Who tushin war and peace. Battle of Shengraben in War and Peace

In the novel "War and Peace" Tolstoy showed us many different images, with different characters and views on life. Captain Tushin is a controversial character who played a big role in the war of 1812, although he was very cowardly.

Seeing the captain for the first time, no one could have thought that he could accomplish at least some feat. He looked like a "Small, dirty, thin artillery officer without boots, in only stockings", he even gets a reprimand from the staff officer for his appearance. At that moment, Prince Andrei Bolkonsky thought that this man could not be a military man, since he looked very comical and stupid. Tushin, even before the start of hostilities, was afraid of everything related to the war: he was afraid of the explosion of shells, the whistle of bullets, he was afraid that he would be wounded and afraid to see other wounded and killed, he was afraid of condemnation from colleagues and superiors. And at the most crucial moment, the captain drove away his fear, presenting the battle in a comical light, and this achieved its goal: Captain Tushin's battery practically alone held the defense. Only Prince Andrei noticed and appreciated Tushin's heroic deed and then defended him at the military council, proving that they owe their success in the Shangraben battle only to the correct actions of the captain.

In the war, Tushin loses his hand and will no longer be able to defend the Motherland, but using his example, the author showed that it is not necessary to be brave, just for a feat you need to be able to overcome your fear.

Captain Tushin is a secondary hero of Leo Tolstoy, who is given very little space on the pages of the novel. But the whole episode with Captain Tushin is written very brightly and succinctly.

The first meeting of the reader with Tushin's battery

For the first time, L. N. Tolstoy mentions the Tushin battery in the second part of the novel, in chapter XVI. It was there that Prince Andrei considered the position of the infantry and dragoons. The battery was in the center of the Russian troops, directly opposite the village of Shengraben. The prince did not see the officers who were sitting in the booth, but one of the voices struck him with its sincerity. The officers, despite, or perhaps precisely because a battle was soon to come, philosophized. They talked about where the soul would go next. “After all, there seems to be no sky,” said a soft voice that surprised the prince, “but there is one atmosphere.” Suddenly the core fell and exploded. The officers quickly jumped out, and then Prince Andrei examined Tushin. This is how the image of Captain Tushin begins to take shape in the mind of the reader.

Officer appearance

For the first time we see this simple officer through the eyes of Prince Andrei. He turned out to be small in stature, with a kind and intelligent face. Captain Tushin is a little stooped and does not look like a hero, but a weak person, and, in accordance with his surname, stews when he meets high-ranking officials. And he himself is small, and his hands are small, and his voice is thin, indecisive. But the eyes are big, smart and kind. Such is the ordinary, unheroic appearance of Captain Tushin. But under this unsightly appearance lies a brave and reckless spirit in times of danger.

Kindness Tushin

After the battle, it was hard for the young shell-shocked Nikolai Rostov to walk, and he lost his horse during the battle. He asked absolutely everyone passing by to be taken, but no one paid attention to him. And only the staff captain Tushin allowed him to sit on the gun carriage, which he called Matveevna in battle, and helped the cadet. This is how the humanity and kindness of the captain is manifested in action at a time of general indifference to a separate life.

Responsiveness and pity

When a halt came in the evening, the staff captain sent one of the soldiers to look for a doctor or a dressing station for the cadet Rostov. And he looked at the young man with sympathy and compassion. It was clear that he wanted to help with all his heart, but so far there was nothing. This is described in Chapter XXI. It also tells that a wounded soldier who was thirsty approached. He got water from Tushin. Another soldier ran up, who asked for fire for the infantry, and the captain did not refuse him.

War in the view of L. Tolstoy

This is an anti-human phenomenon, which is full of muck and dirt and is devoid of a romantic halo. Life is beautiful, but death is ugly. This is just a massacre of innocent people. His best heroes don't kill anyone themselves. Even during the battles, it is not shown how Denisov or Rostov took someone's life, not to mention Prince Andrei. The description of the military operations of 1805-1807, in which Captain Tushin takes part, in the novel "War and Peace" is one of the centers of the epic. On these pages, the writer constantly describes war and death. It shows how masses of people are forced to endure inhuman trials. But simply and without further ado, Captain Tushin fulfills his duty as a soldier. War and peace exist for him in parallel worlds. In war, he does his best, carefully considering each action, trying to inflict damage on the enemy, saving, if possible, the lives of his soldiers and weapons, which are of material value. His peaceful life is shown to us only on short-term halts, when he takes care of the people who are next to him. He eats and drinks with his soldiers, and it can be difficult to distinguish him from them, he cannot even always properly salute a higher rank. With each battle, his human significance rises even higher.

Shengraben - preparation for battle

Prince Bagration with his retinue drove to Tushin's battery. The guns were just starting to fire, everyone in the company had a special cheerful and excited spirit. Tushin at first, even giving instructions in a thin voice, running and stumbling, did not notice the prince, but when he finally saw him, he became embarrassed, timidly and awkwardly put his fingers to the visor and went up to the commander. Bagration left, leaving the company without cover.

Battle

Nobody left orders to the captain, but he consulted with his sergeant major and decided to set fire to the village of Shengraben. We emphasize that he knew how to use the common sense of experienced soldiers, and not look down on them. He was, of course, a nobleman, but he did not stick out his origin, but appreciated the experience and intelligence of his subordinates. And the Russian army received an order to retreat, but everyone forgot about Tushin, and his company stood and held back the French offensive.

fighting

When Bagration, retreating along with the main part of the army, listened, he heard a cannonade somewhere in the center. To find out what was going on, he sent Prince Andrei to order the battery to retreat as quickly as possible. Tushin had only four guns. But they fired so vigorously that the French assumed that a large force was concentrated there. They attacked twice, but were repulsed both times. When it was possible to ignite the Shengraben, all the cannons began to strike in unison in the very center of the fire. The soldiers were excited by the way the French ran in, trying to put out the fire, which was carried by the wind, and it spread more and more. The French columns left the village. But on the right, the enemy put up ten cannons and began to aim at Tushin's battery.

The feat of captain Tushin

Tushin had both horses and soldiers wounded. Of the forty people, seventeen were out of action. However, the revival on the battery did not weaken. All four guns turned against ten firing guns. Tushin, like everyone else, was lively, cheerful and excited.

He kept asking the orderly for his pipe. With her, he ran from one gun to another, counted the remaining shells, ordered the replacement of dead horses. When a soldier was wounded or killed, he grimaced, as if in pain, and ordered to help the wounded. And the faces of the soldiers, tall, huge men, like mirrors, reflected the expression on the face of their commander. It immediately becomes clear from the description of L. Tolstoy that the subordinates simply loved their boss and carried out his orders not out of fear of punishment, but out of a desire to meet his requirements.

