Unknown Soldiers

by Väinö Linna

  That evening Vanhala thought he’d put on the gramophone, but Koskela said, clearing his throat, ‘Maybe not today, OK? We’ll put it on again tomorrow.’

  He had taken Hauhia’s half-written letter, thinking it might be better that it not end up in the hands of his family.

  Out here, somewhere 10/8/’42

  Dear Family,

  I am now on the front line. There’s a lot of explosions out here. I arrived with some friends last night and now I’m standing guard. I forgot to ask the Lieut’ for the postal code for this sector, but I’ll fill it in at the end. There are bodies lying all over the place. They weren’t shot down that long ago, but they are already full of worms. Put lots of salt in the meat when you send it. Packages take a long time to get here. A barrage just started over at the neighboring position. We’re supposed to go up there soon, but don’t you worry, I’ll be fine …

  Chapter Twelve

  I

  Vultures circle eyeing bloodied heroes dying –

  Of this endless slaughter will we never be relieved?

  Blood-thirsty souls slurping gore, raven swarms lurking –

  Not until the Finnish people’s freedom is achieved.

  ‘Blood-thirsty souls slurping gore! Heehee …’ Vanhala was chanting his satirical verses again, though his own blood had been running rather thin for a while there. He had volunteered to go out on a patrol, or rather he had traded one of the infantry guys four shifts of guard duty in exchange for a patrol. He had returned pale-faced with a bullet in his side. Now he was back from the military hospital, but in his extended absence the others had come to realize just how important the little giggler was to them. When someone gazing out of the bunker window spotted Vanhala returning from sick leave, they all rushed out to meet him, shouting raucous welcome greetings, and Sankia Priha’s face, grown rounder with his leave, stretched wide into a hearty grin.

  Honkajoki was hard at work on his perpetual-motion machine, which was always just on the point of reaching completion. Rokka had given up his ring scheme in favor of a lamp-stand manufacturing operation, and Rahikainen had stayed on as sales manager. Rokka wasn’t a shabby salesman himself, but this arrangement allowed him more time to work. Määttä was awarded another stripe, but other than that, the life of the platoon continued on uneventfully. Even their autumn ‘turn on the Millions’ came and went without any casualties.

  With the start of a new year, they began to receive impassioned bits of news, courtesy of the Devil’s Mound. The fighting at Stalingrad was nearing its end, and things were not looking good – and the urging and entreaties of previous propaganda broadcasts had been replaced by a threatening, frightening confidence in certain victory. It was during this time that Honkajoki’s bow became legendary. It was their new secret weapon, in which all hopes were invested, and Honkajoki paraded from bunker to bunker lecturing about it.

  ‘Bottle up one of “Onega’s Waves” now so you’ll have something to remember her by when you retreat!’ the loudspeaker would declare, to Vanhala’s untold amusement. Once he’d been listening to the radio at the neighboring position when, right in the middle of the soldiers’ evening prayer service, interference crackled into the background, shrieking, ‘Blast those bridges, boys!’

  The startling contrast had set Vanhala giggling for weeks.

  Little by little the idea of defeat settled in. The army made no effort to fend it off, save a few senseless, small-scale charades. A few lively diversions and wood-chopping tasks were devised to keep their spirits up. The men in the trenches knew perfectly well what was coming, but they soldiered on with determined nonchalance.

  Kariluoto went off to the Army Academy and returned a captain upon completion of his course. He was immune to the general lowering of spirits, his recent engagement having distracted him from any concerns about the future of the homeland. Inhabitants of the Third Company bunker became thoroughly acquainted with the virtues of a certain girl by the name of Sirkka. Like all lovers, Kariluoto naturally assumed that everyone took great interest in his happiness, and anyone who could bring himself to lend him an ear would never stop hearing about the girl. A certain telephone operator had become engaged around the same time, and so instantly became Kariluoto’s bosom buddy – in so far as a captain and a private can be bosom buddies, that is.

