PRINCE ANDREY'S REGIMENT was in the reserves, which were until two o'clock stationed behind Semyonovskoye in complete inaction, under a hot artillery fire. Before two o'clock the regiment, which had already lost over two hundred men, was moved forward into the trampled oat-field, in that space between Semyonovskoye and the battery redoubt, on which thousands of men were killed that day, and on which, about two o'clock, there was directed the concentrated fire of several hundreds of the enemy's cannons.

Not leaving that spot, nor discharging a single round of ammunition, the regiment lost here another third of its men. In front, and especially on the right side, the cannons kept booming in the smoke that never lifted, and from the mysterious region of the smoke that hid all the country in front, there came flying swiftly hissing cannon balls and slowly whizzing grenades. Sometimes, as though to give them a breathing space, for a whole quarter of an hour all the cannon balls and grenades flew over them, but at other times, in the course of a single minute, several men out of the regiment would be swept off, and they were busy the whole time dragging away the dead and carrying off the wounded.

With every fresh stroke the chances of life grew less and less for those who were not yet killed. The regiment was divided into battalions three hundred paces apart; but in spite of that, all the regiment was under the influence of the same mood. All the men of the regiment were alike gloomy and silent. At rare intervals there was the sound of talk in the ranks, but that sound was hushed every time the falling thud and the cry of “stretchers!” was heard. For the greater part of the time, by command of the officers, the men sat on the ground. One, taking off his shako, carefully loosened and then drew up the folds of it; another, crumbling the dry clay in his hands, rubbed up his bayonet with it; another shifted and fastened the buckle of his shoulder straps; while another carefully undid, and did up again, his leg bandages, and changed his boots. Some built little houses of clods of the ploughed field, or plaited straws of stubble. All of them appeared entirely engrossed in these pursuits. When men were killed or wounded, when the stretchers trailed by, when our troops retreated, when immense masses of the enemy came into view through the smoke, no one took any notice of these circumstances. When our artillery or cavalry advanced, when our infantry could be seen moving, approving observations could be heard on all sides. But quite extraneous incidents that had nothing to do with the battle were what attracted most notice; as though the attention of these morally overstrained men found a rest in the commonplace incidents of everyday life. Some batteries of artillery passed in front of their line. In one of the ammunition carriages a horse had put its legs through the traces.

“Hey! look at the trace-horse!… Take her leg out! She'll fall!… Hey! they don't see!…” Shouts rose from the ranks all through the regiment.

Another time the attention of all was attracted by a little brown dog, with its tail in the air, who had come no one knew from where, and was running about fussily in front of the ranks. All at once a cannon ball fell near it, and it squealed and dashed away with its tail between its legs! Roars and shrieks of laughter rang out from the whole regiment. But distractions of this kind did not last more than a minute, and the men had been eight hours without food or occupation, with the terror of death never relaxing for an instant, and their pale and haggard faces grew paler and more haggard.

Prince Andrey, pale and haggard like every one else in the regiment, walked to and fro in the meadow next to the oat-field from one boundary-line to the other, with his hands clasped behind his back, and his eyes fixed on the ground. There was no need for him to give orders, and nothing for him to do. Everything was done of itself. The killed were dragged behind the line; the wounded were removed, and the ranks closed up. If any soldiers ran away, they made haste to return at once. At first Prince Andrey, thinking it his duty to keep up the spirits of the men, and set them an example, had walked about among the ranks. But soon he felt that there was nothing he could teach them. All his energies, like those of every soldier, were unconsciously directed to restraining himself from contemplating the horror of his position. He walked about the meadow, dragging one leg after the other, making the grass rustle, and watching the dust, which covered his boots. Then he strode along, trying to step on the traces of the footsteps of the mowers on the meadow; or counting his steps, calculated how many times he would have to walk from one boundary rut to another to make a verst; or cut off the flowers of wormwood growing in the rut, and crushing them in his hands, sniffed at the bitter-sweet, pungent odour. Of all the thoughts of the previous day not a trace remained. He thought of nothing at all. He listened wearily to the sounds that were ever the same, the whiz of the shells above the booming of the cannon, looked at the faces of the men of the first battalion, which he had gazed at to weariness already, and waited. “Here it comes … this one's for us again!” he thought, listening to the whiz of something flying out of the region of smoke. “One, another! More! Fallen” … He stopped short and looked towards the ranks. “No; it has flown over. But that one has fallen!” And he fell to pacing up and down again, trying to reach the next boundary in sixteen steps.

