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This
redoubt consisted of a knoll, on three sides of which trenches
had
been
dug. Within the entrenchment stood ten guns that were being fired
through
openings in the earthwork.
In
line with the knoll on both sides stood other guns which also
fired
incessantly.
A little behind the guns stood infantry. When ascending
that
knoll Pierre had no notion that this spot, on which small
trenches
had
been dug and from which a few guns were firing, was the most
important
point of the battle.
On
the contrary, just because he happened to be there he thought it
one
of
the least significant parts of the field.
Having
reached the knoll, Pierre sat down at one end of a trench
surrounding
the battery and gazed at what was going on around him with
an
unconsciously happy smile. Occasionally he rose and walked about
the
battery
still with that same smile, trying not to obstruct the soldiers
who
were loading, hauling the guns, and continually running past him
with
bags and charges. The guns of that battery were being fired
continually
one after another with a deafening roar, enveloping the
whole
neighborhood in powder smoke.
In
contrast with the dread felt by the infantrymen placed in
support,
here
in the battery where a small number of men busy at their work
were
separated
from the rest by a trench, everyone experienced a common and
as
it were family feeling of animation.
The
intrusion of Pierre's nonmilitary figure in a white hat made an
unpleasant
impression at first. The soldiers looked askance at him with
surprise
and even alarm as they went past him. The senior artillery
officer,
a tall, long-legged, pockmarked man, moved over to Pierre as if
to
see the action of the farthest gun and looked at him with
curiosity.
A
young round-faced officer, quite a boy still and evidently only
just
out
of the Cadet College, who was zealously commanding the two guns
entrusted
to him, addressed Pierre sternly.
"Sir,"
he said, "permit me to ask you to stand aside. You must not be
here."
The
soldiers shook their heads disapprovingly as they looked at
Pierre.
But
when they had convinced themselves that this man in the white hat
was
doing no harm, but either sat quietly on the slope of the trench
with
a shy smile or, politely making way for the soldiers, paced up
and
down
the battery under fire as calmly as if he were on a boulevard,
their
feeling of hostile distrust gradually began to change into a
kindly
and bantering sympathy, such as soldiers feel for their dogs,
cocks,
goats, and in general for the animals that live with the
regiment.
The men soon accepted Pierre into their family, adopted him,
gave
him a nickname ("our gentleman"), and made kindly fun of him
among
themselves.
A
shell tore up the earth two paces from Pierre and he looked
around
with
a smile as he brushed from his clothes some earth it had thrown
up.
"And
how's it you're not afraid, sir, really now?" a red-faced, broad-
shouldered
soldier asked Pierre, with a grin that disclosed a set of
sound,
white teeth.
"Are
you afraid, then?" said Pierre.
"What
else do you expect?" answered the soldier. "She has no mercy, you
know!
When she comes spluttering down, out go your innards. One can't
help
being afraid," he said laughing.
Several
of the men, with bright kindly faces, stopped beside Pierre.
They
seemed not to have expected him to talk like anybody else, and
the
discovery
that he did so delighted them.
"It's
the business of us soldiers. But in a gentleman it's wonderful!
There's
a gentleman for you!"
"To
your places!" cried the young officer to the men gathered round
Pierre.
The
young officer was evidently exercising his duties for the first
or
second
time and therefore treated both his superiors and the men with
great
precision and formality.
The
booming cannonade and the fusillade of musketry were growing more
intense
over the whole field, especially to the left where Bagration's
fleches
were, but where Pierre was the smoke of the firing made it
almost
impossible to distinguish anything. Moreover, his whole attention
was
engrossed by watching the family circle--separated from all
else--
formed
by the men in the battery. His first unconscious feeling of
joyful
animation produced by the sights and sounds of the battlefield
was
now replaced by another, especially since he had seen that
soldier
lying
alone in the hayfield. Now, seated on the slope of the trench, he
observed
the faces of those around him.
By
ten o'clock some twenty men had already been carried away from
the
battery;
two guns were smashed and cannon balls fell more and more
frequently
on the battery and spent bullets buzzed and whistled around.
But
the men in the battery seemed not to notice this, and merry
voices
and
jokes were heard on all sides.
"A
live one!" shouted a man as a whistling shell approached.
"Not
this way! To the infantry!" added another with loud laughter,
seeing
the shell fly past and fall into the ranks of the supports.
"Are
you bowing to a friend, eh?" remarked another, chaffing a peasant
who
ducked low as a cannon ball flew over.
Several
soldiers gathered by the wall of the trench, looking out to see
what
was happening in front.