  Lammio had already been made a captain as well. He hadn’t changed in the least – at least, not for the better; and as the situation deteriorated, he figured that the only way to combat it was to enforce tighter discipline. Koskela wasn’t promoted, for the evident reason that there were no positions above his open in the battalion, and Sarastie was reluctant to lose him to another, even if the Regiment Commander had suggested such a possibility. So, Koskela was paid in decorations, and to ease his own feelings of responsibility, Sarastie repeatedly promised him that the next company commander post to open up was his.

  Koskela himself wasn’t particularly concerned about the matter. He had firmly resolved to leave the army as soon as the war was over, so he had no particular use for promotions. He lay on his bunk and took part in the quiet life of his platoon just as he always had.

  The winter passed and a new summer came. Germany’s defeat became ever more apparent, and Salo alone was able to hang on to his faith. Even the events in Italy didn’t rattle him. Whispers about his steadfast devotion circulated amongst the others, and after each notice of a defeat somewhere, somebody would bait him, ‘Seems like now might be a good time to pull out those secret weapons, don’t you think?’

  But Salo would just gaze over their heads into the beyond and say, ‘They’ll come. They’ll come … They’re just waitin’ for the enemy to get closer before unleashing ’em. I heard they got some eight-inchers over there behind the lines. There’ll be plenty of iron all right, once they decide to let ’er rip.’

  ‘Well, I’ll be darned. In that case we ain’t got nothin’na worry about!’ Rokka said – and still Salo managed to remain uncertain whether he was being mocked.

  A quiet bitterness had appeared in Rokka, making itself felt now and again. He knew that the ring money he’d sent down to Kannas for the new house had all been for nothing. He wouldn’t live in that house. The firmer this conviction grew in his mind, the more resentful he became of the officers’ ongoing rivalry in kitting out their bunkers. ‘Now they’re makin’ log lounge chairs. Guess those fellas think we’re gonna be sittin’ back by the fireside ’til kingdom come.’

  One afternoon in the summer of 1943, he was sitting on guard duty, carving decorations into a curly-birch table lamp-stand when a colonel suddenly took him by surprise. The ‘surprise’, in truth, was purely the product of the Colonel’s imagination, as of course Rokka had noticed him a way off and just hadn’t bothered to hide the piece of wood. The Colonel was some sort of inspector charged with taking stock of who knows what. He was on a typical inspection round, deemed necessary for whatever reason, collecting observations to compile into some kind of high management report, which would be distributed amongst the divisions, and possibly even read by somebody somewhere before being shoved into a file.

  The Colonel was not particularly different from any other Finnish colonel, and dreamt up nothing more than the trusty classic, ‘Well, well, what have we here? What do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘Standin’ guard. And you know, a guard’s a kinda fella you shouldn’t just up and yell at … on account a he’s got great responsibilities to attend to.’ The Colonel’s tone of voice had made Rokka bristle instantly. He sat carving his lamp-stand in defiance, thoug
h not without glancing up into the periscope sharply and frequently.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Carvin’ a lamp-stand. Ain’t you got eyes? But it’s got its shape pretty good now. Gonna be a beauty that’s hard to beat.’

  ‘Don’t you know you’re on guard duty?’

  ‘Sure do. Why else’d I be out here? You can see for yourself I’m on guard duty, sittin’ here lookin’ in’na periscope! That’s what bein’ on guard duty is.’

  ‘What is your name?’

  ‘Rokka, Antero. No middle name.’

  ‘You’ll hear about this.’

  The Colonel left. Rokka continued to sit calmly, carving and keeping watch. He didn’t say anything of the incident to the others in the bunker, and he was already beginning to think that maybe the Colonel’s threat had been empty when he didn’t hear anything more about it for two days. But at the end of the second day, Koskela received a phone call from Lammio with orders to send Rokka and his squad to clean up the area around the command post and decorate the path with some rounded stones along the sides. Koskela didn’t quite follow the whole command, as it sounded too absurd, even coming from Lammio. But he replied carefully into the phone, ‘Yup. I’ll convey the order.’