A whiz and a thud! Five paces from him the dry soil was thrown up, as a cannon ball sank into the earth. A chill ran down his back. He looked at the ranks. Probably a number had been struck: the men had gathered in a crowd in the second battalion.

“M. l'aide-de-camp,” he shouted, “tell the men not to crowd together.”

The adjutant, having obeyed this instruction, was approaching Prince Andrey. From the other side the major in command of the battalion came riding up.

“Look out!” rang out a frightened cry from a soldier, and like a bird, with swift, whirring wings alighting on the earth, a grenade dropped with a dull thud a couple of paces from Prince Andrey, near the major's horse. The horse, with no question of whether it were right or wrong to show fear, snorted, reared, almost throwing the major, and galloped away. The horse's terror infected the men.

“Lie down!” shouted the adjutant, throwing himself on the ground. Prince Andrey stood in uncertainty. The shell was smoking and rotating like a top between him and the recumbent adjutant, near a bush of wormwood in the rut between the meadow and the field.

“Can this be death?” Prince Andrey wondered, with an utterly new, wistful feeling, looking at the grass, at the wormwood and at the thread of smoke coiling from the rotating top. “I can't die, I don't want to die, I love life, I love this grass and earth and air …”

He thought this, and yet at the same time he did not forget that people were looking at him.

“For shame, M. l'aide-de-camp!” he said to the adjutant; “what sort of …” He did not finish. Simultaneously there was a tearing, crashing sound, like the smash of broken crockery, a puff of stifling fumes, and Prince Andrey was sent spinning over, and flinging up one arm, fell on his face.

Several officers ran up to him. A great stain of blood was spreading over the grass from the right side of his stomach.

The militiamen stood with the stretchers behind the officers. Prince Andrey lay on his chest, with his face sunk in the grass; he was still breathing in hard, hoarse gasps.

“Well, why are you waiting, come along!”

The peasants went up and took him by the shoulders and legs, but he moaned piteously, and they looked at one another, and laid him down again.

“Pick him up, lay him on, it's all the same!” shouted some one. They lifted him by the shoulders again and laid him on the stretcher.

“Ah, my God! my God! what is it?…The stomach! It's all over then! Ah, my God!” could be heard among the officers. “It almost grazed my ear,” the adjutant was saying. The peasants, with the stretcher across their shoulders, hurried along the path they had trodden to the ambulance station.

“Keep step!…Aie!…these peasants!” cried an officer, seizing them by the shoulders, as they jogged along, jolting the stretcher.

“Drop into it, Fyodor, eh?” said the foremost peasant.

“That's it, first-rate,” said the hindmost, falling into step.

“Your excellency? Eh, prince?” said the trembling voice of Timohin, as he ran up and peeped over the stretcher.

Prince Andrey opened his eyes, and looked at the speaker from the stretcher, through which his head had dropped, and closed his eyelids again.

