Asumaniemi raised his head and looked forward. The movement provoked an angry shower of bullets into the parapet. The boy was pink with excitement and flushed from his run as he gasped, ‘Woo-hoo! We made it! I’m heading in. Follow me and keep your grenades ready! There’s a Russki round that bend. I’ll kill him first. Now listen, man, now we just gotta get ’em right in the eyes. Let’s crawl closer along the bottom of the trench.’
‘For Christ’s sake, boy! There’s two of us!’
‘Don’t be such a whiner! We hafta act fast … I’m going now.’
Asumaniemi set off and Vanhala followed. Just then a hand grenade thudded down in front of them and exploded.
‘I’ll throw.’ Asumaniemi took a grenade and yanked the pull ring. ‘Take that, man!’
The grenade sailed from his hand like a ball from a schoolboy’s and landed precisely where it needed to. The boy sprinted off, his blond hair blowing in the wind, and Vanhala followed on all fours, huffing and puffing, his rear in the air as he scuttled along in a curious sort of gallop. Phiew phiew phiew phiew phiew …
The clattering only intensified. Their own men were shooting furiously, as they had seen Vanhala and Asumaniemi make it into the trench. Jalovaara knew, though, that the hardest part was still to come. The hollow itself was almost in a blind spot, so the danger there wasn’t the greatest they were going to face. Once they reached the positions, however … and that gangly giraffe … fuck!
Jalovaara realized that Honkajoki hadn’t gone out at all. But what was that? There he goes!
The Ensign witnessed a peculiar sight. The towering Honkajoki was crawling forward on his hands and knees. But he didn’t move his hands and legs normally, he moved them in turns, lifting either both hands or both feet at the same time. This made his advance a bizarre sort of hopping procedure. The most amazing thing about the maneuver, however, was its incredible speed. His hands and feet moved jauntily, and he progressed like some outlandish animal straight down the bottom of the hollow. He wrapped up his sprint with a few leaps and disappeared into the communication trench.
Behind the curve in the trench lay a Russian corpse the hand grenade had torn to pieces. Another man was crawling away wounded. Two more were coming down the trench to help him. In the blink of an eye, it was as if they had been frozen in place. They knew that enemy soldiers had made it into this end of the communication trench, but they were still stunned at the sight of this bare-headed boy standing before them with his submachine gun raised.
Trrrrrrrrrrt trrrt trrrrrrt …
Both died without a sound. Asumaniemi yelled backwards, ‘Fork in the trench! Somebody go check the other direction …’
‘He didn’t come,’ Vanhala gasped, but then saw Honkajoki flop down into the trench behind them.
‘Hurry. Hurry … come here!’
Honkajoki came, his eyes round, too out of breath to say a word.
‘There’s a fork in the trench over there … Remember … Whoever goes to the second bunker … Make sure that we can make it into range to take out the machine guns …’
‘Bam.’
‘Hand grenade.’
‘I’ll answer.’ Asumaniemi tossed another grenade. Right after the blast, he took off and made it to the fork in the trench. Three hand grenades in a row sailed toward them, and they leapt a few steps backwards. As they were lying there, Asumaniemi said, ‘I’m gonna go kill that wounded guy. So he doesn’t get us from behind.’
‘He wouldn’t be able to,’ Vanhala panted.
The grenades having gone off, they tried again. Asumaniemi took Vanhala’s grenade too, as Vanhala couldn’t throw very far at all. The boy sped up and threw hard. The grenade flew to just about the spot from which the three grenades had emerged.
‘What will be will be … ding ding ding!’ Asumaniemi ran to the next turn in the trench and shot from behind the corner.
Over the uninterrupted pounding of his submachine gun came Asumaniemi’s shouts of, ‘Guys! … Come here! … Four! … No, more!’
Vanhala and Honkajoki ran crouching after Asumaniemi, making it around the curve in the trench just in time to see the boy empty a drum into a heap of a body that was still moving slightly. They were at the fork in the trench. Vanhala threw two grenades, one after the other, in the direction of the second bunker, and commanded Honkajoki to stand at the head of the trench.
‘Just don’t let ’em through … keep your grenades ready … And if they throw, dodge – but don’t leave …’ Priha was panting with anxiety from the speed of their exertion. Honkajoki was just as frantic, but he nonetheless feigned an air of propriety and straightened up into shooting stance as he said breathlessly, ‘Shock trooper Honkajoki at your service …’
Then Priha threw his last grenade over Asumaniemi’s head, and as soon as it exploded, they headed around the next turn, stepping on the bodies obstructing the trench floor. Soft, limp flesh squished gruesomely underfoot. Asumaniemi was glowing with ecstasy and excitement, and Vanhala was starting to feel some of the same enthusiasm as well. He realized that the operation had succeeded, and this success, combined with his awareness of his own role in it, tickled Priha. He was already smiling.
Just as they both opened fire along the edge of the trench to hold back the enemies manning it, they heard Jalovaara shout from further back on their left. Vanhala glanced over and saw the Ensign running, with Sihvonen and a few of the new men behind him. The other section arrived from behind, coming by way of the same low stretch they had taken.