  This ‘convey’ was Koskela’s way of establishing that he did not stand behind the command. And in a voice that announced as much, he repeated the order to Rokka. The latter was silent for a moment, then said perfectly calmly, ‘If anybody want’ssa go, you all feel free. I ain’t goin’.’

  ‘Why, without our leader?’ Rahikainen exclaimed, aghast. ‘But how’re a bunch of bumblin’ privates supposed to manage all by ourselves?’

  ‘Decorate with stones, he said …? Heeheehee!’ Vanhala snickered, giving no indication of leaving. Susling’s vote obviously fell with Rokka, as he followed his friend unconditionally.

  Koskela notified Lammio of the group’s refusal, adding stiffly that he would not personally get involved any more than his position required – in other words, issuing the command and notifying them upstream of the men’s refusal to comply. Lammio then ordered Rokka to the command post, to which Rokka replied, ‘Sure, why not? I can pay ’im a call.’

  He set off, humming, stooping to pick berries along the side of the path as he went. He managed to dawdle a good couple of hours on his way to the command post, causing Lammio’s irritation to attain new and unprecedented heights by the time he arrived. He stepped easily into the bunker and, unbidden, took a seat, plonking his cap onto the table. He was carrying five sturdy straws of hay skewered with berries, which he plucked off one by one and popped into his mouth as he spoke. Before Lammio had a chance to utter a word, he burst out, ‘So! What’ssa trouble?’

  Lammio turned his words over in his mind for a while before he spoke. ‘Listen, Rokka. You seem determined to incite conflict with your flagrant disregard for the disciplinary code.’

  ‘What’ssat? You just talk straight with me. I’m a farm boy from Kannas, see, and I don’t understand all those fancy words a yours.’

  ‘You act as if military discipline did not concern you at all.’

  ‘It don’t concern me at all.’

  ‘Well, it’s going to concern you now.’

  ‘It sure ain’t gonna concern me enough to grab a besom and start sweepin’ up after you all.’

  ‘Besom! Might you be so kind as to answer me in Finnish?’

  ‘Don’t you know what a besom is? ’Swat we call a broom over in’na East. Which word you think is right? And say, when you luck out, does that mean you got lucky or you’re shit outta luck? Gaddamn it! How is it that we got men from the East an’na West squabblin’ over these things a whole war long and we ain’t got nothin’ figgered out?’

  ‘I am not a specialist in regional dialects, I am the Commander of this company, and I intend to make it clear to you that there is such a thing as military discipline.’

  ‘Gaddamn it. And I’m supposed’da cut the grass an’ line up lil’ pebbles on’na edge a your path. What the hell were you thinkin’ when you cooked that up?’

  ‘You talked back to a colonel on his inspection rounds and the complaint came to me, urging me to punish you. Punishment did not seem to me appropriate to the offense, so I selected this task instead, as a means of determining whether or not you meant to comply. Should you fail to comply, then and only then will I press the matter further. I ordered your squad to come along as well because they comport themselves exactly as you do. Your example has borne fruit, congratulations. Your predecessor Corporal Lehto was just the same, and following in the footsteps of the two of you, the whole platoon has become a bastion of insolence and bravado.’

  ‘You really think I’m gonna obey that order?’

  ‘I would urge you to, I really would. You are entirely alone – there’s nothing you can do. Your insolence triumphs just so long as the army is willing to tolerate it, and its tolerance stops here.’

  ‘You think I’m afraid’da you?’

  ‘Not in the least. I grant bravery its due respect, being a brave man myself. But you have been demanding too high a price for it for a long time now. I’ve yielded to it more than I should have, more than regulations properly allow. I’ve been waiting for you to come to your senses. Given your capabilities, you could be a soldier of the highest class – were you suitable otherwise. If you behaved like a proper soldier, or rather like an officer of superior rank, I could hand you a Mannerheim Cross as if it were a cigarette. It’s been awarded to lesser men than you. I am fully aware of the fact that, amongst other things, you saved this battalion from an extremely dangerous situation last winter, sparing us who knows what destruction. I am willing to grant that in terms of fighting, you are the best man I’ve seen, and I’ve seen some real daredevils, but you cannot continue on with this misguided idea that that fact excuses you from everything else.’

