‘They do create some light, though.’ Corporal Lahtinen was sticking a needle back into the side of his cap, having just finished sewing back on a shirt button that was coming loose. He’d been focusing intently on his task, and had just tossed off his comment in passing, but Hietanen was vehemently intent on the issue and burst out, ‘Light! Sunlight and moonlight, sure, I can understand that just fine, but what does this kind of light do? Nothing! I think that if I’d have been God, I wouldn’t have made all these stars. And if I could, I’d get rid of the lot of them. What are you supposed to make of things that don’t do anything?’
Lahtinen’s needle was now firmly in place, leaving him free to consider the matter. He glanced around carefully and spoke in a low, slightly hesitant voice, as if preparing in advance for opposition from the others. ‘No-o, they weren’t made by God. That’s just talk. That’s what they teach you in school, even though they know it’s a lie. He didn’t create people, either. They were born in the sea. People are made out of carbon and other things. The simple man is kept in ignorance so he’ll be more submissive to the capitalists. That’s all there is to it.’
Hietanen laughed, ‘Yeah, I get that, but I don’t believe it. Carbon! You gone soft or something? That sounds pre-tty strange if you ask me. How the hell could a normal human being be born in the sea? Just being underwater half a minute’s enough to finish you off. And there ain’t a speck of carbon in my body. Muscles and bones, that’s what people are made out of. Anybody can tell you that. I don’t know anything about capitalists. If my old man dies before I do, I get twenty-three and a half acres of real shitty land. I’m that much of a capitalist. Don’t think I’m particularly submissive, though – let whatever capitalist you want come up to the edge of our field. I’ll just walk right over with my hands in my pockets and give him a good, long spit. That’s what I’d do.’
Lahtinen spoke again quietly, earnest as ever, which suited him really – he who never took anything lightly. Assessing the loneliness of his position all too well, he was a little uncomfortable. He certainly didn’t want to get into a fight, but he couldn’t just drop the issue, so he said in his defense, ‘You can be underwater, if you have gills. Man began as a fish. Even the capitalist scientist has recognized that.’
Now Hietanen wasn’t laughing anymore. He sat up and looked straight at Lahtinen, his eyes wide, blazing with astonishment. ‘Hey guys, listen to this! Listen to what our boy Yrjö has to say! Well, I’ll be damned. Now you’ve really started it. Listen, guys! I guess I’m a perch, ’cause I’ve got stooped shoulders. Come chew on this, guys… Gills… Look, I’ve never read anything but the Turku newspaper once in a while since I finished school – painfully – but I still know better than to believe that. So I’m a perch! A carbon perch… Pre-tty strange if you ask me.’
Hietanen was on a roll. And he was whipping himself up into an even greater tizzy. He glanced around, looking for others to confirm his astonishment, but no one had taken any interest in their conversation except Private Vanhala, the only guy lying nearby. He was lying silently, but he had been following the debate and was quivering with suppressed laughter. Vanhala was a quiet, chubby fellow, who rarely took part in conversation, though it was clear that he would happily have done so. When he did cut in on occasion, he would instantly start struggling for words and turn red, glancing around at the others, embarrassed by his difficulties. He had followed Hietanen and Lahtinen’s argument with a smile dancing in his eyes, laughing to himself, repeating: ‘Fi-ish… heehee… fi-ish… Hietanen is a pe-erch… heeheehee…’
Lahtinen’s face had withdrawn into a sullen expression. You could tell from his tone of voice that he didn’t want to argue any more – though, of course, he knew how things really were. ‘It’s Nature that creates,’ he said. ‘That’s just how it is… Everything else is hogwash. Sure, rich people know what tune to sing, soon as any question about their purse-strings comes up. That’s what that spindly crow was just harping on about. We got it all wrapped up in one go just now. Give us the strength to defend the moneybags of capitalism! I mean, if this homeland had left them as poor as it’s left me, I don’t think they’d care for it any more than I do. And I wouldn’t give up so much as an old foot rag for it. Well, whatever, let’s move on, but we’ll just see how things pan out… There are enough fellows over there to fight us, that’s for sure.’
Vanhala hesitated a moment. Then he said, ‘But one Finn’s a match for ten Russkis. Heehee.’
‘Mmm… Sure. And what do we do when they send round the eleventh?’
Hietanen, who had no interest in the political question, only the purely theological one, turned the conversation back around to its previous topic. ‘Look, I’m no Doctor of Philosophy, but my reasoning says the world couldn’t just pop up all by itself. I’m sure about that. I don’t believe in any of that supernatural stuff. How could something be born by itself, without anybody making it? God has to exist. But I have to say, he sure did do a lot of work for nothing. We don’t need all those stars. I’ve thought that a bunch of times. I can’t see any use in having things like ants and frogs in the world. They are totally useless if you ask me. Just like bedbugs and cockroaches.’
Vanhala could scarcely contain his giggles, and his whole body quivered as he gasped, ‘And lice!’
No sooner had he said it than he blushed and went straight-faced. But then he noticed Hietanen’s approval, and his round face broke into a broad grin and his body started quivering again. Hietanen pounced, continuing to rattle off his evidence. ‘You said it! Who needs lice eating away at him? Nobody. And then you gotta feed the goddamn pests somehow! On top of everything else. Yeah, I know old people say frogs keep the well-water clean, but I don’t buy that at all. That’s just batty. Who the hell wants to drink frog eggs?’
‘And tadpoles! Heehee.’ Now Vanhala was feeling so self-assured that he stopped blushing and downright shone when Hietanen concurred straight away, ‘Exactly!’
Hietanen lay back down on the ground, brushing the conversation aside, but not without concluding, finally, ‘I don’t believe in any of that supernatural stuff. But I still say there’s a whole lot of unnecessary junk in this world.’
This final point prompted him to tack on another. ‘To hell with all of it.’
Then he drew a deep breath of fresh air into his lungs, as if he wanted to blow out the whole pointless train of thought, and began to sing. He just sort of wove the words together as they came to mind, making up a tune to fit the song that went:
Several of the men wandered further off to write letters, driven by some vague foreboding of what fate held in store. Others tried to sleep, and a few gathered around card games, murmuring now and again. ‘Couple of whores. You tried to pull a fast one, you old cheat. Stop grumbling and get to it! Pot limit. Three shorties and a jack high. You got a pair a kings over there, don’t you? Written all over your face.’