frenchtroops.

　　"When I saw, your excellency, that their first battalion wasdisorganized, I stopped in the road and thought: 'I'll let them comeon and will meet them with the fire of the whole battalion'- andthat's what I did."

　　The general had so wished to do this and was so sorry he had notmanaged to do it that it seemed to him as if it had really happened.Perhaps it might really have been so? Could one possibly make out amidall that confusion what did or did not happen?

　　"By the way, your excellency, I should inform you," he continued-remembering Dolokhov's conversation with Kutuzov and his lastinterview with the gentleman-ranker- "that Private Dolokhov, who wasreduced to the ranks, took a French officer prisoner in my presenceand particularly distinguished himself."

　　"I saw the Pavlograd hussars attack there, your excellency,"chimed in Zherkov, looking uneasily around. He had not seen thehussars all that day, but had heard about them from an infantryofficer. "They broke up two squares, your excellency."

　　Several of those present smiled at Zherkov's words, expecting one ofhis usual jokes, but noticing that what he was saying redounded to theglory of our arms and of the day's work, they assumed a seriousexpression, though many of them knew that what he was saying was a liedevoid of any foundation. Prince Bagration turned to the old colonel:

　　"Gentlemen, I thank you all; all arms have behaved heroically:infantry, cavalry, and artillery. How was it that two guns wereabandoned in the center?" he inquired, searching with his eyes forsomeone. (Prince Bagration did not ask about the guns on the leftflank; he knew that all the guns there had been abandoned at thevery beginning of the action.) "I think I sent you?" he added, turningto the staff officer on duty.

　　"One was damaged," answered the staff officer, "and the other Ican't understand. I was there all the time giving orders and hadonly just left.... It is true that it was hot there," he added,modestly.

　　Someone mentioned that Captain Tushin was bivouacking close to thevillage and had already been sent for.

　　"Oh, but you were there?" said Prince Bagration, addressing PrinceAndrew.

　　"Of course, we only just missed one another," said the staffofficer, with a smile to Bolkonski.

　　"I had not the pleasure of seeing you," said Prince Andrew, coldlyand abruptly.

　　All were silent. Tushin appeared at the threshold and made his waytimidly from behind the backs of the generals. As he stepped pastthe generals in the crowded hut, feeling embarrassed as he alwayswas by the sight of his superiors, he did not notice the staff ofthe banner and stumbled over it. Several of those present laughed.

　　"How was it a gun was abandoned?" asked Bagration, frowning, notso much at the captain as at those who were laughing, among whomZherkov laughed loudest.

　　Only now, when he was confronted by the stern authorities, did hisguilt and the disgrace of having lost two guns and yet remaining alivepresent themselves to Tushin in all their horror. He had been soexcited that he had not thought about it until that moment. Theofficers' laughter confused him still more. He stood beforeBagration with his lower jaw trembling and was hardly able tomutter: "I don't know... your excellency... I had no men... yourexcellency."

　　"You might have taken some from the covering troops."

　　Tushin did not say that there were no covering troops, though thatwas perfectly true. He was afraid of getting some other officer intotrouble, and silently fixed his eyes on Bagration as a schoolboy whohas blundered looks at an examiner.

　　The silence lasted some time. Prince Bagration, apparently notwishing to be severe, found nothing to say; the others did not ventureto intervene. Prince Andrew looked at Tushin from under his browsand his fingers twitched nervously.

　　"Your excellency!" Prince Andrew broke the silence with his abruptvoice," you were pleased to send me to Captain Tushin's battery. Iwent there and found two thirds of the men and horses knocked out, twoguns smashed, and no supports at all."

　　Prince Bagration and Tushin looked with equal intentness atBolkonski, who spoke with suppressed agitation.

　　"And, if your excellency will allow me to express my opinion," hecontinued, "we owe today's success chiefly to the action of thatbattery and the heroic endurance of Captain Tushin and his company,"and without awaiting a reply, Prince Andrew rose and left the table.

　　Prince Bagration looked at Tushin, evidently reluctant to showdistrust in Bolkonski's emphatic opinion yet not feeling able fully tocredit it, bent his head, and told Tushin that he could go. PrinceAndrew went out with him.

　　"Thank you; you saved me, my dear fellow!" said Tushin.

　　Prince Andrew gave him a look, but said nothing and went away. Hefelt sad and depressed. It was all so strange, so unlike what he hadhoped.

　　"Who are they? Why are they here? What do they want? And when willall this end?" thought Rostov, looking at the changing shadowsbefore him. The pain in his arm became more and more intense.Irresistible drowsiness overpowered him, red rings danced before hiseyes, and the impression of those voices and faces and a sense ofloneliness merged with the physical pain. It was they, these soldiers-wounded and unwounded- it was they who were crushing, weighing down,and twisting the sinews and scorching the flesh of his sprained armand shoulder. To rid himself of them he closed his eyes.

　　For a moment he dozed, but in that short interval innumerable thingsappeared to him in a dream: his mother and her large white hand,Sonya's thin little shoulders, Natasha's eyes and laughter, Denisovwith his voice and mustache, and Telyanin and all that affair withTelyanin and Bogdanich. That affair was the same thing as this soldierwith the harsh voice, and it was that affair and this soldier thatwere so agonizingly, incessantly pulling and pressing his arm andalways dragging it in one direction. He tried to get away from them,but they would not for an instant let his shoulder move a hair'sbreadth. It would not ache- it would be well- if only they did notpull it, but it was immpossible to get rid of them.

　　He opened his eyes and looked up. The black canopy of night hungless than a yard above the glow of the charcoal. Flakes of fallingsnow were fluttering in that light. Tushin had not returned, thedoctor had not come. He was alone now, except for a soldier who wassitting naked at the other side of the fire, warming his thin yellowbody.

　　"Nobody wants me!" thought Rostov. "There is no one to help me orpity me. Yet I was once at home, strong, happy, and loved." Hesighed and, doing so, groaned involuntarily.

　　"Eh, is anything hurting you?" asked the soldier, shaking hisshirt out over the fire, and not waiting for an answer he gave a gruntand added: "What a lot of men have been crippled today- frightful!"

　　Rostov did not listen to the soldier. He looked at the snowflakesfluttering above the fire and remembered a Russian winter at his warm,bright home, his fluffy fur coat, his quickly gliding sleigh, hishealthy body, and all the affection and care of his family. "And whydid I come here?" he wondered.

　　Next day the French army did not renew their attack, and the remnantof Bagration's detachment was reunited to Kutuzov's army.