In the midst of the battle, Tushin completely changed, he imagined himself as just a hero who throws cannonballs at the French. He infected soldiers and officers with his fighting spirit. The captain is all immersed in the battle. He called one of his guns Matveevna, she seemed to him powerful and huge. The French appeared to him as ants, and their guns as pipes from which smoke was smoking. He saw only his guns and the French, who had to be held. Tushin began to form a single whole with everything that was on his battery: with tools, people, horses. Such is Captain Tushin in battle. His characteristic is a characteristic of a modest person who perceives heroic actions as fulfillment. At the time of the battle, all his joys and sorrows are connected only with comrades, the enemy and the cannons animated by his imagination.

What did Prince Andrei learn

He was sent to give the captain the order to retreat. And the first thing the prince saw was a horse with a broken leg, from which blood gushed like a fountain. And a few more dead people. A ball flew over him. The prince, by an effort of will, ordered himself not to be afraid. He got off his horse and, together with Tushin, began to dispose of the cleaning of the guns.

The soldiers simply noted the courage of the prince, telling him that the authorities had come and immediately fled. And when Tushin was summoned to headquarters to point out that he had lost two guns, Prince Andrei, whose ideas about heroism had already begun to change, he saw heroism without bravado, modest and worthy, unable to show off and admire himself, stood up for military honor company of captain Tushin. And he briefly but firmly stated that the success of today's army is due to the actions of Captain Tushin with his company.

L. N. Tolstoy told the bitter truth about the war, in which innocent people and animals die, where true heroes are not noticed, and staff officers who did not sniff gunpowder receive awards, where the revenge of the people ripens, which is replaced by the end of the war pity mixed with contempt. He showed how many of the quietest Timokhins and Tushins, true folk heroes, lie in nameless graves.

Volume 1. Part 2.
Chapter XV

At four o'clock in the evening, Prince Andrei, insisting on his request from Kutuzov, arrived in Grunt and appeared to Bagration. Bonaparte's adjutant had not yet arrived at Murat's detachment, and the battle had not yet begun. The Bagration detachment knew nothing about the general course of affairs, they talked about peace, but did not believe in its possibility. They talked about the battle and also did not believe in the proximity of the battle.

Bagration, knowing Bolkonsky as a beloved and trusted adjutant, received him with special superior distinction and indulgence, explained to him that there would probably be a battle today or tomorrow, and gave him complete freedom to be with him during the battle or in the rearguard to observe the order of retreat , "which was also very important."

However, today, probably, things will not happen, - said Bagration, as if reassuring Prince Andrei.

“If this is one of the ordinary staff dandies sent to receive a cross, then he will receive an award in the rearguard, and if he wants to be with me, let him ... come in handy if he is a brave officer,” Bagration thought. Prince Andrei, without answering anything, asked permission to go around the position and find out the location of the troops so that, in case of instructions, he would know where to go. The duty officer of the detachment, a handsome man, smartly dressed and with a diamond ring on his index finger, who spoke badly but willingly in French, volunteered to see Prince Andrei off.

From all sides one could see wet officers with sad faces, as if looking for something, and soldiers dragging doors, benches and fences from the village.

We can’t, prince, get rid of these people, ”said the staff officer, pointing to these people. - Commanders disband. And here, - he pointed to the spread out tent of the shopper, - they will huddle and sit. This morning he kicked everyone out: look, it's full again. We must drive up, prince, to frighten them. One minute.

Let's go, and I'll take cheese and a roll from him, ”said Prince Andrei, who had not had time to eat yet.

Why didn't you say, prince? I would offer my bread and salt.

They got off their horses and went under the marketer's tent. Several officers, with flushed and exhausted faces, were sitting at tables, drinking and eating.

Well, what is it, gentlemen! - said the staff officer in a tone of reproach, like a man who has already repeated the same thing several times. - After all, you can not leave like that. The prince ordered that there be no one. Well, here you are, Mr. Staff Captain, - he turned to a small, dirty, thin artillery officer, who, without boots (he gave them to the sutler to dry), in stockings, stood in front of the newcomers, smiling not quite naturally.

Well, aren't you ashamed, Captain Tushin? - continued the staff officer, - it seems to you, as an artilleryman, you need to show an example, and you are without boots. They will sound the alarm, and you will be very good without boots. (The staff officer smiled.) If you please, go to your places, gentlemen, everything, everything, ”he added bossily.

Prince Andrei smiled involuntarily, glancing at Staff Captain Tushin. Silently and smiling, Tushin, stepping from bare foot to foot, looked inquiringly with large, intelligent and kind eyes first at Prince Andrei, then at the staff officer.

The soldiers say: wiser smarter, - said Captain Tushin, smiling and shy, apparently wanting to go from his awkward position into a joking tone.

But he had not finished yet, when he felt that his joke was not accepted and did not come out. He was confused.

Please leave, - said the staff officer, trying to keep his seriousness.

Prince Andrei glanced once more at the figure of the artilleryman. There was something special about her, not at all military, somewhat comical, but extremely attractive.

The staff officer and Prince Andrei mounted their horses and rode on.

Having left the village, constantly overtaking and meeting the marching soldiers, officers of different teams, they saw to the left the fortifications under construction, reddening with fresh, newly dug up clay. Several battalions of soldiers in the same shirts, despite the cold wind, like white ants, swarm on these fortifications; shovels of red clay were constantly thrown out from behind the rampart by invisibly by someone. They drove up to the fortification, examined it and drove on. Behind the very fortification they stumbled upon several dozen soldiers, constantly changing, running away from the fortification. They had to pinch their noses and trot their horses to get out of this poisoned atmosphere.

Voilà l'agrément des camps, monsieur le prince, said the duty staff officer.

They went to the opposite mountain. The French were already visible from this mountain. Prince Andrei stopped and began to examine.

Here is our battery, - said the staff officer, pointing to the highest point, - that same eccentric who was sitting without boots; From there you can see everything: let's go, prince.

I humbly thank you, now I’ll pass alone, ”said Prince Andrei, wanting to get rid of the staff officer,“ don’t worry, please. The staff officer lagged behind, and Prince Andrei rode alone.

The further he moved forward, closer to the enemy, the more decent and cheerful the appearance of the troops became. The strongest confusion and despondency were in that wagon train in front of Znaim, which Prince Andrei circled in the morning and which was ten miles from the French. Grunt also felt some anxiety and fear of something. But the closer Prince Andrei drove up to the chain of the French, the more self-confident the appearance of our troops became.

