The Land of Sad Songs – Stories From Protect and Survive Finland
- Thread starter DrakonFin
- Start date
XVI. The Powers That Will Be
Fragment 81.
Logged 20.06.2008
JAG
[This fragment is a part of an interview with a FNA bureaucrat (M177).]
[Do you know that at the time the Swedish authorities thought that Finland was gone, pretty much entirely?]
We didn't know that, exactly, though I think we were afraid of it. Getting a word out that somebody was still alive here became one of our priorities in late March and April, though I can't say it was the first thing on people's minds. There was just too much to do.
[I see it has been said that it was about two weeks after the attacks that people started to come out of the shelters...]
By and large, you could say that, though that applies more to the west. In the east, there was more radiation and where ever there was someone with means to measure it, it took up to a month, in some cases more. But never mind the radiation, it was more of a question of necessity. Two weeks' rations for nuclear shelters was the official pre-war recommendation, and people weren't very good in rationing food themselves. Simply put, people were driven out of shelter by hunger, or raw fear, and that often applied also to municipal authorities and such, people that should have known better. Had been trained, in fact, to know better.
And of course there were those who had hardly seen the inside of a shelter at all. Emergency personnel, soldiers, electricians and such. A lot of these people died of exposure, sometimes it was as much the cold as the radiation. And the refugees.... There were the field hospitals, of my God yes, very makeshift ones where the walking wounded and the stragglers gathered in the early days. Some of them had a few doctors and medics and very rudimentary facilities. Others were just open-air morgues-in-waiting. Some of the latter were only seen again when the snow melted.
The Defence Forces' Signals units were another tragic case: time and time again local commanders would sent them out to fix antennas, landlines and such, to run new cables to make contact with units and places that didn't exist anymore. You can imagine what that meant for the life expectancy of these young conscripted men. With them, we lost a lot of skill that would have been sorely needed later.
[What were you doing at that time? I mean your organisation?]
”My organisation”? My organisation was a handful of confused men stranded in a strange place. It was the local governor's organisation that was working, and under the circumstances it was working admirably. At the end of the second week March, they begun to have a measure of control over the civilian and military authorities in the province. And even beyond, as the leadership of the provinces north and south of us had been rendered unable to function. Uki Voutilainen is the unsung hero of the reconstruction – a terrific administrator, he was capable of functioning and making decisions when many of the people around him were reduced to sobbing wrecks.
[But what about the National Authority?]
Well, yes, I gather you have seen the ”Face of Continuity” posters and the official accounts of the FNA's beginnings. It wasn't at all as smooth as that. My boss... he was quite reluctant to assume control. I don't know if it was fear, modesty or indecision, maybe all of that or something very different. I think he didn't want to believe that Sorsa and really, all of them were gone. Well all of them weren't, as we later found out. But could as well have been, for all intents and purposes.
When we put out the first proclamations and started the broadcasts, my boss signed the papers ”for the Government of the Republic”, and using his original title. Check the archives, I'll sign the waiver. My name still carries some weight hereabouts, despite the generals' reign of terror [flashes a brief smile]. You'll find out that it was May or June already when the first ”Acting Prime Minister” appears. Voutilainen was instrumental in nudging him into the right direction, and he'd be one of the few people my boss trusted unequivocally to support him during the next few years.
Acting Prime Minister. He never wanted to be called President, and was wary of using any titles. That is why you'll see just his name everywhere and that is why people call him ”the Acting”[1].
Ask anyone who really knew him, though there aren't many alive now, they're all say he was very bad at starting anything new. But when he got around to a project, he'd work like a man possessed to see it through. He made the FNA his project, and that decision would follow him to the grave.
[What were the biggest challenges facing you in the winter of 1984?]
Well... Have you ever tried building up a government apparatus from scratch? No? The basic problem was that we had (what we initially thought was) over hundred thousand people to keep alive, to feed, to keep warm, to treat and too little, absolutely too little of anything to do it with. And we had too much men with guns and too little people who had the experience and authority to lead them. We would have to rebuild communications, reassert control, fix the infrastructure. And restart the rationing to feed the people.
The roads and railways were nearly unusable. The railway network had been cut in several places, it was probably only by mistake or sheer luck the rail hub closest to us, at Pieksämäki, had been left untouched. The roads... where they weren't destroyed by the atomic bombs or conventional bombing, they were blocked by abandoned vehicles and snowed in. All that bloody snow... That winter, every night I prayed God that the next day wouldn't bring more snow. As a rule, He wasn't listening.
Electricity was another thing. The grid was in tatters, and most major power stations had been lost. Morbidly, in this situation it was good the bigger towns were gone. They would have needed the electricity to live on, despite the district heating schemes that had started becoming a vogue before the war. In the countryside and smaller towns most houses were wood-fired. People could make do without electric heaters, and given how long it was before we had the electricity supply up again, such as it was, this was absolutely vital.
[What was it like in the winter?]
It was like a bad war movie. And I am not kidding. Soldiers everywhere and in implausible uniforms. In the town, all available space was taken up to quarter them, and that meant the refugees coming, mostly, from the south and the west would be had to be housed in even more sorry dwellings. Temporary camps sprouted up around the town centre. The conditions were horrid, sure, but they trumped most other settlements in the areas we were now running. This was where the orders were given and the food rationed and distributed, after all. We gave the military police a free hand in keeping order, it seemed necessary under those conditions. Pretty it was not, and I still have dreams about some of the things I saw that winter right there in our own sorry capital.