The two machine guns they had set out to silence sat mute on the bank of the trench. The soldiers manning them had already run by the time Vanhala threw his last grenade. The advancing platoon did encounter some fire from further off, but not enough to halt their attack.
Jalovaara was the first to leap down into the trench. He ordered Vanhala to head back and lead the second section down the trench to the second bunker. The men had received these instructions earlier, of course, but the Ensign still wanted to make sure. He also ordered Vanhala to remind Honkajoki that he was to wait at the fork until Määttä brought the machine gun. It had to be positioned so as to prevent the enemy soldiers from climbing out of the trench and escaping as they evacuated the positions.
‘All right, boys! Now we’re in and we are not letting go. Get to it! Guys in the back, make sure that not one nose peeps out over the edge of this trench. Men in the back, keep the hand grenades coming to the fellows up front. Asumaniemi … OK, here we go.’ Jalovaara was whipped up into a real battle rage. He stepped out in front, hoping to do his part in the whole mission. Watching Vanhala, Asumaniemi and Honkajoki carry out their hand-grenade operation, he had begun to wish he had gone himself and left the platoon to Määttä. He felt a bit ashamed of having sent the others out first – hence his desire to take part in the fighting personally.
They started clearing out the trench. The Ensign walked in front with his submachine gun tucked under his arm, and Asumaniemi threw hand grenades over his head. Some came flying at them from the opposite direction as well, but Asumaniemi easily overwhelmed them. The length and precision of his throws guaranteed that the men could move forward practically unobstructed.
Then the trench joined up with the main artery running along the riverbank. An intense exchange of hand grenades halted them there for a moment, until Jalovaara put a swift end to the skirmish by running boldly up to the turn in the trench and mowing down everything behind it. He brought down a Russian captain along with his three men. That cued the flight.
Then things began to clear up elsewhere too. They were able to
retake the other stronghold position the enemy had seized by putting it under heavy fire from the position they’d attained. Jalovaara ordered Määttä and his machine gun to be brought to him as soon as they arrived with the second section, and as soon as they came, they started sending machine-gun and submachine-gun fire over to the neighboring position, over which some intense close-range combat was underway. A large percentage of that stronghold’s posts were practically laid out on a platter before them, and once Määttä got going they could watch the enemy soldiers abandoning the trench. The position had been lost for the very same reason. Once the invaders had taken over the hill that controlled it, they could just shoot their opponents out of their posts and force them to abandon the stronghold, just as the enemy soldiers were now compelled to do themselves, as Määttä shot belt after belt into the trench and the gun-nests.
The others immediately resumed pushing out the enemy. Then came the moment Jalovaara had been waiting for. Their opponents had to climb out of the trench and abandon the position. Hand grenades were still crashing down constantly over by the second bunker, but in front of them the first fugitive was already climbing up onto the parapet. He was trying to make it to the riverbank, but went down after a couple of strides.
Vanhala was behind Asumaniemi and yelled, ‘They’re leaving … Hey … at least ten …’ Several soldiers were climbing from the trench about thirty yards out in front of them. Their plight was hopeless, however.
Jalovaara’s men rushed to the nests and opened fire. Even the more timid men were in a wild frenzy, as the danger was not great and the targets were all the better for it. Enemy soldiers died all along the riverbank. A few made it to the river, but no sooner did they reach the water than it splashed up around them.
‘Aim sharp, boys … time to settle the score, boys … they asked for it …’ Jalovaara’s voice was hoarse as he yelled out brokenly, panting with fury and the rage of battle. Asumaniemi rose up carelessly and said, ‘Hey … I put a stop to that butterfly stroke … did all you bums see that?’
‘Me, too … we came that way too … there … for my bootleg …’ Priha was settling old accounts.
The one who killed fugitives with the greatest panache, however, was Honkajoki, who had joined in late in the game. Actually, it would be false to say that he killed fugitives. That is, he didn’t actually hit anyone, because he didn’t aim – he just shot in the same general direction as the others, looking very splendid and calling to Vanhala, ‘Shock trooper Vanhala, brilliant execution. The homeland will not forget you.’
Honkajoki figured he had pulled his weight in the whole ordeal, if only by the seat of his pants. Although, indeed, he had been a little tardy setting out. But one does have to assess a situation first. Understandably.
Not one enemy soldier made it across the river. Those on the opposite bank were firing intensely, however. A thud came from the direction of the second bunker, and the men could instantly guess what had happened. Blown up with a satchel charge.
‘Guys, I’m out of ammo. Any of you bums got extra?’ Asumaniemi turned slightly to the side in the nest and simultaneously rose so that his head and shoulders popped into view through the opening in the nest. Just then, he tumbled over, grabbing his chest.
The others saw him take a few steps as if he were drunk. Then they heard him say quickly a couple of times, ‘It’s on the left … the heart is on the left …’
Then he fell to the floor of the trench, and when Jalovaara and Vanhala turned him onto his back, they saw that the boy was dead. The bullet had actually struck quite close to his heart.