The militiamen carried Prince Andrey to the copse, where there were vans and an ambulance station. The ambulance station consisted of three tents, pitched at the edge of a birch copse. In the wood stood the ambulance waggons and horses. The horses in nose-bags were munching oats, and the sparrows flew up to them and picked up the grains they dropped. Some crows, scenting blood, flitted to and fro among the birches, cawing impatiently. For more than five acres round the tents there were sitting or lying men stained with blood, and variously attired. They were surrounded by crowds of dejected-looking and intently observant soldiers, who had come with stretchers. Officers, trying to keep order, kept driving them away from the place; but it was of no use. The soldiers, heedless of the officers, stood leaning against the stretchers, gazing intently at what was passing before their eyes, as though trying to solve some difficult problem in this spectacle. From the tents came the sound of loud, angry wailing, and piteous moans. At intervals a doctor's assistant ran out for water, or to point out those who were to be taken in next. The wounded, awaiting their turn at the tent, uttered hoarse groans and moans, wept, shouted, swore, or begged for vodka. Several were raving in delirium. Prince Andrey, as a colonel, was carried through the crowd of wounded not yet treated, and brought close up to one of the tents, where his bearers halted awaiting instructions. Prince Andrey opened his eyes, and for a long while could not understand what was passing around him. The meadow, the wormwood, the black, whirling ball, and his passionate rush of love for life came back to his mind. A couple of paces from him stood a tall, handsome, dark-haired sergeant, with a bandaged head, leaning against a branch. He had been wounded in the head and in the leg, and was talking loudly, attracting general attention. A crowd of wounded men and stretcher-bearers had gathered round him, greedily listening to his words.

“We regularly hammered him out, so he threw up everything; we took the king himself,” the soldier was shouting, looking about him with feverishly glittering black eyes. “If only the reserves had come up in the nick of time, my dear fellow, there wouldn't have been a sign of him left, for I can tell you …”

Prince Andrey, like all the men standing round the speaker, gazed at him with bright eyes, and felt a sense of comfort. “But isn't it all the same now?” he thought. “What will be there, and what has been here? why was I so sorry to part with life? There was something in this life that I didn't understand, and don't understand.”

安德烈公爵的团留在后备队，直到下午一点钟，后备队仍然在猛烈的炮火下驻守在谢苗诺夫斯科耶村后面，没有行动。一点多钟时，在损失二百多人的情况下，这个团才向前移到谢苗诺夫斯科耶村和土岗炮垒之间的一片踩平了的燕麦地里，那一天土岗炮垒里伤亡了好几千人，下午一点多钟，敌人的几百门大炮集中火力对它猛轰。

这个团在这儿没动，也没放一枪，又损失了三分之一的人。从前方，特别是从右方，在停滞不散的硝烟里，大炮隆隆地发射着，前面那一带神秘的区域的整个地面都弥漫着烟雾，从那里不断飞出疾速的咝咝作响的炮弹和缓慢的呼啸而过的榴弹。有时，好像要让人们休息一下，一连一刻钟炮弹和榴弹都从上空中飞过去了，可是有时，一分钟工夫团里就损失好几个人。阵亡的不断被拖走，受伤的则被抬走了。

随着每次新的攻击的来临，还没有被打死的人的生存机会越来越少了。团以三百步距离排成纵队营，虽然这样，全团仍笼罩在同一情绪下。全团人一律沉默不语，面色阴郁。队伍里很少有谈话声，即使有人谈话，一听见中弹声和喊“担架！”声，也就停下了。大部分时间，全团人遵照长官的命令坐在地上。有的摘下帽子，专心地把褶子抻平，然后再折起来；有的抓一把干土，在手心里搓碎，用它来擦刺刀；有的揉一揉皮带，把带扣勒紧；有的把包脚布仔细抻平，然后重新把脚包好，穿上靴子。有些人用犁过的地里的土块搭小屋，或者用麦秸编东西。大家都好像全神贯注在这些事情上。当打伤或打死了人的时候，当成队的担架走过的时候，当我们的队伍撤退的时候，当大批敌人在烟雾中出现的时候，谁也不去注意这些情况。可是当我们的炮兵、骑兵向前面走过去时，当我们的步兵向前移动时，赞许的声音却从四面八方响起。但是，最能引起注意的是那些与战斗完全无关，完全不相干的事。好像这些精神上受折磨的人把注意力放在这些平凡的、日常生活中的事物上，就可以得到休息似的。一个炮兵连从团的正面走过，一辆炮兵弹药车拉边套的马迈出了套索。“嘿，瞧那匹拉边套的马！……把腿伸进去！它要跌倒了……哎呀，他们没看见！……”全团都在喊叫。又有一次，所有的人都注意到了不知从哪儿冒出来的一只褐色的小狗，它把尾巴翘得高高的，满怀心事地迈着小碎步，跑到队伍前面，忽然，附近落下一颗炮弹，它尖叫一声，夹起尾巴，跳到一边去了。全团的人哄然大笑，发出尖叫声。但这种开心的事只延续了几分钟，人们在不断的死亡恐怖中不吃不喝地站了八个多钟头，苍白忧郁的面孔愈来愈苍白忧郁了。

