‘
‘Yes sir, it’s true what you say, absolutely true,’ put in Timokhin. ‘Who would spare himself now? The soldiers in my battalion, believe it or not, have refused their vodka. Not the right day for it, they say.’
Nobody spoke.
The officers got to their feet. Prince Andrey went to see them out, giving one or two last instructions to the adjutant. When the officers had gone, Pierre moved up closer to Prince Andrey, and was just about to start talking when they heard hoofbeats coming from three horses not far down the road, and glancing in that direction Prince Andrey recognized Wolzogen and Clausewitz, with a Cossack in attendance. They were talking as they rode past, and Pierre and Prince Andrey could not help overhearing the following snatches of conversation in German:
‘The war must to be conducted over a very wide area. This is a policy I cannot endorse highly enough,’ came one voice.
‘Yes indeed,’ said the other, ‘and since the aim is to weaken the enemy the loss of private individuals must be ignored.’
‘Quite so,’ confirmed the first voice.
‘Conducted over a very wide area!’ Prince Andrey snorted furiously when they had gone. ‘It was in that “very wide area” that I had a father, a son and a sister at Bald Hills. He’s not bothered about that. It’s just what I was saying: these German gentlemen won’t win tomorrow, they’ll only mess things up as much as they can, because a German head like that man’s contains nothing but calculations no more useful than a sucked egg, and his heart lacks the one thing that’s needed for tomorrow, the thing that Timokhin has. They’ve given
‘So you do think we’re going to win tomorrow?’ said Pierre.
‘Oh yes,’ said Prince Andrey distractedly. ‘One thing I would do if I was in power,’ he began again. ‘Stop taking prisoners. What’s the sense in taking prisoners? It’s just medieval chivalry. The French have destroyed my home and they’re on their way to destroy Moscow. They’ve injured me and they’re still doing it with every second that passes. They’re my enemies, they’re all criminals – that’s the way I see it. It’s also what Timokhin thinks, and all the army with him. They must be put to death. If they’re my enemies they can’t be my friends, whatever might have been said at Tilsit.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Pierre, his eyes shining as he looked at Prince Andrey. ‘Oh yes, I’m with you all the way!’
The one question that had been haunting Pierre all day, ever since Mozhaysk in fact, now struck him as quite clear and settled once and for all. Now he could sense the full significance of the war and the impending battle. Everything he had seen during the day, all the sober and serious faces he had caught glimpses of, came back to him now in a new light. He had observed what the physicists call latent heat in the patriotic spirit of the men that he had seen, and this explained why they were all preparing for death with such composure and what passed for light-heartedness.
‘Taking no prisoners,’ said Prince Andrey. ‘That alone would transform the whole war and would make it less cruel. But playing at war, that’s what’s so vile, being magnanimous and all that sort of thing. That kind of magnanimity and sensitivity reminds me of the magnanimity and sensitivity of a posh lady who feels sick at the sight of a calf being slaughtered – she’s such a nice person she can’t stand the sight of blood, but she does enjoy a nice dish of fricasséed veal. They go on and on about the rules of war, chivalry, flags of truce, showing mercy to the afflicted, and so on. It’s a load of rubbish. I saw enough chivalry and flags of truce in 1805. They cheated us, and we cheated them. They loot people’s homes, issue counterfeit money and, worst of all, they kill my children and my father, and they still go on about the rules of war, and being magnanimous in victory. Don’t take any prisoners! Kill and be killed! Anyone who has got this far, as I have, through suffering . . .’
