Book Ten: 1812 - Chapter XXXVI

by Leo Tolstoy

　　Prince Andrew's regiment was among the reserves which till after oneo'clock were stationed inactive behind Semenovsk, under heavyartillery fire. Toward two o'clock the regiment, having already lostmore than two hundred men, was moved forward into a trampledoatfield in the gap between Semenovsk and the Knoll Battery, wherethousands of men perished that day and on which an intense,concentrated fire from several hundred enemy guns was directed betweenone and two o'clock.

　　Without moving from that spot or firing a single shot the regimenthere lost another third of its men. From in front and especiallyfrom the right, in the unlifting smoke the guns boomed, and out of themysterious domain of smoke that overlay the whole space in front,quick hissing cannon balls and slow whistling shells flew unceasingly.At times, as if to allow them a respite, a quarter of an hour passedduring which the cannon balls and shells all flew overhead, butsometimes several men were torn from the regiment in a minute andthe slain were continually being dragged away and the woundedcarried off.

　　With each fresh blow less and less chance of life remained for thosenot yet killed. The regiment stood in columns of battalion, threehundred paces apart, but nevertheless the men were always in one andthe same mood. All alike were taciturn and morose. Talk was rarelyheard in the ranks, and it ceased altogether every time the thud ofa successful shot and the cry of "stretchers!" was heard. Most ofthe time, by their officers' order, the men sat on the ground. One,having taken off his shako, carefully loosened the gathers of itslining and drew them tight again; another, rubbing some dry claybetween his palms, polished his bayonet; another fingered the strapand pulled the buckle of his bandolier, while another smoothed andrefolded his leg bands and put his boots on again. Some built littlehouses of the tufts in the plowed ground, or plaited baskets fromthe straw in the cornfield. All seemed fully absorbed in thesepursuits. When men were killed or wounded, when rows of stretcherswent past, when some troops retreated, and when great masses of theenemy came into view through the smoke, no one paid any attention tothese things. But when our artillery or cavalry advanced or some ofour infantry were seen to move forward, words of approval were heardon all sides. But the liveliest attention was attracted by occurrencesquite apart from, and unconnected with, the battle. It was as if theminds of these morally exhausted men found relief in everyday,commonplace occurrences. A battery of artillery was passing in frontof the regiment. The horse of an ammunition cart put its leg over atrace. "Hey, look at the trace horse!... Get her leg out! She'llfall.... Ah, they don't see it!" came identical shouts from theranks all along the regiment. Another time, general attention wasattracted by a small brown dog, coming heaven knows whence, whichtrotted in a preoccupied manner in front of the ranks with tailstiffly erect till suddenly a shell fell close by, when it yelped,tucked its tail between its legs, and darted aside. Yells andshrieks of laughter rose from the whole regiment. But suchdistractions lasted only a moment, and for eight hours the men hadbeen inactive, without food, in constant fear of death, and their paleand gloomy faces grew ever paler and gloomier.

　　Prince Andrew, pale and gloomy like everyone in the regiment,paced up and down from the border of one patch to another, at the edgeof the meadow beside an oatfield, with head bowed and arms behindhis back. There was nothing for him to do and no orders to be given.Everything went on of itself. The killed were dragged from thefront, the wounded carried away, and the ranks closed up. If anysoldiers ran to the rear they returned immediately and hastily. Atfirst Prince Andrew, considering it his duty to rouse the courage ofthe men and to set them an example, walked about among the ranks,but he soon became convinced that this was unnecessary and thatthere was nothing he could teach them. All the powers of his soul,as of every soldier there, were unconsciously bent on avoiding thecontemplation of the horrors of their situation. He walked along themeadow, dragging his feet, rustling the grass, and gazing at thedust that covered his boots; now he took big strides trying to keep tothe footprints left on the meadow by the mowers, then he counted hissteps, calculating how often he must walk from one strip to another towalk a mile, then he stripped the flowers from the wormwood thatgrew along a boundary rut, rubbed them in his palms, and smelled theirpungent, sweetly bitter scent. Nothing remained of the previousday's thoughts. He thought of nothing. He listened with weary earsto the ever-recurring sounds, distinguishing the whistle of flyingprojectiles from the booming of the reports, glanced at the tiresomelyfamiliar faces of the men of the first battalion, and waited. "Here itcomes... this one is coming our way again!" he thought, listening toan approaching whistle in the hidden region of smoke. "One, another!Again! It has hit...." He stopped and looked at the ranks. "No, it hasgone over. But this one has hit!" And again he started trying to reachthe boundary strip in sixteen paces. A whizz and a thud! Five pacesfrom him, a cannon ball tore up the dry earth and disappeared. A chillran down his back. Again he glanced at the ranks. Probably many hadbeen hit- a large crowd had gathered near the second battalion.

　　"Adjutant!" he shouted. "Order them not to crowd together."

