The men of the Eight Company are gathered around a campfire. Those who were still in the army by this time were only the most fit of the troops. They talk about their experiences and joke as they sat around the fire.
The men of the Eight Company are gathered around a campfire. Those who were still in the army by this time were only the most fit of the troops. They talk about their experiences and joke as they sat around the fire.
Book 15, Chapter 8
The men of the Eight Company are gathered around a campfire. Those who were still in the army by this time were only the most fit of the troops. They talk about their experiences and joke as they sat around the fire.
Summary:
One would think the Russian soldiers living under such incredibly harsh conditions as these did, lacking warm boots, coats, shelter and even food, would present a very sad spectacle. On the contrary, the army had never presented a more cheerful and animated aspect. This was because anyone who became too physically and mentally weak to go on with this hard life was sifted out of the army day by day as the gradually had to abandon the army. By now, only the very flower of the army remained. The men of the Eight Company are settled in around a campfire for the night. For permission to sit by their wattle they demand contributions of fuel from newcomers. There was general conversation about the French prisoners, prior battles, burying the dead, and like topics. Some of the things some of the soldiers said were obviously not true, and they chided one another as liars, or to go gather more wood for the fire. Gradually the conversation died down and in the silence that ensued, the snoring of those who had fallen asleep could be heard. Others turned over and warmed themselves, now and again exchanging a few words. From a campfire a hundred paces off came a sound of general, merry laughter. A few of the men wandered over to the other campfire to see what was going on. The others drifted off to sleep.
quote from the chapter:
What a lot of those Frenchies were taken today, and the fact is that not one of them had what you might call real boots on, said a soldier, starting a new theme. They were no more than make-believes.
The Cossacks have taken their boots. They were clearing the hut for the colonel and carried them out. It was pitiful to see them, boys, put in the dancer. As they turned them over one seemed still alive and, would you believe it, he jabbered something in their lingo.
But they’re a clean folk, lads, the first man went on; he was white-as white as birchbark-and some of them are such fine fellows, you might think they were nobles.
Well, what do you think? They make soldiers of all classes there.
But they don’t understand our talk at all, said the dancer with a puzzled smile. I asked him whose subject he was, and he jabbered in his own way. A queer lot!
But it’s strange, friends, continued the man who had wondered at their whiteness, the peasants at Mozháysk were saying that when they began burying the dead-where the battle was you know-well, those dead had been lying there for nearly a month, and says the peasant, ‘they lie as white as paper, clean, and not as much smell as a puff of powder smoke.’
Click here to read full text of this chapter.
Please help improve this shared document by posting your suggested corrections, clarifications, and changes below. Thank you!