On the 28th, while Tchitchagoff on the right bank in vain endeavoured to drive Ney back upon the bridges, Wittgenstein, with vastly superior forces, attacked Victor, who still remained on the left bank with 6000 men to cover the retreat of his unhappy comrades. The first thunder of the artillery drove this confused mass pell–mell from their bivouacs to the bridge, and the first Russian bullet which fell among them seemed the signal of distraction and despair. The horrors of the scene which ensued are almost too great for description. The more desperate forced a way sword in hand through the crowd; others, prompted by a horrible avarice, crushed their fellow–creatures under their carriage–wheels, rather than abandon the booty hitherto preserved with such labour; while those who felt themselves unequal to the struggle sat apart in silence, their eyes fixed on the snow which was soon to be their tomb. Once driven from the direct passage, men struggled in vain to climb the sides of the bridge; they were mercilessly forced back into the river: even women, their infants in their arms, shared this fate. In the midst of this disorder the bridge for artillery broke, and all upon it, hurried on by the press, were ingulfed in the stream. The shriek of the perishing multitude rose high above the storm and the battle: a witness of the scene declared that for weeks that horrible sound never quitted his ears. Artillery and waggons then poured to the other bridge, and on the steep and icy bank whole ranks were prostrated under their wheels, or crushed between their unmanageable weights. The noise of the storm, the roaring of cannon, the combined whistling of the wind and bullets, the bursting of shells, the cries, the groans, the fearful imprecations of the crowd, united in as horrible a concert as ever was presented to human ears. At nine at night Victor, who till then had kept Wittgenstein in check, commenced his retreat, and opened a dreadful passage through the wretches whom he had hitherto defended. A rear–guard was still left, and the bridges were allowed to stand that night, but in vain; men seemed to lose their reason with their discipline, and to be stupified by the horrors of their situation. The baggage and plunder, to which they clung so obstinately, was burnt: still it was impossible to drive them on. The next morning the French set fire to the bridge, and numbers lost their lives in a final effort of despair, endeavouring to swim the icy river or to cross upon the burning rafters. After the thaw, according to the Russian reports, 36,000 bodies were found in the Beresina.[217]