Jalovaara suddenly turned away. He took a few violent steps, but then got himself under control and said, ‘Always the best …’
The shooting ceased. Everyone was stunned. The easy slaughter of a moment ago and the success of the counter-attack, with no casualties, had lifted their spirits almost to the point of exultation. Asumaniemi’s death thudded down like a sledgehammer in the middle of the elated atmosphere. The final expression on the boy’s face was one of astonishment. No doubt his bravery had been connected to a perfect certainty that danger did not actually exist. He had had one, brief moment in which to realize that playing with one’s life can lead to losing it.
He was, incidentally, one of the most beautiful corpses they had seen. That slightly childish expression of amazement still beamed from his face. Otherwise it was perfectly calm, untroubled by any of the warped contortions that usually made the features of the dead so horrible to look at.
Jalovaara left a few men to secure the riverbank, then set off toward the second bunker’s communication trench with Vanhala, Honkajoki, Sihvonen and one of the new recruits. Six enemy soldiers surrendered there, seeing that they had no hope of escape. They had been retreating down the road the second section had come along when they saw that their escape route was blocked. The last man raised his hands like the others, but then suddenly grabbed the submachine gun he had dropped, stuck the barrel under his jaw, and shot himself. He had the shoulder tabs of a second lieutenant.
The position had been retaken. Two men from the second section had been wounded – one by shrapnel from a hand grenade and the other by a piece of wood that had sailed from the doorpost of the bunker after he threw the satchel charge through its opening. They had taken three prisoners from the bunker, making eight in all. Jalovaara sent them away immediately and hurried to man the positions. As soon as the enemy was sure their own men were all out of the stronghold, they would launch a terrible barrage in revenge. There was no doubt about that.
Things were already quiet in the neighboring stronghold as well. The enemy soldiers over there who had tried to make it to the river ended up dying helplessly, as Määttä’s machine gun was situated at a particularly opportune angle. When Jalovaara reached the machine-gun position, the new recruit who had been assisting Määttä was bursting with excitement. This many and that many men we shot! They dropped like frogs!
Määttä himself was smoking a cigarette and looking indifferent. When Jalovaara congratulated him, he paid the Ensign no attention, then said, as if he hadn’t heard him at all, ‘Might want to pull the team back into the foxholes for cover. Iron’s gonna start comin’ down pretty soon.’
Jalovaara could see that Määttä took no interest in anything but the strictly practical side of things. The Ensign set off down the trench toward the others. They had gathered around Asumaniemi’s body, which the medics had lifted onto a stretcher.
‘He was good at gymnastics,’ a voice said. ‘He was always practicing at the training center ’cause they had bars there.’
‘He was always dangling from the tree branches here, too, whenever he had any time.’
Jalovaara ordered the body to be taken away so that it wouldn’t end up in the barrage.
When the medics had left, he said to Vanhala, ‘This means another stripe for you, Priha. It’s … just … too bad.’ Jalovaara’s voice trembled. ‘What a horrible reward for Asumaniemi.’
Then the Ensign looked at Honkajoki. ‘Well, you did quite all right too.’
The Ensign smiled. He was remembering Honkajoki’s hop-crawl. Honkajoki raised his eyes with a look of respectful earnestness, removed his cap and bowed.
Then they all laughed. A little too much, perhaps. The joy felt slightly hysterical as their anxiety began to wear off. Only Vanhala’s heehee-ing was just as it had been as he said, ‘So we’re gonna have a real live officer on our hands! Lots of blood, sweat and tears goes into a rise in the ranks. But a man’s rewarded in the end! Heeheehee …’
Then they ducked into the
foxholes without being commanded. Back-clapping and heehee-ing stopped in a second. Booms sounded from the other side of the river, like potatoes dropping onto the floor. Stalin’s organs.
V
They lay curled up in the shelters dug into the walls of the trench. Fire, dirt, iron and smoke swirled up over the positions. Their terror was just the same as before. It hadn’t changed at all. Eyes closed, hearts thumping, bodies trembling, they tried to sink themselves into the very earth.
They might have been even more scared today than they had been before, though. They knew that the firing would end soon.
‘Stop, just stop.’
They had finished with the war the day before, but the enemy had yet to do so. It was as if might was flaunting its divinity, taunting them, even in these final moments.
Watchful, exhausted and beyond worn out, they waited for the blasts to cease. What use had their dogged stint by this river been? What use had the counter-attack a few days ago been? They were going to have to relinquish the positions.
Right. They had lost. Received their punishment. Why had it happened this way? Well, there would be many answers to that, no doubt. There was, at least, one consolation in it all. In handing them this whipping, fate had released them from all responsibility. What would victory have meant? Responsibility. Responsibility for deeds they would have been obliged to account for, sooner or later. Because as long as the history of humanity marches on, the cause of what follows will be what came before. And in cause lies responsibility. He who presides over the cause must answer for the consequences. And maybe it was just these exhausted men’s good fortune that neither they nor their descendants would be the ones obliged to answer. They had already atoned for their sins – paid for them with their own hides. They had but one hope left: to pull the shreds of their lives through these final minutes.