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going to fight.
Those who fight the hardest and
spare themselves the least will win.
Tomorrow, whatever may happen,
we shall win the battle!
Your Excellency, that's the plain
truth! Who would spare himself now?
The soldiers in my battalion
wouldn't drink their vodka!
"It's no day for that" is what they
Carried into a wide extent of
In that open country I have a father
and son and sister at Bald Hills.
They've given all Europe up to him,
and now they've come to teach us.
Fine teachers!
So you think the battle tomorrow
will be a victory?
Yes. There's one thing I would do,
if I were in power.
I wouldn't take prisoners.
The French have destroyed my home
and are coming to destroy Moscow.
They have outraged and are
outraging me every second.
They are my enemies.
They are all criminals.
And so think all the army.
They must be put to death.
They plunder, they kill my father,
and talk of generosity to a foe.
No prisoners, but go to give
and to meet death!
War is not a polite recreation,
but the vilest thing in life.
And we ought to understand that
and not play at war.
We ought to accept it solemnly
as a fearful necessity.
Enough lying: If it's war,
then it's war and not a game.
They meet together to murder one
another, as we shall do tomorrow;
they slaughter and mutilate
tens of thousands of men,
and then offer up thanksgiving
for the number of men they have
and even add to it in the telling,
and glorify the victory,
supposing that the more men killed
the greater the achievement.
One who succeeds in killing most
people, gets the greatest rewards.
How God can look down from
above and hear them?
Ah, my dear boy...
Life has been a bitter thing for me
of late.
Well, it's not for long.
But you're getting sleepy and it's
time I was in bed too. Go.
You must be off. Before a battle
one needs to get a good sleep.
Goodbye, be off. Whether we see
each other again or not...
I know this is our last meeting.
Go, my dear fellow,
and Christ be with you.
Battalion, forward march!
Come on, a cannon ball!
Permit me to ask you to move out
of the way, sir.
Aren't you afraid? You surprise me,
- And you? Are you afraid?
- Why, to be sure!
They can blow your insides right
out. You can't help being scared!
It's a soldier's business, but it's
surprising to see a gentleman here.
Man your guns!
Forward march!
To attack, forward march!
Charge! Fire!
Ready? Fire!
Battalion, in ranks forward march!
- What about the Russians?
- They stand firm, Sire.
They want even more of it.
Let them have it then!
A hot one!
Not this way! Drop on the infantry.
What, bowing to a friend?
Further right.
Again, fire!
Guns number four and five,
grapeshot fire on the infantry!
Look, that one almost blasted
our gentleman's hat off.
Hey, awkward hussy!
Now, you foxes there!
Don't you care for our porridge?
May I venture to suggest
breakfast to Your Majesty?
I hope that I can already
congratulate Your Majesty
on a victory.
Gun number ten! Go ahead!
With your permission, sir,
it's my duty to report
that there're but eight rounds left.
Must we keep on firing, sir?
Your Highness, we've recaptured
the advance posts.
Prince Bagration is wounded.
Hurry on to Prince Pyotr Ivanovich,
and find out exactly what happened.
Your Highness...
Prince Andrei's regiment
was being held in reserve.
Without moving from the spot
and without firing a single shot,
the regiment had already lost
a third of its men.
- Tell the men they may sit down.
- Yes, sir.
First battalion, rest!
Second battalion, rest!
Left, left, left...
There's no more ammunition, sir.
Run to the reserves,
bring the ammunition boxes!
I'll go.
M. I'aide-de-camp,
tell the men not to crowd together.
Look out!
Lie down!
Can this be death?
I can't die, I don't want to die.
I love life! I love this grass,
this earth, this air.

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