Tushin’s battery managed to set fire to Schöngrabern, which delayed the advance of the French, who were occupied putting out fires. The left flank —which consisted of the Azóv and Podólsk regiments as well as the Pávlograd hussars, tried to attack but were stymied by superior forces under Gen. Lannes.Bagration sent Zherkóv to the general commanding the left flank with orders to retreat. Zherkóv, who Andrei once chastised for unprofessionalism, made the decision to deviate from duty but give himself the best chance to live. He began to “look” for the general in places he would not be. The commanders who should have received the message to retreat led the units that Nicolas Rostov (Hussars) and Dolokhov (Semënov) were a part of. There was confusion and posturing between the leaders, a colonel and general. With lofty words, they were arguing that that the other should proceed. Neither was ready for action. Their men had just been engaged in peaceful pursuits. Nonetheless, cannon and musketry thundered while Lannes’ forces edged closer.The Colonel of the Hussars acknowledged he was outranked but voiced reluctance to sacrifice his Hussars. The two were not showing the initiative Tushin manifested. They expanded their chests and rode slowly towards the front, where it became evident it was impossible for cavalry to act effectively. While the French continued to get closer, the two looked at one another like fighting cocks. Finally, the rattle of musketry diverted their attention.Nearby, the French attacked the men collecting wood. It was no longer even possible for the Hussars to advance as they were cut off from the line of retreat. It was now necessary to clear a way through.The rumor of a hasty movement spread. The Hussars and infantry instinctively knew their commanders did NOT know what to do. Rostov would be thrown into the fray. There was nothing between the Hussars and the enemy but open space. Tolstoy refers to that terrible dividing line between “us” and “them.” It is a line between relative safety and the high possibility of death. All the soldiers where agitated by the question of whether and how they would cross that line. Rostov knew his time had come to experience the joy of an attack.Out rang Captain Denisov’s voice “Fo’ward, with God, lads!” - “At a twot fo’ward!” Rostov’s horse, Rook, pulled at the reins and broke into a gallop. Rostov became elated and noticed a solitary tree ahead of him. He crossed the line and there was nothing so terrible. The enemy grew closer and larger. “Oh, how I will slash at him!” and “Let anyone come my way now!” thought Rostov. “Hur-a-a-a-ah!” came a roar of voices. The French were close enough to strike. As Rostov raised his saber, the world moved passed him. He didn’t realize what had happened when his horse took a shot. Rostov felt as if in a dream – like he was carried forward with unnatural speed. In reality, he stayed on the same spot. From behind him, Bondarchúk, a hussar he knew, jolted past. “How is it I am not moving? I have fallen, I am killed!” Rostov was absorbing nothing but the motionless earth. There was warm blood under his arm. He then considered, “I am wounded and the horse is killed.” Rook tried, bleeding from the head, to rise on his forelegs but fell back. After disentangling his leg, Rostov become some philosophical and Tolstoy brings you into the experience of the young officer facing battle.“Can something bad have happened to me?” At that moment he realized his wrist was hanging on his numb left arm. People were running toward him “They will help me!” However, these were French carrying a prisoner. “Can it be that they will take me too? Just a moment before he had been ready to hack them to pieces but now their proximity was terrifying. “Who are they? Can they be running at me? And why? To kill me? Me whom everyone is so fond of?” He remembered his mother’s love as well as that of his family and his friends. Any intention to kill him seemed impossible.Rostov remain stationary. He could see the expression of the foremost Frenchman. That excited and alien face, holding a bayonet, frightened Rostov. Rostov seized his pistol but instead of firing it, flung it and ran with all his might toward the bushes. He moved with the feeling of the hare fleeing from hounds. The fear for losing his young and happy life consumed him.Rostov put a good distance between himself and his pursuers. He noticed his left arm felt heavy and he could run no more. A Frenchman stopped and took aim. Rostov closed his eyes and stooped down. Bullets whistled past him. He mustered his last remaining strength and reached the bushes. Fortunate for him, some friendly sharpshooters gave him cover.
