Sevastopol in December
Beautiful and the December sea in Sevastopol. But the sunken Russian ships speak of war, and the enemy fleet ominously blackens in the distance.
On the embankment there are crowds of gray soldiers, black sailors and colorful women. Women trade, girls in elegant dresses jump over puddle stones - and all this among rusty cannonballs and scattered buckshot.
In Sevastopol itself, everyday life goes on.
And in the halls of the former Assembly there is a hospital. "The smell of forty or fifty amputees and the most seriously wounded patients, some in beds, mostly on the floor, suddenly hits you."
- How did you get hurt?
- On the fifth bucksion, your honor, as the first gang was: he pointed the gun, began to retreat, in a sort of manner, to another embrasure, as he hit me on the leg, exactly as if he stumbled into a pit. Look, no legs.
The sister of mercy tells about this sailor: “Having been wounded, he stopped the stretcher in order to look at the volley of our battery, how the grand dukes spoke to him and granted him twenty-five rubles, and how he told them that he again wanted to go to the bastion, with in order to teach the young, if he himself can no longer work.
“You begin to understand the defenders of Sevastopol; for some reason you feel ashamed of yourself in front of this person. You would like to tell him too much to express your sympathy and surprise to him; but you do not find words or are dissatisfied with those that come to your mind - and you silently bow before this silent, unconscious greatness and firmness of spirit, this shame before your own dignity.
Awful spectacle of dressing and operation. Doctors with bloody hands up to the elbows and pale, gloomy physiognomies are engaged in the terrible, but beneficent work of amputation.
"You will see war in its true form - in blood, in suffering, in death."
In the city, officers discuss events on the bastions over pea patties and a bottle of sour, especially on the heroic fourth bastion. Some believe that this fortification is a sure grave for everyone who gets there, others simply live on it and tell you whether it is dry or dirty there, warm or cold in the dugout.
Climbing up the wide road leading out of the city, you will see destroyed houses abandoned by the inhabitants, hear the whistle of a shell, bullets buzz around. Do not jump into the trench on the side of the road? But it's filled with yellow, smelly, sticky mud.
Once on the fourth bastion, you will notice on the faces an expression of simplicity and stubbornness, "traces of consciousness of one's dignity and high thought and feeling."
Every day on the fourth bastion, during the shelling, seven to eight people are lost wounded or killed.
“The main, gratifying conviction that you have made is the conviction that it is impossible to take Sevastopol, and not only to take Sevastopol, but to shake the strength of the Russian people anywhere.”
Sevastopol in May
The infantry staff captain Mikhailov, meaning nothing, awkward and timid, dreams of future exploits and promotion, of how Natasha, the widow of a comrade, will look at him. True, the comrade is still alive - but in Mikhailov's dreams, Natasha is already a widow.
In the center of the besieged Sevastopol, there is a festivity, music is playing in the pavilion. Mikhailov is not thinking about the war, but about whether the local aristocrats will answer his bow. The besieged Sevastopol has its own high society, its own hierarchy.
“For Captain Obzhogov, Captain Mikhailov is an aristocrat, because he has a clean overcoat and gloves, and he cannot stand him for this, although he respects him a little; for Staff Captain Mikhailov, adjutant Kalugin is an aristocrat, because he is an adjutant and on “you” with another adjutant, and for this he is not very well disposed towards him, although he is afraid of him. For adjutant Kalugin, Count Nordov is an aristocrat, and he always scolds him and despises him in his soul for being an aide-de-camp. Terrible word aristocrat."
Mikhailov walks with a company of officers, flirting with a pretty girl in a red scarf, but no, no, and he thinks that tonight he needs to go to the bastion instead of the sick Nepshitshetsky - and he will certainly be killed: they always kill those who suggest themselves.
The staff captain has already forgotten that a bad feeling always appears in everyone who goes into business. Nervous, he writes a letter to his father and leaves it on the table. From the inflated nerves, he scolds the drunken servant Nikita, as usual, and then sensitively says goodbye to him. Nikita bursts out into forced sobs—nothing but under the influence of the wine.
The old sailor woman also wipes her eyes and for the hundredth time tells how her husband was killed "even in the first bandit" (bombardment).
Mikhailov safely reached the bastion along the trench.
The aristocracy (Prince Galtsin and others) spends a pleasant evening: the pianoforte, tea with cream ... In the absence of infantry officers, they have no one to turn up their noses at and they behave naturally, simply.
But contempt for the trench infantry, no, no, yes, and slips in their conversations:
“I don’t understand and, I confess, I can’t believe,” said Galtsin, “that people in dirty linen, in lice and with unwashed hands could be brave.
Kalugin angrily objects:
These are heroes, amazing people.
Kalugin and Galtsin are watching from a distance bomb explosions and skirmish fires.
An infantry officer who arrived reports that the situation is difficult, the regimental commander was killed, the French occupied several trenches, but were driven out. Many victims, reinforcements are needed.
Kalugin goes to the bastion.
“More and more wounded on stretchers and on foot, supported by one another and talking loudly among themselves, met Prince Galtsin.
“How they jumped, my brothers,” said one tall soldier in a bass voice, carrying two guns over his shoulders, “how they jumped, how they shouted: alla, alla!
Our soldiers, fighting with the Turks, got so used to this cry of enemies that now they always say that the French also shout "Alla!"
Lieutenant Nepshitshetsky plays cards and drinks vodka so that it would not be so scary. Occasionally he goes out into the street and asks how and what. Prince Galtsin paces stupidly back and forth to calm his anxiety.
Together they attack the wounded soldiers with reproaches of cowardice:
"Shame on you to give away our trenches!"
In fact, the trench remained behind the Russian troops, but one of the wounded mistakenly thought that it had been surrendered - the battle was very terrible.
Prince Galtsin suddenly felt terribly ashamed of Lieutenant Nepshit-shetsky and even more of himself. He went to the dressing station. However, he immediately ran away - it was an unbearable sight!
The unfortunate lay on the floor, soaked in each other's blood... Moans, sighs, wheezing, piercing screams. Sisters with calm faces, expressing active practical participation, with medicine, water, bandages flickered between bloody overcoats and shirts.
Doctors with gloomy faces examine and treat wounds, to the terrifying screams of the wounded.
Kalugin goes to the bastion. Recalling various stories about heroes, he himself imagines himself to be such a hero. But then a shell exploded nearby (but still not nearby) - and the officer fell to the ground. Shame and fear mingled in his soul.
With quick steps and almost crawling, he moved along the trench. Here is the dugout of command.
“The general ordered me to find out,” Kalugin reported, “can your guns fire grapeshot at the trench?” Let's go see.
The captain frowned and grunted angrily.
“I’ve been standing there all night, I’ve come to at least rest a little,” he said, “can’t you go alone? There, my assistant, Lieutenant Kartz, will show you everything.
Kalugin is desperately cowardly, but since everything is going well, he begins to dream of rewarding and universal admiration.
A bomb falls near Mikhailov and orderly Praskukhin. Both of them in these two seconds, during which the bomb lay unexploded, thought a lot and re-felt a lot.
Praskukhin was killed by a shrapnel in the chest, and Mikhailov was slightly wounded in the head by a stone. He does not return to the medical center, but remains in the company, thinking, again, about the reward: he was wounded, but he did not leave the company! This should be appreciated.
The day after a heated battle, staff officers keep on their faces an expression of official sadness for the dead, but each of those who were in position (Kalugin) tries to emphasize his courage and at the same time humiliate others.
After the battle, truce negotiations are underway - Russian and French soldiers and officers are talking to each other, now showing respect, now trying to play a joke.
While white flags are displayed on the bastion and on the trench, thousands of people crowd, look, talk and smile at each other ... But the white rags are hidden - and the instruments of death and suffering whistle again, innocent blood is shed again and groans and curses are heard.
“Neither Kalugin with his brilliant courage of a nobleman and vanity, the engine of all actions, nor Praskukhin, an empty, harmless man, although he fell in the battle for faith, the throne and the fatherland, nor Mikhailov with his timidity and limited look, nor Pest - a child without solid beliefs and rules, cannot be either villains or heroes of the story.
The hero of my story, whom I love with all the strength of my soul, whom I have tried to reproduce in all its beauty and who has always been, is and will be beautiful, is true.
Sevastopol in August 1855
Lieutenant Kozeltsov, proud, energetic, endowed with many abilities (he writes state papers perfectly, plays the guitar, the soul of the company) returns to Sevastopol, having recovered from his wound.
At the post station, the officers are arguing with her boss because of the horses - there are no horses and that's it!
At the inn, the officers smoke, drink tea, and have a snack.
Kozeltsov, a true good front-line officer, listens to the stories of two bewildered staff officers who do not know where their regiment is stationed - in Sevastopol or in Odessa, did not receive the lifting money due to them, and spent their own on an expensive and, moreover, lame horse.
Terrible confusion reigns in the army.
One officer left his apartment, acquaintances, hopes for a profitable marriage - everything in order to become a hero of Sevastopol.
But he had waited so long to be allowed to leave, had taken so long to get to his destination—and still couldn't get there—that his enthusiasm had completely waned.
Kozeltsov unexpectedly meets his younger (seventeen-year-old) brother, who “is somehow ashamed to live in St. Petersburg, when people die here for the fatherland. Yes, and with you I wanted to be ... "
The older brother pays off his brother's debts incurred on the road and takes him with him. The younger one is immersed in dreams: “And how glorious it would be for the two of us in Sevastopol! Two brothers, friendly with each other, are both fighting the enemy: one is already an old, although not very educated, but brave warrior, and the other is young, but also well done ... In a week, I would prove to everyone that I'm not very young anymore! I will stop blushing, there will be courage in my face, and my mustache - small, but decent will grow by that time ... "
I dreamed so much that I already imagined how he and his brother killed a bunch of Frenchmen and died heroically themselves.
When asked if he was in a fight, the older brother replies that he had never been wounded at work.
“War is not done the way you think, Volodya!”
Senior Kozeltsov asks about the changes.
