Вяйнё Линна - Unknown Soldiers

They advanced slowly. They made several stops along the way, and the men breathed heavily, listening anxiously to the silence of the night and the pounding of their own hearts.

‘Ha… alt.’

The company got itself into formation. The submachine-gunners situated themselves as scouts twenty paces or so out in front, and the machine-gunners split up into squads, holding further back at about the same distance. Then the Company Commander’s battle-runner arrived with an announcement. ‘Border directly ahead. Silence imperative. First Platoon’s got a patrol out on the border. Don’t shoot without asking the password.’

‘What was it again?’

‘Striker. Lightning.’

‘Quiet! You don’t want those assholes to hear you!’

The murmurs fell silent. A few of the men started smoking – the ones who still had cigarettes, that is. For several days now they’d been suffering from a serious tobacco shortage, as the cigarette rations hadn’t been distributed, so you couldn’t get cigarettes anywhere.

Rahikainen had some, thanks to his swaggering escapades back at the canteen. He’d already made a pretty penny out of his bread rolls, and now he was vending cigarettes by the piece at outrageous prices. Many of the men were living on their meager army wages, so the luxury of buying was restricted to the wealthy. When one of these lucky souls tossed away a tiny cigarette butt, others would pounce on it immediately and stuff it into a cigarette-holder, blowing on their singed fingers. You could still get something out of it, if you smoked it in the grubby holder.

One guy tried to buy on credit, promising to settle up on the next payday, but Rahikainen wasn’t interested. ‘Who knows who’ll still be here by the time the next payday rolls around? Who’s gonna be responsible for settlin’ up then?’

‘Me.’ Koskela cleared his throat and said rather hurriedly, ‘I haven’t got any money either, but if something happens, you can take my binoculars. They belong to me, not the army, and you could easily sell them to make up the difference. You won’t have any trouble finding a buyer around here, that’s for sure.’

‘Well, I believe that… yeah, sure… I didn’t mean… I mean, it’s not about the money.’ Rahikainen sounded half-ashamed, half-hurt, but in any case he shared the cigarettes.

Every one of them had taken note of the fact that Koskela had broken rank in his exchange with Rahikainen, getting involved as if the two men were equals, rather than private and officer. And from then on, Koskela interacted with all of them that way. At first the men found it strange, and many of them struggled to treat him the same way in return. None of them ever really managed to pull it off convincingly. It was a rare phenomenon in this regiment of conscripts, in which the officers were constantly trying to maintain their so-called status, even in wartime. Of course, many officers did maintain their superior status across all units, though it was hardly by means of pretentious standoffishness that they commanded the men’s respect. The marked gesture on Koskela’s part was not without effect, however. Just his presence was enough to calm his men’s nerves, as he seemed somehow closer to them. He was the one they trusted to resolve all the questions the future promised to pose.

They heard low voices and the dry sputtering of engines coming from somewhere behind them. It was Kaarna, shadowed by Mielonen, close on his heels.

‘All right, all right. Quiet down, boys. We’re going to get the rabbit. We’ve already got him surrounded. Where’s Autio?’

‘Over by the Second Platoon.’

‘Right, right, sure, sure. Hietanen, what kind of troops do we have here?

‘The finest machine-gunners in the nation, Captain, sir.’

‘Right, right, that’s the way, that’s the way.’

It was an old question, to which there was only one answer. Kaarna habitually held his own company to be just a cut above the rest. He didn’t really care whether this belief corresponded to reality or not – he was just aware of what healthy self-confidence can do. He knew, of course, that machine guns were dwindling in significance, at least in offensive combat operations, but he encouraged his men to take pride in their weapons anyway. Also, the man was like a rock when it came to defending his company. Officers from other companies had best refrain from coming to him with any complaints about his men. Some cadet had tried it once, when somebody or other failed to salute. Kaarna replied coldly that his men certainly never failed to salute, therefore the cadet must be mistaken. ‘On top of which, it seems that the cadet’s own stance demonstrates rather poor form. Why don’t you go practice it a couple more times?’

The man in question was duly punished, but the cadet made sure to give Kaarna a wide berth after that.

All these kinds of things that Kaarna did stuck in the minds of his men, so even now his words brought smiles to their all-too-grim faces. ‘A man who bears the unbounded admiration of his men’ is the phrase often applied to some officer or other. It has a slightly nauseating ring, besides which it’s false, since no cradle yet has rocked such an officer as could inspire the unbounded admiration of a Finnish private. But Kaarna’s relationship to his men was exceptional. ‘Won’t find another one quite like that son of a bitch. Real bird of prey,’ the men would say. The relationship was anything but equal, however. There was no question who was calling the shots. It was just Kaarna’s direct, fair and absolutely straightforward manner that made an impression on the men.

There were smiles on their faces as they watched him leave, heading off in search of the Third Company commander, Lieutenant Autio.

‘You’ll see, boys. Wherever it is that things get cracking, that man’s command post won’t be far off,’ somebody said, and the others murmured in agreement. Kaarna and Mielonen set off, one after the other, with Mielonen issuing instructions regarding their direction, which he presumed to have a better sense of than the Captain. Their conversations generally consisted of a string of little disputes, as Mielonen did not hesitate to issue commands and voice his opinions, even on questions of strategy. The Captain was happy to let the Corporal do this, though he would never have taken it from a major. He squabbled with Mielonen to pass the time and did as he liked, regardless, though he had nothing against Mielonen’s suggestions. The Corporal was a sensible fellow, which was something. The Captain didn’t trust Mielonen’s sense of direction, though, and said, ‘No-o-o, Mielonen. Follow the eye of experience. The Russkis are over there.’

‘I don’t think so. Not so far from the front. The command post, I mean.’

Kaarna and Mielonen’s murmuring faded away and silence reigned, until suddenly it was shattered.

‘Holy Christ!’

‘Everybody down!’

The leafy undergrowth rustled and weapons clanged as the men frantically dropped to the ground. Behind them, as if just behind their ears, there came a series of deafening artillery explosions. Ba-boom. Boom. Boom .

A sharp, piercing whistle soared over the treetops, and the men clung to the ground with their eyes opened wide. Then more explosions came, more randomly now, and again the air was filled with hissing. Somewhere far behind the border they could hear faint thuds.

Koskela, who was sitting on a mound of grass, called out, ‘Get up, guys! It’s our own guns. And try to keep those boxes from rattling so goddamn much.’

They clambered to their feet, grateful that the embarrassment was communal. Only Lehto hadn’t moved a muscle. He was just sitting right where he had been, a thin, slightly contemptuous smile on his face. Soon Hietanen pulled himself together as well, as did another machine-gun leader, Private Määttä, a shortish guy from the northern town of Kainuu, not far from the eastern border.