Chapter 21 Chapter 21

The wind died down, and dark clouds hung low over the battlefield, joining the smoke on the horizon.It was getting dark, and the fires in the two places became brighter.The gunfire became muffled, but the crackling of gunfire was heard closer and closer to the rear and to the right.Tushin accompanied his cannon around the wounded and also encountered the wounded; as soon as he was out of the line of fire and down the slope to the gully, he met the commanders and adjutants, among them a colonel and two , Zherkov who never once reached the fort at Tushin.They all spoke first, gave him orders, delivered them, pointed out the way and direction of the march, reproached him and scolded him.Tushin, without making any arrangements, rode silently on one of the battalion's poor horses, and was afraid to speak, because every time he said a word he burst into tears for some unknown reason.Although orders were issued to abandon the wounded, many of them struggled to keep up with the troops, begging to be allowed to sit on the guns.The gallant infantry officer who had galloped out of Tushin's hut before the battle was shot in the stomach and lay on the trailer of the Matvivna cannon.At the foot of the hill a pale hussar cadet, putting one hand on the other, approached Tushin and begged permission to sit on the cannon.

"For God's sake, Captain, I've got a bruised hand," he said timidly. "For God's sake, I can't go on. For God's sake!" Apparently the cadet begged more than once for permission to sit down somewhere, but was refused everywhere.He begged in a complaining, hesitant voice. "Please, let me sit on it, for God's sake." "Let him sit, let him sit," said Tushin. "Put your coat on, uncle," he said, turning his face to a lovely soldier. "Where is the wounded officer?" "I carried him down, he's dead," someone replied.

"Let him sit. My dear, please, please. Antonov, put a coat on." The cadet was Rostov.He supported the other with one hand, his face was pale, he felt cold and hot, and his jaw trembled.He was made to sit on the Matvivna cannon from which a dead officer had been shot.The overcoat of the cushion was stained with blood, which stained Rostov's trousers and his hands. "My dear, what is it? Are you wounded?" said Tushin, going up to the barrel of the cannon where Rostov was sitting. "No, I was wounded by the concussion." "Then why is there blood on the carriage?" asked Tushin.

"My lord, it was the officer who got the blood," replied the artilleryman, mopping the blood with the sleeve of his coat, as if asking forgiveness for the uncleanness of the cannon. With difficulty, they carried the cannon up the hill with the help of infantry, and stopped their advance at the village of Guntersdorf.It was very dark, and the uniforms of the soldiers could not be seen clearly ten steps away, and the sound of shooting at each other began to stop.Suddenly there were shouts and gunfire from a short distance to the right.Because of the shooting, the fire flickered in the dark.This was the last attack of the French army. The soldiers lying in ambush in the village met the enemy's attack, and the crowd rushed out of the village again. He was Tushin's cannon and could not move. The gunners, Tushin and the cadets looked at each other silently. Waiting for bad luck to come.The sound of shooting each other began to die down, and soldiers who were talking happily poured out from the side streets.

"Petrov, are you all right?" asked one of the soldiers. "Dude, they've been dealt with. Never come here now," said another soldier. "Can't see anything. They've packed their own people! It's dark, brethren, can't see anything. Haven't you anything to drink?" The French were beaten back one last time.In the pitch-dark darkness, Tushin's cannon seemed framed, surrounded by the clamoring infantry, and advanced again. In the darkness, there is an invisible black river, which seems to be flowing gently in one direction.Whispers and voices, hooves and wheels mingled together.In the dark night, the groans and voices of the wounded were clearly audible through the noise.Their groans seemed to be filled with the darkness that enveloped the army.Their groans were equated with the darkness of the night.After a while, the advancing crowd became commotion.A man on a white horse passed by with his attendants.While walking, I don't know what he said.

"What did he say? Where is he going now? Is he standing still? Is he expressing his gratitude?" There were greedy questioning voices from all sides, and the walking crowd jostled each other (it seemed, The vanguard has halted,) rumors of the halt spread.While walking, everyone stopped in the middle of the muddy road. The fire was brightly lit, and the voices of conversation could be heard more clearly.After Tushin gave instructions to the entire company, he sent a soldier to find a wound station or a military doctor for the cadets. The soldiers built a bonfire on the road, and Tushin sat down beside the bonfire.Rostov was struggling, and he also walked to the bonfire.He was shivering with malaria from pain, cold, and damp.He wanted to sleep very much, but the excruciating pain prevented him from falling asleep. He didn't know where to put the aching arm.Sometimes he closed his eyes, sometimes looked at the bonfire that seemed to be burning red, and sometimes looked at Tushin who was sitting cross-legged beside him, and looked at his somewhat stooped and weak body.Tushin's large, benevolent, intelligent eyes gazed at him with pity.He saw that Tushin was sincerely willing to help him, but that there was nothing he could do.

