In Finland the day to commemorate those that were killed during the wars of 1939-44 is soon. To honor those men, women and children I wrote this story. Today, the people of those once hostile nations live together, work together and have families together. War is never the fault of the young men and women that fight them, but they carry the burden and suffer the consequences. I know personally people that had experiences like depicted in this story and there are lot's of historical examples of the knife depicted here. My father is a veteran, too (allthough not on the front but on an anti-aircraft gun group) and his father fought in he civil war of 1918.
Today
An old, graying man held in his hands a bunch of old letters and a knife. This knife looked most peculiar. The knife itself was a traditional puukko. Although the handle had some engravings it was the sheath that set it apart from others of its kind. It was made of aluminum, once bright and shiny, now grey and tarnished.
Beside the old man was sitting a young man in a camouflage uniform. He was the old mans grandson, on a leave from his army service. His train was leaving in a couple of hours back to the garrison and the young man had decided to visit his grandpa.
Grandpa, do you have memories of your father? Do you know what kind of person he was? Well I have no real memories of him, but I still think I kind of know him. I have read his letters to my mom and of course there is all that she told me about him. Also my stepfather had known him well. If you want, you can read some of these too, I will make some coffee. The old man rose to his feet with some difficulty and went to the kitchen. The young man opened one letter and started reading.
Summer of 1942 on the Karelian front
Sergeant Antero Järvinen was sitting on his bunk in the underground shelter, doing what he normally did when there was no action on the front. He had a block of wood and was bending a piece of aluminum to shape against it with a small hammer. Beside him on the bed was a file.
He also had a traditional puukko knife, from time to time he used it as a template. Järvinen was bending the aluminum sheet to make a sheath for the knife. The material to his handicrafts came from a Russian bomber that had crashed behind the lines after the fighters caught it. The fighters made a good job keeping the enemy on its toes; there were no major air raids. Salvaging the aluminum was prohibited because all material was supposed to go to war industry, but the guards looked the other way when men went to get aluminum during the nights.
Action on the front was slow; there were occasional bombardments by the heavy guns and grenade launchers. Everybody kept their heads down when outside because the snipers were a constant threat. Apart from that nothing major happened.
All the others were doing something too to kill the time. Some were whittling, some wrote letters home. Others were taking a nap before their guard duty came. The air in the bunker was thick with dust and the smell of bodies and clothes. Nobody minded and besides when evening came they had been promised a chance to swim and change clothes.
Järvinen kept quiet, he was thinking of his home and his family. His wife was pregnant, they already had a son, who was 4 years old. They had a small farm and the life on it was a constant struggle. Luckily they had some relatives that helped.
Finally Järvinen spoke out. Lieutenant? Hmm.. what? Lieutenant had been reading a book and noticed Järvinen was trying to get his attention. Can we have a word privately? Lieutenant and Järvinen went outside.
Lieutenant knew his sergeant well. They had known each other for a long time, since they were from same region and had gone to same school. When the men got outside all formalities were dropped. So what is it Antero? lieutenant asked. It is just.. I have a bad feeling. My wife is pregnant and she has to manage the farm almost alone. Is there a possibility to have some leave, I think the rotation is on?
Lieutenant thought for a while. I think I can pull some cords, lets try. Järvinen continued. It is not just that. I have had nightmares lately. I am afraid.. He turned away. Lieutenant looked at him with sympathetic eyes. It is not like you to worry so much. Things are quiet. What is it?
Järvinen said: You never know. There was this young lad, just 19, that had his first guard duty. He was shot by a sniper. A couple of days ago two men died in a grenade strike. If the worst happens, no doubt you will write home? Of course, it is my duty, but calm down. You know what you are doing, you will manage. Lieutenant slapped Järvinen on the back and went inside. Järvinen sat on the side of the trench and held his head in his hands.
Some days later Järvinen was checking the guards. Occasional shots were fired, but Järvinen knew well enough that raising his head too high could be lethal. He used a self-made periscope to scan the front line. Nothing else happened.
He had made his knife ready, it was a nice peace. He had engraved some army symbols on the aluminum. The handle had also decorations. Back at home his son would get it when he was of appropriate age
There was a sudden whistling sound. INCOMING!Järvinen shouted to alarm the guards, but it was unnecessary. There were explosions and one came so near that Järvinen lost his hearing. He was dazed by the air pressure. He could see that the next guard was trying to get his attention. Järvinen raised himself slightly and saw the guard was trying to help a wounded man. Järvinen crawled round a bend in the trench. He felt a terrible blow and a hot blast, then nothing.
Four weeks later, on a farm, the flag was hanging in the middle of the pole. A woman sat on a bench, the black dress could not hide the bulge in her midsection. A 4-year old boy was playing with a knife that had come with a letter and a package. The woman had forbidden the boy to take the knife out of its sheath without supervision. The woman was crying, but tried not to scare the boy.
The lieutenant walked to the widow and held out his hand. My deepest condolences for your loss. You know, we both knew him well. He wanted the boy to get the knife. These letters are for you, he could not send them before. You know, I will help any way I can. The woman looked at the lieutenant and smiled through her tears, she was thankful for any help she could get. The lieutenant thought he had never seen someone so beautiful even in deep grief.
Today
The young man put the letters away. Coffee was ready. Grandpa, can I read these other letters when I have my next leave? Of course you can. The young man put the knife and the letters in a box and closed the lid. While drinking coffee and eating sandwiches the old man told a story of his father.