- Well, is my quarter on Morskaya intact?
- And, father! It's been bombed all over for a long time. You don't recognize Sevastopol now; there are no women, no taverns, no music ...
The brothers visit a senior comrade Kozeltsov, whose leg has been torn off. The view of the infirmary is incredibly striking for Volodya. He becomes scared.
“The brothers still in the North decided to go together to the fifth bastion; but, leaving the Nikolaev battery, they seemed to have agreed not to be exposed to needless danger and, without saying anything about this subject, decided to go each one separately.
- But how will you find it, Volodya? the elder said. “However, Nikolaev will take you to Korabelnaya, and I will go alone and be with you tomorrow.
Nothing more was said in this final farewell between the two brothers."
Volodya comes to his battery. He experiences "a sense of loneliness in danger" and despises himself.
Senior Kozeltsov comes to his new regimental commander. He is struck by the luxury of the dugout - even the parquet floor - and the cold suspicion of the commander, who tells him:
- You have been treated for a long time ...
Kozeltsov goes to his company. It can be seen that the soldiers remember him and love him.
There is a game of cards in the officers' barracks. Kozeltsov drank vodka and sat down with the players.
“In a short time, having drunk three more glasses of vodka and several glasses of porter, he was already completely in the spirit of the whole society, that is, in the fog and oblivion of reality, and lost the last three rubles.”
It’s ugly, of course, but “at the bottom of everyone’s soul lies that noble spark that will make a hero out of him; but this spark gets tired of burning brightly - a fatal moment will come, it will burst into flame and illuminate great deeds.
Volodya, in his unit, heard a lot from the officers that was unexpected for him, in particular, about how the highest military ranks profit from the war.
Before the young ensign had time to look around, it fell to him by lot to lead the soldiers to Malakhov Kurgan, which is constantly being shelled. The soldiers did not even have time to remove the bodies on the bastions and threw them into the ditch so that they would not interfere with the batteries.
In just one long day, Volodya was on the verge of death more than once. “Fortunately, a commandant of great stature was appointed to help him, a sailor who had been with mortars since the beginning of the siege and convinced him of the possibility of still acting from them, with a lantern he led him around the bastion at night, just like in his garden, and promised to tomorrow arrange everything."
Volodya is sitting on the threshold of the dugout, watching the bombardment with youthful curiosity.
“By the end of the evening, he already knew where how many guns were firing from and where their shells were landing.”
In the morning, Volodya walks around the bastion, proud of his courage.
The French begin an assault on the Malakhov Kurgan.
Kozeltsov Sr. leads the soldiers, they manage to drive the French out of the occupied trenches, but the officer was wounded in the chest. In the infirmary, the priest gives him a cross to kiss - a sign of imminent death. But Kozeltsov does not feel bitterness and fear, he did a heroic deed and dies happy, wishing his brother the same fate.
Volodya desperately commands his mortars, but the French outflank and occupy the bastion. Volodya is killed.
“... The Sevastopol army, like a sea on a shaky gloomy night, merging, developing and anxiously trembling with its whole mass, swaying near the bay along the bridge and on Severnaya, slowly moved in impenetrable darkness away from the place where it had left so many brave brothers, from a place all drenched in his blood; from a place eleven months defended from twice the strongest enemy, and which was now ordered to be left without a fight ...
Coming to the other side of the bridge, almost every soldier took off his hat and crossed himself. But behind this feeling there was another, heavy, sucking and deeper feeling: it was a feeling, as if similar to repentance, shame and anger. Almost every soldier, looking from the North side at the abandoned Sevastopol, sighed with inexpressible bitterness in his heart and threatened the enemies.
Year: 1855 Genre: storybook
Sevastopol in December
At dawn, the first rays of the sun appeared over Sapun Gora and the still black sea. The bay was covered with thick fog. There is no snow, but it is very cold. All around is silence and silence, interrupted by the sound of sea waves and shots from Sevastopol. From the realization that you are in Sevastopol, the heart is filled with pride. Military operations could not disrupt the usual way of life of the city: merchants scurry here and there. The camp and peaceful life bizarrely merged together, the feeling that the inhabitants are worried and scared, but this is not so. The minds of most of them are filled with everyday worries, as if they did not notice the explosions at all.
Meanwhile, wounded soldiers lie in the city hospital, busy talking. Operations are being performed in one of the wards, and those standing in line for procedures watch horrific pictures of amputation and ejection of severed limbs. It is here that the war appears in its true, unsightly light. It is not at all solemn and brilliant, but full of blood, pain and torment. The young officer, who fought in the most dangerous area, complains not about the mortal danger hanging over all of them, but about the most ordinary dirt. Everyone understands that in this way he is protected from the panic fear sitting inside.
On the way to the fourth bastion, you see more and more wounded and crippled soldiers, and less and less civilians. Despite the bullets whistling overhead and the earth trembling from explosions, the artilleryman, accustomed to many things, is calm. He survived the assault with one combat weapon and a small force. An artilleryman recalls a bomb that killed eleven soldiers in a dugout.
A person experiences fear mixed with the sweet and agonizing expectation of an explosion, seeing the core rapidly approaching him.
Everyone is convinced that it is impossible to break either Sevastopol or the Russian people. Neither religion nor danger gives strength to survive in hellish conditions. Only love for the motherland, albeit rarely manifested in the soul, is capable of this.
Sevastopol in May
Six months have passed since the war came to Sevastopol. Thousands of people died. The city is under siege. Soldiers roam the streets. The reader is introduced to Officer Mikhailov - a stooped man of high stature, with some awkwardness in his movements. In Mikhailov's memory, pictures of his former life emerge, when he was surrounded by completely different people than now. The present friends coolly listened to Mikhailov's stories about the receptions of the governor or the general, clearly not believing in their veracity. All Mikhailov now dreamed of was a new title. Walking along the boulevard and wanting to meet with the aristocrats of the city, Mikhailov stumbled upon the guys from his regiment. Shaking hands with them again reminded him that this was not all he wanted.
Despite the siege, there are many people in Sevastopol and a lot of vanity in them. It seems that under flying bullets and with daily explosions, vanity should have immediately evaporated, but it is like an incurable disease that divided people into three categories: those who consider vanity a fair and obligatory phenomenon and willingly obey it; who find it a bad but insurmountable vice; and those who could not reflect in themselves vanity and therefore unconsciously and blindly obeyed him.
Mikhailov saw the local "aristocracy", walked around them twice before he decided to come up and say hello. He was scared at the thought that they would ignore him, thereby hurting his pride. The conversation that began immediately revealed some arrogance towards the hero, and later the “aristocrats” stopped noticing him at all, hinting with all appearance that he was burdening them with his presence.
On the way home, Mikhailov remembers that the next day he will have to replace the sick officer and go to the bastion, and either he will be killed or receive a reward. For a moment he considered his possible injuries, but he reminded himself that the bulwark was his duty.
In an expensive, tastefully furnished apartment, Kalugin received "aristocratic" guests. Everyone is drinking tea, playing the piano, talking. Between themselves, away from prying eyes, they behave quite naturally and naturally, but as soon as an officer appeared in the room with a letter for the general, the arrogance and importance that Mikhailov had to face on the boulevard reappeared. Kalugin tells his friends that a “hot” business awaits them ahead. Galtsin wonders if he should go to the bastion to fulfill the order, hoping with fear that he will not be sent anywhere. Kalugin proceeds to dissuade him from this undertaking, although he himself is well aware of Galtsin's unwillingness and cowardice. On the street, Galtsin asks all passers-by about the course of the battle, not forgetting to scold the retreating troops. Kalugin goes to the bastion, diligently showing everyone his fearlessness. He is disappointed with the battery commander, who is famous for his courage, but in fact demonstrates only cowardice. Kalugin wants to inspect the bastion and weapons, but the commander, realizing that this is risky, instead of himself sends a young officer with him.
The general orders Praskukhin to inform Mikhailov about the redeployment. The order was carried out, and at night the battalion advanced under enemy fire. Mikhailov and Praskukhin care only about the impression they make on each other. Here the strongest bombardment begins, and one of the shells kills Praskukhin. Mikhailov was wounded in the head, for which he was given a reward, and instead of bandaging the wound, he crawls back to Praskukhin, not being sure of his death. Having found his body, Mikhailov returns.
The flower-strewn valley was covered with bloodied corpses. The sun rises again over Sapun Mountain and a thick fog has fallen.
The very next day, walking along the same boulevard, the "aristocracy" boasted of their courage and talked about their direct participation in the battle. Each of them was like Napoleon, ready to kill hundreds more people for the sake of a salary increase or a new rank.
Russia and France announced a truce. The soldiers began to communicate with yesterday's enemies, forgetting about their hatred and hostility. The officer talks to the French about the cruelty of war, and each of them recognizes the sharp mind of the second. A small boy walks through a field strewn with bodies and white flags, picking flowers. All these people are Christians who know about love for one's neighbor. But they will not fall on their knees, repenting before God for their deeds, and will not hug each other, asking for forgiveness for the murders. As soon as the truce ends, they will also raise their weapons and point their muzzles at each other.
Sevastopol in August 1855
Officer Mikhail Kozeltsov, having been wounded, was being treated in the hospital, and now he returned to the battlefield. The military man aroused respect from everyone with his independence, integrity, sharp mind, talent, and besides, he was a master in compiling various kinds of documents. He was not alien to pride, already firmly merged with his character.
There is a pandemonium at the station: there is not a single horse and wagon. Many soldiers are completely penniless and cannot leave. At the station, along with everyone, stands Vladimir Kozeltsov, the brother of the hero. He was predicted to have a brilliant military career in the guards, however, Volodya suddenly decided to go to the army. In him, as in any young man in the war, hot blood boiled, and he was eager to join his brother in the battle for the Motherland. He felt a sense of pride in his older brother, and even a little shy in front of him. Mikhail calls his brother with him to Sevastopol, but the guy no longer wants to fight so zealously, and besides, he doesn’t know how to talk about his unpaid debt of eight rubles. Kozeltsov takes out his last savings and closes his brother's debt, after which they leave. All the way, Volodya indulges in romantic dreams about his undoubtedly heroic death on the battlefield and the feats that he and his brother will have time to accomplish for the sake of the Fatherland.
