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作者: Leo Tolstoy

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The fog had grown so dense that though it was growing light they
could not see ten paces ahead. Bushes looked like gigantic trees
and level ground like cliffs and slopes. Anywhere, on any side,
one might encounter an enemy invisible ten paces off. But the
columns advanced for a long time, always in the same fog,
descending and ascending hills, avoiding gardens and enclosures,
going over new and unknown ground, and nowhere encountering the
enemy. On the contrary, the soldiers became aware that in front,
behind, and on all sides, other Russian columns were moving in
the same direction. Every soldier felt glad to know that to the
unknown place where he was going, many more of our men were going
too.
"There now, the Kurskies have also gone past," was being said in
the ranks.
"It's wonderful what a lot of our troops have gathered, lads!
Last night I looked at the campfires and there was no end of
them. A regular Moscow!"

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