The decisions that were made then... I am not proud of all the things we did, not by a longshot. It was survival. By and by, it was those decisions that made this domain of ours what they used to call, pre-war, a garrison state. I guess that applies to many places in the world where civilization still clings to existence these days. But ours is a very Finnish version. In the early years, it was like something Väinö Linna could have imagined in a drunken nightmare after a week of substance-abuse and an overdose of war stories in the company of Paavo Haavikko and Timo K. Mukka. If you have any idea what I am talking about. But as you can see, we got better... [Smiles ironically].
Notes:
[1] Virkaatekevä or tjänstgörande.
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Falkenburg
Monthly Donor
Man it sounds grim up North. 
Poor old Finland. Sounds like they staggered out of the rubble only to stumble into a semi-fascist State.
Excellent Update, Drakonfin.
Sad and grim but excellent.
Falkenburg
Poor old Finland. Sounds like they staggered out of the rubble only to stumble into a semi-fascist State.
Excellent Update, Drakonfin.
Sad and grim but excellent.
Falkenburg
Man it sounds grim up North.
Poor old Finland. Sounds like they staggered out of the rubble only to stumble into a semi-fascist State.
Excellent Update, Drakonfin.
Sad and grim but excellent.
Falkenburg
Thank you for these kind words. To show my appreciation, I'll post here a completely gratuitous manipulated image that is contrafactual even within the TL's context.
But I think it is pretty appropriate nevertheless.
(For you non-Finns, this is veteran news anchor Arvi Lind, called the most trustworthy man in Finland, in a period-appropriate image.)
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Congratulations to Chipperback for winning the Turtledove with Land of Flatwater! Here's a little something to help his great story along...
Here are the five Eppus
Five good-looking guys
We play in a hard fashion
And look good on stage
Yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Our tour bus has a pretty paint on it
It says ”Eppu Normaali”
Our lives are going great
And we got pics of bunnies on our pajamas
Yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
...
Eppu Normaali: Jee jee (1979)
XVII. Flight Risk
Fragment 101.
Logged 08.01.2009
BFA
[This fragment is an excerpt from the unpublished memoirs of Ville Mäkiaho, a former soldier, as of 2008 a resident of Seinäjoki, Central PPO.]
...The Major had ordered me to be the driver, I believe because he knew I had studied languages and could be of help to him. Of this, I had of course no idea at the time. I was sitting in the dimly-lit hallway in Raahe police station, looking at the anti-crime posters on the walls and listening to some music when I noticed the commotion at the door. Two of the policemen were dragging a reluctant man towards me. The man was dressed like an airman and his clothes were torn. His cheeks were dirty, I think it was dried blood. But he looked otherwise uninjured. As the Major looked at the trio, the man was taken to a room with the legend INTERROGATION 2 on the door. My CO sat down.
” - Sergeant, let us sit here for a moment before going into that room. The man's name is Norman Rittinen, I believe he is a captain in the United States Air Force. I think he has Finnish roots and can understand what we say.”
” - Yes, sir. What do you want me to do?”
” - Take notes, I'll ask him some questions. Write in English, it might be faster. Don't say anything. I know you probably speak better English than I do, so listen carefully what he says – if he says anything, that is. If you'd like to comment any of his his words to me, use Swedish. It is unlikely he'd speak it too.”
I nodded and followed him into the room. The two men were staring at the American sitting in the chair, looking angry. They were locals and I believe they knew full well what had happened in Oulu. They were older men, volunteers for the police force and they didn't wear an ordinary police uniform but a military style getup with a blue armband with the police insignia. If I didn't know better, I would have said they were military police.
We sat across the table from the American. He glared at us, looking tired but in control of himself. The Major asked the policemen to leave the room.
” - And for God's sake, tell that kid to turn the music down now!”, he exhorted them.
One of the two nodded and they left the room, banging the door loudly.
” - Now”, my CO said in his accented English, ”here we are, Captain. Rittinen, was it?” He spoke in a steady, low voice, not in the menacing drawl he used to chew up poorly performing NCOs and junior officers. The American just stared at him.
” - Captain Rittinen, US Air Force. My name is Ahola and I am a Major in the Finnish Defence Forces. Here's what I know. You and your comrades were caught by men belonging to the Coast Guard on the day after the bombs fell on my country. They also saw the remains of a large airplane, and by your clothing you clearly are airmen. That means you were downed in Finnish airspace, and any way you cut it flying that thing into our skies is an act of war against my poor nation.”
He stopped, much like having an epiphany. Smiling slowly he drew a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Proffered it to the American.
” - A cigarette, Captain?”
The American nodded and reached out to pick one. The Major lit it as well as his own. As an afterthough, he offered the pack to me, too. I declined.
” - I'd say the plane you were flying would be a version of the B-52, right? And you wouldn't be flying a plane like that from an airfield in Norway or Denmark – you would have taken off on another continent entirely. It was a bomber.”
Waving his cigarette, he looked at the quiet, immobile American, who stared back and took a slow drag from his own.
” - And flying across the world in that big bird of yours, you wouldn't be carrying teddy bears, emergency rations or even conventional bombs, not on a day like that. You had nuclear weapons in that plane.”
He looked at me.
” - Sergeant, you getting all this down?”
I nodded.
” - Good. Now, Captain Rittinen... Your mission was to drop nuclear bombs into Finland or the Soviet Union. Or both. I know that and you know that quite well, too. There simply is no other explanation for you men being in the Finnish airspace on a day like that, in a bloody big airplane like the one our guys found.”
