by Väinö Linna
The general rule was that men were released from the exercise when they knew how to execute the drills properly. Or rather, when they decided to execute them properly, as there was no question they all knew how. But the Captain ended up having to relax this rule rather generously, as otherwise the drills would have drilled right on into eternity. The last men remaining were Honkajoki and Viirilä. They sat beside one another with equal measures of indifference. Honkajoki had traded his bow for a gun at the Captain’s demand, but that was indeed the only concession the Captain managed to get out of him.
Some sergeant was giving orders and the Captain was supervising.
‘About face, fall out!’
The men turned and ran backwards in accordance with the command. Honkajoki headed headlong into a sizeable spruce, and then, chest pressed up against it, continued running in place until finally he pretended to notice the tree, backed up slightly, and steered himself around it. Viirilä bolted out at a fierce clip, trampling a juniper grove on the way.
‘Halt! Fall in!’ the Sergeant called out. Honkajoki stopped and ran back to attention in front of the Sergeant. But Viirilä pretended not to hear, and just kept barreling on.
‘Stop! The command was to fall in!’ the Sergeant yelled.
Viirilä stopped, swung his head like a horse chewing on a bit, and let loose a long whinny. Then he shot off, running, stopped again, and started pawing at the ground, snorting through his lips like a skittish horse. Then he kicked and neighed, ‘I-I-I-eeew.’ He then resumed his startling speed once more, ran up to the Sergeant, and stopped beside Honkajoki.
‘What is this? Cut the horseplay!’ the Captain said in affectedly stern tones, which nonetheless betrayed his hopeless exhaustion.
Viirilä didn’t respond, he just pawed at the ground, glancing at Honkajoki.
‘Stop it!’
‘I-I-I-eeeew!’ the horse kicked and whinnied.
‘Continue with the drill,’ the Captain said to the Sergeant, seeking some exit from the hopeless situation.
Viirilä gave up his horse impersonation and executed the drills so astonishingly well for a while that the Captain had already resolved to excuse him from the drill when Viirilä, turning the wrong way, started inventing his own gun routines, which were so ludicrous that the Sergeant lost it entirely and the Captain had to turn away to conceal his laughter.
After devoting a week to the two of them, the Captain admitted defeat and quietly put an end to the discipline refresher courses.
The drills did not improve Honkajoki’s ways. Whenever he wasn’t working on his perpetual-motion-machine, which is to say fitting together some whittled pieces of wood, he roamed about as a self-appointed ‘enlightenment officer’. For two years now he had managed to keep his perpetual-motion-machine project going, and whenever he thought it had receded to the point of being forgotten, and thus that it might attract attention again, he trotted it out.
Vanhala tagged along for many of Honkajoki’s charades, but he was promoted to corporal even so, on account of his soldierly accomplishments. These had been honed even further one day when Vanhala, standing guard, had singlehandedly fended off an invading enemy patrol before the others had even managed to get into position. The stripe provided Vanhala with quiet delight for a long time, as it was such an easy target for poking fun.
At the beginning of that winter, Hietanen was wounded in the thigh by a shard from some shell, but the wound was so slight that he was only away at the hospital a month or so. He was the same spirited Urho-boy as before, but a gravity and manly maturity had begun to appear in him, little by little. In part, this was due to the deteriorating situation, but it was also on account of the very natural fact that they had all advanced in age somewhat over the course of the years. Hietanen served as platoon leader whenever Koskela was away on leave, or off filling in for some company commander who was away on leave. He and Määttä were just as devoted to their card games as ever, and the same ruckus would fill the bunker until Hietanen had lost all his pay.
Of all of them, Susling was probably most affected by the unfortunate end the war was clearly approaching. For him, as for Rokka, it meant a concrete loss, but while these developments made Rokka ever tenser, in Susling they seemed to bring on a paralysing depression. Even Rokka wasn’t able to keep his friend’s spirits up, though he never stopped trying. In this matter alone, Susling was unable to place his unbounded faith in Rokka’s thoughts and moods as he usually did.
Around Christmas time, the German battleship Scharnhorst sank in the Arctic Sea.
‘Buttons are poppin’ off one by one, boys.’
‘Must have been stitched on with matches from the start, heehee …’
Honkajoki popped into one of the neighboring bunkers with his bow.
‘May peace be with you.’
‘How’s it goin’, archer-man?’
‘Thank you for inquiring. A frost warning has been announced.’
‘No Eastern frost nor Northern freeze shall stay us in our course!’
‘Let us hope, indeed, let us hope. But one is obliged to recognize that at the present moment, felt boots and quilted coats would be of capital assistance.’
A private was sitting on one of the bunks, his eyes burning with the ‘holy’ gaze of the believer. And, despite the risk posed by the Lieutenant lying on another bunk, he said, ‘Sure, make fun if you want, but we need warm clothes around here.’
The Private was actually something of a lone wolf, much as Lahtinen had been, and it was significant, somehow or other, that he now dared to make such comments.
