The first Sevastopol Sketch focuses on December of 1854.

Sevastopol is a name of Greek origin and is a well-known port city in Crimea. Before it was Ukrainian -- and before it was Russian or under Russian occupation -- it was part of the Crimean Khanate, heavily influenced by the Ottomans. Greek names were stamped on conquered cities just north of the Black Sea (think also Melitopol, Mariupol, and Kherson) by Czars & Czarinas as a show of respect for Greek culture. Notably, Greeks had a presence there going back thousands of years.

The first Sketch focuses on a sunrise to sunset amidst the Siege. We take in Sevastopol through the perspective of an officer and get closer to the infamous bastions as the day goes on.

Around 8 a.m., you (the officer) take notice of the rising sun above Sapun Ridge, which rises 240 meters. There is a changing of the guard, a soldier washing his face in frigid water, as well as doctors and nurses reporting to their stations. Life gets moving amidst the backdrop of death, which you can observe through wagons transporting the departed.

You traverse a muddy beach, passing over a dead horse, and get into a small boat pulled by an old man and boy. The vessel sails around a disabled warship and soon reaches a wharf near the city center. Sevastopol remains a traditional city but has also become a war encampment. The surface bears the scars of cannon fire. There is a bustle – smoking, chatting, gambling and arguing. You take in: Cossacks with their horses, women with their children, and trades-folk. All their faces express enthusiasm in carrying on. Nobody is paralyzed by fear.

Most importantly, you approach the Sevastopol Assembly Hall, which is serving as a hospital. You enter to the sights, sounds and smell of the wounded. Some are in hammocks, but the majority are on the floor. You are overcome through absorbing the pervasive suffering. You address a few of the men and they respond to your empathy. You meet one who lost his leg, who graciously thanks God that he will get his discharge. He tells you that it is best not to dwell. You come across housewives, one visiting her husband and another who was severely wounded while delivering food to her husband. You come across a blonde man with swollen face and labored breathing who is near death. You sense his internal fire of pain. You see an old gaunt solder changing his clothes. His body displays a lifetime of hardship. You can’t find words to convey your admiration.

You take in the horrors of the operating area. Sleepless doctors are at work administering chloroform and hacking limbs. You see repeated -- the placing a sharp curved knife into a healthy part of the body and the men coming to with piercing cries. What follows is an arm or leg being thrown onto a pile. The men in queue for such treatment obsess over the terror that lies ahead.

Tolstoy’s point is that such is the reality of War, not the music and drum beats and gallantry, and waving flags. This is the grim nature of suffering and death.

You leave and head to an actual bastion. You reflect on what you observed and grasp your insignificance. You take a moment to behold the majestic sky -- The Lord’s sky. For any War & Peace reader, this scene bring to mind Andrei on the field of Austerlitz, gazing from the grass at the brilliant sky. Your mind soars above the fine city with a lovely church; and Your mind is restored.