The American was still saying nothing. The Major stood up.
” - I could beat you into pulp if I wanted to. If you fought back, I could call those two men outside to hold you while I do that. They would be happy to take turns beating you, too.”
Now there was menace in his voice. His English also sounded more laboured than before
” - I could kill you with my bare hands. I could draw my pistol and shoot you in cold blood. If I wanted to be fancy about it, I could have you dragged out, declare it a punishment for crimes against humanity and have you executed with assault rifles. What's best, after what happened almost three weeks ago now, nobody would challenge or rebuke me for that. Those two men in the outside would shake my bloody hand and go finish the rest of your crew downstairs.”
The American kept quiet, but I could see him sweating, just a bit.
” - Or then I could just leave you with the locals. Tell them it was you that destroyed Oulu... And Vaasa, for good measure. They'll take my word over yours any day, and they'd know what to do with you. I'd walk out that door with my young sergeant here. You're not a problem to me, I have enough real problems. I have a damned nation to rebuild, and it is the middle of the bloody winter. Due to the recent... cutbacks in the officer corps, I have more responsibilities than ever before. I have my work cut out for me, and I can forget you, just like that.”
He leaned on the table.
” - But, Captain, it doesn't have to go that way. I can leave you to rot or die with the locals, but you have an option.”
He let that sink in for a moment.
” - Right now, my superiors know very little about what happened to this country. We'll need information if we are to get back on our feet. It is one of the few things that matter. Tell me about your mission. What you were flying, which locations you were bombing and why did you crash on the coast here. Just the bare bones, nothing fancy. You do this, and I give you my word I'll arrange that you will be escorted to Sweden as soon as it is possible. In the meanwhile, I will take you and your comrades out of here, to be quartered with professional soldiers until we can arrange taking you across the border. I'll throw in regular meals, too, you'll get the same rations me and my men eat.”
He paused for a moment to sit down again.
” - Look at these tabs here.”
He gestured towards his throat and shoulders.
” - They are blue, but I am not Military Police. Or Intelligence. See the wings - I am Air Force, just like you. I don't want to leave you for dead after what you've been through. Enough people have died in this war already. You do what I ask, and I'll give you my word as an officer to treat you with as much respect as I can.”
He gestured towards me.
” - You can have this in writing from my sergeant, if you want to take it to your comrades. But understand that there are no guarantees. I will do my best to get you out across to Sweden, but I don't know how the Swedes are faring right now. For all I know, the Russians have bombed them to oblivion. I'll do my best to feed you, but I don't know how much food we have even to feed our own soldiers.”
The Major stood up and beckoned me to do the same.
” - Now, Captain. You'll be escorted back to the cell with your comrades. Take my proposal to your crew and make a decision. I'll come down to hear you in an hour. Accept the deal and we'll leave together. Decline it and I'll never bother you again.”
He tore two pages out of my notebook and stuffed them to the American's pocket.
” - Constable! Our prisoner is ready to return to the cells!”
We looked on as the trio descended the stairs. The young auxiliary cop turned the music back up. My CO glared at him but said nothing.
Here are the five Eppus
Five good-looking guys
We play in a hard fashion
And look good on stage
Yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Our tour bus has a pretty paint on it
It says ”Eppu Normaali”
Our lives are going great
And we got pics of bunnies on our pajamas
Yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yeah yeah
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
...
Eppu Normaali: Jee jee (1979)
XVII. Flight Risk
Fragment 101.
Logged 08.01.2009
BFA
[This fragment is an excerpt from the unpublished memoirs of Ville Mäkiaho, a former soldier, as of 2008 a resident of Seinäjoki, Central PPO.]
...The Major had ordered me to be the driver, I believe because he knew I had studied languages and could be of help to him. Of this, I had of course no idea at the time. I was sitting in the dimly-lit hallway in Raahe police station, looking at the anti-crime posters on the walls and listening to some music when I noticed the commotion at the door. Two of the policemen were dragging a reluctant man towards me. The man was dressed like an airman and his clothes were torn. His cheeks were dirty, I think it was dried blood. But he looked otherwise uninjured. As the Major looked at the trio, the man was taken to a room with the legend INTERROGATION 2 on the door. My CO sat down.
” - Sergeant, let us sit here for a moment before going into that room. The man's name is Norman Rittinen, I believe he is a captain in the United States Air Force. I think he has Finnish roots and can understand what we say.”
” - Yes, sir. What do you want me to do?”
” - Take notes, I'll ask him some questions. Write in English, it might be faster. Don't say anything. I know you probably speak better English than I do, so listen carefully what he says – if he says anything, that is. If you'd like to comment any of his his words to me, use Swedish. It is unlikely he'd speak it too.”
I nodded and followed him into the room. The two men were staring at the American sitting in the chair, looking angry. They were locals and I believe they knew full well what had happened in Oulu. They were older men, volunteers for the police force and they didn't wear an ordinary police uniform but a military style getup with a blue armband with the police insignia. If I didn't know better, I would have said they were military police.
We sat across the table from the American. He glared at us, looking tired but in control of himself. The Major asked the policemen to leave the room.
” - And for God's sake, tell that kid to turn the music down now!”, he exhorted them.
One of the two nodded and they left the room, banging the door loudly.
” - Now”, my CO said in his accented English, ”here we are, Captain. Rittinen, was it?” He spoke in a steady, low voice, not in the menacing drawl he used to chew up poorly performing NCOs and junior officers. The American just stared at him.
