The Year of the Hare - Arto Paasilinna [42]
The man on fire duty had gone to look at the bear tracks with a flashlight. He’d gone into the thicket, though the sentry warned him not to. A short time later, the sentry saw the flashlight go out, heard a crashing and a yelling in the trees, and then nothing. When the men leaped out of their tents to help their comrade, a huge black bear with a white ring around its neck burst out of the thicket and ran into their lights. Spattering the men with snow, it fled into the darkness.
In the cabin, the officers discussed what had happened and gave the situation some thought. They bleakly concluded that neither war nor military exercises depended on one casualty. The major decided to put the exercise in gear exactly as planned. Tents were dropped. Soldiers quietly skied off in single file for Vittumainen Ghyll, where, the following day, they were to give a demonstration of combat for the foreign military attachés.
A radio message came from the foreign minister’s private secretary at Vittumainen Ghyll. News had reached them that a bear had been sighted at Läähkimä Gorge; the military attachés and their wives were extremely interested.
“We’d like to have a go at it. What we want is, first, to get a good look at it—photograph it, you know, and film it. Then shoot it. Can you arrange that?”
The major, who was receiving the call, objected. The bear, he pointed out, was dangerous: during the night it had mauled a man almost to death.
The private secretary dismissed the warnings. Clearly, the attachés had excellent weapons, and experience in using them. They all had the rank of colonel. The major was worrying needlessly.
“But in Finland bears are a protected species,” the major persisted.
“We’ve taken that into account. Been in touch with the minister for the environment. When he heard the bear had attacked one of your men, permission was granted.”
The major had to give in. He detailed a truck to bring the attachés and their wives on their bear hunt. As daylight faded, a colorful party was driven over from Vittumainen Ghyll, including the Swedish, French, American, and Brazilian attachés, and two women: the wives of the Swedish and American attachés.
“This is something else!” the American attaché’s wife rejoiced. “Can you believe it? Shooting one of these black polar bears?”
The party could hardly wait for their dawn ski trip and bear hunt.
The HQ operations room, with its radio equipment, was handed over to the women for the night. The major dejectedly took his equipment to a tent and directed night operations from there.
Milk cans were used to heat up water so the women could wash. Outside, by the campfire, the soldiers tinkered with the boiling water and complained about their assignment. Two little pea-soup pans were washed and consecrated to the women for more intimate ablutions. The pans were draped modestly in towels.
“Damn!” the signals sergeant said. “We forgot a mirror and a piss pot!”
The problem was solved with a milk churn, delivered into the women’s bedroom. The foreign minister’s private secretary was delegated to explain the purpose for which it was reserved. The women looked at the churn and then enthused: “Gee, talk about every contingency. The Finnish Army sure is well set up. These cans are really practical for field conditions! How come our armies don’t have equipment like this?”
When both rearview mirrors had been screwed off the truck and handed over to the women, the foreign minister’s private secretary was able to heave a sigh: the problems were pretty well straightened out now, even if conditions here were rugged.
In the morning, a couple of conscripts were detailed to empty the milk churns the women had used during the night. They carried the cans out gravely, but as soon as they were outside they ran into the forest and tipped them into the snow, retching and laughing.
“Pipe down, men!” the major called from the steps. “And get those churns washed out, on the double. I want to see sunshine through their sides.”
The bear’s tracks were easily found. The