Arriving in Sevastopol, they first of all go to the booth, where they see a military man who poured out money in front of him and counts them for the new commander. Everyone wonders why Vladimir left a safe place and came to the very thick of the war. The brothers decide to spend the night with Mikhail in the bastion. However, before that, they go to an old comrade who was in such a bad state that he was waiting for death as a release from pain. Leaving the walls of the hospital, the brothers disperse: Vladimir goes to his battery, where they found a place for him to sleep. At night, the guy is afraid of the darkness, then of the approaching death. Exploding shells were heard all around, and he was able to get rid of anxiety and fall asleep only after praying.
Mikhail is put under the command of his old comrade, who once fought with him on an equal footing and has now become a commander. The commander feels dissatisfied with the return of Mikhail, but nevertheless transfers command of the company to him. The company, on the contrary, rejoices at Kozeltsov, the officers warmly welcome him and show their respect, empathizing with his injury.
The next day the explosions became more frequent and the bombardment intensified. The artillery officers accepted Volodya into their circle, and he himself felt sympathy for them. Junker Vlang felt great affection for the ensign, foreseeing all the wishes of Vladimir. Suddenly, Karut returns from the fighting positions - a German by origin, freely expounded in excellent Russian. The conversation drags on between the men, and the German talks about high-ranking thieves using their position. Volodya was embarrassed and began to confusingly explain that he finds such a dishonest and vile deed, and he himself would never have stooped to such a level.
During the lunch meal at the commander's, everyone continues to talk, not paying attention to the meager menu. A letter arrives from the artillery chief demanding that one of the officers be sent to Malakhov Kurgan. It was a dangerous area, and no one expressed a desire to go there to the battery. One of the guys calls Vladimir the perfect candidate. Having doubted and argued a little, Volodya agrees. Vlanga is sent along with him. Having no experience in combat, Volodya begins to study books and manuals on artillery battles, hoping that this will help him in battle. Arriving at the battery, he realizes that the whole theory is not applicable in practice: the real battle goes according to its own rules, different from the book ones, there is not a single worker on the site called to repair damaged weapons, and even the weight of the shells does not match that indicated in the manual. Two guys from Volodya's team get injured, and he himself almost dies. The soldiers take cover. If Vlang started to panic, and he could only think about how to avoid his death, then Vladimir even became amused from everything that was happening. Melnikov was firmly convinced that he would not die on the battlefield, and from this he was not afraid of exploding bombs and flying bullets. Vladimir likes him, and soon other soldiers join the general conversation, during which everyone discusses when the allied troops, led by Prince Konstantin, will come to them, how they will give all the military a break and announce a short truce, how a month in the war will be equated to a year in peaceful land ... Vlang is still frightened and wants to prevent Volodya from leaving the fortification, but he nevertheless goes out into the fresh air, where he will remain all night, talking with Melnikov. He completely forgot about the mortal danger hanging over them all, and thought only of his courage and diligence.
In the morning the French began to storm. Volodya, who has just woken up and slept at all, is one of the first to draw his weapon and rush into battle, afraid of being branded a coward. His cry and mood were able to raise the morale of the soldiers, but Kozeltsov was immediately wounded in the chest, and he lost consciousness. Opening his eyes, Vladimir sees a doctor silently bending over his wound and wiping his soiled hands. The doctor asks to send a priest. Volodya asks if we have beaten the French, and the priest, fearing to upset the dying man, speaks of the victory of the Russians, although the French banner was already fluttering on Malakhov Hill. Great happiness and pride overwhelmed Kozeltsov, tears of delight flowed down his face, because he felt his involvement in this victory and knew that he had fulfilled his duty to the end. He thinks of his brother Michael, wishing him the same happiness.
The author talks about the stupidity and illogicality of war as such. A much more reasonable solution to a military conflict seems to be a fair battle between two soldiers - one on one, and not thousands on thousands. According to Tolstoy, either war is madness, or all people are stupid, and not at all reasonable.
The forester lost his pipe and bag of tobacco. The bear found them while walking along the forest paths. And Mishka began to smoke it.
A story about a little ten-year-old boy Mitya, who lived in the village of Zakopanka. And then the lady decided to sell his entire family. Since then, he has been living alone with the lady, the poor landowner and widowed Mavra Ermolaevna.
A young man named Gary Engstrom has a funny nickname Rabbit since childhood. Outwardly, he is somewhat reminiscent of this animal. The rabbit at school was considered the best basketball player and therefore cannot get past the children.
SEVASTOPOL IN DECEMBER
"The dawn is just beginning to color the sky over Sapun Mountain; the dark blue surface of the sea has already thrown off the dusk of the night and is waiting for the first ray to sparkle with a cheerful brilliance; it carries cold and fog from the bay; there is no snow - everything is black, but the morning is sharp frost grabs your face and cracks under your feet, and the distant, unceasing rumble of the sea, occasionally interrupted by rolling shots in Sevastopol, alone breaks the silence of the morning ... It cannot be that at the thought that you are in Sevastopol, a feeling of what kind - something of courage, pride and so that the blood does not begin to circulate faster in your veins ... "Despite the fact that hostilities are going on in the city, life goes on as usual: the merchants sell hot rolls, and the peasants sell sbiten. It seems that camp and peaceful life are strangely mixed here, everyone is fussing and frightened, but this is a deceptive impression: most people no longer pay attention to either shots or explosions, they are busy with "everyday business." Only on the bastions "you will see ... the defenders of Sevastopol, you will see terrible and sad, great and funny, but amazing, uplifting spectacles there."
In the hospital, wounded soldiers talk about their impressions: the one who lost his leg does not remember the pain, because he did not think about it; a woman carrying lunch to her husband's bastion was hit by a shell, and her leg was cut off above the knee. Dressings and operations are done in a separate room. The wounded, awaiting their turn for surgery, are horrified to see how doctors amputate their comrades' arms and legs, and the paramedic indifferently throws the severed body parts into a corner. Here you can see "terrible, soul-shattering spectacles ... the war is not in the correct, beautiful and brilliant formation, with music and drumming, with fluttering banners and prancing generals, but ... war in its true expression - in blood, in suffering , in death...". A young officer who fought on the fourth, most dangerous bastion, complains not about the abundance of bombs and shells falling on the heads of the defenders of the bastion, but about the dirt. This is his defensive reaction to danger; he behaves too boldly, cheekily and at ease.
On the way to the fourth bastion, non-military people are less and less common, and stretchers with the wounded are increasingly coming across. Actually, on the bastion, the artillery officer behaves calmly (he is used to both the whistle of bullets and the roar of explosions). He tells how during the assault on the 5th, only one active gun and very few servants remained on his battery, but still the next morning he was already firing from all the guns again.
The officer recalls how the bomb hit the sailor's dugout and killed eleven people. In the faces, posture, movements of the defenders of the bastion, "the main features that make up the strength of the Russian are visible - simplicity and stubbornness; but here on every face it seems to you that the danger, anger and suffering of war, in addition to these main signs, have laid traces of consciousness of their dignity and lofty thoughts and feelings... The feeling of malice, revenge on the enemy... lurks in everyone's soul." When the cannonball flies directly at a person, he does not leave a feeling of pleasure and at the same time fear, and then he himself waits for the bomb to explode closer, because "there is a special charm" in such a game with death. “The main, gratifying conviction that you have made is the conviction that it is impossible to take Sevastopol, and not only to take Sevastopol, but to shake the strength of the Russian people anywhere ... Because of the cross, because of the name, because of the threat people can accept these terrible conditions: there must be another high motivating reason - this reason is a feeling that rarely manifests itself, bashful in Russian, but lies in the depths of everyone's soul - love for the motherland ... This epic of Sevastopol will leave great traces in Russia for a long time, whose hero was the Russian people..."
SEVASTOPOL IN MAY
Six months have passed since the start of hostilities in Sevastopol. "Thousands of people's vanities had time to be offended, thousands had time to be satisfied, puffed up, thousands - to calm down in the arms of death" The most fair is the solution of the conflict in an original way; if two soldiers fought (one from each army), and victory would remain with the side whose soldier emerges victorious. Such a decision is logical, because it is better to fight one on one than a hundred and thirty thousand against a hundred and thirty thousand. In general, war is illogical, from Tolstoy's point of view: "one of two things: either war is madness, or if people do this madness, then they are not rational creatures at all, as we somehow usually think"
In the besieged Sevastopol, the military walk along the boulevards. Among them is an infantry officer (headquarters captain) Mikhailov, a tall, long-legged, stooped and awkward man. He recently received a letter from a friend, a retired lancer, in which he writes how his wife Natasha (Mikhailov's close friend) enthusiastically follows through the newspapers the movements of his regiment and the exploits of Mikhailov himself. Mikhailov bitterly recalls his former circle, which was "so much higher than the current one that when, in moments of frankness, he happened to tell his infantry comrades how he had his own droshky, how he danced at balls with the governor and played cards with a civilian general" , they listened to him indifferently, incredulously, as if not wanting only to contradict and prove the contrary.
Mikhailov dreams of a promotion. He meets Captain Obzhogov and Warrant Officer Suslikov on the boulevard, employees of his regiment, and they shake hands with him, but he wants to deal not with them, but with "aristocrats" - for this he walks along the boulevard. “And since there are many people in the besieged city of Sevastopol, therefore, there is a lot of vanity, that is, aristocrats, despite the fact that death hangs every minute over the head of every aristocrat and non-aristocrat ... Vanity! It must be a characteristic feature and a special the disease of our age ... Why in our age there are only three kinds of people: some - accepting the principle of vanity as a fact that necessarily exists, therefore just, and freely obeying it; others - accepting it as an unfortunate, but insurmountable condition, and third - unconsciously, slavishly acting under his influence..."