” - Captain Rittinen, US Air Force. My name is Ahola and I am a Major in the Finnish Defence Forces. Here's what I know. You and your comrades were caught by men belonging to the Coast Guard on the day after the bombs fell on my country. They also saw the remains of a large airplane, and by your clothing you clearly are airmen. That means you were downed in Finnish airspace, and any way you cut it flying that thing into our skies is an act of war against my poor nation.”
He stopped, much like having an epiphany. Smiling slowly he drew a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Proffered it to the American.
” - A cigarette, Captain?”
The American nodded and reached out to pick one. The Major lit it as well as his own. As an afterthough, he offered the pack to me, too. I declined.
” - I'd say the plane you were flying would be a version of the B-52, right? And you wouldn't be flying a plane like that from an airfield in Norway or Denmark – you would have taken off on another continent entirely. It was a bomber.”
Waving his cigarette, he looked at the quiet, immobile American, who stared back and took a slow drag from his own.
” - And flying across the world in that big bird of yours, you wouldn't be carrying teddy bears, emergency rations or even conventional bombs, not on a day like that. You had nuclear weapons in that plane.”
He looked at me.
” - Sergeant, you getting all this down?”
I nodded.
” - Good. Now, Captain Rittinen... Your mission was to drop nuclear bombs into Finland or the Soviet Union. Or both. I know that and you know that quite well, too. There simply is no other explanation for you men being in the Finnish airspace on a day like that, in a bloody big airplane like the one our guys found.”
The American was still saying nothing. The Major stood up.
” - I could beat you into pulp if I wanted to. If you fought back, I could call those two men outside to hold you while I do that. They would be happy to take turns beating you, too.”
Now there was menace in his voice. His English also sounded more laboured than before
” - I could kill you with my bare hands. I could draw my pistol and shoot you in cold blood. If I wanted to be fancy about it, I could have you dragged out, declare it a punishment for crimes against humanity and have you executed with assault rifles. What's best, after what happened almost three weeks ago now, nobody would challenge or rebuke me for that. Those two men in the outside would shake my bloody hand and go finish the rest of your crew downstairs.”
The American kept quiet, but I could see him sweating, just a bit.
” - Or then I could just leave you with the locals. Tell them it was you that destroyed Oulu... And Vaasa, for good measure. They'll take my word over yours any day, and they'd know what to do with you. I'd walk out that door with my young sergeant here. You're not a problem to me, I have enough real problems. I have a damned nation to rebuild, and it is the middle of the bloody winter. Due to the recent... cutbacks in the officer corps, I have more responsibilities than ever before. I have my work cut out for me, and I can forget you, just like that.”
He leaned on the table.
” - But, Captain, it doesn't have to go that way. I can leave you to rot or die with the locals, but you have an option.”
He let that sink in for a moment.
” - Right now, my superiors know very little about what happened to this country. We'll need information if we are to get back on our feet. It is one of the few things that matter. Tell me about your mission. What you were flying, which locations you were bombing and why did you crash on the coast here. Just the bare bones, nothing fancy. You do this, and I give you my word I'll arrange that you will be escorted to Sweden as soon as it is possible. In the meanwhile, I will take you and your comrades out of here, to be quartered with professional soldiers until we can arrange taking you across the border. I'll throw in regular meals, too, you'll get the same rations me and my men eat.”
He paused for a moment to sit down again.
” - Look at these tabs here.”
He gestured towards his throat and shoulders.
” - They are blue, but I am not Military Police. Or Intelligence. See the wings - I am Air Force, just like you. I don't want to leave you for dead after what you've been through. Enough people have died in this war already. You do what I ask, and I'll give you my word as an officer to treat you with as much respect as I can.”
He gestured towards me.
” - You can have this in writing from my sergeant, if you want to take it to your comrades. But understand that there are no guarantees. I will do my best to get you out across to Sweden, but I don't know how the Swedes are faring right now. For all I know, the Russians have bombed them to oblivion. I'll do my best to feed you, but I don't know how much food we have even to feed our own soldiers.”
The Major stood up and beckoned me to do the same.
” - Now, Captain. You'll be escorted back to the cell with your comrades. Take my proposal to your crew and make a decision. I'll come down to hear you in an hour. Accept the deal and we'll leave together. Decline it and I'll never bother you again.”
He tore two pages out of my notebook and stuffed them to the American's pocket.
” - Constable! Our prisoner is ready to return to the cells!”
We looked on as the trio descended the stairs. The young auxiliary cop turned the music back up. My CO glared at him but said nothing.
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...
(Chorus)
I fell and I got lost
And I walked through a cold village
Past the closed doors
And covered windows
On a silent, grey road
Past everything that lives
To that thin mist
That surrounds the pastures
...
CMX: Vainajala (1998)
XVIII. Silent Roads
Fragment 109.
Logged 19.01.2009
HJK
[A stack of handwritten text from the FNA archives. Possibly gained through an interrogation.]
It must have been about three weeks after me and Pavel left our unit. I'm not sure about the day, having spent that time in a dark basement with an oil lamp as my only illumination. I slept a lot, despite the nightmares I was having. I felt like going crazy. I talked to the dog, telling what I saw in those dreams, to get things off my mind but also to calm him down - I guess might have screamed in my sleep.
I needed to get out of the basement. And I was starting to run out of food, too, even after eating some suspect jars of jelly the old man must have forgotten in one corner. So, I crawled up the stairs and carefully peeked out the windows. It was day time, and nothing moved outside. There was just the wind, howling and pushing the snow around. The dog followed me and curled up by the cold fireplace.
