They were extremely hungry. Just two days earlier, Rahikainen had brought them a massive load of food scrounged from some bombed-out supply vehicle, but their moment of bliss had been short-lived. They couldn’t turn away the men who came from neighboring units, hands outstretched, pleading, ‘Give us just a little, huh? We haven’t had anything to eat for two days.’ Feelings of charity and generosity toward their brothers-in-arms were running even lower amongst these dead-tired men than their will to preserve the established order of Finnish society or the people fearing its demise, but they were so well acquainted with hunger that they shared every last morsel that they had.
It was an anti-tank detachment that came across Mäkilä while on their way to bring a new cannon to a devastated section of the line. The numbers stamped on the side of the soup vat enabled them to identify its owner and they brought him and the vat out to the platoon. So great was the disappointment brought on by their unsatiated hunger that the news of Mäkilä’s death remained secondary to the fact of the shortage of soup. Rahikainen even went so far as to say curtly, ‘That man was stingy all his life and managed to be stingy even in dyin’.’
They received one ladle of soup apiece and crumbled what little bread they had into it, then ate sparingly, as if they might somehow stretch the food that way.
It was Rahikainen who gave a laudatory eulogy for Mäkilä, however. ‘That fellow there’s the one offloaded the officers’ junk into the forest. Did away with those icon-pictures the leader of the First Platoon was hangin’ onto. The shit that nutcase collected! Not worth a damn cent…’
‘We seen stuff better than that fly by the wayside. There’s sacks a wheat flour they had in those supply trucks they drove in’na the lake. Didn’t I tell you all they thought we’d be out here ’til kingdom come? They were still drivin’ supplies out to the line when they shoulda been drivin’ ’em away.’ Rokka was sharing his cutlery with Susling, as the latter had lost his pack in some scuffle with the enemy.
‘I done told you not to take it off your back,’ Rokka added.
The men generally threw their packs on their backs immediately upon hearing an alarm, demonstrating their estimation of their odds of success, as well as the general state of their fighting spirit. Hence Vanhala’s new name for their gear: ‘Panic packs! Heeheehee.’
The others ate in silence. Rokka was the first to spot a group of men coming toward them along the road, and yelled, ‘Damn it, lookit that! Kariluoto’s headin’ over. Well, I guess he’s gonna see for himself now how it is… Got some men with ’im. Hang on, what the hell am I sayin’? Those are just pups’s all those are.’
Kariluoto had returned, bringing the battalion’s replacements with him. He took the men to the command post, where they met Koskela.
Kariluoto was overjoyed to see him after such a long time and burst out, ‘Well hello, old man! Old Koski, still holding down the fort. Weeds’ll outlive everything. God doesn’t want them and the devil knows he’ll get them in the end. I’ve brought some boys with me. Four men for the chatterbox team, too… your old platoon, I mean.’
Kariluoto was a happy man. He’d gotten married over his leave. He had returned to the front deaf and blind to the trains of wounded men streaming past. Newspapers full of the retreat and defeat had passed him right by. He’d grown thinner while he was away, and developed black bags under his eyes, and his lips were literally chafed from kissing. His lady Sirkka had bashfully remarked that he was going to wear himself out if he kept up that way.
With the perfect self-absorption of the lover, he had managed to block out the events that were crushing his entire world. Finland could not possibly capitulate, because that would make him, Captain Kariluoto, unhappy, and how could anyone do that, particularly now, when the wave of his life was at its very crest? Surely everyone was aware that he had just married a woman whose magnificence would astonish the entire world. Kariluoto’s sharp-eyed mother had hinted that her son might have acquired a wife with a tendency toward carelessness, but that was precisely what made Sirkka so attractive to Kariluoto. She had such a charming way of forgetting things – and when Kariluoto found a one-mark coin in her stocking, which had been put there in place of a lost garter button, he melted at her adorable ridiculousness.
‘New weapons,’ his beloved papa had repeated anxiously, having realized that the tides of world history were not going to spare the idyllic corner of Northern Europe in which he had lived so happily. A secure government functionary’s job during the week and exercises with the National Guard every Sunday – followed by all sorts of eager, utterly preposterous dreams about the future, backed by nothing but the untamed zeal and blue-eyed naïveté of a country that had won its independence just one generation before.
If a moment arose in which the son was obliged to take a stance on the developments, as well, he consoled himself with the fact of Rommel, or, in the worst case, with the Western Allies’ friendship toward Finland.
Koskela stood waiting as Kariluoto bounded eagerly toward him, his hand outstretched. He had the glow of leave about him, emanating from his clean clothes, freshly cut hair and gleaming boots, upon which dust seemed out of place.
Koskela clasped his outstretched hand and said, ‘Well, well. Hello, there. And congratulations.’
Kariluoto was suddenly unsure of himself. His boisterousness vanished – and only now did he realize the reality he was being faced with. He could see that Koskela’s cheekbones stood out, that his eyelids were red and swollen, and that his forced smile was strangely contorted.
‘Thanks,’ he said quietly, then asked with some hesitation, ‘How are things?’
‘We’re here. Moved since you been away.’
‘Yeah. Tough times. Why don’t we get these men split up and then go find a place to talk? I’ve got a thing or two in my bag. I can take over the company after.’
‘Yeah, sure. The Second Platoon is on the other side of the road, the First and the Fourth are on this side, and the Third is off in reserve. Our battalion demanded it for its own reserve, but gave in when we heard that its headcount was down to sixteen. The Jaeger Platoon is carrying out patrols on the flanks and there aren’t any other reservists left. Everything feels so helplessly weak.’
‘Sarastie seemed quite hopeful about the line along the brook. He thinks it’ll hold.’
‘Maybe. But both flanks are exposed. Well, they’ve been that way before, too. When there’s no one left, there’s no one left, no matter how unreasonable that seems. If only there were just one strong reserve unit to take the flanks!’
They divvied up the replacements and found a quiet place to talk, out of earshot of the messengers and phone operators. Kariluoto opened up his pack and started making sandwiches.
‘I can offer you a drink, too, if you want.’
‘No, no.’
‘I just meant one.’
‘Not worth it for the taste. But hey, how are things back in the land of the living?’
‘Honestly, there’s not much to report. But how are things here?’
Koskela grunted quietly and then fell silent for a long time before saying, a faint surge rising in his voice, ‘It’s all over. As over as it can be.’