Everything in the Gita reaches the reader at two removes, and the frame is worth noticing before the content. The battlefield conversation is being reported by Sanjaya, the minister of the blind king Dhritarashtra, who has been given the ability to see and hear events at a distance. The first words of the book are not Krishna's or Arjuna's but Dhritarashtra's, asking what his sons and the sons of Pandu did when they gathered to fight. The last words are Sanjaya's. The whole discourse sits inside that question and that answer.
This does several things at once. It puts a listener between the reader and the teaching, so the reader is never quite in Arjuna's position, always slightly behind Sanjaya. It gives the text a witness, which matters for a tradition that will treat these verses as revealed. And it makes the audience a man who cannot see and whose refusal to restrain his sons caused the war, which colours every line about attachment and consequence that follows.
The chapter fills its opening verses with names. Duryodhana points out the commanders on both sides to his teacher, the elder Bhishma blows his conch, and the answering conches of the Pandava side are named one by one, each with its own title. The catalogue is doing what catalogues do in epic: it establishes scale and stakes before anything is at risk. By the time Arjuna asks to be driven forward, the reader knows precisely who is standing in the line he is about to look at.