I went through the things in the old man's house. I wasn't proud of it, but he wouldn't need anything there anymore. I looked at the photos on the mantelpiece – a gaunt farmer and his wife. No children. Old newspapers on the table, unwashed dishes, clothes hanging on chairs. The signs of a man living alone. A big grandfather clock on the wall, stopped. For ever, I though.
I was thinking I couldn't go back to my unit, they'd think me a deserter. Which I of course was. I sat down, opened one of the few cans of fruit I had left and started planning as I ate. The ideas I came up with, pretty stupid in retrospect, at least gave me a semblance of purpose.
Apart from the food, I could find almost all I needed among the belongings of the man I had killed. Good civilian winter clothes, if old and smelling a bit musty. A road map of southern Finland and a compass. A sturdy backpack and a newish pair of those rubber-covered valenki the Finns use. A portable gas stove and some gas. Some painkillers and bandages. Finnish money. Going through the cabinets in the bedroom I found a locked wooden box, which I curiously proceeded to smash on the floor. It had an old German-style pistol in it and some papers. A couple of medals. Military identification, an eagle clutching the swastika. This man was a Hitlerite! That somehow made me feel better for killing and robbing him, though it still didn't feel right.
I slept that night in the house still. In the first light of the morning I woke up to the dog's growl. He stopped it immediately after he saw my eyes open, or then I might have just imagined it. What were now my belongings already packed, wrapped in the winter clothing I stepped out of the house. The sun was barely visible behind a cloud cover, the sky was light grey. The snow on the ground was grey too, ranging from off-white to black in places. Ash and soot, everywhere. The air smelled of winter – and smoke. Oppressive.
By the side of the steps leading from the door I saw the two bodies. They startled me, even when I knew they would be there. My dear Pavel and the ancient Fascist, frozen stiff and partly covered by snow. This is where I had dragged them that day, not wanting to live with two rotting corpses in the house. Pavel still had an expression of almost comedy surprise on his icy face as I further covered him. Oh, Pavel Antonovitsh, you can now stop haunting my dreams, I thought. Please. Even I can't bring you back from the realm of the dead. It was useless - he wasn't listening. The next time I slept he would return, again, covered in ice and trying hard to say something I couldn't hear. I could see through his stomach.
I knew where I was, sort of, and picked the road going roughly west – it would connect to a main road some kilometers along. The dog sat on the front steps, panting.
” - Sharik Sharikov”, I said, ”You must stay here. I can't take you with me. You must understand.”
The dog growled, and barked once. Then he cocked his head and looked at me, just like when I met him. Waiting.
I couldn't bear it.
” - Alright, you win. Come on then”, I said, and the dog immediatedly sprinted to me, snow or no snow. In the coming days, I would often have to carry him, so deep was the snow in places.
Nobody had used the road for days, it seemed. No human or vehicle tracks. There were a few houses along it, no lights. I wondered whether they really were empty or was there people still, cowering in small rooms and basements. Somehow I imagined the houses filled with the dead. I had to violently shake the thought from my head.
It took some time, but I finally reached the main road. The same thing here, no recent tracks, but it was bit easier to walk along it, the forest on both sides had sheltered it from the snow a bit. But the forest just went on, and I walked. Through the day and through the night. Through the pitch black. In the dead of the night I stopped to rest and warmed my last can of soup to eat. Beside myself and the dog I was yet to see anything living along the route. Not even birds in the air or on the snowy tree branches.
I could not sleep on the snow, lest I end up as dead as my fallen comrade, and by the morning it was starting to show. I felt there was movement, just outside my field of vision. Nothing there when I looked, of course. And then something fell in front of me. Scared out of my mind, I looked at the red bird on the snowy road. A bullfinch. It had died in mid-flight. I couldn't make myself to touch it, and miraculously even the dog left it alone. Shaken, I trudged on.
Eventually, we reached what looked like a centre of a village. A couple of modest buildings huddled around an intersection. A bar and a grocer. No lights, cars or apparent people. The doors had been nailed shut. Had this place been evacuated? I sought out the back door of building with the shop in it, flinched before breaking the glass and then found out that it wasn't even locked. After a cursory look inside I was satisfied that the building was empty and promptly passed out on a pile of blankets in the back.
I woke up, confused, to the dog licking my face. It was a morning again – the next morning, surely? Nobody had bothered me in my troubled dreams, so it seemed my initial estimation of the building had been vindicated.
The shop proved a treasure trove. There had been no time to evacuate the stores when the people had left. I stuffed my backbag with cans and made us the best meal in what seemed like forever. Canned meatballs with gravy, peas, Finnish dried bread, two kinds of canned fruit.
A day later, we were back on the road. The existence of the village here confirmed that I was reading the map right. We continued roughly west. Before night we reached an even bigger road, and now there were signs of movement. Tracks from heavy vehicles, and the road had even been cleared of snow some days before. Indeed, as I again walked through the night I could notice a light growing behind me, and soon, a rumble of an engine closing slowly. Taking care to hide our tracks, I hid behind a snowbank between a couple of trees.
Holding on to the dog to soothe him, I watched as the vehicle came into view. A farming tractor, towing a trailer. Both were painted white. It was driven by a man in a white hooded winter coat, and it was followed by men on skis, advancing in uneven columns. Finnish soldiers, heavily clad, rifles slung around their shoulders. Some wearing gas masks, others dangling them around their necks. Looking at the passing columns, I counted about sixty men, all the time holding on to the old man's pistol in my pocket. After I'd found some ammo for it in another cabinet, I had chosen it over the rifles and the shotgun because it was much less conspicuous to lug around.