Later, sitting in the train the young man picked up his cellphone and phoned to his girlfriend. The woman answered cheerfully, she talked with a slight accent since Russia was her native language, but she had grown up in Finland and had gone to the same schools as the young man. The young man started telling her a story he had just heard from his grandpa. The woman listened without interrupting him. Then she talked and the man could hear she was touched.
Today
An old, graying man held in his hands a bunch of old letters and a knife. This knife looked most peculiar. The knife itself was a traditional puukko. Although the handle had some engravings it was the sheath that set it apart from others of its kind. It was made of aluminum, once bright and shiny, now grey and tarnished.
Beside the old man was sitting a young man in a camouflage uniform. He was the old mans grandson, on a leave from his army service. His train was leaving in a couple of hours back to the garrison and the young man had decided to visit his grandpa.
Grandpa, do you have memories of your father? Do you know what kind of person he was? Well I have no real memories of him, but I still think I kind of know him. I have read his letters to my mom and of course there is all that she told me about him. Also my stepfather had known him well. If you want, you can read some of these too, I will make some coffee. The old man rose to his feet with some difficulty and went to the kitchen. The young man opened one letter and started reading.
Summer of 1942 on the Karelian front
Sergeant Antero Järvinen was sitting on his bunk in the underground shelter, doing what he normally did when there was no action on the front. He had a block of wood and was bending a piece of aluminum to shape against it with a small hammer. Beside him on the bed was a file.
He also had a traditional puukko knife, from time to time he used it as a template. Järvinen was bending the aluminum sheet to make a sheath for the knife. The material to his handicrafts came from a Russian bomber that had crashed behind the lines after the fighters caught it. The fighters made a good job keeping the enemy on its toes; there were no major air raids. Salvaging the aluminum was prohibited because all material was supposed to go to war industry, but the guards looked the other way when men went to get aluminum during the nights.
Action on the front was slow; there were occasional bombardments by the heavy guns and grenade launchers. Everybody kept their heads down when outside because the snipers were a constant threat. Apart from that nothing major happened.
All the others were doing something too to kill the time. Some were whittling, some wrote letters home. Others were taking a nap before their guard duty came. The air in the bunker was thick with dust and the smell of bodies and clothes. Nobody minded and besides when evening came they had been promised a chance to swim and change clothes.
Järvinen kept quiet, he was thinking of his home and his family. His wife was pregnant, they already had a son, who was 4 years old. They had a small farm and the life on it was a constant struggle. Luckily they had some relatives that helped.
Finally Järvinen spoke out. Lieutenant? Hmm.. what? Lieutenant had been reading a book and noticed Järvinen was trying to get his attention. Can we have a word privately? Lieutenant and Järvinen went outside.
Lieutenant knew his sergeant well. They had known each other for a long time, since they were from same region and had gone to same school. When the men got outside all formalities were dropped. So what is it Antero? lieutenant asked. It is just.. I have a bad feeling. My wife is pregnant and she has to manage the farm almost alone. Is there a possibility to have some leave, I think the rotation is on?
Lieutenant thought for a while. I think I can pull some cords, lets try. Järvinen continued. It is not just that. I have had nightmares lately. I am afraid.. He turned away. Lieutenant looked at him with sympathetic eyes. It is not like you to worry so much. Things are quiet. What is it?
Järvinen said: You never know. There was this young lad, just 19, that had his first guard duty. He was shot by a sniper. A couple of days ago two men died in a grenade strike. If the worst happens, no doubt you will write home? Of course, it is my duty, but calm down. You know what you are doing, you will manage. Lieutenant slapped Järvinen on the back and went inside. Järvinen sat on the side of the trench and held his head in his hands.
Some days later Järvinen was checking the guards. Occasional shots were fired, but Järvinen knew well enough that raising his head too high could be lethal. He used a self-made periscope to scan the front line. Nothing else happened.
He had made his knife ready, it was a nice peace. He had engraved some army symbols on the aluminum. The handle had also decorations. Back at home his son would get it when he was of appropriate age
There was a sudden whistling sound. INCOMING!Järvinen shouted to alarm the guards, but it was unnecessary. There were explosions and one came so near that Järvinen lost his hearing. He was dazed by the air pressure. He could see that the next guard was trying to get his attention. Järvinen raised himself slightly and saw the guard was trying to help a wounded man. Järvinen crawled round a bend in the trench. He felt a terrible blow and a hot blast, then nothing.
Four weeks later, on a farm, the flag was hanging in the middle of the pole. A woman sat on a bench, the black dress could not hide the bulge in her midsection. A 4-year old boy was playing with a knife that had come with a letter and a package. The woman had forbidden the boy to take the knife out of its sheath without supervision. The woman was crying, but tried not to scare the boy.
The lieutenant walked to the widow and held out his hand. My deepest condolences for your loss. You know, we both knew him well. He wanted the boy to get the knife. These letters are for you, he could not send them before. You know, I will help any way I can. The woman looked at the lieutenant and smiled through her tears, she was thankful for any help she could get. The lieutenant thought he had never seen someone so beautiful even in deep grief.
Today
The young man put the letters away. Coffee was ready. Grandpa, can I read these other letters when I have my next leave? Of course you can. The young man put the knife and the letters in a box and closed the lid. While drinking coffee and eating sandwiches the old man told a story of his father.
Later, sitting in the train the young man picked up his cellphone and phoned to his girlfriend. The woman answered cheerfully, she talked with a slight accent since Russia was her native language, but she had grown up in Finland and had gone to the same schools as the young man. The young man started telling her a story he had just heard from his grandpa. The woman listened without interrupting him. Then she talked and the man could hear she was touched.