From all sides came the footsteps and voices of walkers, riders, and infantry quartered about.Voices, footsteps, and the clatter of horses' hooves trudging through the mud, and the crackling of nearby and distant firewood, merged into an oscillating hum. A mighty river, invisible in the darkness, does not run now as it once did, and the dark sea calms down like after a storm, but the sea is still rippling.Rostov watched and listened blankly to what was happening before and around him.An infantryman walked up to the fire, knelt down, held out his hands to warm the flames, and turned his face away.

"My lord, is it all right?" He turned his face to Tushin with a puzzled look, and said, "You see, my lord, I've been separated from the company, and I don't know where I'm staying. It's too bad!" A masked infantry officer and a soldier came up to the fire, turned their faces to Tushin, and begged him to order the cannon to be moved a little so that the cars could pass.Running after the company commander, two soldiers bumped into the campfire.Dragging a leather boot, they cursed and fought desperately. "What, did you pick it up? Look, you are very clever!" A soldier shouted in a hoarse voice.

Then a thin, pale soldier with a bloodstained foot-band wrapped around his neck came forward and asked the gunners for some water in an angry voice. "Why should I die like a dog, don't I?" he said. Tushin ordered him to be given some water.Then a cheerful soldier ran up to him and asked for some charcoal for the infantryman. "Give the infantry some hot charcoal fire! Folks, I wish you a happy stay here. Thank you for your charcoal fire. We will add interest when we repay it." He said as he took the red coal fire and sent it to a dim place go. Four soldiers carrying a heavy object in their overcoats followed the soldier and passed by the campfire.One of them stumbled and fell.

"Look, these ghosts are laying firewood on the road," he said grumblingly. "He's dead, why carry him?" one of them said. "You got it!" So they carried their burdens and disappeared in the darkness. "What? Does it hurt?" Tushin asked Rostov softly. "pain." "Your Excellency, please go to the General, who lives in a farmhouse here," said the artillery officer, approaching Tushin. "Honey, go right away." Tushin got up, buttoned up his overcoat, tidied himself up, and walked away from the campfire... Not far from the gunners' bonfire, Prince Bagration sat down to lunch in one of the farmhouses prepared for him, and talked with some of the chiefs of the troops who had assembled there.Among them: a little old man with half-closed eyes, who greedily gnaws a sheep bone; A ring engraved with his name; Zherkov looked anxiously at the crowd; Prince Andrei was pale, his lips were tightly shut, and his feverish eyes glistened.

