By the beginning of November there were sufficient biscuits left only to provide a small ration for the Guard, and horseflesh had become the staple diet of the army.
Berthier ordered all the cavalry that remained up to the van, so that no horse should die in the rear and remain uneaten. Through drinking horse blood, the beards that had sprouted on the faces of the men were soon stained red.
Apart from brewing tea, it was not until they actually began to feel the pangs of hunger that Roger permitted any of the private supplies he had brought to be broached for himself, Mary and Greuze. Moreover, much as he disliked horseflesh, whenever he could secure a hunk of it, he made Mary stew it for their supper, in order that their stock of special food should last longer. For such grim meals he was now thankful that he had bought the big slab of salt, as it counteracted the unpleasant, sweetish flavour of the meat.
The temperature had dropped to five degrees below, and was dropping further every day. The wind howled over the flat, desolate countryside, searing any portion of exposed flesh like fire. The flurries of snow increased to storms and, as each ceased, the sky was blue black, with more snow to come. The ground became one great sheet of white, with patches of snow covered trees in the distance. At night the men sat on their knapsacks, crouching over their bivouac fires, worn out and wretched; then slept either huddled in groups for mutual warmth, or sitting with their backs propped against the wheels of vehicles, for fear that if they lay down in the snow they would never wake up.
Owing to Roger's foresight, he and his two companions fared far better than the great majority. He had given his own sleeping bag to Greuze, and slept with Mary in the big one he had had made from the two fur carriage rugs. As a staff officer he still received a daily ration of cereal, a small portion of beef or pork, a potato and sometimes a carrot or other vegetable. The cereal he gave to the mule, in order to keep it alive as long as possible. The meat and vegetables went into the pot when they had a stew of horseflesh. On other nights Mary made a porridge out of their oatmeal or the flour that was issued to the N.C.O.s and men in the Emperor's entourage, and they nibbled a small piece of preserved fruit or marzipan, slowly so as to prolong the pleasure it gave them.
Apparently assuming that the men of the Grand Army would as soon die fighting as wait to be killed by cold, and would, therefore, put up a desperate resistance, Kutuzov husbanded the lives of his own men by refraining from launching a full scale attack. But every day and often at night the column was harassed by Cossacks; and, now that such horses of the Cavalry as remained were too weak to be spurred into more than an amble, and so could no longer charge, the raiders became ever more daring.
Men who had brought food of their own were now more than ever loath to share it with their comrades; so, to escape being begged for a trifle, or having to fight to keep what they had, many of them formed the habit of going off into the woods, where they lit small fires and cooked themselves a meal. But they did so at their peril. The snow muffled the sound of approaching hoof beats; so even in broad daylight any man who was out of sight of the column was liable to be surprised and slain by the Cossacks before he could get back to it.
Head bowed against the piercing wind, the Emperor rode, or often walked. The weaker men had to rest more frequently than their comrades. This was daily causing the units to become more inextricably mixed, and discipline had broken down to a point where many of the commanding officers had given up trying to keep their men together. Instinctively, they collected round Napoleon, spontaneously forming a body guard that, from lack of other occupation, helped to erect the headquarters' marquees every night and to collect fuel for the fires. As there was no organized fighting, the A.D.Cs had no duties, so Roger rode up to join the staff only for a short while two or three times a day, and was able to spend the rest of the time with Mary and Greuze. Both of them were well nourished so were able to keep going as gamely as the stronger men; but young Greuze felt the cold so badly that his face was often blue with it and, although Mary kept her hands in her muff whenever she could, she suffered severely from chilblains.
Ever since the battle of Malo-Jaroslavitz, the army had left behind an increasingly thick trail marking its passage. There were the skeletons of horses and, as more and more of them died, wagons, limbers and carts had to be abandoned. As the wounded and the less robust of the younger conscripts became weaker, more and more of them dropped behind to be butchered by the Cossacks. The men now had no use for women. As the number of carts that had to be pulled by hand increased, and the strength of the men declined, the Russian whores who had ridden out of Moscow were forced to walk. All but the most robust among them staggered on for a day or two then, fatigued beyond bearing, collapsed and died at the roadside. Even the toughest of the old soldiers found themselves unable to continue to carry the great loads of loot with which they had started out. Boxes, bundles and baskets were thrown down with bitter curses, and soon covered with the all pervading snow.
At last Vyazma came in sight. The pace of the column quickened. Eagerly the men hurried forward, expecting to find food and shelter. But the town was a burnt out wreck, the stores in it had been greatly depleted to maintain the garrison, and they were busily employed in sharing out what remained among themselves before joining in the great retreat.
The General commanding the garrison there had bad news for the Emperor. On the left General Tchitchagov had chased Schwarzenberg right back to Brest-Litovsk, and on the right St. Cyr had been driven out of Polotsk; so both flanks of the main army were now unprotected.
To escape the danger, Napoleon pushed ahead with only the Guard and the Westphalians. Miloradovitch attacked the corps of Poniatowski and Davout as they hurried after the Emperor, leaving behind hundreds of stragglers who were too weak to increase their pace. Ney's corps, hotly pursued by Platoff's Cossacks, was the last to get through the town, and, only by setting fire to what remained of it, succeeded in temporarily checking their pursuers.
The first week of November took a terrible toll of the marchers. At times blizzards of blinding snow made it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. The roads became icy. Scores of men slipped and broke ankles or legs and had to be left to perish where they fell. The troops were also afflicted by a strange sickness for which no one could provide an explanation. Men who were still comparatively hearty would suddenly appear to become drunk, stagger on for a few paces, then pitch forward, dead, into the snow. On the 7th of the month fifty of Ney's men perished in this way.
By then the road ahead was clear of obstacles only for the vanguard. Increasingly, toward the rear, men had to step over, or go round, others who were dead or dying; abandoned carts and wagons had been left in the middle of the highway because everyone was husbanding his strength and no one would give the effort needed to haul them off the road. Every step had to be watched by the marchers, who trudged on bent nearly double against the driving blizzards; otherwise they would have tripped over the endless variety of items, already half-hidden by the snow, that had been cast aside as too heavy to carry any longer.