by Väinö Linna
‘We’ve got the same kind.’
‘Yeah, but I heard our machine gun has knocked off the most. We’ve got this corporal. Might even get a Mannerheim Cross soon. Guy from Kannas.’
‘We’ve got some pretty tough guys over here too.’
‘But there’s this one guy at our post who’s a real daredevil. Just yesterday he yelled over at the neighbors, even though it made them pepper the area so damn hard the whole forest was shaking.’
The new arrivals made their coffee substitute and drank it together. The owner of the mess kit admired the new soot that had accumulated on its side. Almost like the combat vets’ tins.
They whispered amongst themselves in a corner of the bunker, conscious of the childishness of their conversation. Hauhia had more to brag about because he was on his own – and so without anyone to rein in his imagination.
‘All right, bums.’ (Hauhia was from the country, but he had made friends with the ‘Helsinki crowd’ while at the training center.) ‘When are we gonna get leave? The older guys’ll rotate out first, of course, but we’re next in line.’
‘Thank goodness machine-gunners don’t have to go out on patrols.’
‘You can volunteer. But it’s not required.’
‘Don’t think I’ll be volunteering.’
‘I don’t know. Might be nice to go see what’s going on. That Rokka guy said something about taking me with him if he went out sometime. That’s the corporal I was just talking about. But hey, I’ve gotta be back on guard duty at two. Come by our bunker round four, when I get off duty. Take the communication trench, but remember, don’t raise your head. Lead poisoning is fucking dangerous. Bring some sugar with you, we can make some coffee. I’ll let Koskela know, the boss I mean. And you don’t have to be all official in front of him. That kind of stuff makes him laugh. I was really casual with him right away.’
‘Oh we don’t do any of that official stuff. This morning I was sitting in front of the bunker when the commander for this whole stronghold arrived. And I just pretended I didn’t even notice him.’
‘Don’t forget to come. You’ll even get to see some Russki-rot. There’s fourteen of them. Almost reached our positions. Must have been in a pretty tight spot at some point.’
‘There’s dead guys here too. The neighbors even took this spot and held it for a couple of hours. The guys said they used hand grenades to get it back. Even the bunker was so covered in bodies that there wasn’t even space to put your foot down.’
‘Our position’s never been taken. The guys load up all the barrels to stop them in their tracks before they get there. But we’re headed up to Million pretty soon. Guys get killed up there all the time. Well, see you later.’
Hauhia hadn’t even noticed that he was already sort of aping Rokka’s gestures and tone of voice. Once he was back at his bunker, he kept glancing restlessly at the time. He was annoyed with himself for having told his friends about what friendly terms he was on with Koskela. And now when they came … He tried to address Koskela casually a couple of times, so he’d be more used to it, but the words evaporated in his mouth every time. Finally, timidly, he began, ‘Have you been the leader of this platoon for a long time, Lieutenant, si—?’
‘Since peacetime,’ Koskela said flatly.
‘You must be a regular commissioned officer, then.’
‘Overtime. Means I’m a reserve officer in a regular officer’s job.’
‘Were you in the army already in the Winter War, si—?’
‘Yup.’
‘As a platoon leader?’
‘Yup, there too. I was a squad leader first, then a platoon leader. But I dropped back to company commander by the end.’
‘What do you mean “dropped back”, si—? Ahem … ahem,’ Hauhia coughed awkwardly.
‘Well, by that time the company didn’t have more than sixteen men left in the ranks. My platoon had at least thirty to start out with.’
‘Did you destr—, ahem, bust up any tanks?’
‘A couple that had been buried underground in Lemetti. But Hietanen over there’s the one that blew up a KV.’
‘Oh yeah? You knock it out with a satchel charge?’ (Hauhia was already as comfortable with Hietanen as he was with his friends.)
‘Mine. Look, don’t believe all that stuff guys tell you about fighting tanks. Most of the folks talking about that stuff never seen a tank in their lives. I was such a panicked wreck when I threw that mine, even I hardly know what happened. And I guess I was shaking a good ten minutes afterwards too – so much I couldn’t even get a cigarette to stay in my mouth. Even now I sometimes have these dreams that I’m watching that tank track moving underneath its fender just about to drive right over me. Then I wake up in this horrible sweat … I just hope I never see another contraption like that as long as I live.’
Koskela looked up from the Karelian News and said, ‘You can head out there by yourself now. But if you’re not feeling too sure yet, you can just say so. You don’t have to go alone. I can come along, or Hietanen here, if you want.’
‘No … no, I can manage.’
‘Don’t doubt that at all. I’m just afraid you don’t quite realize how dangerous it is out there in the quiet. Just don’t raise your head! Only look out through the mirror. And don’t take any unnecessary shots. Do not shoot, even if you see something – unless they’re actually making a run at us. Keep an eye on the nearby surroundings, too, they’re pretty crafty in snatching prisoners. Once they came up on a guy from behind and seized him in broad daylight. But if something happens, don’t panic. Just shoot immediately, don’t hesitate and stay calm. Striking first is half the game. And don’t rely on the fact that the infantry guy on guard is keeping watch. He’s probably thinking the same thing about you. Maybe I’ll go with you.’
