by Väinö Linna
Sinkkonen had not forgotten Rokka’s spoon-wagging nor his lecture. His composure abandoned him and he nearly screamed, ‘Silence! Keep your mouth shut over there. You will go where I order you. Is that clear?’
Rokka smiled. But there was a menacing note behind the customary, playful calmness of his voice as he replied, ‘Now lissen, don’t you start talkin’ big with me. You know what happens when you start tryin’nat. You really think you can just slap those reins and make me jump for you like a new recruit?’
Without a word, Sinkkonen set off for the Company Command Post and returned with Lammio in tow. Lammio waited for the silence to intensify, and then said with frosty authority, ‘Corporal Rokka.’
‘What’ssa trouble, friend?’ His voice rang out with such wholesome innocence that the whole company had to laugh. Lammio glared at the men and said pointedly to Rokka, ‘You will stay in the NCO barracks just like the others. Is that clear?’
‘We’ll see ’bout that this evenin’. Now lissen, I don’t needa git into too much of a tizzy ’bout this here, but you wouldn’t happen’na know when we’re gonna git some leave now, would you, Louie? Here I am a family man and I been out here months already. Would you back me up if I put in a request?’
Lammio was once again uncertain whether Rokka was being direct with him or making fun of him. In any case, he was offended by the man’s disrespectful tone and said, ‘Corporal Rokka. As far as I am aware we have made no agreement to dispense with the customary formalities of address between an NCO and his commanding officer.’
‘Nope, we ain’t, but there ain’t no time like the present. Antero’s m’name. You can use it any time you like. I’ll just call you Louie ’stead a Lieutenant, since you’re a bit younger’n me, n’all.’
A low snickering rustled through the company. For the first time in his career, Lammio was at a loss. Threats of the court martial flashed through his head, but as pathetic as his instincts were, even he could tell that this time there was nothing more he could do. Rokka’s arrogance was so unshakeable that Lammio had taken it to be the product of pure simple-mindedness. But when he realized that Rokka understood precisely what he was doing, Lammio also gathered that the man wasn’t going to back down, even when faced with the strongest of military punishments: the death penalty. The issue was further complicated by the fact that the man in question was one of their best soldiers – and where would that leave them? Lammio still thought Rokka was trying to get away with bravado on account of his bravery, failing to grasp that these were two sides of the same coin.
Now Lammio was just looking for the best way out. He ordered the men to attention and rattled off, ‘I sentence Corporal Rokka to four days’ labor without relief as punishment for disrespecting a superior officer. The punishment is to be carried out in the form of four extra days of guard duty. At ease.’
Lammio rushed off, for fear that Rokka would do something to exacerbate the situation further.
Sinkkonen ordered the company to disperse and endeavored, unsuccessfully, to slip out of Rokka’s sight. Rokka grabbed hold of his shoulder strap and held it so tightly that the Master Sergeant was forced to halt. Rokka laughed, but it was precisely his laugh that Sinkkonen feared, for behind it lurked the menace of utter indifference. Sinkkonen sensed that, once the customary fear of disciplinary measures ceased to protect him, nothing, in fact, did.
‘Hear that, Master Sarge? I’m punished. Four days without relief. I’ll be damned if we didn’t do months and months without relief to git us out here in’na first place. You wanna tell me what I was bein’ punished for in’na Winner War when they kept me out in Taipale for three months without relief? You tell me that, Master Sarge!’
Sinkkonen stiffly muttered something about the necessity of discipline and Rokka shoved him away in contempt, laughing as he said, ‘Oh, we got discipline like you never dreamed of, Master Sarge. But hey, lissen here, you go your way and I go mine. We don’t git on so well the two of us, see?’
Sinkkonen hurried away, relieved to have got off so lightly. Rokka didn’t move into the NCO lodgings or perform any extra guard duty, and no one attempted to make him. The issue hadn’t actually been so important to him as all that, but they had certainly managed to make it important, so obviously he couldn’t back down. And so the Finnish soldier emerged victorious from one more struggle for independence.
The incident provoked restlessness within the company. There was a great deal of discussion about it that night, and then, to top it off, a rumor began circulating that they were going to be sent to the front. The men were feeling irritable, as the return to formal barracks living and boot camp-style discipline felt like an insult, particularly in light of their achievements that summer.
Lahtinen thought his moment had come, and started spouting off again about how everything would turn out in the end. ‘I mean, Timoshenko’s giving it to the SS over there in Rostov-on-Don, that’s all I’m sayin’. And you know how it goes: when the falls freeze, the ducks are fucked.’
‘I dunno,’ said Salo, who had also acquired a medal in the recent handout and so was in a mood to salute even the Master Sergeant. ‘As soon as summer comes back round, they’ll start drivin’ in those wedges with the tanks again.’
At three o’clock in the morning, the company was called to alert. The men awoke to see the officers moving about in full uniform, and immediately suspected what was afoot.