安德烈公爵也像团里所有的人一样，面色苍白而阴郁，他背着手，低着头，在燕麦地旁的草地里一个田垄一个田垄地走来走去。他无事可做，也无命令可发。一切都听其自然。阵亡的人被拖到战线外面，受伤的人被抬走，队伍靠拢起来。如果有士兵跑开，他们立刻就赶回来，起初，安德烈公爵认为鼓舞士气，给士兵作一个榜样是他的责任，所以在队伍里走来走去；但是，后来他认识到，他无须教他们，也没有什么可教他们的。他和每个士兵一样，全部的心力都在努力避免想象他们处境的危险。他在草地上来回走动，慢慢地拖着两只脚，蹭得地上的草沙沙作响，眼睛盯着靴子上的尘土；他有时迈着大步，尽可能踩上割草人留下的脚印，有时数自己的脚步，计算走一俄里要经过多少两条田垄之间的距离；有时采几朵长在田垄上的苦艾花，放在手掌上揉碎，然后闻那股强烈的甘苦香味。昨天所想的东西一点也没有了。他什么也不想。他用疲倦的听觉细听那总是同样的声音，分辨枪弹的尖啸声和炮弹的轰隆声，看第一营的士兵那些已经看厌了的脸，他在等待着。“它来了……这一个又是冲我们来的！”他谛听着从硝烟弥漫的地带发出的越来越近的呼啸声，心里想道。“一个，两个！又一个！打中了……”他停下看了看队伍。

“不是，飞过去了。不过这个打中了。”他又开始走来走去，极力迈大步，要用十六步走到另一条田垄。

呼啸声和撞击声！离他五步远的地方，一颗炮弹炸开了干土，然后就消失了。他不由地感到一阵寒冷掠过他的脊背。他又看了看队伍。大概又有许多伤亡：在第二营聚集着一大群人。

“副官先生，”他喊道，“命令他们不要聚集在一起。”副官执行了命令，然后是走到安德烈公爵面前。一个营长从另一方向驰来。

“当心！”可以听见一个士兵惊慌的喊声，一颗带着呼啸声疾飞的榴弹，有如一只向地面俯冲下来的鸟，落在离安德烈公爵两步远的营长的战马旁边，发出砰的一声。那匹马不管露出恐怖的样子好不好，先打了个响鼻，竖起前蹄，险些儿把那个少校掀下来，然后向一旁跑开了。马的恐惧感染了人们。

“卧倒！”扑倒在地的副官喊道。安德烈公爵站在那儿犹豫不决。一颗榴弹在他和副官之间，在耕地和草地边上，在一丛苦艾旁边，像陀螺一般冒着烟旋转。

“难道这就是死吗？”安德烈公爵一面想，一面用完全新的、羡慕的眼光看青草、苦艾，看那从旋转着的黑球冒出的一缕袅袅上升的青烟。“我不能死，不愿死，我爱生活，爱这青草，爱大地，爱天空……”他这样想着，同时想到人们都在望着他。