  Rokka plucked a berry from his skewer and said, half-seriously, ‘Mannerheim Cross! Those come with a pot a dough.’

  ‘I already told you it’s a no-go. It would be like making a poster boy out of insubordination. Your insolence is more dangerous to this army than Honkajoki’s mockery of it, which, incidentally, I am also putting a stop to. You have an opportunity to redeem yourself by bringing your squad to carry out the task I’ve assigned.’

  ‘Nothin’ doin’.’

  ‘That means the court martial.’

  ‘Means a whole lot more’n ’nat. Now you lissen’na me, I been thinkin’ all this over too.’ Rokka’s easy joviality had vanished. Slowly his entire body began to shake, and though his face struggled to maintain some sort of smile, his voice was trembling with fury. ‘Now lissen here, friend. Don’t you play games with me. You think you’re gonna break me, but believe you me, you won’t – no more’n any a the others that’s tried. Lissen, you know my wife down in Kannas is pregnant and out there cuttin’na rye all by herself? And you, you bumblin’ bird-brain, you wanna play games with me, make me line up pebbles along your path? Gaddamn it! You really think you can push my patience just as far as you please, don’t you? Here I spent a year makin’ rings whose profits’re sunk in’na walls of a new house I ain’t never gonna see. And now I’m makin’ lamps so I can scrape together enough to build me another one. And you all’re settin’ up your Headquarters, usin’na gaddamn blow torch to weld decorations on’na your furniture so you can take pictures for the newspapers! “See how these fellas fixed up the Headquarters for their esteemed officers!” Sure they done it, when they been damn well ordered to! Well, I ain’t doin’ none a that. You got that? Can’t you
see what’s lyin’ in wait for all of us? You think the neighbors gonna come say, “Sure, you just sit back and stay there long as you please”? Won’t be long now before we’re all in for it. Half of us ain’t gonna make it outta here alive and you clowns are raggin’ on us about discipline. You’re gonna be shootin’ your own men soon if this game goes on long enough. But I am tellin’ you now, don’t you go pullin’ me in’na that mess. I do what needs done in a war, but I don’t go in for games. You do whatever you please. You send me ’a the court martial if that’s what you want! You just better remember that fellas like me don’t die like dogs. You all shot those two fellas back there by the sauna wall, but you ain’t gonna shoot me that way. It’s gonna cost you a few of your own buddies first. You just keep that in mind. I’m outta here.’

  Rokka snatched his cap, grabbed the strawful of berries that had tumbled to the ground, and left. Lammio said nothing – not that he would have had a chance to get a word in, anyway. He was a bit embarrassed, somehow or other. The sincerity of Rokka’s rage had managed to jar his consciousness at least a bit. He felt helpless for a moment. Squabbling any further felt fairly pointless after such a speech. But then he began to wonder if Rokka hadn’t been putting on an act, threatening him that way. And then he remembered how he had even thought to grab his stick of berries as he left, and Lammio became more and more convinced that he had been duped. The man was a daredevil, to be sure, but now he was just trying to wriggle off the hook by putting on a show. If he had been in earnest, he wouldn’t have remembered his berries in the midst of such an outburst.

  Lammio got in touch with Sarastie and stated his case. Sarastie hesitated at first, but when Lammio pressed him, embellishing the story as necessary, the Major finally concurred that Rokka should be brought before the battalion for an official inquiry the following day. Sarastie was aware of Rokka’s reputation – both the good side and the bad. He hesitated for a long time. Lammio’s reasoning was valid. The man was famous for his bravado – the incident with the Colonel was hardly an isolated event – and his insubordination had made him a legend within the ranks, inspiring the men’s admiration. He set a dangerous example. But was opposing that example any less dangerous? The man was also the best soldier in the battalion when it came to personal combat capability. That, too, had become legendary. And then to send the guy out to hoe some swamp for a couple of weeks? Maybe knock him down in rank as well? What kind of reaction was that going to provoke amongst the men?