‘The company is preparing for departure. Vehicles arrive in one hour.’
Then came the cursing, followed by murmurs and whispers. ‘We’re not leaving.’
Lammio heard their murmuring, but pretended not take the least note of it. He ordered the men to hurry up. Some of them lethargically started gathering up their clothes, but most of them looked like they had no intention of going anywhere.
‘Hurry up, hurry up. We’ve only got one hour.’
‘We’re not leaving.’
Now even Lammio could no longer pretend not to hear. ‘Who said that?’
‘We’re not leaving.’
Murmurs rose here and there.
‘Is that so? I disagree. Anyone who is not ready for departure in one hour will present his case before the court martial.’
The men gathered in their quarters, urging one another not to leave. They appealed to the fact that they had been promised a long period of rest once the city had been taken. Actually, they hadn’t officially been promised anything. They had just harbored this hope themselves, and hope had given rise to rumor. The fact was, life in the city was good – too good, and it came as a sharp blow, suddenly, to have to leave it.
As usual, the majority of the group remained undecided, waiting to see which way the scales would tip. Lammio turned to the NCOs and ordered them to prepare for departure. He managed to get them moving, but the men did not follow. Time passed and Lammio was beginning to grow irritated. ‘I am saying this for the last time. Prepare to head out! Anyone who fails to follow orders will do well to remember that the maximum sentence for such an offense is the death penalty.’
‘Fuck it … our fire don’t hurt any worse than the Russkis’. Bring it on!’
‘Bring it on! Send the whole goddamn circus up in flames.’
‘Anyway, we’re not leaving without a change of company commander.’
‘Koskela for company commander! Then we’ll go.’
Lammio didn’t find this insulting in the least. It was genuinely inconceivable to him that he himself should be the object of the men’s distrust. ‘This is not some kind of Red Guard that elects its company commanders b
y shouting out votes. Is that clear? I am ordering you for the last time. After that I will advance to other measures.’
Koskela had remained silent the whole time, standing off to the side. Now he went over to his bed. Calmly, as if nothing had happened, he said, ‘Better get moving, I guess. The convoy’ll probably be late just like every other time, but anyway. Don’t take too much extra junk with you. The instruments are pretty nice to have around … I guess we can manage to take ’em along somehow or other.’
Slowly the men of the Third Platoon began to pack up their belongings. No one made a sound. The quiet lieutenant standing in the middle of the room was like some sort of solid, stilling force, draining them of all desire to protest. The most remarkable thing of all was that, in spite of everything, the men sensed that Koskela was on their side. The weight of his presence – of him, personally – compelled them to action, but it aroused no bitterness in them. It just felt evident and natural that they should leave, once Koskela had commanded it.
The men from the other platoons skulked by, hissing quietly so Koskela couldn’t hear, ‘You mean you’re leaving? Don’t back down now, damn it!’
‘What else are we supposed to do?’
The men in the Third Platoon were angry, as it felt rather awful to be the source of the splintering – still, it did not occur to any of them to go against Koskela. And with that, the whole company began preparing for departure. Backing down was easy for the rest of them. ‘What does it matter? If the Third Platoon’s going …’
Koskela was silent. His face was expressionless as he paced back and forth, but he was following the tenor of the company the whole time. He knew that the others would follow the Third Platoon; he was only a little afraid that Lammio would open his mouth again and turn the tide on the whole matter. But, luckily, even he remained silent.
This time, the convoy was prompt. They loaded up quickly, and the battalion set out. The first snow had fallen overnight and the vehicles roared through the city in its weak, glittering light, turning onto the south-bound road.
‘Where are they taking us?’ somebody asked Koskela.
‘The Svir. Sounds like they’ve crossed the river.’
‘Hey, Rokka! Cheer up! Looks like we’re all doin’ duty without relief – for who knows how many days!’ Hietanen wasn’t thinking of Vera. Their departure had banished any such thoughts from his mind. Only her Youth League pin remained, tucked in his wallet.
Rokka seemed the least bothered by the departure. ‘Sankia Priha the Great! Play us sumpin’ on’nat record-player a yours. It’ll work sittin’ in your lap, won’t it?’
Vanhala’s new name had been established. He set the gramophone in his lap and it started to play, skipping and jiggling. Rokka clapped his hands together, swayed his shoulders and sang, ‘Yokkantee and Yokkantee and yommaiyyaa …’
The silent, dusky forest flashed by along the roadside.
Chapter Nine
I
‘Come out,’ the Military Police Lieutenant commanded in a stiff, unnatural voice as he opened the sauna door. The guard standing beside it asked in a nervous rush, ‘Can I go now? You don’t need me anymore, do you?’
‘On your way.’
The guard practically sprinted away, as if afraid they might still call him back. The Lieutenant stepped back from the door, allowing the two privates to exit the sauna. They stopped just in front of the threshold and waited in silence. They saw the dim, winter morning just on the point of daybreak, and, above all, they saw the group of Military Police officers, the Lieutenant and the military judge standing off to the side. The army chaplain had left, as the men had refused to receive him.