Mikhailov twice hesitantly passes by a circle of "aristocrats" and, finally, dares to come up and say hello (he had been afraid to approach them because they might not at all honor him with an answer to the greeting and thereby prick his sick pride). "Aristocrats" are Adjutant Kalugin, Prince Galtsin, Lieutenant Colonel Neferdov and Captain Praskukhin. In relation to the approached Mikhailov, they behave rather arrogantly; for example, Galtsin takes him by the arm and walks a little back and forth only because he knows that this sign of attention should please the staff captain. But soon the "aristocrats" begin to defiantly talk only to each other, thereby making it clear to Mikhailov that they no longer need his company.
Returning home, Mikhailov recalls that he volunteered to go the next morning instead of a sick officer to the bastion. He feels that he will be killed, and if he is not killed, then surely he will be rewarded. Mikhailov consoles himself that he acted honestly, that it is his duty to go to the bastion. On the way, he wonders where he might be wounded - in the leg, in the stomach or in the head.
Meanwhile, the "aristocrats" are drinking tea at Kalugin's in a beautifully furnished apartment, playing the piano, remembering their St. Petersburg acquaintances. At the same time, they do not behave at all so unnaturally, importantly and pompously, as they did on the boulevard, demonstrating their "aristocratism" to those around them. An infantry officer enters with an important assignment to the general, but the "aristocrats" immediately assume their former "pouted" look and pretend that they do not notice the newcomer at all. Only after escorting the courier to the general, Kalugin is imbued with the responsibility of the moment, announces to his comrades that a "hot" business is ahead.
Galtsin asks if he should go on a sortie, knowing that he will not go anywhere, because he is afraid, and Kalugin begins to dissuade Galtsin, also knowing that he will not go anywhere. Galtsin goes out into the street and begins to walk aimlessly back and forth, not forgetting to ask the wounded passing by how the battle is going, and scolding them for retreating. Kalugin, having gone to the bastion, does not forget to demonstrate his courage to everyone along the way: he does not bend down when the bullets whistle, he takes a dashing pose on horseback. He is unpleasantly struck by the "cowardice" of the battery commander, whose bravery is legendary.
Not wanting to take unnecessary risks, the battery commander, who spent half a year on the bastion, in response to Kalugin's demand to inspect the bastion, sends Kalugin to the guns along with a young officer. The general orders Praskukhin to notify Mikhailov's battalion of the redeployment. He successfully delivers the order. In the dark, under enemy fire, the battalion begins to move. At the same time, Mikhailov and Praskukhin, walking side by side, think only about the impression they make on each other. They meet Kalugin, who, not wanting to "expose himself" once again, learns about the situation on the bastion from Mikhailov and turns back. A bomb explodes next to them, Praskukhin dies, and Mikhailov is wounded in the head. He refuses to go to the dressing station, because it is his duty to be with the company, and besides, he has a reward for the wound. He also believes that his duty is to pick up the wounded Praskukhin or make sure that he is dead. Mikhailov crawls back under fire, becomes convinced of the death of Praskukhin and returns with a clear conscience.
"Hundreds of fresh bloody bodies of people, two hours ago full of various high and small hopes and desires, with stiff limbs, lay on the dewy flowering valley that separates the bastion from the trench, and on the flat floor of the chapel of the Dead in Sevastopol; hundreds of people - with curses and with prayers on parched lips - they crawled, tossed and groaned - some among the corpses in a flowering valley, others on a stretcher, on cots and on the bloody floor of the dressing station; and all the same, as in the old days, lightning caught fire over Sapun Mountain , the twinkling stars turned pale, a white fog was drawn from the noisy dark sea, a scarlet dawn lit up in the east, crimson long clouds fled across the light azure horizon, and everything is the same as in the old days, promising joy, love and happiness to the whole revived world, a mighty, beautiful luminary has surfaced."
The next day, "aristocrats" and other military men stroll along the boulevard and vied with each other to talk about yesterday's "affair", but in such a way that they basically state "the participation that he took and the courage that the narrator showed in the deed." "Each of them is a little Napoleon, a little monster, and now he is ready to start a battle, to kill a hundred people just to get an extra star or a third of his salary."
A truce has been declared between the Russians and the French, ordinary soldiers freely communicate with each other and, it seems, do not feel any enmity towards the enemy. The young cavalry officer is simply delighted to be able to chat in French, thinking he is incredibly smart. He discusses with the French what an inhuman deed they started together, referring to the war. At this time, the boy walks around the battlefield, picking blue wild flowers and looking askance at the corpses in surprise. White flags are displayed everywhere.
"Thousands of people are crowding, looking, talking and smiling at each other. And these people - Christians, professing one great law of love and selflessness, looking at what they have done, will not suddenly fall with repentance on their knees before the one who, having given them life , put into the soul of everyone, along with the fear of death, love for good and beautiful, and with tears of joy and happiness they will not embrace like brothers? and curses ... Where is the expression of evil, which should be avoided? Where is the expression of good, which should be imitated in this story? Who is the villain, who is its hero? All are good and all are bad ... But the hero of my story, whom I love with all the strength of my soul which I tried to reproduce in all its beauty and which has always been, is and will be beautiful - the truth.
SEVASTOPOL IN AUGUST 1855
Lieutenant Mikhail Kozeltsov, a respected officer, independent in his judgments and in his actions, not stupid, in many ways talented, a skilled drafter of government papers and a capable storyteller, returns to his position from the hospital. He had one of those self-esteem, which merged with life to such an extent and which most often develops in some male, and especially military circles, that he did not understand any other choice, how to excel or to be destroyed, and that self-esteem was the engine even of his internal motives."
A lot of people passing by have accumulated at the station: there are no horses. Some of the officers heading to Sevastopol do not even have lifting money, and they do not know how to continue their journey. Among those waiting is Kozeltsov's brother, Volodya. Contrary to family plans, Volodya, for minor misconduct, did not join the guard, but was sent (at his own request) to the active army. He, like any young officer, really wants to "fight for the Fatherland", and at the same time serve in the same place where his elder brother is.
Volodya is a handsome young man, he is both shy in front of his brother and proud of him. The elder Kozeltsov invites his brother to immediately go with him to Sevastopol. Volodya seems to be embarrassed; he no longer really wants to go to war, and, besides, he, sitting at the station, managed to lose eight rubles. Kozeltsov pays his brother's debt with the last money, and they set off. On the way, Volodya dreams of the heroic deeds that he will certainly accomplish in the war with his brother, of his beautiful death and dying reproaches to everyone else for not being able to appreciate “truly loving Fatherland” during their lifetime, etc.
Upon arrival, the brothers go to the booth of a convoy officer, who counts a lot of money for the new regimental commander, who is acquiring a "household". No one understands what made Volodya leave his quiet place in the far rear and come to the warring Sevastopol without any profit. The battery, to which Volodya is seconded, stands on Korabelnaya, and both brothers go to spend the night with Mikhail on the fifth bastion. Before that, they visit Comrade Kozeltsov in the hospital. He is so bad that he does not immediately recognize Michael, he is waiting for an imminent death as deliverance from suffering.
Leaving the hospital, the brothers decide to disperse, and, accompanied by the batman Mikhail Volodya, goes to his battery. The battery commander offers Volodya to spend the night in the staff captain's bed, which is located on the bastion itself. However, Junker Vlang is already sleeping on the bunk; he has to give way to the ensign (Voloda) who has arrived. At first Volodya cannot sleep; he is now frightened by the darkness, then by a premonition of imminent death. He fervently prays for deliverance from fear, calms down and falls asleep to the sound of falling shells.
Meanwhile, Kozeltsov Sr. arrives at the disposal of the new regimental commander - his recent comrade, now separated from him by a wall of subordination. The commander is unhappy that Kozeltsov is returning to duty prematurely, but instructs him to take command of his former company. In the company, Kozeltsov is greeted joyfully; it is noticeable that he enjoys great respect among the soldiers. Among the officers, he also expects a warm welcome and a sympathetic attitude towards the wound.
The next day, the bombardment continues with renewed vigor. Volodya begins to enter the circle of artillery officers; one can see their mutual sympathy for each other. Volodya is especially liked by the junker Vlang, who in every possible way foresees any desires of the new ensign. The good Captain Kraut, a German, who speaks Russian very correctly and too beautifully, returns from the positions. There is talk of abuse and legalized theft in senior positions. Volodya, blushing, assures the audience that such an "ignoble" deed will never happen to him.
Everyone is interested at lunch at the battery commander's, the conversations do not stop despite the fact that the menu is very modest. An envelope arrives from the chief of artillery; an officer with servants is required for a mortar battery on Malakhov Kurgan. This is a dangerous place; no one volunteers to go. One of the officers points to Volodya and, after a short discussion, he agrees to go "shoot" Together with Volodya, Vlang is sent. Volodya takes up the study of the "Guide" on artillery firing. However, upon arrival at the battery, all "rear" knowledge turns out to be unnecessary: firing is carried out randomly, not a single shot even resembles those mentioned in the "Manual" by weight, there are no workers to repair broken guns. In addition, two soldiers of his team are wounded, and Volodya himself repeatedly finds himself on the verge of death.
Vlang is very scared; he is no longer able to hide it and thinks solely about saving his own life at any cost. Volodya is "a little creepy and fun." Volodya's soldiers are holed up in Volodya's dugout. He communicates with interest with Melnikov, who is not afraid of bombs, being sure that he will die a different death. Having got used to the new commander, the soldiers under Volodya begin to discuss how the allies under the command of Prince Konstantin will come to their aid, how both warring parties will be given a rest for two weeks, and then they will take a fine for each shot, how in the war a month of service will be considered as year, etc.
Despite Vlang's entreaties, Volodya comes out of the dugout into the fresh air and sits on the doorstep with Melnikov until morning, while bombs fall around him and bullets whistle. But in the morning the battery and guns were put in order, and Volodya completely forgot about the danger; he only rejoices that he performs his duties well, that he does not show cowardice, but, on the contrary, is considered brave.