Lined up in a row, soldiers in overcoats stood, and the sergeant major and the company commander counted people, poking a finger in the chest of the last soldier in the squad and ordering him to raise his hand; scattered throughout the space, the soldiers dragged firewood and brushwood and built booths, laughing merrily and talking to each other; clothed and naked sat around the fires, drying their shirts, undershirts, or mending boots and overcoats, crowding around the boilers and cookers. In one company, dinner was ready, and the soldiers with greedy faces looked at the smoking cauldrons and waited for the sample, which was brought in a wooden cup by the captain of the officer, who was sitting on a log opposite his booth.

In another, happier company, since not everyone had vodka, the soldiers, crowding, stood near a pockmarked, broad-shouldered sergeant major, who, bending a keg, poured into the lids of the manners, which were alternately substituted. Soldiers with pious faces brought the manners to their mouths, knocked them over and, rinsing their mouths and wiping themselves with the sleeves of their overcoats, with cheerful faces, moved away from the sergeant major. All the faces were so calm, as if everything was happening not in the mind of the enemy, before the case, where at least half of the detachment was supposed to remain in place, but as if somewhere in their homeland, waiting for a quiet stop. Having passed the chasseur regiment, in the ranks of the Kiev grenadiers, valiant people engaged in the same peaceful affairs, Prince Andrey, not far from the regimental commander's tall, different booth, ran into the front of a platoon of grenadiers, in front of which lay a naked man. Two soldiers held him, and two waved flexible rods and rhythmically hit his bare back.

The punished man screamed unnaturally. The fat major walked in front of the front and, without ceasing and paying no attention to the cry, said:

It is shameful for a soldier to steal, a soldier must be honest, noble and brave; and if he stole from his brother, there is no honor in him; this is a bastard. More more!

And all the flexible blows and a desperate, but feigned cry were heard.

More, more, said the major.

The young officer, with an expression of bewilderment and suffering on his face, moved away from the punished man, looking inquiringly at the passing adjutant. Prince Andrei, having left for the front line, rode along the front. Our chain and the enemy's were on the left and on the right flank far apart, but in the middle, in the place where the truce passed in the morning, the chains came together so close that they could see each other's faces and talk to each other. In addition to the soldiers who occupied the chain in this place, on both sides stood many curious people who, chuckling, looked at strange and alien enemies.

From early morning, despite the prohibition to approach the chain, the chiefs could not fight off the curious. The soldiers standing in chains, like people showing something rare, no longer looked at the French, but made their observations of those who came and, bored, waited for a change. Prince Andrei stopped to examine the French.

Look, look, - one soldier said to a comrade, pointing to a Russian musketeer-soldier, who approached the chain with an officer and spoke something often and passionately with the French grenadier. - Look, he mumbles how cleverly! Already the guardian does not keep up with him. Come on, Sidorov ...

Wait, listen. Look smart! - answered Sidorov, who was considered a master of speaking French.

The soldier pointed out by the laughers was Dolokhov. Prince Andrei recognized him and listened to his conversation. Dolokhov, together with his company commander, entered the chain from the left flank, on which their regiment stood.

Well, more, more! - incited the company commander, leaning forward and trying not to utter a single word incomprehensible to him. - Please, more often. What he?

Dolokhov did not answer the company commander; he was involved in a heated argument with a French grenadier. They talked, as they should have, about the campaign. The Frenchman argued, confusing the Austrians with the Russians, that the Russians had surrendered and fled from Ulm itself; Dolokhov argued that the Russians did not give up, but beat the French.

Here they are ordered to drive you away, and we will drive you away, - said Dolokhov.

Just try not to be taken away with all your Cossacks, ”said the French grenadier. The French spectators and listeners laughed.

The French were already close; already Prince Andrei, walking next to Bagration, clearly distinguished the bandages, red epaulettes, even the faces of the French. (He clearly saw one old French officer, who, with his twisted legs in boots, holding on to the bushes, was with difficulty walking uphill.) Prince Bagration did not give a new order and still silently walked in front of the ranks. Suddenly, one shot crackled between the French, another, a third ... and smoke spread through all the upset enemy ranks and the firing crackled. Several of our men fell, including the round-faced officer who walked so cheerfully and diligently. But at the same moment as the first shot rang out, Bagration looked around and shouted: "Hurrah!"

"Hurrah-ah-ah-ah!" - a drawn-out cry resounded along our line, and, overtaking Prince Bagration and each other, our discordant, but cheerful and lively crowd ran downhill after the upset French.

Chapter XIX

The attack of the 6th Chasseurs ensured the retreat of the right flank. In the center, the action of Tushin's forgotten battery, which managed to set fire to Shengraben, stopped the movement of the French. The French extinguished the fire carried by the wind and gave time to retreat. The retreat of the center through the ravine was carried out hastily and noisily; however, the troops, retreating, were not confused by teams. But the left flank, which was simultaneously attacked and bypassed by the excellent forces of the French under the command of Lann and which consisted of the Azov and Podolsky infantry and Pavlograd hussar regiments, was upset. Bagration sent Zherkov to the general of the left flank with orders to retreat immediately.

Zherkov, briskly, without taking his hand off his cap, touched the horse and galloped off. But as soon as he drove away from Bagration, his forces betrayed him. An insurmountable fear came over him, and he could not go where it was dangerous.

Having approached the troops of the left flank, he did not go forward, where there was shooting, but began to look for the general and commanders where they could not be, and therefore did not give orders.

The command of the left flank belonged in seniority to the regimental commander of the very regiment that presented itself under Braunau Kutuzov and in which Dolokhov served as a soldier. The command of the extreme left flank was assigned to the commander of the Pavlograd regiment, where Rostov served, as a result of which there was a misunderstanding. Both commanders were greatly irritated against each other, and at the same time that things had been going on on the right flank for a long time and the French had already begun the offensive, both commanders were occupied with negotiations aimed at offending each other. The regiments, both cavalry and infantry, were very little prepared for the upcoming business. The people of the regiments, from a soldier to a general, did not expect a battle and calmly engaged in peaceful affairs: feeding horses - in the cavalry, collecting firewood - in the infantry.

He is, however, older than mine in rank, - said the German, a hussar colonel, blushing and turning to the adjutant who drove up, - then they left him to do as he wanted. I cannot sacrifice my hussars. Trumpeter! Play Retreat!