One of the men was tall and carried himself very upright. He brushed his disheveled blond hair off his forehead. His face was strong and masculine, with a flinty toughness that was evident even in the dim light. He looked at the Lieutenant, but the latter averted his eyes, as if unable to endure that burning, penetrating gaze, which only the knowledge of imminent death can bring to a man’s eyes. The other fellow was smaller and seemed to emanate a sort of numb nervousness. He trembled silently the whole time, as if he were freezing. The blond fellow was twenty-five at most, his shorter companion already well into his thirties. Both were bare-headed and beltless, wearing their combat jackets.
The military judge read out the same sentence they’d heard the night before at the drumhead court martial. It felt strange to hear it announced so officially that they had abandoned their guard post and refused to return to it. Sure, they remembered it all right. And then they’d been brought before the court and sentenced to death. And that was it. The past eleven hours in the dark sauna had sufficed to make it clear to them what it all meant. They were finished. In truth, they were dead already, both of them. All that remained was the official confirmation. They had played out the whole execution in their minds so many times that the actual event no longer terrified them.
The older man was trying to distract himself so as to avoid thinking about the whole thing. The younger one, however, was seething with hatred for his executioners. The Military Police were the enemy, depriving him of his life. And he maintained his anger instinctively, as if he understood that it would keep his head upright and make death easier to face.
When the military judge had finished, the younger man hissed, ‘Gimme a cigarette, you motherfucking piece of shit.’
The military judge and the Lieutenant scrambled to pull out their cigarettes, racing to offer him one. The man’s swearing only seemed to increase their eagerness to serve him. The harried Lieutenant fumbled around for a light and some MP officers in the line rattled their matchboxes at him. Every one of them was eager to cater to even the smallest whim of the condemned.
The Lieutenant hesitated. Should he let the men finish their cigarettes, or get things moving right away? Dragging out the ordeal felt torturous. Better to get the thing over with as quickly as possible. He had ordered several people to be shot, of course, but they had all been either communists or enemy spies, so there was no question about shooting them. This was the first time he was executing their own soldiers.
The younger of the condemned men made his decision for him. ‘All right, butchers. Get to it. I’m getting chilly.’
The MP officers were startled by the shrill little laugh that slipped from the man’s mouth as he spoke. The other man just trembled like an aspen leaf, not saying anything, and obviously not seeing or hearing anything either.
‘Blindfolds,’ the Lieutenant said to his men. They hesitated.
‘You, go get them.’
‘I’m not going.’
‘Oh for fuck’s sake, don’t start squabbling. I’m not dying with a rag over my eyes. I think I’ve stared down more gun barrels from the front than you have from behind, even if you are executioners.’
‘And you? Would you like one?’ the Lieutenant asked the other man.
He just shook his head. Then the younger man stepped quickly over to the sauna wall and assumed his position. His companion followed suit. The MP officers fell into line, their guns grounded.
The order rang out. Rifles rose. The older man turned his head to the side and a quiet whimper escaped his lips. But the younger man stared straight down the gun barrel with such conviction that somehow he seemed more the condemner than the condemned. Just yesterday he had been an ordinary young man, who, in a moment of thoughtless defiance, had disobeyed a lieutenant whose arrogance he hated, just like everybody else in his company. This morning, having spent eleven hours in the dark sauna with death for company, he was a grown ma
n of great experience.
The rifles sounded in one, unified bang. The men beside the sauna wall sank into the snow. The MP officers hurried toward the bodies and gathered them up with gentle deference.
And one more incident receded into the past.
II
‘Attention!’
The battalion, assembled in the snowy forest clearing, stiffened to attention. Major Sarastie took out a sheet of paper and began to read. The men listened, a bit perplexed. They already knew what had happened. What was the point of reading it out? Two men had been executed because they had abandoned their guard post and refused to return to it. As soon as they’d heard that the sentence had been carried out, the men had gone after the MP officers who’d done the executing. They didn’t catch them, though – luckily, seeing as they were probably the least guilty of the parties responsible for the crime.
When the Major had finished reading his memo, he added, ‘So! This sentence was carried out as a reminder to the insubordinates out there that you do not joke with the army. I hope, and I trust, that in this battalion, such a reminder is not necessary. However, should the need arise, the Code of Military Justice will be brought to bear to the fullest extent of the law.’
Only now did the men understand why the notice was being read to them. They were being threatened. An attack on the Svir River had provoked a surprisingly strong resurgence of enemy activity, and the opponent they presumed to have been struck down now appeared quite capable of counter-attack. Sarastie’s battalion had been tasked with carrying out the counter-strike. It was merely as a precautionary measure, in other words – to foster the necessary spirit and morale amongst his men – that the Commander had decided to read his memo just before departure.