“可耻呀，副官先生！”他对副官说。“多么……”他没能把话说完。就在这一刹那，发出了爆炸声，像打破了玻璃窗似的碎片四面飞射，闻得到令人窒息的火药味，安德烈公爵向一旁猛然一冲，举起一只手，胸脯朝下摔倒了。

几个军官向他跑过来。血从右侧腹部流出来，在草地上流了一大团血。

叫来抬担架的后备军人在军官们身后站着。安德烈公爵俯卧着，脸埋在草里，发出沉重的呼呼噜噜的喘气声。

“你们站着干吗，快过来！”

农夫们走过来，抓住他的肩膀和腿，但是他凄惨地呻吟起来，农夫们互相看了一下，又把他放下了。

“抬起来，放下，总归是一样！”有一个人喊道。他们又托住他的肩膀抬起来，放到担架上。

“啊，我的上帝！我的上帝啊！这是怎么啦？……肚子！这一下可完了！哎呀，我的上帝！”从军官们之间传出叹息声。

“炮弹蹭着我的耳朵飞过去。”副官说。

几个农夫把担架搭在肩上，急忙沿着他们踏出的小路向救护站走去。

“步子走齐……喂！……老乡！”一个军官吆喝道，抓住那些走得不稳、颠动担架的农夫的肩膀，叫他们停下来。

“合上步子，你怎么啦，赫韦多尔，我说，赫韦多尔。”前面的那个农夫说。

“这就对啦，好的。”后面那个调好步子的农夫，高兴地说。

“大人吗？啊？是公爵？”季莫欣跑过来，朝担架看了看，声音颤抖地说。安德烈公爵睁开眼，从担架里（他的头部深深地陷在担架里）望了望说话的人，又垂下了眼皮。

后备军人们把安德烈公爵抬到林边，那儿停着几辆大车，救护站就在那儿。救护站是在小白桦树林边塔了三个卷着边的帐篷。树林里停着大车和战马。马正在吃饲料袋里的燕麦，麻雀飞到马跟前啄食撒下来的麦粒。乌鸦闻到血腥味，急不可耐地狂叫着，在白桦树上飞来飞去。在帐篷周围两俄亩的地方，一些穿着各种服装的、血渍斑班的人们或卧或坐或站。伤员周围站着许多面色沮丧、神情关注的担架兵，维持秩序的军官怎么也赶不走他们。士兵们不听军官的话，仍然靠着担架站在那儿，好像想要了解这种景象的深奥意义，他们聚精会神地观看眼前发生的事。帐篷里一会儿传出很凶的大声哀号，一会儿传出悲惨的呻吟，有时一个医助跑出来取水，指定应当抬进去的人。在帐篷外等候的伤员们发出嘶哑的声音，他们呻吟、哭泣、喊叫、咒骂，要伏特加酒。有些人昏迷，说胡话。担架兵迈过还没包扎的伤员，把团长安德烈公爵抬到一座较近的帐篷，停在那儿听候指示。安德烈公爵睁开眼睛，好久弄不明白他周围是怎么回事。他记起了草地、苦艾、耕地、旋转的黑球和他那热爱生活的激情。离他两步远，有一个头上裹着绷带、黑发秀美的高个子军士，他拄着一根大树枝站在那儿大声说话，以期引起大家的注意。他的头和腿都被子弹打伤。他周围聚集着一群伤员和担架兵。正热切地听他讲话。

“我们把他狠狠揍了一顿，揍得他丢盔弃甲，屁滚尿流，连那个国王也给抓住了！”那个军士一双火热的黑眼睛闪着光，环顾四周，喊道。“后备军要是及时赶到，弟兄们，准把他全给报销，我敢向你担保……”

安德烈公爵也像讲话者周围的人一样，用闪光的眼睛望着他，感到了欣慰。“不过，现在不是一切都无所谓了吗？”他想。“来世会是怎样？今世曾是怎样的？我过去为什么那样留恋生命？在这生命中有一种我过去和现在都不明了的东西。”