by Väinö Linna
The minister began the hymn in his thin, tinny little voice, to which the men contributed a vague sort of moo that gradually developed into singing: ‘forrr … truuuss … is … aar … Go … od …’
Faces were stiff, brows knitted, eyes dull and squinting. Bearing no sentiments of devotion whatsoever, the men paid their respects to their god looking rather dismal and cross. Hietanen furrowed his brows and choked out some noises, though his singing skills were a little questionable. Lehto stood mute, his thin lips firmly shut. It was as if he had been turned to stone, and would have preferred to get through the whole hymn without having to hear a word of it. But next to the Master Sergeant, a clear, beautiful voice was ringing out from Mäkilä’s mouth. The quiet man had no equal when it came to hymn-singing. He opened up his whole soul, and its strength seemed to lift him up into the clear twilight.
‘Let us pray.’
In so far as it was possible, the men’s expressions grew even angrier. They looked as though they were just about ready to eat somebody alive. The minister tried to deepen his voice to make it sound more powerful. ‘O Lord, God of nations. You who hold our fate in Your hands. May You turn Your face to us and have mercy upon us, for You are our refuge. Let Your will be done, for Your vision exceeds our humble understanding. If You send us trials, it is no more than we deserve, but we pray to You: strengthen our souls with Your power, so that we may withstand Your trials. Help us to fulfill our duties in Your name, to our families and to our homeland. Give us the strength to make even the greatest sacrifices, for it is in Your name that Your chosen people move toward their destiny. Fill our souls with the same steadfast courage and the same, burning spirit of patriotism that our brothers felt as they faced their deaths – our fallen heroes, who now sleep in the cemeteries of soldiers. This is all we ask of You. Bless these men in all that they do, in whatever may lie before them. Bless all the people of our nation and make us one. May You open our hearts to Your will, that we may travel the path of righteousness.’
Then the chaplain read the Lord’s Blessing, his voice returning to normal, as he had exhausted his fervor in the three identical services he’d already given in the battalion’s infantry companies. After the blessing, he struck up one last, short hymn, and then the service was over.
The Captain allowed the company a break, and the men began wandering around aimlessly. Rahikainen lumbered along, shoving his hands in his pockets as he said, ‘Ye-ees, what a sermon! How in the world does that spindly little man drone on so damn long? Did you hear the horrible things that guy said? We’re headed for the cemeteries, boys! My neck-hairs are still standing on end from the threats that chump made.’
‘I thought that guy did purty good,’ Salo said.
They stayed outside with their packs and weapons. Some men gathered in little groups to play cards or tell stories, and the others just loitered around with nothing to do. Ten o’clock came and went, revealing the meaninglessness of the appointed hour. The convoy didn’t arrive.
Hietanen was lying on his back with his pack for a pillow and singing. It was a bit of a funny song, as it didn’t really have a tune, and the lyrics were sort of all over the place too. He just improvised, belting out:
Dum-daddy lumbadee politty lumbadee
dum-daddy politty politty lumbadee …
As he sang, he looked up at the pale blue sky, which had darkened just enough to offset one, powerful star. Then, interrupting his song, he burst out: ‘Nah, I have to say, those stars are pre-tty far out there. It seems like they’re real close and all, but when you start thinking about it, you realize that the distance between you and them is pre-tty damn far, and you can’t even conceive of it the same way you normally look at things. And the thing that’s really got me stumped is what in the world anybody does with ’em. Seems like they’re totally pointless, if you ask me. Who needs ’em? Nobody.’
‘They do create some light, though.’ Corporal Lahtinen was sticking a needle back into the side of his cap, having just finished sewing back on a shirt button that was coming loose. He’d been focusing intently on his task, and had just tossed off his comment in passing, but Hietanen was vehemently intent on the issue and burst out, ‘Light! Sunlight and moonlight, sure, I can understand that just fine, but what does this kind of light do? Nothing! I think that if I’d have been God, I wouldn’t have made all these stars. And if I could, I’d get rid of the lot of them. What are you supposed to make of things that don’t do anything?’
Lahtinen’s needle was now firmly in place, leaving him free to consider the matter. He glanced around carefully and spoke in a low, slightly hesitant voice, as if preparing in advance for opposition from the others. ‘No-o, they weren’t made by God. That’s just talk. That’s what they teach you in school, even though they know it’s a lie. He didn’t create people, either. They were born in the sea. People are made out of carbon and other things. The simple man is kept in ignorance so he’ll be more submissive to the capitalists. That’s all there is to it.’
Hietanen laughed, ‘Yeah, I get that, but I don’t believe it. Carbon! You gone soft or something? That sounds pre-tty strange if you ask me. How the hell could a normal human being be born in the sea? Just being underwater half a minute’s enough to finish you off. And there ain’t a speck of carbon in my body. Muscles and bones, that’s what people are made out of. Anybody can tell you that. I don’t know anything about capitalists. If my old man dies before I do, I get twenty-three and a half acres of real shitty land. I’m that much of a capitalist. Don’t think I’m particularly submissive, though – let whatever capitalist you want come up to the edge of our field. I’ll just walk right over with my hands in my pockets and give him a good, long spit. That’s what I’d do.’
