Вяйнё Линна - Unknown Soldiers

They divvied up all the nail files too, though admittedly their fingernails were the least of their concerns. The dirt mostly came off on its own if you let it get thick enough.

‘Here’s his wallet.’

‘It’s got an ID. With a photo. And there’s his birth date. Born in ’16. Four years older than we are.’

‘Hey look, rubles!’

‘Those are chervonets. They’re worth ten rubles each.’

‘But what’s it say there, huh? On the copper coin? Koneek, koneek. Why, that’s just chicken scratch. Who can read that?’

‘It means kopek.’

‘Whatever you say, pal. Still looks like chicken scratch.’

Troops were marching by along the road. It was the Third Battalion, heading out to relieve the First Company on the front line.

‘Have a good rest, guys, so we don’t leave you in the dust tomorrow!’ somebody shouted from the ranks.

‘You just make sure you don’t end up heading back this way.’

There were silent men too. Somebody mumbled anxiously, ‘How far are their positions from here?’

‘Keep moving! You’ll get there, don’t worry.’

They left the dead man in the bushes. And there he remained, Lieutenant Boris Braskanov, born Vologda, 6 May 1916: face-down, with neither belt nor badge of rank, and his pockets inside out.

The supply vehicles arrived. The men got their tents and food. The machine-gunners gathered together again, inquiring about one another’s losses. The First Platoon had lost one man, but the others had escaped without casualties. Kaarna’s death touched many of them, and they all considered it a great loss. If for no other reason than it meant that Lammio would probably be their new commander.

They exchanged impressions as they ate. Lahtinen was a little irritable, but somehow or other even he was interested. He trotted out his old position with an air of consternation. ‘Looks like we won’t exactly be parading to the Urals, after all. I mean, the air’s pretty thick with lead, that’s all I’m sayin’. Be interesting to see just how long we hold out.’

Then a deep-seated amusement rose in his voice as he added, ‘But man, the thing that made me laugh – damndest thing of all was when our neighbor went and hightailed it into those juniper bushes like a scared rabbit! I chased after him and took a shot at him, but I didn’t manage to get him – what with this shitty excuse for a gun.’

Ensign Kariluoto wrote three letters that night. But first he raked over the day’s events with the other platoon leaders… Then I bawled out… come on, boys! C’mon, you bastards… thought my days were over for a moment there… good guy, that son of a bitch… fearless guy. I threw this hand grenade… the MG commander… fierce old guy, good God. Luostarinen, from the First Company… two officers on day one.

Kariluoto then wrote to Vuorela’s family:

…for this news has surely reached you by now. Allow me to share the burden of your heavy grief. I wish you to know that he was one of my finest men; and it is a great blow to me, as well, that he should be the first to go. Our nation’s lot is hard; and so our sacrifices are very great. But even so – we must endure. I say this so that you will have the consolation of knowing, even in your grief, that our suffering is a sacrifice to the highest and most honorable of human causes: the freedom of our land and our people. And now, as the chains of Karelia are breaking, and Finland stands before a new dawn, may you hear, even in your grief, your son’s proud voice rising from the fray, ‘ O, dear Finlandia… ’

To his own mother and father, he wrote:

…I am proud of my mission. I have decided once and for all that I will pursue a career as an officer. Just now, every other career looks meaningless to me. Soon, we will see Karelia free once more. And from her deepest despair, Finland will rise up to fulfill her manifest destiny. Today, in one short instant, I experienced so much. I understood definitively, today, that my life belongs not to me, but to Finland. I do not deceive myself; I know it will not be easy, but I see a straight road lying out clearly before me, and I will strive with everything I have to see it to the end. I acquired a deep debt today to a certain Jaeger captain, who showed me how to keep on to the end with one’s head held high. The sight of him showed me the standard that we must all strive to meet. After such a baptism of fire, one hardly uses grand phrases, but as I said: I know my duty now, and already everything is much easier…

But in reality, Kariluoto was bowled over with emotion, baptism of fire or not. He and his family had always lived in an atmosphere of high patriotism, but even so, his letters had never risen to quite such ceremonious heights before.

He wrote to Sirkka:

…today I feel I can speak of something that might be difficult at other times. I think you know what I mean. I confess, I did not have the courage to bring it up the last time I saw you. Today, my timidity makes me smile. What children we all are before we are forced to take honest stock of ourselves! So I speak, even if I am not entirely sure of your answer, whatever it may be. As difficult as your refusal would be, I will strive to fulfill my duty, regardless. Today I stand indebted before all those who have already fulfilled theirs…

Vanhala was on night-watch guarding the camp. He circulated around, glancing at the tents, the corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile. ‘Yoo-hoo! ’Scuse me, ’sit cold down there in Russki hell?’

Rahikainen’s words had made him laugh, and now that he was alone, he laughed with abandon, not having to worry about what the others might think. He listened unflinchingly as an artillery battery opened fire, sending shells howling over the encampment. A terrified face popped out from one of the tent flaps, but relaxed when the man caught sight of Vanhala’s smile.

The sun had set. A low mist rose from the swamp and darkness fell over the spruce grove. The booming of cannons came frequently from the north and the south. Somewhere a pistol shot pierced through the air, and a slow-firing Russian machine gun hammered back in response.

A horse-cart drove down the road. It was coming from the front lines, carrying four bodies wrapped in tent tarps. The First Company’s dead.

The men sat on the roadside and waited, chewing on the bread they’d saved. Gunshots rang out now and again from the front lines. Airplane engines rumbled in the distance, paused, then started up again, accelerating into a querulous whine, occasionally punctuated by the chatter of machine guns.

‘Air combat,’ somebody said, trying to make out the planes overhead.

‘Let ’em fight,’ somebody else said dismissively, with the unimpressed air of the combat veteran. Vanhala sniggered to himself and then finally burst out, ‘Our boys – battling sons of the air!’

Ensign Kariluoto was pacing back and forth along the road. He had posted his letters straight away the previous evening, so he couldn’t get them back this morning, unfortunately. Steadied by a good night’s sleep, he suspected that the letters might have been a little too grandiose, and he would have liked to have revised them, had the mail not been picked up already. For the moment, however, he had forgotten all about them. He joked boisterously with his men, determined to put any jitters about the upcoming combat out of his mind. He was overplaying it and it showed – but anyway, it helped. Thinking about their next attack had made him restless again. He wasn’t entirely sure that the humiliations of the previous day wouldn’t repeat themselves. What if his moment of personal conquest had just been a one-off? But no. No, no, that would not happen again. Never again.