But things were getting rushed. Cannonade and shooting, merging, thundered from the right and in the center, and the French hoods of Lannes' shooters were already passing the mill dam and lined up on this side in two rifle shots. The infantry colonel with a shuddering gait approached the horse and, mounting it and becoming very straight and tall, rode to the Pavlograd commander. The regimental commanders arrived with courteous bows and hidden malice in their hearts.

Again, colonel, - said the general, - I cannot, however, leave half the people in the forest. I beg you, I beg you,” he repeated, “take position and prepare for the attack.

And I ask you not to interfere is not your business, - the colonel answered, getting excited. - If you were a cavalryman ...

I'm not a cavalryman, colonel, but I'm a Russian general, and if you don't know...

It is very well known, Your Excellency, - suddenly cried out, touching the horse, the colonel, and turning red-purple. - Would you like to join the chains, and we will see that this position is worthless. I don't want to destroy my regiment for your pleasure. - You're forgetting, Colonel. I do not observe my pleasure and I will not allow it to be said.

The general, accepting the colonel's invitation to the tournament of courage, straightening his chest and frowning, rode with him in the direction of the chain, as if all their disagreement was to be decided there, in the chain, under the bullets. They arrived at the chain, several bullets flew over them, and they silently stopped. There was nothing to see in the chain, since even from the place where they had previously stood, it was clear that it was impossible for the cavalry to operate through the bushes and ravines and that the French were bypassing the left wing. The general and the colonel looked sternly and significantly as the two roosters, preparing for battle, looked at each other, waiting in vain for signs of cowardice. Both passed the test. Since there was nothing to say, and neither one nor the other wanted to give the other a reason to say that he was the first to leave from under the bullets, they would have stood there for a long time, mutually experiencing courage, if at that time in the forest, almost behind them, the rattle of guns and a muffled, merging cry were heard. The French attacked the soldiers who were in the forest with firewood. The hussars could no longer retreat with the infantry. They were cut off from the retreat to the left by a French line. Now, however inconvenient the terrain was, it was necessary to attack in order to make their way.

The squadron, where Rostov served, who had just managed to get on his horses, was stopped facing the enemy. Again, as on the Ensky bridge, there was no one between the squadron and the enemy, and between them, separating them, lay the same terrible line of uncertainty and fear, as it were, a line separating the living from the dead. All people felt this line, and the question of whether they would cross or not and how they would cross this line worried them. A colonel rode up to the front, angrily answered something to the questions of the officers, and, like a man desperately insisting on his own, gave some order. No one said anything definitive, but rumors of an attack swept through the squadron. There was a command to build, then sabers screeched out of their scabbards. But still no one moved. The troops of the left flank, both the infantry and the hussars, felt that the authorities themselves did not know what to do, and the indecision of the commanders was communicated to the troops.

“Hurry, hurry,” thought Rostov, feeling that at last the time had come to taste the pleasure of the attack, about which he had heard so much from his fellow hussars.

In the front row, the croups of horses swayed. Grachik pulled the reins and set off on his own.

On the right, Rostov saw the first ranks of his hussars, and even further ahead he could see a dark stripe, which he could not see, but considered the enemy. Shots were heard, but in the distance.

Add lynx! - a command was heard, and Rostov felt how he was giving in backwards, interrupting his Grachik at a gallop.

He guessed his movements ahead, and he became more and more cheerful. He noticed a lone tree ahead. This tree was at first in front, in the middle of that line that seemed so terrible. And so they crossed this line, and not only was there nothing terrible, but it became more and more cheerful and lively. “Oh, how I will cut him,” thought Rostov, clutching the hilt of his saber in his hand.

"Well, now whoever gets caught," thought Rostov, pressing Grachik's spurs, and, overtaking the others, let him go all over the quarry. The enemy was already visible ahead. Suddenly, like a wide broom, something lashed the squadron. Rostov raised his saber, preparing to cut, but at that time the soldier Nikitenko, galloping ahead, separated from him, and Rostov felt, as in a dream, that he continued to rush forward with unnatural speed and at the same time remained in place. Behind him, the familiar hussar Bandarchuk galloped up at him and looked angrily. Bandarchuk's horse shied away, and he galloped past.

"What is this? am I not moving? - I fell, I was killed ... ”- Rostov asked and answered in an instant. He was already alone in the middle of the field. Instead of moving horses and hussar backs, he saw around him motionless earth and stubble. Warm blood was under him. "No, I am wounded and the horse is killed." Rook got up on his front legs, but fell down, crushing his rider's leg. Blood was flowing from the horse's head. The horse struggled and could not get up. Rostov wanted to get up and fell too: the cart caught on the saddle. Where were ours, where were the French - he did not know. Nobody was around.

He freed his leg and stood up. “Where, on what side was now that line that so sharply separated the two troops?” he asked himself and could not answer. “Has something bad happened to me already? Are there such cases, and what should be done in such cases? he asked himself, getting up; and at that time he felt that something superfluous was hanging on his left numb hand. Her brush was like someone else's. He looked at his hand, searching in vain for blood. “Well, here are the people,” he thought happily, seeing several people running towards him. “They will help me!” Ahead of these people ran one in a strange shako and in a blue overcoat, black, tanned, with a hooked nose. Two more and many more fled behind. One of them said something strange, non-Russian. Between the rear of the same people, in the same shakos, stood one Russian hussar. He was held by the hands; his horse was kept behind him.

“That's right, our prisoner ... Yes. Will they take me too? What are these people? - Rostov kept thinking, not believing his eyes. “Are they French?” He looked at the approaching French, and despite the fact that in a second he galloped only to overtake these Frenchmen and cut them down, their proximity now seemed to him so terrible that he could not believe his eyes. "Who are they? Why are they running? Really to me? Are they running towards me? And for what? Kill me? Me, whom everyone loves so much? He remembered the love of his mother, family, friends for him, and the intention of his enemies to kill him seemed impossible. "And maybe - and kill!" He stood for more than ten seconds, not moving from his place and not understanding his position. The hump-nosed Frenchman in front ran so close that you could already see the expression on his face. And the heated, alien physiognomy of this man, who with a bayonet at the ready, holding his breath, easily ran up to him, frightened Rostov. He grabbed a pistol and, instead of firing it, threw it at the Frenchman and ran towards the bushes with all his strength. Not with that feeling of doubt and struggle with which he went to the Ensky bridge, he fled, but with the feeling of a hare running away from dogs. One inseparable feeling of fear for his young, happy life dominated his entire being. Quickly jumping over the fences, with the swiftness with which he ran, playing burners, he flew across the field, occasionally turning his pale, kind, young face, and a chill of horror ran down his back. “No, it’s better not to look,” he thought, but, running up to the bushes, looked back again. The French lagged behind, and even at the moment he looked back, the one in front had just changed his trot to a walk and, turning around, was shouting something loudly to his comrade behind. Rostov stopped. "Something's wrong," he thought, "it can't be that they want to kill me." Meanwhile, his left hand was so heavy, as if a two-pound weight was hung from it. He couldn't run any further. The Frenchman also stopped and took aim. Rostov closed his eyes and bent down. One, another bullet flew, buzzing, past him. He gathered the last of his strength, took his left hand into his right and ran to the bushes. There were Russian arrows in the bushes.

