Korpela turned, as another ground-attack plane was nearing them again. Heading toward his cart he hissed, ‘Now… now… only now do I know what the high-born Finn really is. Ay-ay-ay-ay-ay. What he’s really made of. I didn’t quite think that. Wouldn’t have believed it. But now I know. Ay-ay-ay-ay-ay.’
He tore at the harness and screamed in fury, ‘Fuck it! Goddamn cart can stay there. Torturing poor, senseless creatures as if they’d done something wrong. Run away! What are you doing here letting ’em torture you? Come on! Yeah, you heard me!’
A plane neared them from behind. Flames fluttered down beneath it and the branches rustled. Korpela led the horse into the forest and, shaking his fist up toward the sky, he howled, ‘You shoot, too, asshole! Shoot away! You just shoot like hell, here’s your chance. Get it out of your system! Well, fuck!’
The plane pulled up and something flashed behind it. The frightened horse bolted off, galloping into the forest. For a while, it dragged Korpela along, as his hand was tangled up in the reins. When it finally slipped out, Korpela lay on his back. Lammio made it to the spot in time to see his eyes move for the last time. A great stream of blood was flowing out from beneath Korpela’s body.
The ground-attack planes had flown off by the time the head of the battalion column reached the main road. Koskela radioed in a request for ambulances to evacuate the wounded, which arrived once the planes had disappeared. They began loading the wounded immediately. One of the stretchers held a corpse, as the man had died so near to the road that the men had just kept on carrying him.
Lieutenant Colonel Uuno Eemeli Karjula arrived. He was a bull-necked man with a stocky build who always spoke at a near scream, pressing his fists against his hips. The inner corners of his eye sockets pulled a bit too close together, which gave his small eyes a piercing aspect. Creases lined his powerful face. One hard, cruel line extended downwards from the corner of his mouth. His hair was always closely cropped, so that the strange, sharp crest along the crown of his head was exposed whenever he removed his cap.
This man had set out for the Winter War as a captain and had been promoted to lieutenant colonel in recognition of his personal fearlessness and indomitable will. His tactical brilliance might have left something to be desired, but his absolute unwillingness to retreat was generally understood to make up for it. Higher up, Karjula had a reputation for being a strong man – and that he undeniably was – but whosoever should end up near him or subordinated to him would, almost without exception, begin either to fear this man or to hate him. Once, after a quarrel with Karjula, Sarastie had gone so far as to tell his aide, ‘And then there are men who would be criminals if armies and prisons didn’t employ them. It’s just pure chance that determines which side of the bars they’ll turn up on.’
Karjula was absolutely enraged at the fact of defeat. He knew of no remedy besides ‘iron-fithted operationth’. Leaving aside the retreat generally, he was furious that the battalion’s withdrawal meant that the position of the entire combined combat unit was now in peril. There weren’t many more miles left to cede before they would have to forfeit the whole position. The fallen Sarastie was treated to a real earful – even if, having died, he couldn’t hear any of it. Karjula certainly didn’t share the chaplain’s belief that the Major could still understand him, but that didn’t prevent him from abusing the man.
‘Damn it! Why didn’t that man have any retherveth? Thquatting right by the road like that with no cover at all.’
Karjula chose to ignore the fact that he himself had approved Sarastie’s operations, and also that he had promised to send him a sapper company for reserve before detaining said company laying a road. Just now the company was scraping together all that was left of the other machine-gun squads to form a barricade, but the best they could muster would pose no more than a weak obstacle for the enemy.
Koskela gave Karjula a brief account of the situation, though the Lieutenant Colonel struggled even to hear him out. Despite the presence of the many men listening, he said, ‘Due to your hathty athethment of the thituation, the enemy ith now dethimating our flank. And on top of that, withdrawing the battalion through the pondth wath entirely unnethethary. A cothtly two hourth. And the loth of our betht pothition.’
Koskela spoke solely out of a sense of duty. He took no interest in Karjula’s speech, knowing very well that no amount of reasoning was going to assuage this man’s anger, which the calm tone of Koskela’s voice seemed only to exacerbate.
‘It has to be taken into consideration that I couldn’t let the battalion’s flank be exposed to the enemy under the circumstances. Dividing into groups was too risky as we had to protect the wounded. And besides, the men were depressed by the casualties.’
‘I have taken that into conthideration. I know what the thituation ith and I do not need any explanationth. But you thhould know that the battalion lotht thith fight only when you admitted itth defeat. Now hurry up and get the battalion into formation. Man the edge of that thwampland. Put a thuffithiently thtrong retherve unit on the flankth, and build it out of active troopth. The new anti-tank gunth will be here thhortly. I am trying to get the anti-mithile weaponth in tho far ath I am able. You take care of the battalion until Lammio hath finithhed with the thupply train and can rethume command. After that you will take over ath Third Company commander. The machine gunth go to Lieutenant Ovathka.’
His voice deadpan, Koskela said, ‘I ordered them to sink the machine guns in the pond so I would have enough men to carry the wounded. I just kept one.’
Karjula’s jaw dropped and closed repeatedly for a little while. ‘In the pond. Thunk. Ma… chi… ne… gun… th… thunk.’
Karjula wouldn’t have been so fundamentally enraged, had he not been obliged to recognize that the measures Koskela had taken were indeed correct. But that was precisely what he did not want to do, as it would have meant acknowledging defeat.
‘Good God, Lieutenant! Mutiny… Deliberately aiding the enemy. I ordered you to bring the weaponth. Machine-gunnerth are machine-gunnerth, not medicth. And you were the battalion’th commander, not itth nurthe…’
Karjula at least realized that he was saying things that should not be said. Even the men had risen to their feet. Those who knew Koskela were hoping he would sock him to the ground, but Koskela just stood there, looking over the madman, his face motionless.
Trying to cover up his blunder, Karjula said, ‘You may redeem your reputathion by holding the line. Get thome thteel into your thpine.’
Karjula had become cognizant of the men’s presence and proceeded to grow furious with them, though he himself was the one who had mouthed off at Koskela in their hearing. Now he raved like a lunatic. ‘And you men! What are you, thheep or tholdierth of Finland? You athume a pothition tho that either you hold it or you go down trying. You are wearing the thame uniformth ath the men who defended Thumma and Taipale, damn it. Thothe men knew how to die. You don’t know how to do anything but flee. Thhame on you, damn it! I wouldn’t dare to call mythelf a Finn if I abandoned the way you did. Whoever thtill dareth to abandon hith potht will find that there ith a thection of the Code of Military Juthtithe devoted to him. The game endth here. There will be no merthy requethted nor granted. Ith that clear? Now, to your pothitionth!’
Honkajoki went wide-eyed and dropped his jaw in a look of feigned astonishment. Then, in an official, important-sounding voice, he asked Vanhala, ‘Corporal Vanhala. Are you a sheep or a Finnish soldier?’
‘I am the World’s Greatest Forest Fighter! Heehee…’