“How so?”
“Aaltonen was acquainted with the Gestapo hierarchy, all the way up to Reinhard Heydrich, chief of the Reich Security Office, who formed Einsatzkommando. Aaltonen was also a friend of Heinrich Muller, the head of the Gestapo. They engaged in extensive correspondence. Dozens of their letters have been preserved. The letters discuss family and work issues as well as politics. These kinds of personal ties became the basis for collaboration between German and Finnish officials. Arvid Lahtinen and Toivo Kivipuro were likely given their positions at Stalag 309 because their families were highly regarded and trusted.”
I know nothing about my great-grandfather, not even his name. “You’re certain Arvid and my grandpa were at the stalag? Without a doubt?”
“I’m a historian, an academic. I seldom state that anything is without doubt unless I’ve seen it with my own eyes, and I wasn’t there. But let’s call it a ninety-nine percent certainty that Arvid Lahtinen lied to you.”
“Can you make a reasonable guess about what Arvid and Grandpa did there?”
“Well, Einsatzkommando Finnland was mandated to liquidate Jews and Soviet political commissars. These are the people Arvid and Toivo worked with. Let’s just say that I think the verve and enthusiasm of Einsatzkommando might have been infectious. I gather the Finnish detectives and interpreters there often drank heavily. It’s easy to picture them getting drunk and doing things they never would have dreamed themselves capable of.”
“You’re saying Finns lined people up and shot them.”
“I can’t say that. I can say that, given the atmosphere, it seems likely.”
He’s saying in that prevaricating way, typical of academics, that Arvid and Ukki were stone-cold killers. I’ve barely started this investigation, and I’m already discovering things that, four days ago, would have been beyond my comprehension. “How in the hell could this have remained secret for so long?”
“Einsatzkommando destroyed records. Valpo destroyed records. But mostly, I think, nobody wanted to know about it. Those that did know wanted to forget.”
“But all those deaths. Where are the bodies? Haven’t families looked for their relatives’ remains?”
“I assume the bodies are still in mass graves in Salla. I estimate around a thousand of them. The Salla area was close to the western border of the Soviet Union after the war, a border that the Soviets eventually came to seal off with three parallel ditch-andbarbed-wire-fence installations, with checkpoints in between, to prevent their own citizens from escaping abroad, less so to prevent anyone getting in. So, if you were a Soviet citizen, you didn’t even consider digging somewhere close to the border area, no matter how strong a hunch you might have had about your vanished loved ones’ whereabouts. You were wary of even making public inquiries about such matters, because Soviet law forbade surrendering to the enemy, and so by Soviet policy, their prisoners of war were considered traitors. If the USSR had deemed it important to discover the fate of their nonreturning POWs, something probably would have been done. But the Soviet state didn’t, and such initiatives by private citizens weren’t options.”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t make sense. Finns don’t hate Jews enough to round them up and kill them.”
“Maybe not. At most, something like eighty Jews were murdered in 309, and they were suspected Communists. Think of it this way, Einsatzkommando’s meat and potatoes in 309 were Communists. If they were Jews, too, it was an added bonus.”
This is more than I can take in. “You’re telling me Arvid and Ukki are war criminals.”
“I don’t condone their actions, but I understand the mind-set. I told you I’m researching Lauri Torni, one of Finland’s greatest heroes. Do you realize that he was a traitor?”