The soldiers passed without incident, and after waiting for some time to be sure, we continued on along the road.
The next two days were pretty similar – there was more traffic now, soldiers on foot or on tractor trailers, a jeep, a few overloaded civilian cars. But I managed to either hide in the forest or pass for a ordinary civilian as nobody seemed to notice me.
Until my luck ran out. I had again walked through the night and the morning arrived more clear than I could remember. There were even some hints of sunshine. As I walked through a wide open expanse of snow - I couldn't decide whether it was fields or lakes – I noticed a vehicle catching up to me fast. It had blue, flashing lights. It had hit something, the left headlight was smashed. I looked frantically around for a place to hide, but it was too late. Running now would be too suspicious. So I walked along, steadily, as the emergency vehicle caught up with me. And passed me.
Then it stopped, less than a hundred meters from me, and the driver put it in reverse. Cursing under my breath, I again unconsciously put my hand to my pocket to feel the pistol. Waited for the door to open.
The text on the car said ”POLIISI”. This was civilian law enforcement, I managed to realize as a blue-clad heavyset man emerged and looked at me appraisingly.
” - Good morning. Are you all right?”
Now was the moment of truth. Could I pass for a local? My plans depended on it. I spoke Finnish. My mother is - was a translator for the state import company and she had secretly taught me in her spare time, believing it would help me in the future. I might still prove her right.
” - Morning. Yes I am.”
The man kept his gaze fixed in me.
” - You know this area is supposed to be evacuated? 'Cause of the war and the radiation. All kinds of nasty people on the move. You'd do well to get away or at least indoors. Where are you going to, anyway?”
Think fast and keep it simple. What was that place on the map?
” - Thank you, I know. I am going to Puumala. Got relatives there.”
The officer's eyes narrowed.
” - Right, then. We are going that way, too. Care for a lift?”
What? What's his angle now, I wondered feverishly.
” - No, thank you. I'll manage.”
He stepped closer.
” - Alright, mister. Let's see your...”
Through the open door, I heard the car radio crackle. The other officer answered it and called out to his colleague. The man in front of me acknowledged his words and turned back towards me.
” - It seems we have more important things to do than to harass you.”
He started back towards the car. Just before the door he turned to me again.
” - Good luck to you, then. You and your dog.”
With that, he dove to the car and it took off at speed. Me and the dog looked at each other. It looked like he also shrugged his shoulders. My heart was still racing.
I felt light and happy, perhaps unconscionably so. It seemed like some higher power was protecting me. I was on my way.
It took me about two hours to realize that the officer had spoken his last words in Russian.
(filler)
(Chorus)
I fell and I got lost
And I walked through a cold village
Past the closed doors
And covered windows
On a silent, grey road
Past everything that lives
To that thin mist
That surrounds the pastures
...
CMX: Vainajala (1998)
XVIII. Silent Roads
Fragment 109.
Logged 19.01.2009
HJK
[A stack of handwritten text from the FNA archives. Possibly gained through an interrogation.]
It must have been about three weeks after me and Pavel left our unit. I'm not sure about the day, having spent that time in a dark basement with an oil lamp as my only illumination. I slept a lot, despite the nightmares I was having. I felt like going crazy. I talked to the dog, telling what I saw in those dreams, to get things off my mind but also to calm him down - I guess might have screamed in my sleep.
I needed to get out of the basement. And I was starting to run out of food, too, even after eating some suspect jars of jelly the old man must have forgotten in one corner. So, I crawled up the stairs and carefully peeked out the windows. It was day time, and nothing moved outside. There was just the wind, howling and pushing the snow around. The dog followed me and curled up by the cold fireplace.
I went through the things in the old man's house. I wasn't proud of it, but he wouldn't need anything there anymore. I looked at the photos on the mantelpiece – a gaunt farmer and his wife. No children. Old newspapers on the table, unwashed dishes, clothes hanging on chairs. The signs of a man living alone. A big grandfather clock on the wall, stopped. For ever, I though.
I was thinking I couldn't go back to my unit, they'd think me a deserter. Which I of course was. I sat down, opened one of the few cans of fruit I had left and started planning as I ate. The ideas I came up with, pretty stupid in retrospect, at least gave me a semblance of purpose.
Apart from the food, I could find almost all I needed among the belongings of the man I had killed. Good civilian winter clothes, if old and smelling a bit musty. A road map of southern Finland and a compass. A sturdy backpack and a newish pair of those rubber-covered valenki the Finns use. A portable gas stove and some gas. Some painkillers and bandages. Finnish money. Going through the cabinets in the bedroom I found a locked wooden box, which I curiously proceeded to smash on the floor. It had an old German-style pistol in it and some papers. A couple of medals. Military identification, an eagle clutching the swastika. This man was a Hitlerite! That somehow made me feel better for killing and robbing him, though it still didn't feel right.
I slept that night in the house still. In the first light of the morning I woke up to the dog's growl. He stopped it immediately after he saw my eyes open, or then I might have just imagined it. What were now my belongings already packed, wrapped in the winter clothing I stepped out of the house. The sun was barely visible behind a cloud cover, the sky was light grey. The snow on the ground was grey too, ranging from off-white to black in places. Ash and soot, everywhere. The air smelled of winter – and smoke. Oppressive.