‘I’ll be fine!’ Hauhia burst out, and then he left a few minutes early, as opposed to the old guys who always tried to shave a few minutes off their turns in the changeover.
‘Remember what I told you, now!’ Rokka called after him.
‘Can’t do more than that,’ Koskela said. ‘Guy’s been given all the advice there is.’
Hauhia went to relieve Vanhala from his post. He bounded eagerly over to his station and gave a Rokka-like shout, knowingly using Vanhala’s nickname: ‘All right, Sankia Priha, off with you!’
‘I hereby hand over responsibility for the front. There’s some infantry guy’s rifle in the shelter, but don’t use it unless you have to. Bastards’ll make you into a hero real quick. You just stay here real quiet and grow into one of Finland’s terrifying deep-forest warriors.’
Hauhia turned the mirror. He looked at the outlines of the gun-nests set against the smoky afternoon sky. All was calm, drowsy and still. Even the faint, far-off rumble of cannon fire over toward Bulaeva didn’t seem to disrupt the sleepy atmosphere of the front. An unbroken silence reigned. Even the dark bodies lying out in front of their positions seemed to have hardened into place ages ago, melting into the general stillness.
When he’d had his fill of looking around, Hauhia dug out some paper from his shirt pocket and started writing on top of a cigarette crate. He felt slightly guilty doing so, but tried to mitigate his guilt by glancing up at the mirror every time he’d written two or three words.
Each time he checked the bodies and counted them, afraid there would be too many. Some living guy might have crawled in amongst them and might be lying in wait, ready to pounce. Hauhia had heard of things like that happening.
Suddenly a shell went off on Mount Million, and Hauhia
dropped for cover, then remembered the previous evening and straightened himself up right away. A dozen or so shells went off in the space of half a minute.
Hauhia stopped writing and started looking at the machine gun. It, too, was mute and still. But to Hauhia, the dead object seemed mute precisely because in his mind, it was capable of speech. It was like a story locked in steel. Hauhia imagined this story in his head, mostly false and unfounded, like the stories the Information Bureau fed to people who couldn’t tell the difference. He hadn’t seen the faces unnaturally distorted with anxiety behind it, nor heard the hoarse, panicked screams and commands, the nervous swearing and cursing, nor Kaukonen’s moan as he died with his face pressed into these handles. He knew nothing of the dark, rainy autumn night when it had lain beside the muddy path, the night that Lehto and Riitaoja had died.
‘Good-looking gun. I wonder if there’s water in the jacket? Be nice to rattle off a few rounds.’ Hauhia looked through the periscope and gave an exclamation of surprise. A helmet was moving in one of the nests. Now it was still. Hauhia seized the rifle from the shelter, repeating to himself in justification, ‘I won’t shoot it, but just in case.’
He looked out again. The helmet was still there. For a while the urge to hunt and the fear of disobedience battled it out in his mind. Then he stepped into one of the machine-gunners’ nests and carefully raised his head. ‘Immediately … before he has a chance … I’ll stick these twigs in front … they won’t be able to see from way over there …’
He set a juniper branch in the nest’s open slit, stuck in the gun and, hands trembling with excitement, tried to focus the helmet in the sight. He retained consciousness just long enough to feel the sharp blow strike his head and see stars fade into view before he thudded to the trench floor and blacked out.
V
Vanhala’s gramophone was now equipped with a new spring and some Finnish records its owner had brought back with him from his leave. Their favorite, ‘Life in the Trenches’, was spinning round at the moment and Rahikainen was lying on his bunk singing along.
When the bend in the road led to war
no one knew what our lives held in store
which of us would return from the trenches
which of us, disappear evermore.
Life out here in the trenches, you see
was the lot cast us by destiny
And it may be destiny’s ending
that the bullets one day sing for me.
Rahikainen had a good voice, and he could even hit the high notes with no greater strain than a slightly furrowed brow. Vanhala was cracking up at the song’s wistful, naïve lyrics, and at the sight of wily Rahikainen crooning with such heartfelt devotion.
Come my fair-haired beloved to me
bind my wounds, keep your love company
surely you wouldn’t leave me to wither
you who know what my suff’ring must be.
In this land where I cry out in pain
to the tune of the bullets’ refrain …
Rahikainen suddenly interrupted his song. Revealing that it occupied his thoughts only marginally, and that he was in fact preoccupied with more important questions, he said, ‘No, I gotta start exportin’ over to the neighbors’ sectors. This market’s gettin’ too saturated. How many you got finished over there?’
‘This fella here makes eight. Whadda I engrave on here? “1942”? “Svir, 1942”? Lissen, Rahikainen, we can cook up a new model. Then they’ll keep sellin’ here in our sector. Fellas’ll buy more if it’s sumpin’ new.’
‘How about the Coat of Arms with the Lion of Finland?’
‘Picture from the five-mark coin? Price’s gotta go up five marks then.’
‘They’ll go for it. Long as you do a nice job.’
Rokka was just hurrying to get down to work, when the cow bell hanging from the ceiling began to ring. The wire coming from the guard post was moving.
