“We'd rather use antitank guns,”Joki said.
“But we've never had any,” Kekko said.
“And antitank mines are in short supply,” Joki said.
“Don't you have to get really close with those bottles?” Marko asked.
“Depends on how good your pitching arm is,” Joki said. “But once you sneak inside ten meters the tanks can't see you anyway.”
“That's assuming your head's still attached,” Kekko said.
“Then we light the wick and throw for the air vent,” Joki said.
“Kaboom! Roasted Russians!”Kekko set the bottle on the plank that he'd laid across the back of the sleigh. “Pay attention and I'll show you our private recipe.”
Karl grumbled,”Do I have to listen to all this again?”
“Mind your manners,” Kekko said. “Now—you hold the bottle so it don't tip. Then you put the funnel in the neck like so.” He reached for the gasoline can and started pouring.
Marko asked, “So you named these bombs after the Russian foreign minister, Molotov?”
“The very same pig,” Kekko said.
“Molotov and Stalin are the ones who started this war,” Joki said. “And we aim to give them a proper thank-you.”
Kekko corked the bottle and smiled. “One down, six dozen to go.” He held up the bomb and jiggled the black and amber contents. “Ain't she pretty?” His cigarette ashes fell onto his pant leg.
“Watch that cigarette!”Marko said.
“These bottles is harmless without a wick,” Kekko said.
Marko was ready to run if the gas caught on fire, but Karl took the bomb from Kekko. “Too bad we can't shove this one down Molotov's throat.” It was the first time Marko had seen Karl smile.
Joki said, “We should recruit you for our antitank squad.”
“I like Karl's mean streak,” Kekko said.
Marko asked Joki, “Will the Russians attack soon?”
“No telling. Two days ago they hit Companies One and Two hard. We joke about them, but once the lead starts flying they're mighty tough fighters.”
“I thought there'd be constant gunfire on the front,” Marko said.
“I used to think wars was all shooting, too,”Joki said. “But battlefields are mainly quiet. Out here we wait until we can't stand it. Then we wait some more.”
“That's the army,” Kekko said. “Hurry up and wait.”
“The fireworks can start up any second,” Joki said, “but guessin' when only makes it harder. I do know the Russkies are making a big mistake by not hammering us in this warm weather.”
“The lieutenant said the same thing,” Marko said.
“They should know winter makes us Finns tougher.”
“The colder the better,” Kekko said.
“By the feel of that wind”—Joki looked to the north—”a front will be moving in soon.”
“You pups ready to spill some gasoline?” Kekko asked.
As Joki handed Karl the funnel, Juho and Seppo skied by with rifles on their shoulders. “Looks like Gimpy found a job he can handle,” Seppo shouted. Marko's ears burned under his cap.
“Watch me run like Gimpy,” Juho said. Stepping out of his skis, he jogged a few meters, swinging his leg out to one side.
After they left, Karl asked, “Where are they headed tonight?”
“Hard to tell,”Joki said. “Those observers are ghosts who favor night patrols. They might stay here in the valley. Or they might ski twenty kilometers behind enemy lines to spy.”
Though filling the bottles was smelly work, Marko knew he'd rather be stuck making bombs with crabby Karl than have to sneak into Russian territory in the dark.
By the time they'd corked their last Molotov cocktail, Marko had a headache from the gas and kerosene fumes. But Karl looked happy.
“How many tanks can you blow up with these?” Karl asked.
“Antitank work is a bit of skill mixed in with a bunch of luck,” Kekko said. “Truth is we're more likely to blow ourselves up than kill a tank.”
When Kekko left, Marko asked Karl, “How come you hate the Russians so much?”
“Don't you?”
“They killed my best friend, and my father was called back to active duty, but I—”
“Two more reasons they deserve to die.”Karl walked away.
CHAPTER 14
THE WOODPILE AND THE FOXHOLE
“Mailman!”a voice called just before lunch the next day. A man stepped inside the tent and asked,” Marko Koski here?”
“That's me.”
“Package for you.” He tossed Marko a fat parcel tied with string. “I'm not the regular mailman. I usually make the hospital run, and your mother asked me to drop this off.”
Inside, a letter from Mother was tucked on top of a bundle of clothing.