Lahtinen spoke again quietly, earnest as ever, which suited him really – he who never took anything lightly. Assessing the loneliness of his position all too well, he was a little uncomfortable. He certainly didn’t want to get into a fight, but he couldn’t just drop the issue, so he said in his defense, ‘You can be underwater, if you have gills. Man began as a fish. Even the capitalist scientist has recognized that.’
Now Hietanen wasn’t laughing anymore. He sat up and looked straight at Lahtinen, his eyes wide, blazing with astonishment. ‘Hey guys, listen to this! Listen to what our boy Yrjö has to say! Well, I’ll be damned. Now you’ve really started it. Listen, guys! I guess I’m a perch, ’cause I’ve got stooped shoulders. Come chew on this, guys … Gills … Look, I’ve never read anything but the Turku newspaper once in a while since I finished school – painfully – but I still know better than to believe that. So I’m a perch! A carbon perch … Pre-tty strange if you ask me.’
Hietanen was on a roll. And he was whipping himself up into an even greater tizzy. He glanced around, looking for others to confirm his astonishment, but no one had taken any interest in their conversation except Private Vanhala, the only guy lying nearby. He was lying silently, but he had been following the debate and was quivering with suppressed laughter. Vanhala was a quiet, chubby fellow, who rarely took part in conversation, though it was clear that he would happily have done so. When he did cut in on occasion, he would instantly start struggling for words and turn red, glancing around at the others, embarrassed by his difficulties. He had followed Hietanen and Lahtinen’s argument with a smile dancing in his eyes, laughing to himself, repeating: ‘Fi-ish … heehee … fi-ish … Hietanen is a pe-erch … heeheehee …’
Lahtinen’s face had withdrawn into a sullen expression. You could tell from his tone of voice that he didn’t want to argue any more – though, of course, he kne
w how things really were. ‘It’s Nature that creates,’ he said. ‘That’s just how it is … Everything else is hogwash. Sure, rich people know what tune to sing, soon as any question about their purse-strings comes up. That’s what that spindly crow was just harping on about. We got it all wrapped up in one go just now. Give us the strength to defend the moneybags of capitalism! I mean, if this homeland had left them as poor as it’s left me, I don’t think they’d care for it any more than I do. And I wouldn’t give up so much as an old foot rag for it. Well, whatever, let’s move on, but we’ll just see how things pan out … There are enough fellows over there to fight us, that’s for sure.’
Vanhala hesitated a moment. Then he said, ‘But one Finn’s a match for ten Russkis. Heehee.’
‘Mmm … Sure. And what do we do when they send round the eleventh?’
Hietanen, who had no interest in the political question, only the purely theological one, turned the conversation back around to its previous topic. ‘Look, I’m no Doctor of Philosophy, but my reasoning says the world couldn’t just pop up all by itself. I’m sure about that. I don’t believe in any of that supernatural stuff. How could something be born by itself, without anybody making it? God has to exist. But I have to say, he sure did do a lot of work for nothing. We don’t need all those stars. I’ve thought that a bunch of times. I can’t see any use in having things like ants and frogs in the world. They are totally useless if you ask me. Just like bedbugs and cockroaches.’
Vanhala could scarcely contain his giggles, and his whole body quivered as he gasped, ‘And lice!’
No sooner had he said it than he blushed and went straight-faced. But then he noticed Hietanen’s approval, and his round face broke into a broad grin and his body started quivering again. Hietanen pounced, continuing to rattle off his evidence. ‘You said it! Who needs lice eating away at him? Nobody. And then you gotta feed the goddamn pests somehow! On top of everything else. Yeah, I know old people say frogs keep the well-water clean, but I don’t buy that at all. That’s just batty. Who the hell wants to drink frog eggs?’
‘And tadpoles! Heehee.’ Now Vanhala was feeling so self-assured that he stopped blushing and downright shone when Hietanen concurred straight away, ‘Exactly!’
Hietanen lay back down on the ground, brushing the conversation aside, but not without concluding, finally, ‘I don’t believe in any of that supernatural stuff. But I still say there’s a whole lot of unnecessary junk in this world.’
This final point prompted him to tack on another. ‘To hell with all of it.’
Then he drew a deep breath of fresh air into his lungs, as if he wanted to blow out the whole pointless train of thought, and began to sing. He just sort of wove the words together as they came to mind, making up a tune to fit the song that went:
I watched as the boat sailed
past the window on the smooth River Aura.
Farewell, yea, I say sail well
as you steam off down that smooth River Aura.
No, pony, pony! Don’t poop on your cart beams,
tomorrow is market day.
Babadaba trot soft lalala
for tomorrow is market day.
Several of the men wandered further off to write letters, driven by some vague foreboding of what fate held in store. Others tried to sleep, and a few gathered around card games, murmuring now and again. ‘Couple of whores. You tried to pull a fast one, you old cheat. Stop grumbling and get to it! Pot limit. Three shorties and a jack high. You got a pair a kings over there, don’t you? Written all over your face.’