　　The adjutant, having obeyed this instruction, approached PrinceAndrew. From the other side a battalion commander rode up.

　　"Look out!" came a frightened cry from a soldier and, like a birdwhirring in rapid flight and alighting on the ground, a shelldropped with little noise within two steps of Prince Andrew andclose to the battalion commander's horse. The horse first,regardless of whether it was right or wrong to show fear, snorted,reared almost throwing the major, and galloped aside. The horse'sterror infected the men.

　　"Lie down!" cried the adjutant, throwing himself flat on the ground.

　　Prince Andrew hesitated. The smoking shell spun like a top betweenhim and the prostrate adjutant, near a wormwood plant between thefield and the meadow.

　　"Can this be death?" thought Prince Andrew, looking with a quitenew, envious glance at the grass, the wormwood, and the streamlet ofsmoke that curled up from the rotating black ball. "I cannot, I do notwish to die. I love life- I love this grass, this earth, this air...."He thought this, and at the same time remembered that people werelooking at him.

　　"It's shameful, sir!" he said to the adjutant. "What..."

　　He did not finish speaking. At one and the same moment came thesound of an explosion, a whistle of splinters as from a breakingwindow frame, a suffocating smell of powder, and Prince Andrew startedto one side, raising his arm, and fell on his chest. Severalofficers ran up to him. From the right side of his abdomen, bloodwas welling out making a large stain on the grass.

　　The militiamen with stretchers who were called up stood behind theofficers. Prince Andrew lay on his chest with his face in the grass,breathing heavily and noisily.

　　"What are you waiting for? Come along!"

　　The peasants went up and took him by his shoulders and legs, buthe moaned piteously and, exchanging looks, they set him down again.

　　"Pick him up, lift him, it's all the same!" cried someone.

　　They again took him by the shoulders and laid him on the stretcher.

　　"Ah, God! My God! What is it? The stomach? That means death! MyGod!"- voices among the officers were heard saying.

　　"It flew a hair's breadth past my ear," said the adjutant.

　　The peasants, adjusting the stretcher to their shoulders, startedhurriedly along the path they had trodden down, to the dressingstation.

　　"Keep in step! Ah... those peasants!" shouted an officer, seizing bytheir shoulders and checking the peasants, who were walking unevenlyand jolting the stretcher.

　　"Get into step, Fedor... I say, Fedor!" said the foremost peasant.

　　"Now that's right!" said the one behind joyfully, when he had gotinto step.

　　"Your excellency! Eh, Prince!" said the trembling voice of Timokhin,who had run up and was looking down on the stretcher.

　　Prince Andrew opened his eyes and looked up at the speaker fromthe stretcher into which his head had sunk deep and again hiseyelids drooped.

　　The militiamen carried Prince Andrew to dressing station by thewood, where wagons were stationed. The dressing station consisted ofthree tents with flaps turned back, pitched at the edge of a birchwood. In the wood, wagons and horses were standing. The horses wereeating oats from their movable troughs and sparrows flew down andpecked the grains that fell. Some crows, scenting blood, flew amongthe birch trees cawing impatiently. Around the tents, over more thanfive acres, bloodstained men in various garbs stood, sat, or lay.Around the wounded stood crowds of soldier stretcher-bearers withdismal and attentive faces, whom the officers keeping order tried invain to drive from the spot. Disregarding the officers' orders, thesoldiers stood leaning against their stretchers and gazing intently,as if trying to comprehend the difficult problem of what was takingplace before them. From the tents came now loud angry cries and nowplaintive groans. Occasionally dressers ran out to fetch water, orto point out those who were to be brought in next. The wounded menawaiting their turn outside the tents groaned, sighed, wept, screamed,swore, or asked for vodka. Some were delirious. Prince Andrew'sbearers, stepping over the wounded who had not yet been bandaged, tookhim, as a regimental commander, close up to one of the tents and therestopped, awaiting instructions. Prince Andrew opened his eyes andfor a long time could not make out what was going on around him. Heremembered the meadow, the wormwood, the field, the whirling blackball, and his sudden rush of passionate love of life. Two steps fromhim, leaning against a branch and talking loudly and attractinggeneral attention, stood a tall, handsome, black-hairednoncommissioned officer with a bandaged head. He had been wounded inthe head and leg by bullets. Around him, eagerly listening to histalk, a crowd of wounded and stretcher-bearers was gathered.

　　"We kicked him out from there so that he chucked everything, wegrabbed the King himself!" cried he, looking around him with eyes thatglittered with fever. "If only reserves had come up just then, lads,there wouldn't have been nothing left of him! I tell you surely..."

　　Like all the others near the speaker, Prince Andrew looked at himwith shining eyes and experienced a sense of comfort. "But isn't itall the same now?" thought he. "And what will be there, and what hasthere been here? Why was I so reluctant to part with life? There wassomething in this life I did not and do not understand."