The next day there was a parade. They didn’t have to do anything for it but maintain order in the city. A few men from their battalion had been selected to take part in the parade, but nobody from Koskela’s platoon. They did receive medals and promotions, though. Koskela was promoted to the rank of lieutenant, Hietanen received the sergeant’s stripe the Major had promised him, and Määttä was promoted to corporal. Just about every man was awarded a medal of some sort, and admittedly, the Second Class medals were starting to be rather like prizes for participation.
That evening they moved into the barracks. After a hell of a lot of work, they had finally managed to make it suitable for habitation. They were not pleased about the move, as they sensed that the old buildings had permitted a freer lifestyle in every way. Nor were their instincts incorrect. As soon as they were in the barracks, Sinkkonen, who had also been promoted in the recent sweep, to master sergeant, ordered the company to fall in by rank into four lines. It was as if the old army brat was suddenly possessed by the devil from the moment he set foot in a barracks. After having been put in his place upon his first presentation to the company, he had kept quiet, but now it was clear that he had decided to settle the score.
He strutted self-importantly in front of the company, clearing his throat, stretching out his neck, and ordering the men to count off.
‘One… two… three… four…’ The men counted off lethargically, as if expressing their opinion of the exercise by making their voices even more apathetic than usual. When the count-off was over, nobody called out any absences, though Sinkkonen could obviously see that neither the third nor fourth row was complete.
‘How many absences? Are you men sleeping or what? Why didn’t you call out the absences?’
‘Who’s had time to count ’em all?’ a voice yelled from the back.
Sinkkonen ordered whoever was yelling to keep his mouth shut, but then somebody else shouted, ‘We lost seven guys from our platoon. Twelve were wounded, but eight of ’em came back.’
‘What, what… what kind of talk is this?’ Sinkkonen was struggling against the pressure of the crowd. His self-assurance had abandoned him, and to mask its loss he began lashing out at the company. ‘Clearly, there are certain men here who imagine the army is no longer able to maintain discipline. That is a serious mistake. Men in the back, report the number of absences from count-off.’
‘All right, all right, two,’ somebody said, and the Master Sergeant considered victory his. A moment ago he had been feeling very pleased to stand before the company, as he had been planning to give a speech about various issues relating to their move into the barracks. Speaking before ranks like these was one of his greatest pleasures – and now it had been spoiled. Nevertheless, he began. ‘Now that the company is being housed here in the barracks, I would like to call your attention to a few matters regarding routine chores and responsibilities. Impeccable cleanliness and order are to be strictly maintained. Every article of the barracks duty regulations is to be observed. In light of the circumstances, we will permit one exception, which is that you are not required to salute NCOs upon their entry. Only the Company Master Sergeant need be saluted as usual. And then, esteemed NCOs…’ (A few muffled sniggers emanated from the ranks, and even the NCOs laughed, with the exception of one or two men.) ‘Quiet in the ranks! The NCOs will lodge separately in designated NCO quarters. You are to ensure that your quarters are kept thoroughly in order.’
Just then Rokka’s booming voice interrupted Sinkkonen’s speech. ‘Well, shit, no. That don’t work for me at all. Suslin’n I take our tea together and everything else together too. Either I bunk with him or he comes over in’na NCO section with me.’
Sinkkonen had not forgotten Rokka’s spoon-wagging nor his lecture. His composure abandoned him and he nearly screamed, ‘Silence! Keep your mouth shut over there. You will go where I order you. Is that clear?’
Rokka smiled. But there was a menacing note behind the customary, playful calmness of his voice as he replied, ‘Now lissen, don’t you start talkin’ big with me. You know what happens when you start tryin’nat. You really think you can just slap those reins and make me jump for you like a new recruit?’
Without a word, Sinkkonen set off for the Company Command Post and returned with Lammio in tow. Lammio waited for the silence to intensify, and then said with frosty authority, ‘Corporal Rokka.’
‘What’ssa trouble, friend?’ His voice rang out with such wholesome innocence that the whole company had to laugh. Lammio glared at the men and said pointedly to Rokka, ‘You will stay in the NCO barracks just like the others. Is that clear?’
‘We’ll see ’bout that this evenin’. Now lissen, I don’t needa git into too much of a tizzy ’bout this here, but you wouldn’t happen’na know when we’re gonna git some leave now, would you, Louie? Here I am a family man and I been out here months already. Would you back me up if I put in a request?’
Lammio was once again uncertain whether Rokka was being direct with him or making fun of him. In any case, he was offended by the man’s disrespectful tone and said, ‘Corporal Rokka. As far as I am aware we have made no agreement to dispense with the customary formalities of address between an NCO and his commanding officer.’
‘Nope, we ain’t, but there ain’t no time like the present. Antero’s m’name. You can use it any time you like. I’ll just call you Louie ’stead a Lieutenant, since you’re a bit younger’n me, n’all.’
A low snickering rustled through the company. For the first time in his career, Lammio was at a loss. Threats of the court martial flashed through his head, but as pathetic as his instincts were, even he could tell that this time there was nothing more he could do. Rokka’s arrogance was so unshakeable that Lammio had taken it to be the product of pure simple-mindedness. But when he realized that Rokka understood precisely what he was doing, Lammio also gathered that the man wasn’t going to back down, even when faced with the strongest of military punishments: the death penalty. The issue was further complicated by the fact that the man in question was one of their best soldiers – and where would that leave them? Lammio still thought Rokka was trying to get away with bravado on account of his bravery, failing to grasp that these were two sides of the same coin.
Now Lammio was just looking for the best way out. He ordered the men to attention and rattled off, ‘I sentence Corporal Rokka to four days’ labor without relief as punishment for disrespecting a superior officer. The punishment is to be carried out in the form of four extra days of guard duty. At ease.’
Lammio rushed off, for fear that Rokka would do something to exacerbate the situation further.
Sinkkonen ordered the company to disperse and endeavored, unsuccessfully, to slip out of Rokka’s sight. Rokka grabbed hold of his shoulder strap and held it so tightly that the Master Sergeant was forced to halt. Rokka laughed, but it was precisely his laugh that Sinkkonen feared, for behind it lurked the menace of utter indifference. Sinkkonen sensed that, once the customary fear of disciplinary measures ceased to protect him, nothing, in fact, did.
‘Hear that, Master Sarge? I’m punished. Four days without relief. I’ll be damned if we didn’t do months and months without relief to git us out here in’na first place. You wanna tell me what I was bein’ punished for in’na Winner War when they kept me out in Taipale for three months without relief? You tell me that, Master Sarge!’
Sinkkonen stiffly muttered something about the necessity of discipline and Rokka shoved him away in contempt, laughing as he said, ‘Oh, we got discipline like you never dreamed of, Master Sarge. But hey, lissen here, you go your way and I go mine. We don’t git on so well the two of us, see?’