Crowds of men of various arms wounded and unwounded, with frightened faces, dragged themselves back to Mozhaysk from the one army, and back to Valuevo from the other. Other crowds, exhausted and hungry, went forward led by their officers. Others held their ground and continued to fire. Over the whole field, previously so gaily beautiful with the glitter of bayonets and cloudlets of smoke in the morning sun, there now spread a mist of damp and smoke and a strange acrid smell of salpetre and blood

Clouds gathered, and drops of rain began to fall on the dead and wounded, on the frightened, exhausted, and hesitating men, as if to say: 'Enough, men! Enough! Cease...bethink yourselves! What are you doing?' To the men of both sides alike, worn out by want of food and rest, it began equally to appear doubtful whether they should continue to slaughter one another, all the faces expressed hesitation, and the question arose in evvery soul: 'For what, for whom, must I kill or be killed?...You may go and kill whom you please, but I don't want to do so any more!'