By the side of the steps leading from the door I saw the two bodies. They startled me, even when I knew they would be there. My dear Pavel and the ancient Fascist, frozen stiff and partly covered by snow. This is where I had dragged them that day, not wanting to live with two rotting corpses in the house. Pavel still had an expression of almost comedy surprise on his icy face as I further covered him. Oh, Pavel Antonovitsh, you can now stop haunting my dreams, I thought. Please. Even I can't bring you back from the realm of the dead. It was useless - he wasn't listening. The next time I slept he would return, again, covered in ice and trying hard to say something I couldn't hear. I could see through his stomach.
I knew where I was, sort of, and picked the road going roughly west – it would connect to a main road some kilometers along. The dog sat on the front steps, panting.
” - Sharik Sharikov”, I said, ”You must stay here. I can't take you with me. You must understand.”
The dog growled, and barked once. Then he cocked his head and looked at me, just like when I met him. Waiting.
I couldn't bear it.
” - Alright, you win. Come on then”, I said, and the dog immediatedly sprinted to me, snow or no snow. In the coming days, I would often have to carry him, so deep was the snow in places.
Nobody had used the road for days, it seemed. No human or vehicle tracks. There were a few houses along it, no lights. I wondered whether they really were empty or was there people still, cowering in small rooms and basements. Somehow I imagined the houses filled with the dead. I had to violently shake the thought from my head.
It took some time, but I finally reached the main road. The same thing here, no recent tracks, but it was bit easier to walk along it, the forest on both sides had sheltered it from the snow a bit. But the forest just went on, and I walked. Through the day and through the night. Through the pitch black. In the dead of the night I stopped to rest and warmed my last can of soup to eat. Beside myself and the dog I was yet to see anything living along the route. Not even birds in the air or on the snowy tree branches.
I could not sleep on the snow, lest I end up as dead as my fallen comrade, and by the morning it was starting to show. I felt there was movement, just outside my field of vision. Nothing there when I looked, of course. And then something fell in front of me. Scared out of my mind, I looked at the red bird on the snowy road. A bullfinch. It had died in mid-flight. I couldn't make myself to touch it, and miraculously even the dog left it alone. Shaken, I trudged on.
Eventually, we reached what looked like a centre of a village. A couple of modest buildings huddled around an intersection. A bar and a grocer. No lights, cars or apparent people. The doors had been nailed shut. Had this place been evacuated? I sought out the back door of building with the shop in it, flinched before breaking the glass and then found out that it wasn't even locked. After a cursory look inside I was satisfied that the building was empty and promptly passed out on a pile of blankets in the back.
I woke up, confused, to the dog licking my face. It was a morning again – the next morning, surely? Nobody had bothered me in my troubled dreams, so it seemed my initial estimation of the building had been vindicated.
The shop proved a treasure trove. There had been no time to evacuate the stores when the people had left. I stuffed my backbag with cans and made us the best meal in what seemed like forever. Canned meatballs with gravy, peas, Finnish dried bread, two kinds of canned fruit.
A day later, we were back on the road. The existence of the village here confirmed that I was reading the map right. We continued roughly west. Before night we reached an even bigger road, and now there were signs of movement. Tracks from heavy vehicles, and the road had even been cleared of snow some days before. Indeed, as I again walked through the night I could notice a light growing behind me, and soon, a rumble of an engine closing slowly. Taking care to hide our tracks, I hid behind a snowbank between a couple of trees.
Holding on to the dog to soothe him, I watched as the vehicle came into view. A farming tractor, towing a trailer. Both were painted white. It was driven by a man in a white hooded winter coat, and it was followed by men on skis, advancing in uneven columns. Finnish soldiers, heavily clad, rifles slung around their shoulders. Some wearing gas masks, others dangling them around their necks. Looking at the passing columns, I counted about sixty men, all the time holding on to the old man's pistol in my pocket. After I'd found some ammo for it in another cabinet, I had chosen it over the rifles and the shotgun because it was much less conspicuous to lug around.
The soldiers passed without incident, and after waiting for some time to be sure, we continued on along the road.
The next two days were pretty similar – there was more traffic now, soldiers on foot or on tractor trailers, a jeep, a few overloaded civilian cars. But I managed to either hide in the forest or pass for a ordinary civilian as nobody seemed to notice me.
Until my luck ran out. I had again walked through the night and the morning arrived more clear than I could remember. There were even some hints of sunshine. As I walked through a wide open expanse of snow - I couldn't decide whether it was fields or lakes – I noticed a vehicle catching up to me fast. It had blue, flashing lights. It had hit something, the left headlight was smashed. I looked frantically around for a place to hide, but it was too late. Running now would be too suspicious. So I walked along, steadily, as the emergency vehicle caught up with me. And passed me.
Then it stopped, less than a hundred meters from me, and the driver put it in reverse. Cursing under my breath, I again unconsciously put my hand to my pocket to feel the pistol. Waited for the door to open.
The text on the car said ”POLIISI”. This was civilian law enforcement, I managed to realize as a blue-clad heavyset man emerged and looked at me appraisingly.
” - Good morning. Are you all right?”
Now was the moment of truth. Could I pass for a local? My plans depended on it. I spoke Finnish. My mother is - was a translator for the state import company and she had secretly taught me in her spare time, believing it would help me in the future. I might still prove her right.
” - Morning. Yes I am.”
The man kept his gaze fixed in me.
” - You know this area is supposed to be evacuated? 'Cause of the war and the radiation. All kinds of nasty people on the move. You'd do well to get away or at least indoors. Where are you going to, anyway?”
