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Kutuzov is in his tent, listening to people bringing him reports about the battle. He’s not focusing on the details of what people are saying to him – he’s just kind of taking in the whole mood and feel of the place and their tone of voice and general demeanor. He knows that nothing he says is going to matter too much, so he just puts his finger on the pulse of the battle and keeps it there while looking as calm as possible.
When good news comes – like that the Russians captured one of the French generals – Kutuzov sends messengers out to spread the info to the soldiers. Always good to boost that morale.
Finally, at 2 pm the battle is over.
Kutuzov is happy, but his age is showing. He’s doing that old man slumping-over-falling-asleep thing.
He has dinner with a German adjutant who busts out, out of nowhere, with info that the Russian army has lost.
Kutuzov is all, check yourself before you wreck yourself, you idiot.
He tells the German to send word to Barclay that tomorrow they are going to attack the French, who have already been decimated.
Talking to Raevsky, the general in charge of retaking the battery barrow, Kutuzov writes out the order to attack the next day, and even before he sends the order out, somehow everyone in the army knows this bit of news, and it cheers all the soldiers right up. It’s the magic of army life, apparently.