The French assault begins. Half-asleep, Kozeltsov jumps out to the company, awake, most of all concerned that he should not be considered a coward. He grabs his little saber and runs ahead of everyone at the enemy, shouting to inspire the soldiers. He is wounded in the chest. Waking up, Kozeltsov sees the doctor examining his wound, wiping his fingers on his coat and sending a priest to him. Kozeltsov asks if the French have been driven out; the priest, not wanting to upset the dying man, says that the Russians have won. Kozeltsov is happy; “He thought with an extremely gratifying feeling of self-satisfaction that he had done his duty well, that for the first time in his entire service he had acted as well as he could, and he could not reproach himself with anything.” He dies with the last thought of his brother, and Kozeltsov wishes him the same happiness.
The news of the assault finds Volodya in the dugout. "It was not so much the sight of the calmness of the soldiers as the miserable, undisguised cowardice of the junker that aroused him." Not wanting to be like Vlang, Volodya commands lightly, even cheerfully, but soon hears that the French are bypassing them. He sees enemy soldiers very close, it strikes him so much that he freezes in place and misses the moment when he can still be saved. Melnikov dies next to him from a bullet wound. Vlang tries to shoot back, calls Volodya to run after him, but, jumping into the trench, he sees that Volodya is already dead, and in the place where he just stood, the French are and shoot at the Russians. The French banner flutters over the Malakhov Kurgan.
Vlang with a battery on a steamboat arrives in a safer part of the city. He bitterly mourns the fallen Volodya; to which he was truly attached. The retreating soldiers, talking among themselves, notice that the French will not be staying in the city for long. "It was a feeling, as if similar to remorse, shame and anger. Almost every soldier, looking from the North side at the abandoned Sevastopol, sighed with inexpressible bitterness in his heart and threatened the enemies."
Sevastopol stories
Summary of the work
Sevastopol in December
“The dawn is just beginning to color the sky over Sapun Mountain; the dark blue surface of the sea has already thrown off the twilight of the night and is waiting for the first ray to sparkle with a cheerful brilliance; from the bay it carries cold and fog; there is no snow - everything is black, but the morning sharp frost grabs your face and cracks under your feet, and the distant unceasing rumble of the sea, occasionally interrupted by rolling shots in Sevastopol, alone breaks the silence of the morning ... It cannot be that
At the thought that you are in Sevastopol, a feeling of some kind of courage, pride, and so that the blood does not begin to circulate faster in your veins did not penetrate into your soul ... ”Despite the fact that hostilities are going on in the city, life goes on as usual: merchants they sell hot rolls, and the men sell sbiten. It seems that camp and peaceful life are strangely mixed here, everyone is fussing and frightened, but this is a deceptive impression: most people no longer pay attention to either shots or explosions, they are busy with “everyday business”. Only on the bastions "you will see ... the defenders of Sevastopol, you will see terrible and sad, great and funny, but amazing, uplifting spectacles there."
In the hospital, wounded soldiers talk about their impressions: the one who lost his leg does not remember the pain, because he did not think about it; a woman carrying lunch to her husband's bastion was hit by a shell, and her leg was cut off above the knee. Dressings and operations are done in a separate room. The wounded, awaiting their turn for surgery, are horrified to see how doctors amputate their comrades' arms and legs, and the paramedic indifferently throws the severed body parts into a corner. Here you can see “terrible, soul-shattering spectacles… war not in the correct, beautiful and brilliant formation, with music and drumming, with fluttering banners and prancing generals, but… war in its true expression – in blood, in suffering, in death… “. A young officer who fought on the fourth, most dangerous bastion, complains not about the abundance of bombs and shells falling on the heads of the defenders of the bastion, but about the dirt. This is his defensive reaction to danger; he behaves too boldly, cheekily and naturally.
On the way to the fourth bastion, non-military people are less and less common, and stretchers with the wounded come across more and more often. Actually, on the bastion, the artillery officer behaves calmly (he is used to the whistle of bullets and the roar of explosions). He tells how during the assault on the 5th, only one active gun and very few servants remained on his battery, but still the next morning he was already firing from all the guns again.
The officer recalls how the bomb hit the sailor's dugout and killed eleven people. In the faces, posture, movements of the defenders of the bastion, one can see “the main features that make up the strength of the Russian - simplicity and stubbornness; but here on every face it seems to you that the danger, malice and suffering of war, in addition to these main signs, have also laid traces of consciousness of one’s dignity and lofty thoughts and feelings ... A feeling of anger, revenge on the enemy ... is hidden in the soul of everyone. When the cannonball flies directly at a person, he does not leave a feeling of pleasure and at the same time fear, and then he himself waits for the bomb to explode closer, because “there is a special charm” in such a game with death. “The main, gratifying conviction that you made is the conviction that it is impossible to take Sevastopol, and not only to take Sevastopol, but to shake the strength of the Russian people anywhere ... Because of the cross, because of the name, because of the threat, they cannot accept people, these terrible conditions: there must be another high motivating reason - this reason is a feeling that rarely manifests itself, bashful in Russian, but lies in the depths of everyone's soul - love for the motherland ... This epic of Sevastopol, of which the people were the hero, will leave great traces in Russia for a long time Russian… "
Sevastopol in May
Six months have passed since the start of hostilities in Sevastopol. “Thousands of people's vanities had time to be offended, thousands had time to be satisfied, puffed up, thousands - to calm down in the arms of death” The most fair is the solution of the conflict in an original way; if two soldiers fought (one from each army), and victory would remain with the side whose soldier emerges victorious. Such a decision is logical, because it is better to fight one on one than a hundred and thirty thousand against a hundred and thirty thousand. In general, war is illogical, from the point of view of Tolstoy: “one of two things: either war is madness, or if people do this madness, then they are not rational creatures at all, as we somehow usually think”
In the besieged Sevastopol, military men walk along the boulevards. Among them is an infantry officer (headquarters captain) Mikhailov, a tall, long-legged, stooped and awkward man. He recently received a letter from a friend, a retired lancer, in which he writes how his wife Natasha (Mikhailov's close friend) enthusiastically follows through the newspapers the movements of his regiment and the exploits of Mikhailov himself. Mikhailov bitterly recalls his former circle, which was “so much higher than the present that when, in moments of frankness, he happened to tell his infantry comrades how he had his own droshky, how he danced at balls with the governor and played cards with a civilian general” , they listened to him indifferently, incredulously, as if not wanting only to contradict and prove the opposite”
Mikhailov dreams of a promotion. He meets Captain Obzhogov and Warrant Officer Suslikov on the boulevard, employees of his regiment, and they shake hands with him, but he wants to deal not with them, but with “aristocrats” - for this he walks along the boulevard. “And since there are many people in the besieged city of Sevastopol, therefore, there is a lot of vanity, that is, aristocrats, despite the fact that every minute death hangs over the head of every aristocrat and non-aristocrat ... Vanity! It must be a characteristic feature and a special disease of our age... Why in our age there are only three kinds of people: one - accepting the beginning of vanity as a fact that necessarily exists, therefore just, and freely obeying it; others - accepting it as an unfortunate but insurmountable condition, and still others - unconsciously, slavishly acting under its influence ... "
Mikhailov twice hesitantly passes by a circle of "aristocrats" and, finally, dares to come up and say hello (he had previously been afraid to approach them because they might not at all honor him with an answer to the greeting and thereby prick his sick pride). “Aristocrats” are Adjutant Kalugin, Prince Galtsin, Lieutenant Colonel Neferdov and Captain Praskukhin. In relation to the approached Mikhailov, they behave rather arrogantly; for example, Galtsin takes him by the arm and walks a little back and forth only because he knows that this sign of attention should please the staff captain. But soon the “aristocrats” begin defiantly talking only to each other, thereby making it clear to Mikhailov that they no longer need his company.
Returning home, Mikhailov recalls that he volunteered to go the next morning instead of a sick officer to the bastion. He feels that he will be killed, and if he is not killed, then surely he will be rewarded. Mikhailov consoles himself that he acted honestly, that going to the bastion is his duty. On the way, he wonders where he might be wounded - in the leg, in the stomach or in the head.
Meanwhile, the "aristocrats" are drinking tea at Kalugin's in a beautifully furnished apartment, playing the piano, remembering their St. Petersburg acquaintances. At the same time, they behave not at all so unnaturally, importantly and pompously, as they did on the boulevard, demonstrating their “aristocratism” to those around them. An infantry officer enters with an important assignment to the general, but the "aristocrats" immediately assume their former "puffed out" look and pretend that they do not notice the newcomer at all. Only after escorting the courier to the general, Kalugin is imbued with the responsibility of the moment, announces to his comrades that a “hot” business is ahead.
Galtsin asks if he should go on a sortie, knowing that he will not go anywhere, because he is afraid, and Kalugin begins to dissuade Galtsin, also knowing that he will not go anywhere. Galtsin goes out into the street and begins to walk aimlessly back and forth, not forgetting to ask the wounded passing by how the battle is going, and scolding them for retreating. Kalugin, having gone to the bastion, does not forget to demonstrate his courage to everyone along the way: he does not bend down when the bullets whistle, he takes a dashing pose on horseback. He is unpleasantly struck by the "cowardice" of the battery commander, whose bravery is legendary.
Not wanting to take unnecessary risks, the battery commander, who spent half a year on the bastion, in response to Kalugin's demand to inspect the bastion, sends Kalugin to the guns along with a young officer. The general orders Praskukhin to notify Mikhailov's battalion of the redeployment. He successfully delivers the order. In the dark, under enemy fire, the battalion begins to move. At the same time, Mikhailov and Praskukhin, walking side by side, think only about the impression they make on each other. They meet Kalugin, who, not wanting to "expose himself" once again, learns about the situation on the bastion from Mikhailov and turns back. A bomb explodes next to them, Praskukhin dies, and Mikhailov is wounded in the head. He refuses to go to the dressing station, because it is his duty to be with the company, and besides, he has a reward for the wound. He also believes that his duty is to pick up the wounded Praskukhin or make sure that he is dead. Mikhailov crawls back under fire, becomes convinced of the death of Praskukhin and returns with a clear conscience.