"They've
withdrawn the front line, it has retired," said they, pointing
over
the earthwork.
"Mind
your own business," an old sergeant shouted at them. "If they've
retired
it's because there's work for them to do farther back."
And
the sergeant, taking one of the men by the shoulders, gave him a
shove
with his knee. This was followed by a burst of laughter.
"To
the fifth gun, wheel it up!" came shouts from one side.
"Now
then, all together, like bargees!" rose the merry voices of those
who
were moving the gun.
"Oh,
she nearly knocked our gentleman's hat off!" cried the red-faced
humorist,
showing his teeth chaffing Pierre. "Awkward baggage!" he added
reproachfully
to a cannon ball that struck a cannon wheel and a man's
leg.
"Now
then, you foxes!" said another, laughing at some militiamen who,
stooping
low, entered the battery to carry away the wounded man.
"So
this gruel isn't to your taste? Oh, you crows! You're scared!"
they
shouted
at the militiamen who stood hesitating before the man whose leg
had
been torn off.
"There,
lads... oh, oh!" they mimicked the peasants, "they don't like it
at
all!"
Pierre
noticed that after every ball that hit the redoubt, and after
every
loss, the liveliness increased more and more.
As
the flames of the fire hidden within come more and more vividly
and
rapidly
from an approaching thundercloud, so, as if in opposition to
what
was taking place, the lightning of hidden fire growing more and
more
intense glowed in the faces of these men.
Pierre
did not look out at the battlefield and was not concerned to know
what
was happening there; he was entirely absorbed in watching this
fire
which
burned ever more brightly and which he felt was flaming up in the
same
way in his own soul.
At
ten o'clock the infantry that had been among the bushes in front
of
the
battery and along the Kamenka streamlet retreated. From the
battery
they
could be seen running back past it carrying their wounded on
their
muskets.
A general with his suite came to the battery, and after
speaking
to the colonel gave Pierre an angry look and went away again
having
ordered the infantry supports behind the battery to lie down, so
as
to be less exposed to fire. After this from amid the ranks of
infantry
to the right of the battery came the sound of a drum and shouts
of
command, and from the battery one saw how those ranks of infantry
moved
forward.
Pierre
looked over the wall of the trench and was particularly struck by
a
pale young officer who, letting his sword hang down, was walking
backwards
and kept glancing uneasily around.
The
ranks of the infantry disappeared amid the smoke but their long-
drawn
shout and rapid musketry firing could still be heard. A few
minutes
later crowds of wounded men and stretcher-bearers came back from
that
direction. Projectiles began to fall still more frequently in the
battery.
Several men were lying about who had not been removed. Around
the
cannon the men moved still more briskly and busily. No one any
longer
took notice of Pierre. Once or twice he was shouted at for being
in
the way. The senior officer moved with big, rapid strides from
one
gun
to another with a frowning face. The young officer, with his face
still
more flushed, commanded the men more scrupulously than ever. The
soldiers
handed up the charges, turned, loaded, and did their business
with
strained smartness. They gave little jumps as they walked, as
though
they were on springs.
The
stormcloud had come upon them, and in every face the fire which
Pierre
had watched kindle burned up brightly. Pierre standing beside the
commanding
officer. The young officer, his hand to his shako, ran up to
his
superior.
"I
have the honor to report, sir, that only eight rounds are left.
Are
we
to continue firing?" he asked.
"Grapeshot!"
the senior shouted, without answering the question, looking
over
the wall of the trench.
Suddenly
something happened: the young officer gave a gasp and bending
double
sat down on the ground like a bird shot on the wing. Everything
became
strange, confused, and misty in Pierre's eyes.
One
cannon ball after another whistled by and struck the earthwork, a
soldier,
or a gun. Pierre, who had not noticed these sounds before, now
heard
nothing else. On the right of the battery soldiers shouting
"Hurrah!"
were running not forwards but backwards, it seemed to Pierre.
A
cannon ball struck the very end of the earth work by which he was
standing,
crumbling down the earth; a black ball flashed before his eyes
and
at the same instant plumped into something. Some militiamen who
were
entering
the battery ran back.
"All
with grapeshot!" shouted the officer.
The
sergeant ran up to the officer and in a frightened whisper
informed
him
(as a butler at dinner informs his master that there is no more
of
some
wine asked for) that there were no more charges.
"The
scoundrels! What are they doing?" shouted the officer, turning to
Pierre.
The
officer's face was red and perspiring and his eyes glittered
under
his
frowning brow.
"Run
to the reserves and bring up the ammunition boxes!" he yelled,
angrily
avoiding Pierre with his eyes and speaking to his men.
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