Just then the sun disappeared behind the clouds, and more stretcher-bearers came into view ahead of Rostov. And the dread of death and of the stretchers, and the loss of all sunshine and life, everything fused into a single sensation of sickening horror.
‘Dear God, who art in heaven, save, forgive and deliver me,’ Rostov whispered to himself.
The hussars ran back to their waiting horses; their voices grew louder and more settled; the stretchers disappeared from sight.
‘Well, my boy, you’ve had a weal sniff of powder!’ Vaska Denisov shouted in his ear.
‘It’s all over, but I’m a coward. I really am,’ thought Rostov, and with a heavy sigh he received Little Rook, who was resting one of his legs, from the orderly and prepared to mount.
‘What was that – grapeshot?’ he asked Denisov.
‘Too damn twue!’ cried Denisov. ‘Hewoes, all of us, but wotten work! A cavalwy charge is fine – chop the dogs down – but for God’s sake – that was pwoviding target pwactice!’
And Denisov rode away to join the group that had stopped close to Rostov: the colonel, Nesvitsky, Zherkov and the officer of the suite.
‘Anyway, nobody seems to have noticed,’ Rostov thought to himself. And nobody had. All of them knew the feeling that this ensign, never before under fire, was now experiencing for the first time.
‘This’ll look good when they write it up,’ said Zherkov. ‘I’ll get my promotion to second lieutenant before the day’s out, eh?’
‘Please to inform ze prince I have ze brich burnt,’ said the colonel, a picture of bonhomie and triumph.
‘And what if he wants to know about losses?’
‘Nossing vors mentioning,’ boomed the colonel. ‘Two hussars vounded, one dead in his tracks,’ he said with a delight that was obvious to all. He could not resist a smile of smug contentment as he relished the splendid sound of that phrase, ‘dead in his tracks’.
CHAPTER 9
General Kutuzov’s Russian army of thirty-five thousand men was retreating along the Danube, pursued by a hundred thousand Frenchmen under Napoleon. They were getting a hostile reception from the local populations, and had lost all confidence in their allies; they were running out of supplies, and were forced to operate in ways that no one could ever have foreseen. They halted whenever they were overtaken by the enemy and defended themselves in rearguard action, but only long enough to secure further retreat without losing their heavy equipment. They had fought at Lambach, Amstetten and Melk, but, for all their courage and tenacity – acknowledged even by the enemy – the only consequence was an even faster retreat by the Russians. The Austrian troops that had escaped capture at Ulm and joined Kutuzov at Braunau had now separated from the Russian army, and all Kutuzov had at his disposal were his own weak and exhausted forces. There could be no question now of defending Vienna. Gone was the elaborate plan of attack handed to Kutuzov in Vienna by the Austrian Hofkriegsrath, based on the latest scientific laws of field strategy; now Kutuzov’s sole aim – and even this was almost impossible – was to survive with his army, unlike Mack at Ulm, and somehow join up with the fresh troops marching from Russia.
On the 28th of October Kutuzov took his troops across to the left bank of the Danube and halted for the first time, with the river separating his army from the bulk of the enemy. On the 30th he attacked Mortier’s division, which was still on the left bank, and defeated it. In this action for the first time they captured some trophies – a flag, several cannons and two enemy generals. For the first time in a fortnight of retreating the Russian troops had halted, fought, won the field and driven the French back. The troops were without clothing and exhausted, they had lost a third of their strength wounded, killed or missing; many of the sick and wounded had been abandoned on the other side of the Danube with a letter from Kutuzov commending them to the humanity of the enemy; and they still had casualties beyond the capacity of the local infirmaries and makeshift hospitals – but none of this could prevent a great surge in the troops’ morale following the halt at Krems and the victory over Mortier. Wildly optimistic rumours (without any foundation) ran through the whole army and even through headquarters: that the columns from Russia were almost here, that the Austrians had won a battle and that Napoleon was on the run with his tail between his legs.