“Hundreds of fresh bloodied bodies of people, two hours ago full of various high and small hopes and desires, with stiff limbs, lay on the dewy flowering valley that separates the bastion from the trench, and on the flat floor of the chapel of the Dead in Sevastopol; hundreds of people - with curses and prayers on parched lips - crawled, tossed and groaned, some among the corpses on a flowering valley, others on stretchers, on horse-drawn horses and on the bloody floor of the dressing station; the flowering valley, others on stretchers, on cots and on the bloody floor of the dressing station; and all the same, as in the old days, the lightning lit up over Sapun Mountain, the twinkling stars turned pale, a white fog pulled from the noisy dark sea, a scarlet dawn lit up in the east, crimson long clouds fled across the light azure horizon, and everything is the same , as in former days, promising joy, love and happiness to the whole revived world, a mighty, beautiful luminary emerged.
The next day, “aristocrats” and other military men stroll along the boulevard and vied with each other to talk about yesterday’s “affair”, but in such a way that they basically describe “the participation that he took and the courage that the narrator showed in the deed”. “Each of them is a little Napoleon, a little monster, and now he is ready to start a battle, to kill a hundred people just to get an extra star or a third of his salary.”
A truce has been declared between the Russians and the French, ordinary soldiers freely communicate with each other and, it seems, do not feel any enmity towards the enemy. The young cavalry officer is simply delighted to be able to chat in French, thinking he is incredibly smart. He discusses with the French what an inhuman deed they started together, referring to the war. At this time, the boy walks around the battlefield, picking blue wild flowers and looking askance at the corpses in surprise. White flags are displayed everywhere.
“Thousands of people crowd, look, talk and smile at each other. And these people, Christians, professing one great law of love and self-sacrifice, looking at what they have done, will not suddenly fall with repentance on their knees before the one who, having given them life, put into the soul of everyone, along with the fear of death, love for good and beautiful, and with tears of joy and happiness will not embrace like brothers? Not! White rags are hidden - and again the instruments of death and suffering whistle, pure innocent blood is shed again and groans and curses are heard ... Where is the expression of evil, which should be avoided? Where is the expression of the good that should be imitated in this story? Who is the villain, who is her hero? Everyone is good and everyone is bad ... The hero of my story, whom I love with all the strength of my soul, whom I tried to reproduce in all its beauty and who has always been, is and will be beautiful, is true ”
Sevastopol in August 1855
Lieutenant Mikhail Kozeltsov, a respected officer, independent in his judgments and in his actions, not stupid, in many ways talented, a skilled drafter of government papers and a capable storyteller, returns to his position from the hospital. “He had one of those self-esteem, which merged with life to such an extent and which most often develops in some male, and especially military circles, that he did not understand any other choice, how to excel or be destroyed, and that self-esteem was the engine even of his internal motives."
A lot of people passing by have accumulated at the station: there are no horses. Some of the officers heading to Sevastopol do not even have lifting money, and they do not know how to continue their journey. Among those waiting is Kozeltsov's brother, Volodya. Contrary to family plans, Volodya, for minor misconduct, did not join the guard, but was sent (at his own request) to the active army. He, like any young officer, really wants to “fight for the Fatherland”, and at the same time serve in the same place as his elder brother.
Volodya is a handsome young man, he is both shy in front of his brother and proud of him. The elder Kozeltsov invites his brother to immediately go with him to Sevastopol. Volodya seems to be embarrassed; he no longer really wants to go to war, and, besides, he, sitting at the station, managed to lose eight rubles. Kozeltsov pays his brother's debt with the last money, and they set off. On the way, Volodya dreams of the heroic deeds that he will certainly accomplish in the war with his brother, of his beautiful death and dying reproaches to everyone else for not being able to appreciate “truly loving Fatherland” during their lifetime, etc.
Upon arrival, the brothers go to the booth of a convoy officer, who counts a lot of money for the new regimental commander, who is acquiring a “household”. No one understands what made Volodya leave his quiet place in the far rear and come to the warring Sevastopol without any profit. The battery, to which Volodya is seconded, stands on Korabelnaya, and both brothers go to spend the night with Mikhail on the fifth bastion. Before that, they visit Comrade Kozeltsov in the hospital. He is so bad that he does not immediately recognize Michael, he is waiting for an imminent death as deliverance from suffering.
Leaving the hospital, the brothers decide to disperse, and, accompanied by the batman Mikhail Volodya, goes to his battery. The battery commander offers Volodya to spend the night in the staff captain's bed, which is located on the bastion itself. However, Junker Vlang is already sleeping on the bunk; he has to give way to the ensign (Voloda) who has arrived. At first Volodya cannot sleep; he is now frightened by the darkness, then by a premonition of imminent death. He fervently prays for deliverance from fear, calms down and falls asleep to the sound of falling shells.
Meanwhile, Kozeltsov Sr. arrives at the disposal of the new regimental commander - his recent comrade, now separated from him by a wall of subordination. The commander is unhappy that Kozeltsov is returning to duty prematurely, but instructs him to take command of his former company. In the company, Kozeltsov is greeted joyfully; it is noticeable that he enjoys great respect among the soldiers. Among the officers, he also expects a warm welcome and a sympathetic attitude towards the wound.
The next day, the bombardment continues with renewed vigor. Volodya begins to enter the circle of artillery officers; one can see their mutual sympathy for each other. Volodya is especially liked by the junker Vlang, who in every possible way foresees any desires of the new ensign. The good Captain Kraut, a German, who speaks Russian very correctly and too beautifully, returns from the positions. There is talk of abuse and legalized theft in senior positions. Volodya, blushing, assures the audience that such an "ignoble" deed will never happen to him.
Everyone is interested at lunch at the battery commander's, the conversations do not stop despite the fact that the menu is very modest. An envelope arrives from the chief of artillery; an officer with servants is required for a mortar battery on Malakhov Kurgan. This is a dangerous place; no one volunteers to go. One of the officers points to Volodya and, after a short discussion, he agrees to go “shoot on it”. Together with Volodya, Vlang is sent. Volodya takes up the study of the "Guide" on artillery firing. However, upon arrival at the battery, all “rear” knowledge turns out to be unnecessary: firing is carried out randomly, not a single shot even resembles those mentioned in the “Manual” by weight, there are no workers to repair broken guns. In addition, two soldiers of his team are wounded, and Volodya himself repeatedly finds himself on the verge of death.
Vlang is very scared; he is no longer able to hide it and thinks solely about saving his own life at any cost. Volodya is “a little creepy and fun.” Volodya's soldiers are holed up in Volodya's dugout. He communicates with interest with Melnikov, who is not afraid of bombs, being sure that he will die a different death. Having got used to the new commander, the soldiers under Volodya begin to discuss how the allies under the command of Prince Konstantin will come to their aid, how both warring parties will be given a rest for two weeks, and then they will take a fine for each shot, how in the war a month of service will be considered as year, etc.
Despite Vlang's entreaties, Volodya comes out of the dugout into the fresh air and sits on the doorstep with Melnikov until morning, while bombs fall around him and bullets whistle. But in the morning the battery and guns were put in order, and Volodya completely forgot about the danger; he only rejoices that he performs his duties well, that he does not show cowardice, but, on the contrary, is considered brave.
The French assault begins. Half-asleep, Kozeltsov jumps out to the company, awake, most of all concerned that he should not be considered a coward. He grabs his little saber and runs ahead of everyone at the enemy, shouting to inspire the soldiers. He is wounded in the chest. Waking up, Kozeltsov sees the doctor examining his wound, wiping his fingers on his coat and sending a priest to him. Kozeltsov asks if the French have been driven out; the priest, not wanting to upset the dying man, says that the Russians have won. Kozeltsov is happy; “He thought with an extremely gratifying feeling of self-satisfaction that he had done his duty well, that for the first time in his entire service he had acted as well as he could, and he could not reproach himself with anything.” He dies with the last thought of his brother, and Kozeltsov wishes him the same happiness.
The news of the assault finds Volodya in the dugout. “It was not so much the sight of the calmness of the soldiers as the miserable, undisguised cowardice of the junker that aroused him.” Not wanting to be like Vlang, Volodya commands lightly, even cheerfully, but soon hears that the French are bypassing them. He sees enemy soldiers very close, it strikes him so much that he freezes in place and misses the moment when he can still be saved. Melnikov dies next to him from a bullet wound. Vlang tries to shoot back, calls Volodya to run after him, but, jumping into the trench, he sees that Volodya is already dead, and in the place where he just stood, the French are and shoot at the Russians. The French banner flutters over the Malakhov Kurgan.
Vlang with a battery on a steamboat arrives in a safer part of the city. He bitterly mourns the fallen Volodya; to which he was truly attached. The retreating soldiers, talking among themselves, notice that the French will not be staying in the city for long. “It was a feeling, as if similar to remorse, shame and anger. Almost every soldier, looking from the northern side at the abandoned Sevastopol, sighed with inexpressible bitterness in his heart and threatened the enemies.
You are now reading: Summary Sevastopol stories - Tolstoy Lev Nikolaevich
Lev Nikolayevich Tolstoy
"Sevastopol stories"
Sevastopol in December
“The dawn is just beginning to color the sky over Sapun Mountain; the dark blue surface of the sea has already thrown off the twilight of the night and is waiting for the first ray to sparkle with a cheerful brilliance; from the bay it carries cold and fog; there is no snow - everything is black, but the morning sharp frost grabs your face and cracks under your feet, and the distant unceasing rumble of the sea, occasionally interrupted by rolling shots in Sevastopol, alone breaks the silence of the morning ... It cannot be that at the thought that you are in Sevastopol, a feeling of some kind of courage, pride, and so that the blood does not begin to circulate faster in your veins has not penetrated into your soul ... ”Despite the fact that hostilities are going on in the city, life goes on as usual: the merchants sell hot rolls, and the peasants sell sbiten. It seems that camp and peaceful life are strangely mixed here, everyone is fussing and frightened, but this is a deceptive impression: most people no longer pay attention to either shots or explosions, they are busy with “everyday business”. Only on the bastions "you will see ... the defenders of Sevastopol, you will see terrible and sad, great and funny, but amazing, uplifting spectacles there."