Chapter XX

Infantry regiments, taken by surprise in the forest, ran out of the forest, and companies, mingling with other companies, left in disorderly crowds. One soldier, in fright, uttered a terrible and meaningless word in the war: “Cut off!”, And the word, along with a feeling of fear, was communicated to the whole mass. - Bypassed! Cut off! Gone! shouted the voices of the fugitives.

The regimental commander, at the very moment he heard the shooting and the cry from behind, realized that something terrible had happened to his regiment, and the thought that he, an exemplary, who had served for many years, an innocent officer, could be guilty in front of the authorities in an oversight or indiscipline, so struck him that at the same moment forgetting both the recalcitrant cavalry colonel and his general importance, and most importantly - completely forgetting about the danger and sense of self-preservation, he, grabbing the pommel of the saddle and spurring the horse, galloped to the regiment under a hail of bullets that sprinkled, but happily passed him. He wanted one thing: to find out what was the matter, and to help and correct at all costs the mistake, if it was on his part, and not to be guilty of him, having served for twenty-two years, an exemplary officer who was not noticed in anything. Having happily galloped between the French, he galloped to the field behind the forest, through which ours ran and, disobeying the command, went downhill. That moment of moral hesitation has come, which decides the fate of the battles: these upset crowds of soldiers will listen to the voice of their commander or, looking back at him, will run further. Despite the desperate cry of the regimental commander’s voice, which used to be so formidable for the soldiers, despite the furious, crimson, dissimilar face of the regimental commander and brandishing his sword, the soldiers kept running, talking, shooting into the air and not listening to commands. The moral hesitation that decides the fate of the battles, obviously, was resolved in favor of fear.

The general coughed from the scream and gunpowder smoke and stopped in despair. Everything seemed lost, but at that moment the French, who were advancing on ours, suddenly, for no apparent reason, ran back, disappeared from the edge of the forest, and Russian riflemen appeared in the forest. It was Timokhin's company, which, alone in the forest, kept itself in order and, having sat down in a ditch near the forest, unexpectedly attacked the French. Timokhin, with such a desperate cry, rushed at the French and with such insane and drunken determination, with one skewer, ran into the enemy that the French, but having time to come to their senses, threw down their weapons and ran. Dolokhov, who fled next to Timokhin, killed one Frenchman point-blank and was the first to take the surrendered officer by the collar. The fugitives returned, the battalions gathered, and the French, who had divided the troops of the left flank into two parts, were momentarily pushed back. The reserve units managed to connect, and the fugitives stopped. The regimental commander was standing with Major Ekonomov at the bridge, letting the retreating companies pass by, when a soldier approached him, took him by the stirrup and almost leaned against him. The soldier was wearing a bluish, factory-made overcoat, there was no knapsack and shako, his head was tied, and a French charging bag was put on over his shoulder. He held an officer's sword in his hands. The soldier was pale, his blue eyes looked insolently into the face of the regimental commander, and his mouth was smiling. Despite the fact that the regimental commander was busy issuing orders to Major Ekonomov, he could not help paying attention to this soldier.

Your Excellency, here are two trophies, - said Dolokhov, pointing to the French sword and bag. - I have captured an officer. I stopped the company. - Dolokhov was breathing heavily from fatigue; he spoke with stops. - The whole company can testify. Please remember, Your Excellency!

All right, all right, - said the regimental commander and turned to Major Ekonomov.

But Dolokhov did not leave; he untied the handkerchief, tugged at it, and showed the blood clotted in his hair.

Wound with a bayonet, I remained in the front. Remember, Your Excellency.

The Tushin battery was forgotten, and only at the very end of the case, continuing to hear the cannonade in the center, Prince Bagration sent the staff officer on duty there and then Prince Andrei to order the battery to retreat as soon as possible. The cover stationed near Tushin's guns left on someone's orders in the middle of the case; but the battery continued to fire and was not taken by the French only because the enemy could not imagine the audacity of firing four unprotected cannons. On the contrary, according to the energetic action of this battery, he assumed that the main forces of the Russians were concentrated here, in the center, and twice tried to attack this point, and both times he was chased away by four cannons standing alone on this hill with grape shots.

Soon after the departure of Prince Bagration, Tushin managed to set fire to the Shengraben.

Wow, confused! Burning! Look, there's smoke! Deftly! Important! Smoke something, smoke something! said the servant, brightening up.

All guns fired in the direction of the fire without orders. As if urging them on, the soldiers shouted to each shot: “Smart! That's it, that's it! Look you ... Important! The wind-blown fire spread rapidly. The French columns that had come out of the village went back, but, as if in punishment for this failure, the enemy put up ten guns to the right of the village and began to fire at Tushin with them.

Because of the childish joy aroused by the fire, and the excitement of successful shooting at the French, our gunners noticed this battery only when two shots and after them four more hit between the guns and one knocked down two horses, and the other tore off the leg of the box leader. The revival, once established, however, did not weaken, but only changed the mood. The horses were replaced by others from the reserve carriage, the wounded were removed, and four guns turned against the ten-gun battery. The officer, Comrade Tushin, was killed at the beginning of the case, and in the course of an hour, out of forty servants, seventeen left, but the gunners were still cheerful and lively. Twice they noticed that below, close to them, the French showed up, and then they hit them with grapeshot.

The little man, with weak, awkward movements, constantly demanded for himself another pipe from the orderly for this, as he said, and, scattering fire from it, ran forward and looked at the French from under his small hand.

Crash guys! - he said, and he himself picked up the guns by the wheels and unscrewed the screws.

In the smoke, stunned by incessant shots that made him shudder every time, Tushin, without letting go of his nose warmer, ran from one gun to another, now aiming, now counting the charges, now ordering the change and harnessing of dead and wounded horses, and shouting to his weak, thin , in a hesitant voice. His face brightened up more and more. Only when people were killed or wounded did he frown and, turning away from the dead, angrily shouted at the people, who, as always, hesitated to pick up the wounded or the body. The soldiers, for the most part handsome fellows (as always in a battery company, two heads taller than their officer and twice as wide as him), all, like children in a quandary, looked at their commander, and the expression that was on his face was invariably reflected on their faces.