Dusk began to settle over the burnt clearing. The warmth of the day still hovered, so the men could lie outside, gazing up into the depths of the twilit sky that seemed to conceal within it both the past and all that was to come. The rumble of trains drifted over from the railroad tracks as singing, shouts and the occasional order rang out through the camp.
VII
The next pointless alarm came sometime around midnight. The men had already started shivering from the cold, and murmurs of discontent were rumbling here and there. They set in for another wait, until at about one o’clock the duty officer came to put the company on alert. Boisterous with excitement, the men got into formation. They were bursting with that thrilling sensation probably familiar to all troops heading off to war. True, these men weren’t entirely sure it was war they were heading off to, but over the course of the night, a rumor to that effect had taken hold throughout the company. And when Lammio called them to attention, their heels clicked more crisply than usual, and even their pivots betrayed a model precision. And what was the cause of this sudden verve and enthusiasm? May those who wonder why the world goes to war find an answer to that!
They set off toward the other side of the burnt clearing, where there was a path leading to the main road, which would take you just about anywhere. East to Lake Onega and the Svir River, for example – amongst other places. And why not further, if the men had it in them?
The First Company commander, Captain Helminen, had been put in charge of the transport. He issued orders to the officers as he walked. Captain Kaarna arrived after his company and immediately began quarreling with Helminen, as if holding him personally responsible. ‘Should be! The convoy should be on its way! Remarkable, how it continually should be coming. When is it actually coming, then? This is the third time we’ve been called to alert and I’m afraid this one’s a washout, too. Where is the convoy and what is it driving? A convoy can’t just disappear.’
‘I don’t know,’ Helminen replied defensively. ‘The Commander said they drove the Second Battalion to the border during the night, or rather, late in the evening. So maybe they’re still out there. Otherwise, there was just one artillery transport that passed. Supposedly, those guys weren’t regular troops – so mobilization is underway.’
‘Mm … sure, sure. Looks that way. Well, we’ve also been mobilized since yesterday. So who knows? Maybe by tomorrow we’ll actually be mobile.’
Kaarna set off toward his company and said to the men, ‘Well, boys, looks like you’re going to learn how to wait. Don’t get worked up, now. Take advantage of every opportunity you can to get some rest. Coats on, packs for pillows. Get some sleep.’
‘Learn to wait? Oh, we got that down already. Year and a half now we been waiting to go back to being civilians.’
Rahikainen hadn’t meant that for the Captain’s ears. The Captain caught it, however, though he didn’t bother to address it. He just laughed and gazed sidelong at Rahikainen. The men wrapped themselves in their coats and tried to sleep. The cold kept them awake, and they cursed the whole system through their chattering teeth. The ‘gentlemen officers’ could hear snippets here and there – a Finnish private can be pretty cutting when the mood strikes him. The men were hungry, too, though that was by no means exceptional. They’d been hungry since they’d joined the army, and some of them probably well before that. Malnutrition had not yet disappeared from Finland – not in the least. There were still pockets here and there that provided entirely favorable conditions for it to flourish. Certainly the doctors the military had called in to examine the recruits were aware of it. The human stock comprising the infantry bore weaknesses that were the clear product of malnutrition.
Besides being cold and hungry, the men were also sleep-deprived – so, of the four components we might say encapsulate the essence of war, fear was the only thing missing.
Time passed. The summer sky grew lighter, and the edge of the dawn began to glow red in the east. At four o’clock the companies were called together and the march back to the barrac
ks began. The officers let the men grumble in peace. ‘Stroke of genius from our esteemed officers! Just another piss alarm, boys! Practice for the war, right. Sweat saves blood – so every time they mess with us it’s a goddamn “exercise”. Hurry up so you can come and loll around on some clumpy grass!’
The company hadn’t even reached the barracks when an orderly pedaled up behind them on his bicycle. ‘Come back, come back, the convoy’s coming!’
‘About, face! March!’
The murmurs fell silent. Now they were sure departure was imminent. That was how everything happened in the army. They were also sure that a mad rush would set in now, just because the occasion seemed to call for it.
Dusty vehicles began to wobble into view just as the company reached the roadside. A dust-covered master sergeant on a motorbike led the convoy, circling round as the vehicles followed suit, pulling up in a line. The tired drivers took no notice whatsoever of the loading, their bloodshot eyes sinking shut as they dozed off over their steering wheels.
‘Machine-gunners, lighten your water weight,’ Kaarna called out to his company. The men smiled, but the Captain said, almost irritated, ‘Yeah yeah. There’s nothing to laugh about. It’s a long drive.’ He offered himself as an example. Once he had taken care of his business, he jiggled himself dry, buttoned up his trousers and said, looking at the sky, ‘A beautiful day is about to dawn. A great start! A really great start! What a brilliant, red glow … Mmm. Into the vehicles by platoon!’
‘How the hell’s a platoon supposed to fit in that?’ One of the soldiers stared in disbelief, but only until he realized that stalling would mean a bad spot, at which point he dived in with the others. Koskela pressed his thumbs under his belt and looked on silently as the men crammed into the vehicles. He knew the human cargo would organize itself into the best possible configuration, so he left the men to their own devices.
