Book 13 Chapter 6

NEXT DAY the troops were massed in their appointed places by the evening, and were moving forward in the night. It was an autumn night with a sky overcast by purplish-black clouds, but free from rain. The earth was damp, but not muddy, and the troops advanced noiselessly, except for a hardly audible jingling now and then from the artillery. They were forbidden to talk aloud, to smoke or to strike a light; the horses were kept from neighing. The secrecy of the enterprise increased its attractiveness. The men marched on gaily. Several columns halted, stacked their guns in piles, and lay down on the chilly ground, supposing they had reached their destination. Other columns (the majority) marched all night long, and arrived somewhere, unmistakably not where they were meant to be.

Count Orlov-Denisov with his Cossacks (the detachment of least importance of the lot) was the only one that reached the right place at the right time. This detachment halted at the extreme edge of a forest, on a path from the village of Stromilovo to Dmitrovskoe.

Before dawn Count Orlov, who had fallen asleep, was waked up. A deserter from the French camp was brought to him. It was a Polish under-officer of Poniatovsky's corps. This under-officer explained in Polish that he had deserted because he had been insulted in the service; because he ought long ago to have been an officer, and was braver than any of them, and so he had thrown them up and wanted to punish them. He said that Murat was camping for the night a verst from them, and that if they would give him a convoy of a hundred men he would take him alive. Count Orlov-Denisov took council with his comrades. The proposition was too alluring to be refused. Every one clamoured to go, everyone advised making the attempt. After many disputes and confabulations, it was settled that Major-General Grekov, with two regiments of Cossacks, should go with the Polish deserter.

“Now, remember,” said Count Orlov-Denisov to the Polish deserter, as he dismissed him, “if you have been lying, I will have you shot like a dog, but if it's true, a hundred crowns.”

The deserter made no reply to these words, and with a resolute air mounted his horse and rode off with Grekov's men, who were hurriedly gathered together. They disappeared into the wood. Count Orlov, shivering from the freshness of the dawning morning, and excited by the enterprise he had undertaken on his own responsibility, came out of the wood, accompanying Grekov, and began scrutinising the enemy's camp, faintly visible now in the deceptive light of the approaching dawn and the smouldering camp-fires. On the open copse on Count Orlov-Denisov's right our columns ought to have been visible. Count Orlov-Denisov looked in that direction; but although they could have been seen even if a long distance away, these columns were not in sight. Count Orlov-Denisov fancied, and his adjutant, who was extremely long-sighted; confirmed the idea, that they were beginning to move in the French camp.

“Oh, of course it's too late,” said Count Orlov, staring at the camp. As so often happens when the man in whom we are putting faith is no longer before our eyes, it all seemed at once perfectly clear and obvious to him that the deserter had been playing them false, that he had been telling them lies, and was only spoiling the whole attack by removing these two regiments, which he was leading away—God only knew where! As if it were possible to capture the general out of such a mass of troops.

“No doubt he was lying, the scoundrel,” said the Count.

“We can turn them back,” said one of the suite, who was feeling just the same mistrust in the undertaking as he gazed at the camp.

“Ah! Yes … what do you think, or shall we leave them? Or not?”

“Do you command them to return?”

“To return, yes, to return!” Count Orlov said, with sudden decision, looking at his watch; “it will be too late; it's quite light.”

And an adjutant galloped into the wood after Grekov. When Grekov came back, Count Orlov-Denisov, excited by giving up this enterprise, and by vainly waiting for the infantry columns, which still did not appear, and by the enemy's being so near (every man in his detachment was feeling the same), resolved to attack.

In a whisper he gave the command: “Mount!”

The men got into their places, crossed themselves … “In God's name, off!”

“Hurrah!” rang out in the wood, and the Cossacks, with spears lowered, flew gaily, one hundred after another, across the stream into the camp, as though they were being shot out of a sack.

One desperate, frightened scream from the first Frenchman who caught sight of the Cossacks, and every creature in the camp, undressed and half-asleep, was running away, abandoning cannons, muskets, and horses.

If the Cossacks had pursued the French without regard to what they left all around and behind them, they could have captured Murat and all there was there. Their commanding officers tried to make them do so. But there was no making the Cossacks budge when they had got booty and prisoners. No one heeded the word of command. They had taken fifteen hundred prisoners, thirty-eight cannons, flags, and, what was of most consequence in the eyes of the Cossacks, horses, saddles, coverings and various other objects. All of this they wanted to see after, to secure the prisoners and the cannons, to divide the booty, to shout at and even fight with one another over the spoils; and all this absorbed the Cossacks' attention. The Frenchmen, finding themselves not pursued further, began to rally; they formed into companies and began firing. Orlov-Denisov still expected the other columns to arrive, and did not advance further.

