War And Peace: Book 2 - CHAPTER XX

作者: Leo Tolstoy

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Author: Leo Tolstoy

THE INFANTRY, who had been caught unawares in the copse, had run away,

and the different companies all confused together had retreated in disorderly

crowds. One soldier in a panic had uttered those words—terrible in war

and meaningless: “Cut off!” and those words had infected the whole mass

with panic.

“Outflanked! Cut off! Lost!” they shouted as they ran.

When their general heard the firing and the shouts in the rear he had

grasped at the instant that something awful was happening to his regiment;

and the thought that he, an exemplary officer, who had served so many

years without ever having been guilty of the slightest shortcoming,

might be held responsible by his superiors for negligence or lack of

discipline, so affected him that, instantly oblivious of the insubordinate

cavalry colonel and his dignity as a general, utterly oblivious even

of danger and of the instinct of self-preservation, he clutched at the

crupper of his saddle, and spurring his horse, galloped off to the regiment

under a perfect hail of bullets that luckily missed him. He was possessed

by the one desire to find out what was wrong, and to help and correct

the mistake whatever it might be, if it were a mistake on his part,

so that after twenty-two years of exemplary service, without incurring

a reprimand for anything, he might avoid being responsible for this

blunder.

Galloping successfully between the French forces, he reached the field

behind the copse across which our men were running downhill, not heeding

the word of command. That moment had come of moral vacillation which

decides the fate of battles. Would these disorderly crowds of soldiers

hear the voice of their commander, or, looking back at him, run on further?

In spite of the despairing yell of the commander, who had once been

so awe-inspiring to his soldiers, in spite of his infuriated, purple

face, distorted out of all likeness to itself, in spite of his brandished

sword, the soldiers still ran and talked together, shooting into the

air and not listening to the word of command. The moral balance which

decides the fate of battle was unmistakably falling on the side of panic.

The general was choked with screaming and gunpowder-smoke, and he stood

still in despair. All seemed lost; but at that moment the French, who

had been advancing against our men, suddenly, for no apparent reason,

ran back, vanished from the edge of the copse, and Russian sharp-shooters

appeared in the copse. This was Timohin's division, the only one that

had retained its good order in the copse, and hiding in ambush in the

ditch behind the copse, had suddenly attacked the French. Timohin had

rushed with such a desperate yell upon the French, and with such desperate

and drunken energy had he dashed at the enemy with only a sword in his

hand, that the French flung down their weapons and fled without pausing

to recover themselves. Dolohov, running beside Timohin, killed one French

soldier at close quarters, and was the first to seize by the collar

an officer who surrendered. The fleeing Russians came back; the battalions

were brought together; and the French, who had been on the point of

splitting the forces of the left flank into two parts, were for the

moment held in check. The reserves had time to join the main forces,

and the runaways were stopped. The general stood with Major Ekonomov

at the bridge, watching the retreating companies go by, when a soldier

ran up to him, caught hold of his stirrup, and almost clung on to it.

The soldier was wearing a coat of blue fine cloth, he had no knapsack

nor shako, his head was bound up, and across his shoulders was slung

a French cartridge case. In his hand he held an officer's sword. The

soldier was pale, his blue eyes looked impudently into the general's

face, but his mouth was smiling. Although the general was engaged in

giving instructions to Major Ekonomov, he could not help noticing this

soldier.

“Your excellency, here are two trophies,” said Dolohov, pointing to

the French sword and cartridge case. “An officer was taken prisoner

by me. I stopped the company.” Dolohov breathed hard from weariness;

he spoke in jerks. “The whole company can bear me witness. I beg you

to remember me, your excellency!”

“Very good, very good,” said the general, and he turned to Major Ekonomov.

But Dolohov did not leave him; he undid the bandage, and showed the

blood congealed on his head.

“A bayonet wound; I kept my place in the front. Remember me, your excellency.”

Tushin's battery had been forgotten, and it was only at the very end

of the action that Prince Bagration, still hearing the cannonade in

the centre, sent the staff-officer on duty and then Prince Andrey to

command the battery to retire as quickly as possible. The force which

had been stationed near Tushin's cannons to protect them had by somebody's

orders retreated in the middle of the battle. But the battery still

kept up its fire, and was not taken by the French simply because the

enemy could not conceive of the reckless daring of firing from four

cannons that were quite unprotected. The French supposed, on the contrary,

judging from the energetic action of the battery, that the chief forces

of the Russians were concentrated here in the centre, and twice attempted

to attack that point, and both times were driven back by the grapeshot

fired on them from the four cannons which stood in solitude on the heights.

Shortly after Prince Bagration's departure, Tushin had succeeded in

setting fire to Sch