In the hospital, wounded soldiers talk about their impressions: the one who lost his leg does not remember the pain, because he did not think about it; a woman carrying lunch to her husband's bastion was hit by a shell, and her leg was cut off above the knee. Dressings and operations are done in a separate room. The wounded, awaiting their turn for surgery, are horrified to see how doctors amputate their comrades' arms and legs, and the paramedic indifferently throws the severed body parts into a corner. Here you can see “terrible, soul-shattering spectacles… war not in the correct, beautiful and brilliant formation, with music and drumming, with flying banners and prancing generals, but… war in its true expression — in blood, in suffering, in death… ". A young officer who fought on the fourth, most dangerous bastion, complains not about the abundance of bombs and shells falling on the heads of the defenders of the bastion, but about the dirt. This is his defensive reaction to danger; he behaves too boldly, cheekily and at ease.
On the way to the fourth bastion, non-military people are less and less common, and stretchers with the wounded are increasingly coming across. Actually, on the bastion, the artillery officer behaves calmly (he is used to both the whistle of bullets and the roar of explosions). He tells how during the assault on the 5th, only one active gun and very few servants remained on his battery, but still the next morning he was already firing from all the guns again.
The officer recalls how the bomb hit the sailor's dugout and killed eleven people. In the faces, posture, movements of the defenders of the bastion, “the main features that make up the strength of the Russian are visible - simplicity and stubbornness; but here on every face it seems to you that the danger, malice and suffering of war, in addition to these main signs, have also laid traces of consciousness of one’s dignity and lofty thoughts and feelings ... A feeling of anger, revenge on the enemy ... lies in the soul of everyone. When the cannonball flies directly at a person, he does not leave a feeling of pleasure and at the same time fear, and then he himself waits for the bomb to explode closer, because "there is a special charm" in such a game with death. “The main, gratifying conviction that you made is the conviction that it is impossible to take Sevastopol, and not only to take Sevastopol, but to shake the strength of the Russian people anywhere ... Because of the cross, because of the name, because of the threat, they cannot accept people, these terrible conditions: there must be another high motivating reason - this reason is a feeling that rarely manifests itself, bashful in Russian, but lies in the depths of everyone's soul - love for the motherland ... This epic of Sevastopol, of which the people were the hero, will leave great traces in Russia for a long time Russian…"
Sevastopol in May
Six months have passed since the start of hostilities in Sevastopol. “Thousands of human vanities managed to be offended, thousands managed to be satisfied, puffed up, thousands - to calm down in the arms of death.” The most fair is the solution of the conflict in an original way; if two soldiers fought (one from each army), and victory would remain with the side whose soldier emerges victorious. Such a decision is logical, because it is better to fight one on one than a hundred and thirty thousand against a hundred and thirty thousand. In general, war is illogical, from the point of view of Tolstoy: “one of two things: either war is madness, or if people do this madness, then they are not rational creatures at all, as we somehow usually think”
In the besieged Sevastopol, the military walk along the boulevards. Among them is an infantry officer (headquarters captain) Mikhailov, a tall, long-legged, round-shouldered and awkward man. He recently received a letter from a friend, a retired lancer, in which he writes how his wife Natasha (Mikhailov's close friend) enthusiastically follows through the newspapers the movements of his regiment and the exploits of Mikhailov himself. Mikhailov bitterly recalls his former circle, which was “so much higher than the current one that when, in moments of frankness, he happened to tell infantry comrades how he had his own droshky, how he danced at balls with the governor and played cards with a civilian general” , they listened to him indifferently, incredulously, as if not wanting only to contradict and prove the contrary
Mikhailov dreams of a promotion. He meets Captain Obzhogov and Warrant Officer Suslikov on the boulevard, employees of his regiment, and they shake hands with him, but he wants to deal not with them, but with "aristocrats" - for this he walks along the boulevard. “And since there are many people in the besieged city of Sevastopol, therefore, there is a lot of vanity, that is, aristocrats, despite the fact that death hangs every minute over the head of every aristocrat and non-aristocrat ... Vanity! It must be a characteristic feature and a special illness of our age... Why in our age there are only three kinds of people: one - accepting the beginning of vanity as a fact that necessarily exists, therefore just, and freely obeying it; others - accepting it as an unfortunate but insurmountable condition, and still others - unconsciously, slavishly acting under its influence ... "
Mikhailov twice hesitantly passes by the circle of "aristocrats" and, finally, dares to come up and say hello (before he was afraid to approach them because they might not at all honor him with an answer to the greeting and thereby prick his sick pride). The “aristocrats” are Adjutant Kalugin, Prince Galtsin, Lieutenant Colonel Neferdov and Captain Praskukhin. In relation to the approached Mikhailov, they behave rather arrogantly; for example, Galtsin takes him by the arm and walks a little back and forth only because he knows that this sign of attention should please the staff captain. But soon the "aristocrats" begin to defiantly talk only to each other, thereby making it clear to Mikhailov that they no longer need his company.
Returning home, Mikhailov recalls that he volunteered to go the next morning instead of a sick officer to the bastion. He feels that he will be killed, and if he is not killed, then surely he will be rewarded. Mikhailov consoles himself that he acted honestly, that going to the bastion is his duty. On the way, he wonders where he might be wounded - in the leg, in the stomach or in the head.
Meanwhile, the "aristocrats" are drinking tea at Kalugin's in a beautifully furnished apartment, playing the piano, remembering their St. Petersburg acquaintances. At the same time, they behave not at all so unnaturally, importantly and pompously, as they did on the boulevard, demonstrating their “aristocratism” to those around them. An infantry officer enters with an important assignment to the general, but the "aristocrats" immediately assume their former "pouted" look and pretend that they do not notice the newcomer at all. Only after escorting the courier to the general, Kalugin is imbued with the responsibility of the moment, announces to his comrades that a “hot” business is ahead.
Galtsin asks if he should go on a sortie, knowing that he will not go anywhere, because he is afraid, and Kalugin begins to dissuade Galtsin, also knowing that he will not go anywhere. Galtsin goes out into the street and begins to walk aimlessly back and forth, not forgetting to ask the wounded passing by how the battle is going, and scolding them for retreating. Kalugin, having gone to the bastion, does not forget to demonstrate his courage to everyone along the way: he does not bend down when the bullets whistle, he takes a dashing pose on horseback. He is unpleasantly struck by the "cowardice" of the battery commander, whose bravery is legendary.
Not wanting to take unnecessary risks, the battery commander, who spent half a year on the bastion, in response to Kalugin's demand to inspect the bastion, sends Kalugin to the guns along with a young officer. The general gives the order to Praskukhin to notify Mikhailov's battalion of the redeployment. He successfully delivers the order. In the dark, under enemy fire, the battalion begins to move. At the same time, Mikhailov and Praskukhin, walking side by side, think only about the impression they make on each other. They meet Kalugin, who, not wanting to "expose himself" once again, learns about the situation on the bastion from Mikhailov and turns back. A bomb explodes next to them, Praskukhin dies, and Mikhailov is wounded in the head. He refuses to go to the dressing station, because it is his duty to be with the company, and besides, he has a reward for the wound. He also believes that his duty is to pick up the wounded Praskukhin or make sure that he is dead. Mikhailov crawls back under fire, is convinced of the death of Praskukhin and returns with a clear conscience.
“Hundreds of fresh, bloodied bodies of people, two hours ago full of various high and small hopes and desires, with stiff limbs, lay on a dewy flowering valley that separates the bastion from the trench, and on the flat floor of the chapel of the Dead in Sevastopol; hundreds of people - with curses and prayers on parched lips - crawled, tossed and groaned, some among the corpses in the flowering valley, others on stretchers, on cots and on the bloody floor of the dressing station; and all the same, as in the old days, the lightning lit up over Sapun Mountain, the twinkling stars turned pale, a white fog pulled from the noisy dark sea, a scarlet dawn lit up in the east, crimson long clouds fled across the light azure horizon, and everything is the same , as in former days, promising joy, love and happiness to the whole revived world, a mighty, beautiful luminary emerged.
The next day, "aristocrats" and other military men stroll along the boulevard and vied with each other to talk about yesterday's "case", but in such a way that they basically state "the participation that he took and the courage that the narrator showed in the case." “Each of them is a little Napoleon, a little monster, and now he is ready to start a battle, kill a hundred people just to get an extra star or a third of his salary.”
A truce has been declared between the Russians and the French, ordinary soldiers freely communicate with each other and, it seems, do not feel any enmity towards the enemy. The young cavalry officer is simply delighted to be able to chat in French, thinking he is incredibly smart. He discusses with the French what an inhuman deed they started together, referring to the war. At this time, the boy walks around the battlefield, collects blue wildflowers and looks at the corpses in surprise. White flags are displayed everywhere.
“Thousands of people crowd, look, talk and smile at each other. And these people are Christians who profess one great law of love and selflessness, looking at what they have done, they will not suddenly fall with repentance on their knees before the one who, having given them life, put into the soul of everyone, along with the fear of death, love for good and beautiful, and with tears of joy and happiness will not embrace like brothers? Not! White rags are hidden - and again the instruments of death and suffering whistle, pure innocent blood is shed again and groans and curses are heard ... Where is the expression of evil, which should be avoided? Where is the expression of the good that should be imitated in this story? Who is the villain, who is her hero? Everyone is good and everyone is bad ... The hero of my story, whom I love with all the strength of my soul, whom I tried to reproduce in all its beauty and who has always been, is and will be beautiful, is true "
Sevastopol in August 1855
Lieutenant Mikhail Kozeltsov, a respected officer, independent in his judgments and in his actions, not stupid, in many ways talented, a skilled drafter of government papers and a capable storyteller, returns to his position from the hospital. “He had one of those self-esteem, which merged with life to such an extent and which most often develops in some male, and especially military circles, that he did not understand any other choice, how to excel or be destroyed, and that self-esteem was the engine even of his internal motives."
