At Leipzig, our small Prussian batallion faced a much larger line of Poles and Young Guard infantry. They came at us, we marched towards them, and then about 20 meters the lines stopped and both sides jeered at eachother. This continued for like a minute, when suddenly someone shouted 'Zuruck!'. We broke. And ran. The batallion was shattered, and we had to regroup a good distance behind, around the flag.
Much more awesome and accurate than dying. There's truly nothing like running like hell.