As a result of this terrible rumble, noise, the need for attention and activity, Tushin did not experience the slightest unpleasant feeling of fear, and the thought that they might kill him or hurt him painfully did not occur to him. On the contrary, he became more and more cheerful. It seemed to him that a very long time ago, almost yesterday, there was that moment when he saw the enemy and fired the first shot, and that the patch of field on which he stood was a familiar, kindred place to him for a long time. Despite the fact that he remembered everything, thought everything, did everything that the best officer in his position could do, he was in a state similar to feverish delirium or the state of a drunk person.

Because of the deafening sounds of their guns from all sides, because of the whistle and blows of enemy shells, because of the appearance of servants sweating, flushed, hurrying near the guns, because of the blood of people and horses, because of the enemy’s smoke on that side (after which each time a cannonball flew in and hit the ground, a person, a tool or a horse), - because of the sight of these objects, his own fantastic world was established in his head, which constituted his pleasure at that moment. The enemy cannons in his imagination were not cannons, but pipes from which an invisible smoker emitted smoke in rare puffs.

Look, he puffed again, - Tushin said in a whisper to himself, while a cloud of smoke jumped out of the mountain and was blown to the left by the wind, - now wait for the ball - send it back.

What do you order, your honor? asked the fireworker, who stood close beside him and heard him mutter something.

Nothing, a grenade ... - he answered.

“Come on, our Matvevna,” he said to himself. Matvevna imagined in his imagination a large extreme old-cast cannon. The French appeared to him near their guns as ants. A handsome man and a drunkard, the first number of the second tool in his world was his uncle; Tushin looked at him more often than others and rejoiced at his every move. The sound of the fading, then again intensifying gunfire under the mountain seemed to him someone's breathing. He listened to the fading and rising of these sounds.

“Look, she breathed again, she breathed,” he said to himself.

He himself imagined himself of enormous stature, a powerful man who threw cannonballs at the French with both hands.

Well, Matvevna, mother, do not betray! - he said, moving away from the gun, as an alien, unfamiliar voice was heard over his head:

Captain Tushin! Captain!

Tushin looked around frightened. It was the staff officer who kicked him out of Grunt. He shouted to him in a breathless voice:

What are you, crazy? You've been ordered to retreat twice, and you...

“Well, why are they me? ..” Tushin thought to himself, looking at the boss with fear.

I ... nothing ... - he said, putting two fingers to the visor. - I…

But the colonel did not finish everything he wanted. A close-flying cannonball made him dive and bend over on his horse. He stopped talking and just wanted to say something else, when another core stopped him. He turned his horse and galloped away.

Retreat! Everyone retreat! he shouted from afar.

The soldiers laughed. A minute later the adjutant arrived with the same order.

It was Prince Andrew. The first thing he saw, riding out into the space occupied by Tushin's guns, was an unharnessed horse with a broken leg, which was neighing near the harnessed horses. From her leg, as from a key, blood flowed. Between the limbers lay several dead. One shot after another flew over him as he rode up, and he felt a nervous tremor run down his spine. But the very thought that he was afraid lifted him up again. "I can't be afraid," he thought, and slowly dismounted from his horse between the guns. He gave the order and did not leave the battery. He decided that he would remove the guns from the position with him and withdraw them. Together with Tushin, walking over the bodies and under the terrible fire of the French, he took up cleaning the guns.

And now the authorities were coming, so it was more likely to fight, - the fireworker said to Prince Andrei, - not like your honor.

Prince Andrei did not say anything to Tushin. They were both so busy that they didn't seem to see each other. When, having put on the limbers of the two guns that had survived, they moved downhill (one broken gun and a unicorn were left), Prince Andrei drove up to Tushin.

Well, goodbye, - said Prince Andrei, holding out his hand to Tushin.

Goodbye, my dear, - said Tushin, - dear soul! Farewell, my dear, - Tushin said with tears that, for some unknown reason, suddenly came into his eyes.

Chapter XXI

The wind died down, black clouds hung low over the battlefield, merging on the horizon with gunpowder smoke. It was getting dark, and the more clearly the glow of fires was indicated in two places. The cannonade became weaker, but the rattle of guns behind and to the right was heard even more often and closer. As soon as Tushin with his guns, going around and running over the wounded, got out of the fire and went down into the ravine, he was met by the authorities and adjutants, including the staff officer and Zherkov, who was sent twice and never reached the battery Tushin. All of them, interrupting one another, gave and transmitted orders, how and where to go, and made reproaches and remarks to him. Tushin did not order anything and silently, afraid to speak, because at every word he was ready, without knowing why, to cry, he rode behind on his artillery nag. Although the wounded were ordered to be abandoned, many of them dragged along behind the troops and asked for guns. The very dashing infantry officer who jumped out of Tushin's hut before the battle was, with a bullet in his stomach, laid on Matvevna's carriage. Under the mountain, a pale hussar cadet, supporting the other with one hand, approached Tushin and asked him to sit down.

Captain, for God's sake, I'm shell-shocked in the arm," he said timidly. - For God's sake, I can't go. For God's sake!

It was evident that this cadet had asked more than once to sit down somewhere and had been refused everywhere. He asked in an indecisive and pathetic voice:

Order to plant, for God's sake.

Plant, plant, - said Tushin. “Put down your overcoat, uncle,” he turned to his beloved soldier. - And where is the wounded officer?

They put it down, it's over, - someone answered.

Plant. Sit down, honey, sit down. Put on your overcoat, Antonov.

Juncker was Rostov. He held the other with one hand, was pale, and his lower jaw was trembling with feverish trembling. They put him on Matvevna, on the very gun from which the dead officer was laid down. There was blood on the lined overcoat, in which Rostov's trousers and hands were soiled.

What, are you hurt, my dear? - said Tushin, approaching the gun on which Rostov was sitting.

No, shell-shocked.

Why is there blood on the bed? Tushin asked.

This officer, your honor, bled, - answered the artillery soldier, wiping the blood with the sleeve of his overcoat and as if apologizing for the impurity in which the gun was located.

By force, with the help of the infantry, the guns were taken up the mountain and, having reached the village of Guntersdorf, they stopped. It was already so dark that at ten paces it was impossible to distinguish the uniforms of the soldiers, and the skirmish began to subside. Suddenly, close to the right side, shouts and firing were heard again. From the shots already shone in the dark. This was the last attack of the French, which was answered by the soldiers who settled in the houses of the village. Again everything rushed out of the village, but Tushin's guns could not move, and the artillerymen, Tushin and the cadet looked at each other silently, waiting for their fate. The firefight began to subside, and animated soldiers poured out of a side street.