Meanwhile, in accordance with the disposition—“die erste Colonne marschirt,” and so on—the infantry regiments of the belated columns, under the command of Bennigsen and the direction of Toll, had started off in due course, and had, in the usual way, arrived somewhere, but not where they were intended to arrive. In the usual way too, the soldiers who had set off gaily, began to halt; there were murmurs of dissatisfaction and a sense of muddle, and they were marched back to some point. Adjutants and generals galloped to and fro, shouting angrily, quarrelling, declaring they had come utterly wrong and were too late, upbraiding some one, and so on; and finally, all washed their hands of the business in despair, and marched on simply in order to get somewhere. “We must arrive somewhere sooner or later!” And so they did, in fact, arrive somewhere, but not where they were wanted. And some did even reach their destination, but reached it so late that their doing so was of no use at all, and only resulted in their being fired at for nothing. Toll, who in this battle played the part of Weierother in the battle of Austerlitz, galloped with unflagging energy from one part of the field to another, and found everything at sixes and sevens everywhere. So, for instance, he found Bagovut's corps in the wood, when it was broad daylight, though the corps ought to have been there long before, and to have gone to support Orlov-Denisov. Disappointed and excited at the failure, and supposing some one must be to blame for it, Toll galloped up to the general in command of the corps, and began sternly reprimanding him, declaring that he deserved to be shot. Bagovut, a sturdy old general of placid disposition, had been worried too by all the delays, the muddles, and the contradictory orders, and, to the amazement of everybody, he flew into a violent rage, quite out of keeping with his character, and said some very nasty things to Toll.

“I am not going to be taught my duty by anybody, but I can face death with my men as well as any one,” he said, and he marched forward with one division. The valiant Bagovut, not considering in his excitement whether his advance into action now with a single division was likely to be of use or not, marched his men straight forward into the enemy's fire. Danger, shells, and bullets were just what he wanted in his fury. One of the first bullets killed him, the other bullets killed many of his men. And his division remained for some time under fire for no object whatever.

第二天，部队在天黑以后在指定地点集合，夜晚行军。这是一个秋天的夜晚，天空布满暗紫色的云彩，但是没有下雨。地面潮湿，但是并不泥泞，军队无声无息地行进着，只是偶而可以听到炮兵的微弱的叮当声。不准高声谈话，不准吸烟和打火；尽量不让马嘶鸣。行军的隐秘增加了它的魅力。人们愉快地行进着。有些纵队以为他们已经达到了目的地，停了下来，架起枪，在冰冷的土地上躺了下来；有些纵队（大多数）走了一整夜，显然走到他们不该到的地方。

奥尔洛夫·杰尼索夫伯爵带领一队哥萨克（所有分队中一支最无足轻重的分队）在指定时间到达了指定地点。这支分队停扎在一座森林的边缘——由斯特罗米洛瓦村去德米特罗夫斯科耶村的一条小路上。

快要天亮的时候，还在打瞌睡的奥尔洛夫伯爵被惊醒了。一个从法军军营逃跑过来的人被带进来。这人是波尼亚托夫斯基兵团的波兰籍中士。这个中士用波兰语解释说，他之所以投奔过来，是因为他在军中受人欺负，他早就应当被提升为军官了，他比任何人都勇敢，因此他抛开他们，还要想报复他们。他说，缪拉就在相距他们只一俄里的地方过夜，只要他带一百名卫队，他就可以把他活捉过来。奥尔洛夫·杰尼索夫伯爵和他的同事们商量了一下。这个建议太诱惑人了，简直令人难以拒绝。人人都自告奋勇要去，人人都想要试一下。经过多次争论和反复酌量之后，决定由格列科夫少将带两团哥萨克同那个中士一道去执行这一任务。

“你可要记住，”奥尔洛夫·杰尼索夫伯爵在送走那个中士时对他说，“你要是说了谎话，我一定把你当一条狗吊死，要是真的，我就赏给你一百个金币。”

那个中士面带坚决的表情对这些话未作回答，跨上马，随着迅速集合起来的格列科夫的人马一同出发了。他们隐没在森林之中。奥尔洛夫伯爵送走了格列科夫，在黎明前的凉爽空气中瑟缩着身子，由于这件事是他自己作的主，心情很激动，他走出树林瞭望敌人的营地，这时在天边的鱼肚白色和即将燃尽的火堆的微光中隐约可以望见敌人的营地。在奥尔洛夫·杰尼索夫伯爵右方，我们的纵队本应在那片裸露的斜坡上出现。奥尔洛夫伯爵向那边望去，虽然离得较远，还是可以望见我们的纵队的，可是没有看见。奥尔洛夫·杰尼索夫伯爵觉得，法国军营开始活动起来，特别是根据一个眼力好的副官说的话证实了这一点。

