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A soldier on the march is hemmed in and borne along by his

regiment as much as a sailor is by his ship. However far he has

walked, whatever strange, unknown, and dangerous places he

reaches, just as a sailor is always surrounded by the same decks,

masts, and rigging of his ship, so the soldier always has around

him the same comrades, the same ranks, the same sergeant major

Ivan Mitrich, the same company dog Jack, and the same commanders.

The sailor rarely cares to know the latitude in which his ship is

sailing, but on the day of battle-heaven knows how and whence-a

stern note of which all are conscious sounds in the moral

atmosphere of an army, announcing the approach of something

decisive and solemn, and awakening in the men an unusual

curiosity. On the day of battle the soldiers excitedly try to get

beyond the interests of their regiment, they listen intently,

look about, and eagerly ask concerning what is going on around

them.