The Captain was wearing a peaked cap, shiny boots and spurs. He’d pulled the brim of his cap down slightly over his eyes, so its edge cut a ‘menacing military line’ across the upper half of his face. His self-important air seemed to center around his pursed lips, which emanated a kind of pinched, forced militarism.
The man’s formality and gruff, military air exacerbated the men’s already hostile attitude. At first they said nothing, so the Captain repeated, with increasing irritation, ‘Answer me! For what reason do you fail to salute your superior?’
Rokka started to smile. It was that same subtle, shifty smile that signaled he was feeling mischievous. And indeed, it made the Captain fly into a rage, particularly when Rokka replied, ‘We didn’t notice ya.’
‘What are you grinning at? Notice! In that case, it’s a matter of even greater concern! An NCO who can’t see a superior officer in the same street! How are you going to see the enemy out on the terrain?’
Rokka’s face fell. He tilted his head to the side and, holding up his finger in a performance of utmost seriousness, began, ‘Now you lissen here, Cap’n. We got this situation here that rides on colors. Now me, I don’t see shades a gray so well. But brown, well, brown’s no problem, so I git on just fine with the enemy. But our own officers’s all dressed in gray, so you see, I don’t always notice ’em. That’ssa root of it all. Now shiny things I do see, so I spotted those spurs a yours right off – don’t you worry ’bout that. I sure done noticed how spankin’ sparklin’ you are, Cap’n, yesssiree.’
‘What’s your unit? What is your unit? Name! Tell me your name!’ The Captain was suffocating with such fury that he couldn’t properly formulate the command he was trying to issue, and instead just kept repeating, ‘Unit! Unit!’
‘Kuopio Kicksled Company! Heeheehee!’ Vanhala wasn’t typically one to be so bold, but Rokka’s example had inspired him to slacken the reins a bit and anyway the opportunity was just too tempting to resist.
‘I’m placing all three of you under arrest. To the main guard station. March!’
‘We’re gonna make a run for it, fellas. Vanhala… gimme the records.’
Vanhala was carrying a gramophone and a packet of records, so Rokka snatched the latter to lighten his load. Hietanen and Vanhala realized that Rokka wasn’t joking, and that they were about to make a break for it. A few yards up ahead, a tumble-down alleyway turned off the street, as if made to order. They disappeared down it, leaving the Captain in the street screaming, ‘Stop them! Stop them! Haaaa… alt!’
The trio dashed down the block, crossed the next street, turned a couple of corners, and figured they were safe. Breathless and panting, Rokka declared, ‘Shame to run out on a fella like that, but I sure ain’t takin’ an arrest for sumpin’ as stupid as’sat. Would’a grown into such a stink, we’d a been two weeks tryin’na git out of it.’
They stole backward glances now and again as they continued on, but there was no sign of anybody on their tail.
The Captain himself hadn’t attempted to chase them, and the privates walking in the streets made themselves scarce on hearing his shout. There was no question that they sided with the trio and were not about to turn them in, even if they feigned trying for the sake of appearances.
Vanhala giggled with delight. It was the first time he’d pulled one over on an officer. ‘Diversion operation successful! Heeheehee!’
‘But what are we gonna do about this fellow?’ Hietanen gestured toward the Lieutenant Colonel heading toward them, sitting astride his thoroughbred horse and looking around him, evidently enjoying the splendor of his own magnificence.
‘This round, we pass,’ Rokka said, slipping into the jargon of the card-player as he ducked through an archway. Hietanen and Vanhala followed and together the three of them watched as the Lieutenant Colonel rode by.
Continuing on their way, they found themselves walking behind two army officials and an army chaplain who were chatting away animatedly as they walked in front of them. ‘…but at first glance it would appear that the Vepsians have been best at retaining their national character…’
‘The most reasonable thing to do would be to let the Orthodox faith die. Since Bolshevism has worn it down so much already. All efforts at resuscitating religious life should be carried out along Lutheran lines. From now on, all children’s baptisms should be left to the evangelical faith. Of course, it’s not a question of religious persecution, just managing things in a natural way…’
‘You have to distinguish between different kinds of Russians. The whole resettlement issue will probably be resolved very quickly once the Germans take control of all of European Russia.’
The army chaplain and the military officials turned down another street. There was some sort of Army Bureau in the building on the corner, and a private was standing in the courtyard holding a horse harnessed to a church buggy. A lieutenant and a beautiful Lotta emerged from the building, and the Lieutenant bowed to the Lotta in a rather exaggerated display of cordiality, saying, ‘If your graciousness would deign to step in? I would like to request the honor of showing you Fort Onega, Finland, from the height of a church buggy.’
The Lotta laughed as she stepped into the buggy and said, ‘You’re hopeless… Oh, wouldn’t I?’ The driver clicked his heels to attention and handed the reins to the Lieutenant, then they set off on their drive, the buggy jerking about on its springs.
‘Well, I’ll be darned…’ Rokka said, chuckling. He sniffed love in the air, and the whole thing gave him a hearty laugh.
Then they stopped and stared at a sight that quickened the metabolic functions of their whole bodies. A Finnish cleaning unit of young women was coming down the street toward them. They were a group of student volunteers who had come to clean the city. They moved as a group, and even attempted to march in step with one another, though without much success. They managed to get it just close enough so that you could tell what they were trying to do. The girls wore brown overalls, wooden shoes and garrison caps that didn’t quite cover the ‘wildly unruly’ locks of hair peeking out around the edges. Their clear, girlish voices sang, ‘Russkis won’t stink up Finland for long…’
The trio watched them wistfully, in so far as men of their nature can accommodate feelings of wistfulness. Even Rokka gazed keenly after the girls, though he was the father of three.
‘Let’s go see Veerukka, fellas. We got our ladies too,’ Rokka said, and the others were happy to follow.
There was one place they went to meet girls. It was entirely innocent, though, as the girls there did not tolerate advances of any sort. There were three of them: one Russian and two Karelians. The men would come and play Vanhala’s gramophone for the girls, who would in turn perform Russian dances for them, which they were more than happy to watch.
‘But hey, wouldja let me go get some bread first? I’ve still got a few pieces. I wanna take ’em to Tanya and Alexei.’
There were two orphans living in the same building as the girls, whom Hietanen had taken under his wing like adopted children. The children would rush out to meet him whenever they saw him coming, and Hietanen was in the habit of bringing them whatever food he could get his hands on. Which was why he now wanted to go and get something to bring, so he wouldn’t have to disappoint them. Rokka and Vanhala understood the whole thing very well and readily agreed.