“啊，实在太晚了。”奥尔洛夫伯爵望着那个军官说道。他突然觉得，正如我们信任的人不在眼前时常有的情形，已经完全清楚，明明白白，那个中士是一个骗子，他说了个大谎，天知道他把两个团的人带到哪里去了，由于这两个团的人马不在，全部俄国的攻击给破坏了。怎么能在这么庞大的军队中活捉到一个总司令？

“的确，他撒谎，这个坏蛋。”伯爵说。

“可以把他叫回来。”一个侍从说道，这个侍从和奥尔洛夫·杰尼索夫伯爵有同感，在瞭望敌营时就觉得这次行动不可靠。

“呃？真的……你是怎样想的？是应当让他们去还是不应当让他们去？”

“您叫他们回来，是吗？”

“叫他们回来，叫他们回来！”奥尔洛夫伯爵看看表，突然坚决地说，“恐怕要晚了，天大亮了。”

于是一位副官驰进树林去找格列科夫。当格列科夫回来的时候，奥尔洛夫·杰尼索夫伯爵由于取消了这次尝试，由于一直等不到步兵纵队出现，还由于敌人就在眼前，心情很激动（他这个分队人人都很激动），决定发动进攻。

“上马！”他低声命令道。士兵们各就各位，划了十字……

“上帝保佑！”

“乌拉——！”喊声响彻整个森林，哥萨克士兵们端着枪，一连跟着一连，像从一条口袋里倒出来一般，飞快地越过小溪，快活地向敌军营地冲杀过去。

第一个看见哥萨克的法国人发出一声绝望的惊恐的叫喊，全营的人还没来得及穿上衣服就朦朦胧胧地扔下大炮、枪支和马匹向四面八方逃跑。

如果哥萨克不顾及他们身后和周围的东西，乘胜追击法国人，他们有可能生擒缪拉，将那儿所有的东西一一缴获，指挥官们是打算这样做的。但是，哥萨克们在缴获战利品和俘虏之后，就没法使他们向前推进，没有一个人听从命令。这次俘获了一千五百名俘虏，三十八门大炮，许多旗帜，还有哥萨克们认为最重要的马匹、马鞍、被服，以及其他许多东西。所有这一切都要进行处理，俘虏和大炮要安置，战利品要分配，他们自己中间有的吵闹，有的你争我夺，哥萨克们都为此忙得不亦乐乎。

不再受到追击的法国人清醒过来了，他们整理了一下队伍，开始进行还击。奥尔洛夫·杰尼索夫伯爵仍然在等候别的纵队到来，没有继续进攻。

与此同时，按照命令：“dieersteColonnemarschiert，”①等等，贝尼格森指挥的和托尔统率的那些迟到的步兵纵队，已经按照应有的顺序出发，也正如通常那样，已经走到某个地点，不过那不是指定到达的地点。兴高采烈出发的士兵们停了下来；怨声四起，一片混乱，又返回到某地。驰马过来的副官和将军们喊叫着，怒气冲冲，互相争吵，说他们完全走错了，也来晚了，责骂某某人，如此等等，终于大家无可奈何地挥了挥手，又往前走，走到哪里算哪里。“不管怎么走，总能走到！”果然走到了，但不是指定地点，有些纵队到达了指定地点，但是太晚了，已经毫无作用，只有挨打了。托尔在这场战斗中扮演了维罗特尔在奥斯特利茨战役扮演的角色，他骑着马到处奔忙，到处都发现事与愿违。天已大亮时，他驰马来到停扎在树林中的巴戈乌特兵团所在地，而这个兵团早就应该和奥尔洛夫·杰尼索夫会合了。托尔为这一失误而焦急、气愤，他认为应当有人对此负责，他策马来到兵团司令官面前，严厉地斥责他，他说，就为了这，应当枪毙他。巴戈乌特是一个文静的、能征善战的老将军，他也因为一路拖延、混乱和错误百出被搞得筋疲力竭，令人惊讶的是，他一反平日的温文尔雅，大发雷霆，他对托尔说了许多难听的话。

①法语：第一纵队向某地进发。

“我不愿受任何人教训，我和我的士兵不会比别人更怕死。”他说完，就率一师人前进了。

心情激动的勇敢的巴戈乌特冒着法国人的炮火向田野走去，他不考虑这时就进入战斗是否有益，就带领一师人冒着枪林弹雨冲了上去。危险、炮弹、枪弹，这些正是处在愤怒中的他所需要的东西。在敌人的头几排枪弹中，一颗子弹把他打死了，接着几排枪弹，打死了许多士兵。他的一师人马冒着炮火毫无益处地坚持了一会儿。