Вяйнё Линна - Unknown Soldiers

‘Jesus! We’re not gonna start making separate space for the bags on account of your stationery supplies,’ said Hietanen.

‘Well, excuse me. I’ll be happy to put it under me, if it disturbs your soul so greatly.’

‘It doesn’t disturb my soul in the least, but Salo and Vanhala’s rears won’t fit in the truck if you don’t sit on your damn pack!’

Gradually they all situated themselves as comfortably as they could. Koskela got into the cab and the platoon sat waiting for the last ten minutes. They were in a hurry.

‘Well, looks like we’re stuck here. Might as well enjoy the chance to sit in a vehicle for once. The Finnish army doesn’t pay for this kind of thing too often. The higher-ups must’ve got some wires crossed. You know, some people get things turned around from time to time, but somehow those clowns always do.’

The guy leading the convoy drove away from the truck, dragging his feet on the ground. Somewhere within the trucks a voice cried out, ‘Ready!’

The Master Sergeant, who was from Savo – where else, with those absurdly rolled Rs – called back, ‘All rrrrrrighty, boys! Keep a hundred and fifty yards between the vehicles so the dust can settle in between.’

The first vehicle started off. The transmission screeched and the motor groaned: ay yai yai yai …

The Third Platoon’s truck shook and rumbled off in turn. The men bounced down the uneven road to the rhythm of the potholes as the vehicle pitched this way and that. Their spirits rose, as if shaken loose by the lurching of the truck. Some shouts emerged from the convoy, and somewhere in the truck somebody had already burst into song: ‘ On the heath a little bloom called Erika… ’

‘So long, burnt clearing!’ somebody yelled from the Third Platoon’s truck, and others chimed in, ‘So long, barracks!’ ‘The old troops are headin’ out!’

Hietanen had already forgotten his recent exchange with Rahikainen. Drunk with excitement at their chaotic departure, he outdid them all and launched into a full-on speech. Rising to stand, he steadied himself on Lehto’s shoulder, gesturing extravagantly with his free hand as he said, ‘One last goodbye to you, burnt clearing. Farewell, you old sweat-sucking swamp! The old boys are off and we salute you! You, whose surface our boots have messed up with so many footprints. You give the next round of rookies hell, now, all right? The old guard’s rootin’ for ya!’

Cheers from the other vehicles joined in his hurrah, as did his own men. But Rahikainen just grumbled irritably, ‘Of course they drive us off at night. Not one little lady by the side of the road to see us off.’

The truck turned onto the main road, into the dust cloud floating in the wake of the preceding vehicles. The drone of the trucks emanated from its midst, accompanied by strains of the old school songs, ‘ What happiness greater than taking up arms, protecting the land of our birth… ’

Glints of the clear morning shone between the trees lining the road, gilding the dust cloud with gold as loads of excited young men drove through, one after the other.

A little-used road, or actually just a couple of faint tracks turning off into the forest, wound their way through the spruce grove. The men had pitched their tents beside the tracks and were now idling and milling about. They had dug out little fire pits in front of each tent, and now their mess kits hung above them, dangling from the ends of poles.

They’d pitched the tents the night before, and a strange seriousness had descended for a moment when the duty officer came through the tents announcing, ‘Keep it down. The border’s only about a mile off.’

They got used to the idea fairly quickly, but a perceptible gravity settled over them. They roamed about playing cards all day, having nothing better to do, but among them some men just sat silently, lost in thought, staring into the campfires. When they spoke, it was at half-volume, though the precaution felt slightly absurd, since the dry cracks their axes made chopping firewood carried for miles.

A good two weeks had passed since the battalion had left the burnt clearing. Stiff and dusty, they had unloaded and set up camp along the side of the road. Here, it had gradually been confirmed that this was the real deal. Magazines were loaded up, units were configured for war, and all activity was geared toward preparing for combat. Then they heard that Germany had made a ‘pre-emptive strike on Russia’, thus initiating the fighting. ‘That nutcase over there took off,’ as Lahtinen had put it, and now they were just awaiting the order to ‘hoof it after him’. The others didn’t see things as Lahtinen did, however. On the contrary – they saw things quite the other way around. Germany was tying up the Russian troops so that it would be easy for the Finns to launch an attack on the entirety of the Soviet Union. So great is the power of megalomania.

The previous evening, they had marched to this spot near the border, turned off onto the forest path and set up camp beside it.

The machine-gunners’ command tent was just beside the road. Crawling out of its door flap came the NCO battle-runner, Corporal Mielonen. ‘If anybody wants to hear the news, come on over! Afterwards some government secretary’s gonna give a speech. Tell the others, too, in case anybody wants to hear.’

The two tents belonging to the Third Platoon were situated right next to the command post, so the Captain could keep himself entertained listening to the men’s chatter. He was feeling particularly fond of Hietanen today, though he had always liked him, being an admirer of anyone energetic and direct. Hietanen’s gusto kept the men’s spirits up, and prevented them from getting too depressed – which was why Hietanen, rather than Lehto, served as deputy platoon leader. The Captain knew Lehto was a capable corporal, but he had no ability to exert a positive influence on the other men. He operated in a vacuum. An off-putting tension set him apart from everything. Hietanen’s easy spontaneity, on the other hand, tethered him to the other men, so he was perfectly positioned to influence them with his behavior. The Captain, being a good judge of character, was also aware that Hietanen would be invaluable in a combat situation.

‘I’ll come and listen to the news, but I couldn’t care less about those government secretaries. I just don’t care what those buzzards jabber on about. Can’t even do anything about the goddamn mosquitoes.’

At this the Captain laughed. ‘We need guys like that. Absolutely, absolutely. Just can’t let this baptism of fire go awry. We need this operation to succeed.’

More than once over the course of the day, the Captain had surveyed the map, which was folded at the ready beneath the celluloid map-case cover. ‘Somewhere around there. That’s where the Third Platoon will be baptized.’

They knew the enemy’s first line of defense lay just behind the border – with outposts before that. Those would have to be overcome, and then when the Second Battalion launched a frontal attack, their battalion would strike from the side and take control of the service road. There was just one dicey spot – that exposed swamp, which the Third Company would have to cross in its attack. Koskela’s platoon would back it up, with his own command post bringing up the rear. The rear! The Captain’s position irked him no end. Company commander of a bunch of machine-gunners – what was that? Director of Social Life. God damn it! Well, it wouldn’t last long. He could already sniff a battalion heading his way. Come to think of it, who was to prevent him from putting his command post even in front of the line…? Well, so it goes… Hmm … dum-dee-dum.