Honkajoki seized upon the issue. ‘My brother-in-arms’ comment was clearly intended in an exclusively literal sense. In that regard, I am quite agreed. But in so far as you may have been extrapolating from these items of clothing to consider their significance within the broader framework of world events, then in the name of freedom of information I must forbid myself from pursuing the inquiry any further.’
‘How’s the perpetual-motion machine coming along?’
‘It has reached a very critical phase. I am waiting for one point of obscurity to clear up. Everything else has been worked out, but one small issue remains unresolved. That is, I have not been able to eliminate the difficulties presented by friction and the gravitational pull of the celestial bodies. In the void, which presents none of the difficulties of gravitational forces, I would be able to set it in eternal motion, but under the given conditions I must pursue another solution.’
The men didn’t understand a word of Honkajoki’s speech, but its comically distinguished intonations made them laugh. The Lieutenant, on the other hand, was put off by Honkajoki’s prattle and turned irritably away.
After droning on for half an hour, Honkajoki prepared to leave, but before he did so, he removed his cap and clasped his hands, saying, ‘Because it has already grown late, perhaps I shall stay here and dedicate an evening prayer to this humble abode. Shield us from the enemy’s ploys, and above all its snipers and direct-fire cannons. The daily rations could also stand to be a bit more generous, should You still have any untapped stores You might call upon to fulfill Your children’s needs. Grant us at least tolerable weather, that our shifts on guard in the name of Your cause may be slightly more entertaining. Moonlight would be most welcome, indeed, as it alleviates our anxiety and aids us in the conservation of our limited flare supply. Protect all the patrols, guards, seafarers and drivers, but do not trouble Yourself unduly over the men in artillery. Protect the Chief Commanders and the Chiefs of Staff, and the less consequential bosses as
well, provided You have the time. Protect the Commander of the Army Corps, the Division Commander, the Regiment Commander, Battalion Commander, and, most especially, the machine-gunners’ Company Commander. Finally, individually and as one, protect these Distinguished Leaders of Finland, that they not bang their heads into the pines of Karelia a second time. Amen.’
Had Honkajoki caught a glimpse of the Lieutenant’s face as he left the bunker, he would have known immediately what had promped the summons he received the following day, ordering him to Lammio’s bunker.
Now, Honkajoki was no Rokka, and the difference was evident in the unmasked fury and disgust on Lammio’s face as the solemn man stepped before him to attention, his bow over his shoulder, announcing, ‘Captain, sir. Private Honkajoki reporting for duty.’
‘I can see that. Just what kind of enlightenment officer do you think you are?’
‘Captain, sir. In these challenging times no support to morale is to be sniffed at.’
‘You’re cultivating defeatism. Are you working for the enemy?’
‘Captain, sir. My honor as a soldier prevents me from answering such an inquiry …’
‘Your honor! I’ll give you the honor of a court martial summons if these disparaging speeches about the army and its management don’t stop. Do you have any idea what this nation’s security rests upon?’
‘Captain, sir. It resides upon the noble shoulders of Carl Gustaf Emil Mannerheim, Marshal of Finland.’
‘Precisely. His and those of his army. And you are a parasite within that army. The flea that thrives only in filth.’ (The image wasn’t Lammio’s invention, but rather that of the Battalion Commander.)
‘Captain, sir. In my understanding, the flea is not the cause of filth, but merely a symptom. Or perhaps I have misunderstood the Captain’s suggestion.’
‘Don’t get smart with me. Are you a communist?’
‘I am an inventor. My original occupation was, indeed, in pine cone collection, but I hold the pursuit of knowledge to be my principal vocation in life.’
‘Are you insane?’
‘Captain, sir. Such questions can never be resolved by the very person of whom such a condition is suspected. It falls to those around him to determine his case.’
‘Very well. I have determined that your mockery will cease. I am giving you a serious warning. The army has plenty of means for disposing of unwanted entities. This subversive activity will end. We cannot afford to admit the enemy within our ranks, even clad in the gray uniform of the Finnish army, which incidentally is far too respectable to be worn by the likes of you.’
‘Captain, sir. For a very long time indeed I sought with the keenest of interest to divest myself of it, but the disappointment of this desire over my long experience certainly justifies my suspicion that the esteemed Captain’s suggestion cannot be in earnest. Which is, indeed, regrettable. I shall let it pass, however, and request your permission to put forth my own understanding of the present circumstances.’
‘Wouldn’t that be something.’
‘In so far as the enemy’s advance is concerned, I would consider the situation merely temporary. Communism will collapse under the weight of its own impossibility – underground forces are already at work to that end. The final conditions of peace will be dictated by Finland. Our position as a superpower affords us that prerogative. I have never considered communism to be a significant factor in any way. To begin with, the grain transfer system within the kolkhozes has been robbing farmers for twenty years. They’ve even been stripped of seed grain. And in the second place, a more important point. As soon as the people return to the land claimed by the Red Army, revolution will ensue. The government will lose all control, because the Germans will have removed all the barbed wire.’