Think fast and keep it simple. What was that place on the map?
” - Thank you, I know. I am going to Puumala. Got relatives there.”
The officer's eyes narrowed.
” - Right, then. We are going that way, too. Care for a lift?”
What? What's his angle now, I wondered feverishly.
” - No, thank you. I'll manage.”
He stepped closer.
” - Alright, mister. Let's see your...”
Through the open door, I heard the car radio crackle. The other officer answered it and called out to his colleague. The man in front of me acknowledged his words and turned back towards me.
” - It seems we have more important things to do than to harass you.”
He started back towards the car. Just before the door he turned to me again.
” - Good luck to you, then. You and your dog.”
With that, he dove to the car and it took off at speed. Me and the dog looked at each other. It looked like he also shrugged his shoulders. My heart was still racing.
I felt light and happy, perhaps unconscionably so. It seemed like some higher power was protecting me. I was on my way.
It took me about two hours to realize that the officer had spoken his last words in Russian.
(filler)
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Thank you. Well, that is a one very angry man...
He is bluffing, though. He'd take the Americans along even if they don't talk that much, he sees reasons to keep them alive. His hard-assery is partly tactical, to save time, and partly he's just venting his feelings. He is not an interrogator by trade.
MrChief said:
Welcome aboard! I see you've had your hands full recently reading P&S and our humble spinoffs. I have to say there are worse ways to spend one's idle moments...
And all you guys, thank you for keeping up with the story. There'll be more in the near future...
Before the war of 1984, the ground under central Helsinki was a honeycomb of corridors, shelters and man-made caverns. FNA archives.
XIX. In a Hole
Fragment 136.
Logged 25.02.2009
KEJ
[Notes written by Commander J. Kaskeala, Second Aide-de-camp to the President of the Republic, dated March 1984. FNA archives.]
… I had to crawl along a part of the corridor to reach the place where the four men were working. There was water dripping from the ceiling near the cave-in, and I wondered when the corridors would get flooded for real. If they did, well, then we would be truly lost. In the light of my flashlight, I could see someone's foot sticking out of the rubble. It had a black sock on it, the shoe was missing. I made a mental note to have the rotting limb covered.
Up ahead, the clanking and grating noises of metal on concrete and sand. An oil lamp for light.
I sat down on a big loose chunk of concrete and looked at the young uniformed men.
” - Well then, how's progress?”
Putting down a dented shovel, Staff Sergeant Nieminen looked at me and, attempted something like a salute. It wasn't easy in his hunched position. He looked sick, and his Guard Jaeger patch was hanging loose.
” - We are nearly through, Commander. Give us until tomorrow and we get to see what's on the other side.”
That was good news. The best in a while.
” - Good work! Keep at it. I'll make sure there's something for you to eat when you get back.”
” - Yes, sir!”
Making my way back into the hall I idly lamented the condition of my uniform. It was dirty and torn. I had ripped some of the ceremonial golden braid off some days ago, in a fit of pique. I'd have to get my overcoat. It was getting cold down here.
Passing the part where the collapsed situation room used to be, I tripped and fell. Hit my chin on the floor. Getting up, cursing the whole thrice-damned hole we were in, I realized I had just solved the mystery of the missing shoe. Flung it to the darkness.
After walking some way along the corridor I could finally straighten my back. And the light was better here, even if blinking erratically. I was amazed there was any electricity left at all. I had to hand it to some of the people who had designed and built the shelter – at least they had done something right.
I reached the door to the silenced communications room where Virta and Elfving were still doggedly fiddling with the equipment. Looked at the Corporal, raising my eyebrows. He just shook his head mournfully. Nothing new, then. Well – we had been deaf and blind for nearly three weeks: there was no reason to expect a miracle now.
There were five men and one woman sitting around the small conference table when I got to the most intact part of the shelter. They were absentmindedly having a snack. The offerings were rather lean. I coughed a bit to catch the attention of the man sitting his back turned to the door.
He turned around, still chewing methodically.
” - Ah, Commander! What news from the front?”, he asked after a few seconds of swallowing furiously.
” - Good news, I think. The men say they'll be able open the hatch by tomorrow.”
” - Excellent! We'll be reunited with the civilization in no time.”
He waved a hand towards the table.
” - Something to eat, Commander?”
” - No thank you.”
I wasn't feeling well. By the look of the five others around the table, they weren't either. In fact a couple of them looked positively nauseous. I hoped it was just the air, the stale food and the gloomy thoughts we were having. I feared it was something else.
But Väyrynen, he remained cheerful. In fact more cheerful after the accident. One would think a government minister would be devastated after suddenly losing his President, Prime Minister and a fair number of other colleagues under an avalanche of concrete and debris. In the middle of the Third World War.
Not him though. He couldn't be put down, and I guess perversely his overly positive attitude kept also the rest of us going, for the while.
I was suddenly overcome with dizziness.
” - I'll go and lay down for a moment, if you don't mind, Minister”, I said.
He nodded.
” - You do that, Commander.”
He smiled indulgently.
” - And Kaskeala... Please call me President.”
(filler)
Uff Da the optimist
Donor
Really good twist DrakonFin.
I like the character of the Russian soldier, he's very well written.
Look forward to more!
There is a Royal Navy toast that seems appropriate to this situation:
'Here's to bloody wars and sickly seasons' (the two surefire ways to get promotion).
Evidently the Minister is pleased at suceeding to the Presidency, despite the circumstances.
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