Tsel, Petrov? one asked.

Set, brother, the heat. Now they won’t turn up, said another.

See nothing. How they fried them in theirs! Not to be seen, darkness, brothers. Is there a drink?

The French were repulsed for the last time. And again, in complete darkness, Tushin's guns, as if surrounded by a frame of roaring infantry, moved somewhere forward.

In the darkness, it was as if an invisible gloomy river was flowing, all in one direction, humming with whispers, voices and the sounds of hooves and wheels. In the general rumble, because of all the other sounds, the groans and voices of the wounded in the darkness of the night were clearest of all. Their groans seemed to fill all this darkness that surrounded the troops. Their groans and the gloom of this night - it was one and the same. After a while, there was a commotion in the moving crowd. Someone rode with a retinue on a white horse and said something as they passed.

What did you say? Where to now? Stay, what? Thanks, right? - Greedy questions were heard from all sides, and the whole moving mass began to press on itself (it can be seen that the front ones stopped), and a rumor spread that it was ordered to stop. Everyone stopped as they walked, in the middle of a muddy road.

The lights lit up and the voice became louder. Captain Tushin, having given orders to the company, sent one of the soldiers to look for a dressing station or a doctor for the cadet, and sat down by the fire laid out on the road by the soldiers. Rostov also dragged himself to the fire. Feverish shivering from pain, cold and dampness shook his whole body. Sleep irresistibly drove him, but he could not sleep because of the excruciating pain in his aching and out of position arm. He first closed his eyes, then glanced at the fire, which seemed to him hot red, then at the stooping, weak figure of Tushin, who was sitting beside him in Turkish style. Tushin's large, kind and intelligent eyes fixed him with sympathy and compassion. He saw that Tushin wanted with all his heart and could not help him in any way.

From all sides were heard the steps and the conversation of those passing by, passing by and around the infantry stationed. The sounds of voices, footsteps and horse hooves rearranged in the mud, near and far crackling of firewood merged into one oscillating rumble.

Now the invisible river no longer flowed, as before, in the darkness, but as if after a storm the gloomy sea was laying down and trembling. Rostov senselessly looked and listened to what was happening in front of him and around him. An infantry soldier walked up to the fire, squatted down, put his hands into the fire and turned away his face.

Nothing, your honor? - he said, turning to Tushin inquiringly. - That's strayed from the company, your honor; I don't know where. Trouble! Together with the soldier, an infantry officer with a bandaged cheek came up to the fire and, turning to Tushin, asked to be ordered to move a tiny piece of guns in order to transport the wagon. After the company commander, two soldiers ran into the fire. They swore desperately and fought, pulling out some kind of boot from each other.

How did you get up! Look clever! shouted one in a hoarse voice.

Then a thin, pale soldier with a bloody collar tied around his neck came up and demanded water from the gunners in an angry voice.

Well, to die, perhaps, like a dog? he said.

Tushin ordered to give him water. Then a cheerful soldier ran up, asking for a light in the infantry.

A hot fire in the infantry! Happy staying, countrywomen, thank you for the light, we'll give it back with a percentage, - he said, taking away a reddening firebrand somewhere into the darkness.

Behind this soldier, four soldiers, carrying something heavy on their greatcoats, walked past the fire. One of them stumbled.

Look, they put firewood on the road,” he grumbled.

It's over, why wear it? - said one of them.

Well, you!

And they disappeared into the darkness with their burden.

What? hurts? Tushin asked Rostov in a whisper.

Your honor, to the general. Here they are standing in a hut, - said the fireworks, approaching Tushin.

Now, dove.

Tushin got up and, buttoning his overcoat and recovering, walked away from the fire ...

Not far from the fire of the artillerymen, in the hut prepared for him, Prince Bagration was sitting at dinner, talking with some of the commanders of the units who had gathered at his place. There was an old man with half-closed eyes, greedily nibbling at a mutton bone, and a twenty-two-year-old impeccable general, flushed from a glass of vodka and dinner, and a staff officer with a name ring, and Zherkov, uneasily looking around at everyone, and Prince Andrei, pale, with pursed lips and feverishly shining eyes.

In the hut stood a taken French banner leaning in the corner, and the auditor, with a naive face, felt the fabric of the banner and, perplexed, shook his head, perhaps because he was really interested in the appearance of the banner, or maybe because it was hard for him. it was hungry to look at dinner, for which he lacked a device. In a neighboring hut there was a French colonel taken prisoner by the dragoons. Our officers crowded around him, examining him. Prince Bagration thanked individual commanders and asked about the details of the case and about the losses. The regimental commander, who introduced himself near Braunau, reported to the prince that as soon as the case began, he retreated from the forest, gathered woodcutters and, letting them pass him, with two battalions hit with bayonets and overturned the French.

As I saw, Your Excellency, that the first battalion was upset, I stood on the road and thought: “I will let these ones pass and meet with battle fire”; did so.

The regimental commander so wanted to do this, he was so sorry that he did not have time to do this, that it seemed to him that all this had definitely happened. Yes, maybe it really was? Was it possible to make out in this confusion what was and what was not?

Moreover, I must say, Your Excellency, - he continued, recalling Dolokhov's conversation with Kutuzov and his last meeting with the demoted one, - that the private, demoted Dolokhov, captured a French officer in front of my eyes and especially distinguished himself.

Here, Your Excellency, I saw the attack of the Pavlogradites, - Zherkov, looking around uneasily, intervened, who did not see the hussars at all that day, but only heard about them from an infantry officer. - They crushed two squares, your excellency.

Some smiled at Zherkov's words, as they always expected a joke from him; but, noticing that what he said was also leaning towards the glory of our weapons and of the present day, they took on a serious expression, although many knew very well that what Zherkov said was a lie, based on nothing. Prince Bagration turned to the old colonel.

I thank everyone, gentlemen, all units acted heroically: infantry, cavalry and artillery. How are two guns left in the center? he asked, looking for someone with his eyes. (Prince Bagration did not ask about the guns of the left flank; he already knew that all the guns were thrown there at the very beginning of the case.) - I think I asked you, - he turned to the staff officer on duty.

One was knocked out, - answered the staff officer on duty, - and the other, I cannot understand; I myself was there all the time and ordered, and just drove off ... It was hot, really, ”he added modestly.

Someone said that Captain Tushin was standing here near the village itself, and that he had already been sent for.

Yes, here you were, - said Prince Bagration, turning to Prince Andrei.