Koskela rose. ‘What’s that boy up to?’
‘Alarm.’
Chaos set in. They yanked their boots onto their feet, grabbed their weapons from the rack and, thus equipped, ran for the trench. Honkajoki seized his bow and arrow, but he did at least take along a real gun as well. Vanhala remembered Rahikainen’s song and giggled as he climbed the stairs, ‘To the bullets’ refrain! Heehee. As chaos rages, heehee!’
The bunker was empty. In their hurry, no one had thought to stop the gramophone, so ‘Life in the Trenches’, having played to the end, was now scraping out, ‘eeeyaow, eeeyaow, eeeyaow’.
As soon as the men were outside, they quickly gathered that there was no attack underway, since the infantry platoon hadn’t been called to alert. So it was just something concerning their guard. As they advanced toward the guard post, they suspected that the inexperienced Hauhia had panicked, and so sounded the alarm. Things became more complicated, however, when they saw that the guard post was empty.
‘Something’s up over there,’ Koskela said, dreading what it might be.
The face of the guard approaching them in the trench told all. The man looked earnest and rather pale, though his voice was brusque as he said, ‘Better send up a new guard and cross the old one off the ration list.’
‘Sniper?’
‘Yeah. That gun was over there on the parapet. I guess he meant to shoot it, but the bullet never left the barrel. A helmet popped up across the way, but it was so absurdly high it must have just been bait. Then there came a bang and I suspected he’d raised his head up to peek so I came over. Then I sounded your guys’ alarm.’
‘Goddamn it! What did the lil’ monkey do that for? And after I just spent four hours tellin’ him about that exact thing! If he’d a lived, I’d be givin’ that boy a swift kick in’na rear.’
‘Shouldn’t have been out here alone yet.’
‘Yeah, though nobody can say that he didn’t know,’ Koskela said.
‘None of us got half as much advice as he did.’
‘No, we didn’t.’
And so they ceded responsibility to fate.
Hauhia lay crumpled on the trench floor. In the middle of his brow, perfectly centered between his eyes, there was a small, blue hole. The point of entry had not a single drop of blood along its edges, but the back of the boy’s head had been partially blown off. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight in itself, but even so, somehow or other the boy’s accidental death felt more horrible than the others that had occurred amongst them. Most of the men were only a couple of years older than Hauhia, but even so, he somehow seemed like a child to them, and that made his fate even more upsetting.
Rahikainen took over for the rest of the guard shift and the others carried the body to the bunker. They set it in the front entryway and wrapped it in tent tarps. Koskela notified Lammio and Kariluoto of the incident and requested a heavy barrage on the Devil’s Mound. Artillery fire had not previously been allowed without permission from the Commander, save to counter an enemy attack, and in order to obtain permission Koskela told Sarastie that he had seen a lot of movement up on the hill. Sarastie wondered why the Artillery Commander hadn’t notified him of the commotion, but he trusted Koskela so unconditionally that he granted permission. The men, too, were amazed at how naturally lying came to Koskela.
‘Let the damned pigs squeal a little while,’ Koskela said as he lay down on his bunk. ‘The kitchen cart can take the boy back.’
They waited awhile, and soon the bunker windows began to rattle with the pressure of the first blasts a couple of miles off.
‘It’s the big gun over in Itävaara.�
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‘Could be Korvenkylä.’
‘Nope. When’na fellas fire from Korvenkylä they hit to the right a that pine there. Lissen’na the rumble.’
Even quiet Susling said bitterly, ‘Just git ’em good this time.’
For once they really did hate the enemy. Practically a crime, beating that kid to the punch. In any case, whatever the reason, Hauhia’s death was a much more powerful agent in stirring their fighting spirit than the Military Police’s execution of those two men by the sauna wall.
The barrage was still underway when Hauhia’s friends arrived at the bunker. They had seen the body wrapped in tent tarps in the entryway, but in their state of anxiety at the explosions, they hadn’t looked at it very closely. There were four of them, two infantry guys and the two replacements. Frightened, they scuttled quickly into the bunker, sugar cubes and rye crispbreads in their pockets. The first fellow stood at attention and said, ‘Lieutenant, sir! We’re here to see Private Hauhia. We were all in the same group.’
Rokka polished a ring. The others lay silent. Nobody wanted to be the one to tell the boys what had happened, so the task fell to Koskela.
‘The unfortunate fact of the matter is that we’ve lost Hauhia. Sniper got him. Body’s back there in the entryway.’
The boys tried to retreat behind one another’s backs, embarrassed to be seen by this officer. The ones furthest back hesitatingly made movements to leave. Then Koskela added, ‘Look, we have to take lessons from one another. Your own experience sometimes comes too late. Now, believe me when I tell you guys that games and reality are never far apart out here. They’re all mixed up together.’
‘Yes sir, Lieutenant.’
‘Can we see him?’
‘If you want. But make sure you wrap him back up properly.’
The boys didn’t linger in the entryway long. They felt the same way the others had felt looking at Vuorela one year before. Glassy eyes, twisted gums, contorted, yellowed skin.