s. As they went by us, our young soldiers
jeered at them, cursed or threatened. And I had a desire to do the same,
but the duty attached to the rank didn't permit it, so severely
reprimanding them, I said: "Poles! respect misfortune! The fate of war is
often doubtful! Death to our enemies! Mercy to the conquered! Long live
Poland!"

The soldiers calmed down, taken aback by the nobility of my emotions and
sententious eloquence. For some time my attention turned to one old
gunner, riding beside me, who constantly climbed in his stirrups, lifted
his head, neck craned over the shoulders of his comrades.

"What are you looking at, Mateusz?"

"At those beasts, sergeant, may the hangman take them"{~HORIZONTAL ELLIPSIS~} and pointed his
finger at hills, which were ahead of us. I saw then, how something was
blackening the hilltop. Where they bushes, or the caps of the Muscovite
infantry? I didn't have time to look longer, because the officers came
running, calling with all their might: "Forward artillery! stand in
position!" We moved, every horse jumping. A cannon shot and the ball,
having killed one of our horses, rained earth on us and flew onwards,
ricocheting. We occupied the hill, directly opposite the enemy, who
doubled fire.

A wide plain, surrounded by bushes and forest, stretched before us. In the
centre of it, on the hill, rolled a Muscovite battery of twelve heavy
gauge cannons who powdered us with cannon balls and grenades. Behind the
battery you could see thick ranks of cavalry, standing motionless. Our
cavalry similarly stood calmly, leaving time for the operations of the
artillery.

I noticed that soldiers of different weapons throughout the battle
preserved the stance and the facial expression characteristic of
themselves. And as the artilleryman has neither the cavalry's
extravagance, nor the infantry's impatience, but attentive to command,
fast and accurate amid all the commotion, appearing calm, though his eyes
burned with the smoke, bloodshot, eyebrows furrowed, face pale, mouth
clenched, speech short and hard, expressing fierce, suppressed and
concentrated fury.

In the middle of this fire, even though death swept past their heads, they
didn't stop making jokes; every time each cannon ball ricocheted, the
young soldiers made a point of talking to it, and to give it advice. A
ricocheting cannon ball can be seen from afar, as it jumps across the
field, so if it was going to one side, to the left, they w