Well, we didn’t get together a bit, ”said the duty headquarters officer, smiling pleasantly at Bolkonsky.

I didn’t have the pleasure of seeing you,” Prince Andrei said coldly and curtly.

Everyone was silent. Tushin appeared on the threshold, timidly making his way from behind the backs of the generals. Bypassing the generals in a cramped hut, embarrassed, as always, at the sight of his superiors, Tushin did not see the flagpole and stumbled on it. Several voices laughed.

How was the weapon left? Bagration asked, frowning not so much at the captain as at those laughing, among whom Zherkov's voice was the loudest.

Tushin now only, at the sight of the formidable authorities, in all horror imagined his guilt and shame in the fact that he, having remained alive, had lost two guns. He was so excited that until now he had no time to think about it. The laughter of the officers confused him even more. He stood in front of Bagration with a trembling lower jaw and barely said:

I don't know... Your Excellency... There were no people, Your Excellency.

You could take from the cover!

That there was no cover, Tushin did not say this, although it was the absolute truth. He was afraid to let the other boss down by this and silently, with fixed eyes, looked straight into Bagration's face, just as a student who has gone astray looks into the examiner's eyes.

The silence was quite long. Prince Bagration, apparently not wanting to be strict, did not have anything to say; the rest did not dare to intervene in the conversation. Prince Andrei looked at Tushin from under his brows, and his fingers moved nervously.

Your excellency, - Prince Andrei interrupted the silence with his harsh voice, - you deigned to send me to Captain Tushin's battery. I was there and found two-thirds of the men and horses killed, two guns mangled and no cover.

Prince Bagration and Tushin were now equally stubbornly looking at Bolkonsky, who spoke with restraint and excitement.

And if, Your Excellency, allow me to express my opinion, ”he continued,“ then we owe the success of the day most of all to the action of this battery and the heroic stamina of Captain Tushin with his company, ”said Prince Andrei and, without waiting for an answer, immediately got up and walked away from the table.

Prince Bagration looked at Tushin and, apparently not wanting to show distrust of Bolkonsky's harsh judgment and at the same time feeling unable to fully believe him, bowed his head and told Tushin that he could go. Prince Andrew followed him.

Thank you, helped me out, my dear, - Tushin told him.

Prince Andrei glanced at Tushin and, without saying anything, walked away from him. Prince Andrei was sad and hard. It was all so strange, so unlike what he had hoped.

"Who are they? Why are they? What do they need? And when will it all end?" thought Rostov, looking at the shadows changing in front of him. The pain in my arm was getting worse. Sleep became irresistible, red circles jumped in my eyes, and the impression of these voices and these faces and the feeling of loneliness merged with the feeling of pain. It was they, these soldiers, both wounded and unwounded - it was they who crushed, and burdened, and twisted the veins, and burned the meat in his broken arm and shoulder. To get rid of them, he closed his eyes.

He forgot himself for one minute, but during this short interval of oblivion he saw countless objects in a dream: he saw his mother and her big white hand, saw Sonya's thin shoulders, Natasha's eyes and laughter, and Denisov with his voice and mustache, and Telyanin , and all his history with Telyanin and Bogdanych. This whole story was one and the same, that this soldier with a sharp voice, and this whole story and this one soldier so painfully, relentlessly held, crushed, and everyone pulled his hand in one direction. He tried to get away from them, but they would not let go of his hair, not even for a second on his shoulder. It wouldn't hurt, it would be great if they didn't pull it; but it was impossible to get rid of them. He opened his eyes and looked up. The black canopy of night hung a yard above the light of the coals. Powders of falling snow flew in this light. Tushin did not return, the doctor did not come. He was alone, only some soldier was now sitting naked on the other side of the fire and warming his thin yellow body.

"No one wants me! thought Rostov. - No one to help or pity. And I was once at home, strong, cheerful, beloved. He sighed and groaned involuntarily.

Ah, what hurts? asked the soldier, shaking his shirt over the fire, and without waiting for an answer, grunting, he added:

Rostov did not listen to the soldier. He looked at the snowflakes fluttering over the fire and recalled the Russian winter with a warm, bright house, a fluffy fur coat, a fast sleigh, a healthy body, and with all the love and care of the family. "And why did I come here!" he thought.

The next day, the French did not resume their attacks, and the rest of the Bagration detachment joined Kutuzov's army.

In the image of Tushin, Leo Tolstoy showed the heroic deed of the Russian people in the struggle for the independence of their homeland.

Simple and modest, of small stature, at first glance he is not at all a military man, Captain Tushin, like everyone else, is afraid of death and does not hide it. He looks plain, does not know how to properly salute, just as he does not know how to speak eloquently.

An atmosphere of friendship, trust and mutual assistance reigned in his battery. The captain did not put himself above his subordinates, was on an equal footing with them and was not much different from the rest. He ate, drank, sang songs with the soldiers.

It's impossible to tell from his appearance that he can be a hero. But when clouds gather over the Motherland, he transforms, boldly goes into battle and leads the soldiers behind him. And the soldiers unconditionally follow him, showing courage and courage.

What is Tushin's feat? First of all, in love for the Motherland and its people. Tushin does not think about himself, just as he does not think about fame. He thinks only of the Motherland and is ready to give his life for it. In battle, he forgets about death, presenting himself as a hero, and confidently leads the soldiers to victory.

Tushin's battery is losing guns and many people. But the captain does not give up, just as his subordinates do not give up. They do not get lost and do not flee from the battlefield, continuing to fight courageously, even when their cover leaves them. Knowing no fear, they do their duty. And they perform it with unprecedented gaiety, which the captain imposed on them. Could they leave the battlefield? They could, but they didn't.

The French could not even imagine that four cannons and a small group of soldiers, led by an inconspicuous captain, could burn Shengraben. But they did it, and the victory in the battle was on their side.

Tushin did not strive for fame, did not run to report on his heroism. He simply did what he had to do to defeat the enemy, otherwise he could not do it because of a sense of patriotism that was higher than even his own life, which he would have honorably given on the altar of victory.

No one noticed Tushin's feat, as soon as Prince Andrei came to the defense of the captain and told about the heroism of his battery, which saved him from punishment for the guns left on the battlefield.

Tushin accomplished a feat, not knowing that it was a feat. But thanks to his feat, a victory was won over the French.

Life is so arranged that the true heroes remain on the sidelines, and their glory is appropriated by the generals. But among the Russian people there are such heroes as Tushin, and this is the main thing. It was thanks to their dedication, courage and patriotism that Russia won many victories in the fight against enemies.

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