Kutuzov pulled back towards Vienna, destroying bridges behind him over the river Inn (in Braunau) and the river Traun (in Linz). On the 23rd of October the Russian troops crossed the river Enns. By midday Russian baggage-wagons, artillery and columns of troops were strung out in long lines throughout the town of Enns on both sides of the bridge. It was a warm but showery autumn day. The broad panorama that unfolded below the Russian batteries guarding the bridge was sometimes closed off by a gossamer curtain of slanting rain, but then would spread itself out again in bright sunlight so that far-off objects could be seen clearly in the distance glinting as if newly varnished. The little town stood out sharply down below with its white houses and their red roofs, its cathedral and its bridge, on which streaming masses of Russian troops crowded together at both ends. At a bend of the Danube they could see ships, an island and a castle in parkland, surrounded by the waters of the Enns flowing into the Danube, and the Danube’s own rocky, pine-covered left bank with its mysterious green peaks and bluish gorges receding into the distance. The towers of a convent rose up out of the wild virgin pine forest, and straight ahead across the Enns, on a hill in the far distance, enemy troops could be seen riding on patrol.
Among the field guns at the top of the hill stood two men in a forward position, the general in command of the rearguard and one of his staff officers. They were scanning the countryside through field-glasses. Just behind them, sitting on the trail of a gun carriage, was Nesvitsky, who had been sent to the rearguard by the commander-in-chief. His Cossack orderly had handed him knapsack and flask, and Nesvitsky was now dishing out little pasties and real doppelkümmel 6 to the other officers. They circled around him, squatting down contentedly, some on their knees, some cross-legged Turkish-fashion.
‘That Austrian prince who built a castle here knew what he was doing. It’s a magnificent spot. Why aren’t you eating, gentlemen?’ said Nesvitsky.
‘I’m most grateful, Prince,’ answered one officer, delighted to be talking to a staff officer of such importance. ‘Yes, it is a magnificent spot. We marched in past the park and we saw a couple of deer. And the house is simply wonderful!’
‘Look over there, Prince,’ said someone else, hungry for another pasty but too embarrassed to take one and thus making a show of studying the countryside. ‘Look where our infantry boys have got to. There they are, just past that village, three of them, carrying something across a field. They’ll soon smash their way into that palace,’ he said, with some relish.
‘I’m sure they will,’ said Nesvitsky. ‘But that’s not it. You know what?’ he added, his handsome mouth moist from munching a pasty, ‘I’d like to see them get in there.’ He was pointing to the convent towers on the far hillside. He smiled, with a special glint in his narrowed eyes. ‘Be all right, wouldn’t it, gentlemen!’ The officers laughed.
‘Shake those nuns up a bit. Italian girls, they do say, nice young ones. Worth five years of anybody’s life!’
‘And they must be bored stiff,’ laughed one of the cheekier officers.
Meanwhile the officer up front was pointing out something to the general, and he peered through his field-glass.
‘Yes, it is, it is,’ said the general angrily, lowering the telescope with a shrug, ‘you’re right, they’re going to get fired on, crossing that river. Why are they taking so long?’
On the far side the enemy and their batteries, with milky-white smoke rising from them, were visible to the naked eye. After the smoke came the sound of a distant shot, and our troops could be seen perceptibly speeding up the crossing.
Nesvitsky got up slightly out of breath and went over to the general, smiling.
‘Sir, would you like a bite of something?’ he asked.
‘It’s a bad business,’ said the general, without answering. ‘Our men have taken too long.’
‘Shall I ride down there, your Excellency?’ said Nesvitsky.
‘Yes, please do,’ said the general, going on to repeat an order that had already been given in detail, ‘and tell the hussars they must cross last and then set fire to the bridge. I’ve already told them. And they must double-check the kindling materials on the bridge.’
‘Very good,’ answered Nesvitsky. He beckoned to the Cossack who was holding his horse, told him to clear away the knapsack and flask, and then swung his great bulk easily into the saddle.
‘Well, I think I’ll just drop in on those nuns,’ he said to the amused officers watching him, and rode off down the winding hill path.
‘Come on then, Captain, let’s see how far we can fire,’ said the general, turning to the artillery officer. ‘A bit of fun to relieve the boredom.’
‘Man the guns!’ At this command the gunners instantly left the shelter of their camp fires and came running up, keen to start loading.
