So passed a whole week, my first week after marrying the beautiful eight pounder: the honeymoon of an artillery sergeant, the happiest week of my life! I kept busy every moment, in the belief that I had already achieved the purpose of my existence in world; my soul went completely into the beloved cannon.
Meanwhile we drew closer and closer to the banks of the Vistula; ice was already giving way in many places and here and there you could see water appearing. Our colonel, with a long pole in his hand, was first to go through the ice, wading in the water up to his knees, then he ordered us to follow him. Follow him with our cannons over such weak ice? At this order I went pale as death, because our entire military future could drown. In the end we passed happily and we stopped on the opposite bank with the shout: Long live Poland!
That same evening saw the joining of the corps, with the front sent from Warsaw. They awaited us impatiently; because young soldiers have an elevated opinion of the power of artillery, and it worried them very much that on the eve of the expected battle they had no cannons. Having heard the rattle of cannon wheels, the whole camp lost possession of itself in joy: “our artillery approaches! Long live the artillery!” they called from all sides and ran to meet us, and placed us in the centre of the camp.
We also enthusiastically greeted our comrades. Until then marching in loneliness, now we were in a crowd of brave soldiers, whose number gave itself significance to the eye. That raised our confidence. Only altogether there weren't more than twelve squadrons, filling a wide area. Proudly we looked at a forest of stuck lances, on which new flags sparkled with colours, still not knowing blood or dust. After a cheerful and grand supper we lay down to sleep, swung with the sound of military music and the singing of the mazurka.
At dawn, when our corps entered the village, mixed shouts reached us. We pulled in; they sent for reconnaissance and it turned out that these were shouts of victory! The first triumph! You should have seen, how pleased we were with them. These Cossacks, bearded, disarmed, walked with heads lowered and with sour expressions. 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”… 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.