A captured French military standard was leaning against the corner of the farmhouse, and the military prosecutor stroked the cloth of the military standard with a childish expression, shaking his head in confusion, perhaps because the shape of the military standard really interested him, Perhaps it was because of his lack of cutlery that he felt sad when he was hungry and watched others eat.A French colonel, captured by dragoons, stayed in the next farmhouse.Our officers surrounded him, watching him.Prince Bagration thanked some of the commanders of the troops and asked about the details of the battle and the actual casualties.The regimental commander who had claimed credit at Braunau reported to the prince that he had withdrawn from the forest as soon as the battle had begun, gathered the loggers, let them pass by him, and then led two battalions into battle. A hand-to-hand battle crushed the French officers and soldiers. "My lord, when I saw that the first battalion was out of combat, I stopped on the road," I thought to myself: 'Let these men withdraw and meet with the fire of the other battalion.That's what I do. " The regimental commander desperately wanted to do this, and he regretted that it had not been done. He thought it was true, but maybe it was?Is it possible to distinguish between what is real and what is not in this chaos? "My lord, and I should mention," he went on, recalling Dolokhov's conversation with Kutuzov, his last meeting with the degraded man, "I saw with my own eyes that the degraded Dolokhov, a private, captured a French officer with particular prominence." "My lord, here I see officers and soldiers of the Paulograd regiment charging into the battle," Zherkov interrupted, looking around anxiously, since he had not seen any hussars at all that day, but only from an infantry officer. There they heard their news, "My lord, two phalanxes have been defeated." Some people smiled at Zherkov's words and, as usual, waited for him to tell a joke, but they found that what he said also had something to do with our armed forces and the glory of fighting today; although many knew very well that What Zherkov said was a baseless lie, but they still showed seriousness.Prince Bagration turned to the old colonel. "Gentlemen, I thank you all. Troops of all kinds—infantry, cavalry, and artillery, fought valiantly. How were two cannons abandoned in the center?" he asked, looking for someone with his eyes. (Prince Bagration did not ask about the cannon on the left wing, which he already knew had been thrown down when the war broke out.) "I seem to have asked you to do something." He turned his face to the colonel on duty. Said. "One of the guns was destroyed," replied the officer on duty, "I have no way of knowing about the other gun. I have been there all the time, in charge of command, and just left... To be honest, the fighting was fierce." He said. added humbly. It was said that Captain Tushin was stationed near a village here, and sent for him. "You were there," said Prince Bagration, turning to Prince Andrey. "No, we almost met," said the colonel on duty, smiling pleasantly at Bolkonski. "I had no chance of seeing you," said Prince Andrei, coldly and staccatoly.Everyone fell silent. Tushin appeared before the threshold, and came in from behind the generals. In the crowded farmhouse, Tushin walked around the generals, feeling, as usual, embarrassed by the sight of the chiefs.Tushin didn't see the flagpole clearly and stumbled.Several people laughed out loud. "Why did you abandon a cannon?" asked Bagration, frowning not so much at the captain, but at the laughers (Zherkov laughed the loudest of all). At this moment, when Tushin saw the majestic chiefs, he thought of his own fault and shame, because he had lost two cannons and was still alive.What agitated him was that it hadn't occurred to him until now.He was further confused by the roar of laughter from the officers.He stood before Bagration, his jaw trembling, and he managed to speak: "My lord...I don't know...My lord, there is no one around me." "You can get a few guys out of the cover!" As for the withdrawal of the covering troops, Tushin did not say a word, but this was an undeniable fact.He was afraid that saying this would cause trouble to the other chiefs, so he kept silent, and fixed his eyes on Bagration's face, like a schoolboy who has answered a question wrongly and looks into the eyes of an examiner. Silence lasted for a long time.Prince Bagration evidently did not want to put on a stern look, and did not know what to say; the rest did not dare to intervene in the conversation.Prince Andrew frowned at Tushin, his fingers trembling nervously. "Your Excellency," Prince Andrei broke the silence in a shrill voice, "you sent me to Captain Tushin's battery. When I got there, I found two-thirds of the men killed, two cannons destroyed, and no What cover force." At this moment, both Prince Bagration and Tushin looked intently at Bolkonsky, who was speaking cautiously and excitedly. "My lord, if you will allow me to express my opinion," he went on, "we owe our success today to the operations of this battery and to the indomitable heroism of Captain Tushin and his company," said Ann. said Prince Andrey, and without waiting for an answer, he got up and walked away from the table. Prince Bagration glanced at Tushin. He evidently did not want to distrust Bolkonsky's sharp opinion, and at the same time he felt that he could not fully believe what he said. He bowed his head and said to Tushin, He can go.Prince Andrew followed him out of the door. "My dear, thank you, you saved me," Tushin said to him. Prince Andrew looked back at Tushin, walked away from him without saying anything.Prince Andrew felt sad and miserable.How bizarre it all was, so different from what he had expected. "Who are they? What are they doing? What do they want? When will all this end?" Rostov thought, watching the changing figures before him.The pain in the arm got worse.He was drowsy, red circles danced before his eyes; the noises, the impressions of faces, the feeling of loneliness all merged with the feeling of pain.It was they, wounded and unwounded, who were squeezing and wrenching the tendons in his broken arm and shoulder, burning the muscles in his broken arm and shoulder.He closed his eyes to get rid of them. He dozed for a moment, and during this brief twilight he dreamed of innumerable things: he dreamed of his mother and her large white hands, of Sonya's thin shoulders, of Natasha's eyes and Smiles, Denisov, his voice and mustache, and dreams of Telyanin, what had happened to him, Telyanin, and Bogdanitch.The whole experience was the same as that of the soldier with the high-pitched voice.The whole experience and this soldier so excruciatingly, endlessly grabbing and squeezing his arm, pulling it sideways.He tried to shake them off, but they wouldn't let go, not even for a moment, from his shoulders.If they didn't tug at his shoulder, it wouldn't ache, it would be firm, but he couldn't get rid of them. He opened his eyes and looked up.A dark night hangs an arshin above the coals.In this light, powdery snowflakes flew down one after another.The military doctor did not come, and Tushin did not return.He was alone, and at this moment only the naked soldier sat opposite the coal fire, roasting his thin yellow body. "Nobody wants me!" thought Rostov, "nobody came to my aid, nobody came to pity me. Once I stayed at home, strong, happy, a favorite." He sighed, Can't help moaning. "Oh, pain?" he asked, shaking his shirt over the coals, clucking without waiting for an answer, and adding: "Aren't there few who suffer in a day?— -so horrible!" Rostov did not listen to the soldiers.He looked at the snowflakes flying above the charcoal fire, and recalled the Russian winter, warm and bright houses, furry fur coats, galloping sleighs, a healthy body, and family caresses and cares. "Why have I come here!" he thought. The next day, the French did not attack again, and the remnants of Bagration joined Kutuzov's army.