A lot of people passing by have accumulated at the station: there are no horses. Some officers heading to Sevastopol do not even have lifting money, and they do not know how to continue their journey. Among those waiting is Kozeltsov's brother, Volodya. Contrary to family plans, Volodya, for minor misconduct, did not join the guard, but was sent (at his own request) to the active army. He, like any young officer, really wants to "fight for the Fatherland", and at the same time serve in the same place as his elder brother.
Volodya is a handsome young man, he is both shy in front of his brother and proud of him. The elder Kozeltsov invites his brother to immediately go with him to Sevastopol. Volodya seems to be embarrassed; he no longer really wants to go to war, and, besides, he, sitting at the station, managed to lose eight rubles. Kozeltsov pays his brother's debt with the last money, and they set off. On the way, Volodya dreams of heroic deeds that he will certainly accomplish in the war with his brother, of his beautiful death and dying reproaches to everyone else for not being able to appreciate “truly loving Fatherland” during their lifetime, etc.
Upon arrival, the brothers go to the booth of a convoy officer, who counts a lot of money for the new regimental commander, who is acquiring a "farm". No one understands what made Volodya leave his quiet place in the far rear and come to warring Sevastopol without any profit. The battery, to which Volodya is seconded, stands on Korabelnaya, and both brothers go to spend the night with Mikhail on the fifth bastion. Before that, they visit Comrade Kozeltsov in the hospital. He is so bad that he does not immediately recognize Michael, he is waiting for an early death as a deliverance from suffering.
Leaving the hospital, the brothers decide to disperse, and, accompanied by the batman Mikhail Volodya, goes to his battery. The battery commander offers Volodya to spend the night in the staff captain's bed, which is located on the bastion itself. However, Junker Vlang is already sleeping on the bunk; he has to give way to the ensign (Voloda) who has arrived. At first Volodya cannot sleep; he is now frightened by the darkness, then by a premonition of imminent death. He fervently prays for deliverance from fear, calms down and falls asleep to the sound of falling shells.
Meanwhile, Kozeltsov Sr. arrives at the disposal of the new regimental commander - his recent comrade, now separated from him by a wall of subordination. The commander is unhappy that Kozeltsov is returning to duty prematurely, but instructs him to take command of his former company. In the company, Kozeltsov is greeted joyfully; it is noticeable that he enjoys great respect among the soldiers. Among the officers, he also expects a warm welcome and a sympathetic attitude towards the wound.
The next day, the bombardment continues with renewed vigor. Volodya begins to enter the circle of artillery officers; one can see their mutual sympathy for each other. Volodya is especially liked by the junker Vlang, who in every possible way foresees any desires of the new ensign. The good Captain Kraut, a German, who speaks Russian very correctly and too beautifully, returns from the positions. There is talk of abuse and legalized theft in senior positions. Volodya, blushing, assures the audience that such an "ignoble" deed will never happen to him.
Everyone is interested at lunch at the battery commander's, the conversations do not stop despite the fact that the menu is very modest. An envelope arrives from the chief of artillery; an officer with servants is required for a mortar battery on Malakhov Kurgan. This is a dangerous place; no one volunteers to go. One of the officers points to Volodya and, after a short discussion, he agrees to go "shoot" Together with Volodya, Vlang is sent. Volodya takes up the study of the "Guide" on artillery firing. However, upon arrival at the battery, all “rear” knowledge turns out to be unnecessary: firing is carried out randomly, not a single shot even resembles those mentioned in the “Manual” by weight, there are no workers to repair broken guns. In addition, two soldiers of his team are wounded, and Volodya himself repeatedly finds himself on the verge of death.
Vlang is very scared; he is no longer able to hide it and thinks solely about saving his own life at any cost. Volodya is "a little creepy and fun." Volodya's soldiers are holed up in Volodya's dugout. He communicates with interest with Melnikov, who is not afraid of bombs, being sure that he will die a different death. Having got used to the new commander, the soldiers under Volodya begin to discuss how the allies under the command of Prince Konstantin will come to their aid, how both warring parties will be given a rest for two weeks, and then they will take a fine for each shot, how in the war a month of service will be considered as year, etc.
Despite Vlang's entreaties, Volodya comes out of the dugout into the fresh air and sits on the doorstep with Melnikov until morning, while bombs fall around him and bullets whistle. But in the morning the battery and guns were put in order, and Volodya completely forgot about the danger; he only rejoices that he performs his duties well, that he does not show cowardice, but, on the contrary, is considered brave.
The French assault begins. Half-asleep, Kozeltsov jumps out to the company, awake, most of all concerned that he should not be considered a coward. He grabs his little saber and runs ahead of everyone at the enemy, shouting to inspire the soldiers. He is wounded in the chest. Waking up, Kozeltsov sees the doctor examining his wound, wiping his fingers on his coat and sending a priest to him. Kozeltsov asks if the French have been driven out; the priest, not wanting to upset the dying man, says that the Russians have won. Kozeltsov is happy; “He thought with an extremely gratifying feeling of self-satisfaction that he had done his duty well, that for the first time in his entire service he had acted as well as he could, and he could not reproach himself for anything.” He dies with the last thought of his brother, and Kozeltsov wishes him the same happiness.
The news of the assault finds Volodya in the dugout. "It was not so much the sight of the calmness of the soldiers as the miserable, undisguised cowardice of the junker that aroused him." Not wanting to be like Vlang, Volodya commands lightly, even cheerfully, but soon hears that the French are bypassing them. He sees enemy soldiers very close, it strikes him so much that he freezes in place and misses the moment when he can still be saved. Melnikov dies next to him from a bullet wound. Vlang tries to shoot back, calls Volodya to run after him, but, jumping into the trench, he sees that Volodya is already dead, and in the place where he just stood, the French are and shoot at the Russians. The French banner flutters over the Malakhov Kurgan.
Vlang with a battery on a steamboat arrives in a safer part of the city. He bitterly mourns the fallen Volodya; to which he was truly attached. The retreating soldiers, talking among themselves, notice that the French will not be staying in the city for long. “It was a feeling, as if similar to remorse, shame and anger. Almost every soldier, looking from the North side at the abandoned Sevastopol, sighed with inexpressible bitterness in his heart and threatened the enemies.
Sevastopol in December
There are fights in the city, but life goes on: they sell hot buns, sbiten. Life camp and peace strangely mixed up. People no longer pay attention to shots and explosions. The wounded in the hospital share their impressions. The one who lost his leg does not remember the pain. Those awaiting surgery watch in horror as their arms and legs are amputated. The paramedic throws the cut off into the corner. Here the war is not in the right order with music, but blood, suffering, death. A young officer from the 4th, the most dangerous bastion, complains not about bombs, but about dirt. Increasingly rare on the way to the 4th fortification, non-military people are encountered and more often they carry the wounded. The artilleryman says that on the 5th there was only one gun left and few servants, and in the morning they were again firing from all the guns. The officer recalled how the bomb fell into the dugout and killed 11 people. The defenders of the bastion show the features that make up the strength of the people: simplicity and stubbornness, dignity and lofty thoughts and feelings. In the epic of Sevastopol, the Russian people became a hero.
Sevastopol in May
Six months have passed since the fighting in Sevastopol. Thousands calmed down in the arms of death. It is more fair that two soldiers fight - one from each army. And the victory of that side was counted, whose soldier won. After all, war is crazy. Soldiers walk around the besieged Sevastopol. The infantry officer Mikhailov, a tall, stooping, awkward man, received a letter with a story about how his wife Natasha was following the events in the newspapers. He is vain, he wants to be promoted. Mikhailov hesitantly goes to the adjutant Kalugin, Prince Galtsin and others who make up the circle of aristocrats. They are arrogant and, having paid attention, they begin to talk to each other, demonstrating that they do not need Mikhailov's company. The officer goes to the bastion and wonders where he will be wounded. Aristocrats drink tea, listen to the piano, chat. An infantry officer enters with an important mission - and everyone looks puffed up. It's going to be hot.
Galtsin is afraid of attacks on the front line. He walks down the street, asking the wounded how the battle is going and scolds that they are retreating. Kalugin on the bastion demonstrates courage: he does not bend, he famously sits on horseback. He is struck by the alleged cowardice of the legendary battery commander.
Under fire, the battalion is redeploying. Mikhailov and Praskukhin meet Kalugin, he learns about the position of the bastion from Mikhailov, turns back, where it is safer. A bomb explodes and Praskukhin dies. Mikhailov, although wounded, does not go for dressing, remains with the company. Crawling under fire, he is convinced of the death of Praskukhin.
And the next day, the aristocrats are again walking along the boulevard, talking about a hot case, as if everyone had accomplished a feat.
Sevastopol in August 1855
Mikhail Kozeltsov, a lieutenant respected for independence in judgments and actions, is going to the position from the hospital. There are no horses at the station. The brother of Kozeltsov is also here. Volodya, of his own free will, goes to fight for the Fatherland where his older brother is. Arriving at the place, the brothers go to spend the night at the 5th bastion. Volodya goes to his battery. The darkness frightens him, he cannot sleep and prays for deliverance from fear.
Kozeltsov Sr. took command of his own company, where he is welcome. The bombing continues with renewed vigor. An officer was needed for Malakhov Kurgan. The place is dangerous, but Kozeltsov agrees. He was on the verge of death several times. The guns on the battery are already in order, and Volodya, forgetting about the danger, is glad that he did it and is considered brave. The assault begins. Kozeltsov runs ahead of the company with his saber. He is wounded in the chest. The doctor, having examined the wound, calls the priest. Kozeltsov is interested in whether the French have been knocked out. Not wanting to upset the mortally wounded, the priest assures the victory of the Russians. Volodya dies with the thought of his brother.
The French banner flutters over the Malakhov Kurgan. But the retreating soldiers are sure that the French will not stay here for long.
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