‘Get out!’
‘Yes, sir, Captain. But I would caution you against a certain other actor. In my opinion, the greatest threat we now face is that of the Yellow Peril.’
‘Out! Out!’
‘As you wish, Captain, sir.’
V
The skeletons sheathed in their chiffon of decay emerged from the snow for a third time. Water trickled through the trenches, and guards gazed through strained eyes at periscope mirrors. The calm only deepened, though the snipers still struck their targets now and then, and enemy patrols increased.
A feeling of great resolution hovered in the spring air, however. The men endeavored one more time to rally their hopes of salvation. ‘Rommel’s striking back against the invasion!’ And then: ‘The tank wedge is pressing east again.’
‘If they could just drive them back to the sea, we might have a different game on our hands.’
‘It’s not gonna happen, guys,’ Hietanen said. He was perhaps the most pessimistic of all of them, surprising as that was to the others. Another change had appeared in Hietanen as well. The boisterous fellow would sometimes stare blankly off into space. Such moments were rare, certainly, and Hietanen’s lively, wayward spirit was quick to return, but he saw something in those moments. Maybe it was just that, in any case, the future was going to bring heavy fighting and more men were going to die. Him too, probably.
Koskela had been more prepared than the others from the outset, so nothing much changed in him. The same was true of Rahikainen. His business ventures had ended, though, as nobody was buying lamp-stands anymore.
‘We could make coffins,’ Rahikainen suggested slightly bitterly to Rokka, but the latter brushed him off, ‘Naw, we ain’t doin’nat. They can bury you just fine without.’
‘The gravedigger always gets the last laugh. Heeheehee!’
Once when Kariluoto was making his rounds on the Millions, a shard from a shell blast got him in the shoulders and put him in the hospital. Koskela served as the Third Company’s interim commander and Hietanen filled in as platoon leader.
By the end of May, the battalion had set up a smashing canteen for themselves, whose grand opening they celebrated with a round of entertainment and saccharine-juice. They were planning a movie theater for the regiment’s sector, which was to be a state-of-the-art example of its kind. Another round of wood-chopping tasks were doled out as well, and Hietanen was forced to wage a real psychological war with his men before he was able to get anyone chopping.
They hadn’t even all started when the command came that they were to cease.
Chapter Thirteen
I
‘You mean you’re gonna leave Sabine there for Private Russianov to rape?’
‘Let ’er stay. She’s pretty well treated.’
They were packing up, somber-faced and silent. Honkajoki took his pieces of wood, considered them for a moment, and stuck them into his pack. ‘This could set them on the proper path. It could be that they are already as near to a solution as I myself.’
‘Yeah, yeah. That’s right. Back we go. Now that we’ve practically rotted into the ground here.’ Sihvonen was angrily yanking at his pack in an effort to get it shut, as if it were the miserable angles of his belongings that were to blame.
Hietanen stood silently in the middle of the bunker, looking around at the others’ preparations. His own belongings were already packed and ready to go. Three years earlier, he had stayed up waiting for their departure from the burnt clearing barracks, bouncing around boisterously. Now he stood quietly, without saying a word. Koskela was still filling in as Third Company Commander, so Hietanen was in charge of the whole platoon.
Rokka packed up Susling’s gear, as the last guard shift had fallen to his friend. Hietanen ordered Rokka to oversee the first section’s
departure, as he himself headed off to the neighboring position to see about the other section. Hietanen had already ordered the machine-gun transport to the side of the road close to the front line.
The phone had been taken away, so they awaited the messenger’s arrival with the command to pull out. When it came, they fetched the machine guns from the nests and left. From the bend in the road, they saw the silhouette of the Devil’s Mound carved against the sky for the last time. A small screen of guys from the infantry company stayed behind to cover as they disengaged.
The transport vehicles waited by the roadside, and when Hietanen had arrived with the second section, they loaded up the machine guns and marched to the company’s designated gathering point. Once the other platoons had arrived and the usual fuss over proceedings had run its course, they began to withdraw.
The road of defeat began quietly. They ceded the Svir bridgehead without any fighting. They passed the abandoned bunkers, products of two-and-a-half years of nibbling away at the earth. The artillery positions were empty. The bitter, silent march led them behind the river that had become so famous. Once over the bridge, Vanhala ran down to the river’s edge, filled a bottle half-full of water and swung it in the air, chuckling, ‘Some of “Onega’s Waves!”’ He hadn’t forgotten the propaganda from Devil’s Mound.
‘Won’t be hearing too much of that song no more.’
‘Guess this stream won’t be Finland’s border.’
‘Who the hell cares? At least this goddamn shitshow is done with.’
‘Oh, it ain’t over yet.’
‘Down in Kannas, the guys are running with their tails between their legs.’
‘Wonder what they’re going to make us swallow now.’
‘We’re gonna pay for every last tree we chopped down over here, boys.’
‘Mm-hm. And so are our children’s children.’