Dear Marko,
I hope this letter finds you well. Every day I tell myself that you made the right decision in going to the front, but it doesn't ease my worries. Remind the lieutenant of his promise!
The good news is that Grandma and the children arrived safely in Sweden. We are busier than ever here at the hospital. The rationing program is getting stricter these days. Not only do we need coupons for coffee, sugar, gas, butter, and other commodities, but the government has also added cloth to the list. They want people to use paper sheets! Can you imagine sleeping on paper? The ladies in town knitted these clothes for anyone in your unit who can use them. We are treating men for frostbite already, so I know you need warm things out there.
Seppo squinted over Marko's shoulder. “Did Marko get a letter from his mommy telling him not to wet his pants when the Russkies attack?”
“My mother and her friends sent these for our company.” Marko pointed to the pile of hats, neck warmers, gloves, and socks, all different colors and sizes.
“Where's that messenger boy?” Kekko entered the tent. “We heard you got a package from home.” Kekko looked at the pile. “Only clothes? None of your momma's good bread?” He peered under the bundle and his grin got even bigger. “A tin, I see.” He pulled it out and rattled it. “If these are cookies, will you be sharing with your good buddy Kekko?”
“Don't you want to wait until after lunch?” Marko teased.
Kekko shook his head. “I always say life is no sure thing, so eat your dessert first.”
Marko grinned.”So pass the cookies around!”
After lunch Marko learned what Karl meant by “little jobs” when Kerola snapped, “The supply sergeant wants you boys on firewood detail this afternoon.”
Karl led Marko to a clearing behind the hospital tent where the teamsters had skidded in a pile of tree-length birch. A two-man crosscut saw and an axe leaned against a sawbuck.
“We've got to cut the pieces real short for that tent stove and split 'em small because the wood's so green,” Karl said.
After they'd sawed up a pile of wood, Marko looked at the axe. The edge was dull and pitted. “My father always says, 'A sharp axe spares the back.' You suppose the supply sergeant would have a file?”
Karl shrugged. Marko said,”I'll go see.”
Marko returned with a file and set the axe head on the sawbuck. After he sharpened one side, he held up the blade.
Karl complained, “We could've split half the wood by now.”
Marko turned the blade over and filed the other side.”My father's a blacksmith, and—”
“Who cares what your father says?”
Marko set the axe down. He was getting tired of Karl's grumpiness.”Hasn't your father ever given you advice?”
“My father's dead,” Karl said.
“I thought your brother was dead.”
“He is.” Karl's voice was flat. “And so are my father, my mother, and my sister.”
“But how?”
“The Russians killed them on the first morning of the war. Our farm was right on the border. My father ignored the evacuation warnings. Because my mother was Russian, he thought we'd be safe.”
Now Marko understood Karl's anger. “I'm sorry,” Marko said. “Real sorry. I didn't mean to—”
“I'll split and you pile,” Karl said, standing a piece of birch on end. “Then we can trade places.”
Karl hefted the axe. With a sharp thwack the birch split in two. Karl looked at the blade. “That edge makes a difference.”
After splitting and piling wood all afternoon, Marko was hoping for a message run. Instead, the supply sergeant said, “I'm switching you boys to foxhole detail. A teamster will show you what we need done.”
The man led them to a low area out of the wind behind Horseshoe Hill. “This is what we got done so far.” He pointed to a shallow, eight-foot-long trench.
“I thought foxholes held only one soldier,” Marko said.
“They do,” the teamster said, “but this isn't for a soldier. It's for a horse. We need to go down another two meters.”
“Two meters!”Marko said.
“I'm glad your ears work. When the shelling starts we need to get the animals under cover. There are your tools.” He pointed to a pick and shovel.”See you boys at supper.”
Marko stepped into the trench and tested the soil with the pick. The steel tip clanked against the frozen ground.
“It's hard work,” Karl said, “but the horses deserve protection. Once we finish the hole, the teamsters will build a frame and cover it with boughs.”
“You've dug these before?”
“I've helped with a couple,”Karl said.”And I worked on the main stable—the one with the pole and canvas roof.”
“Do you have horses at home?” Marko asked. He swung the pick, and his teethed jarred when he hit a frozen rock.
“I don't have a home no more,” Karl said.
“Sorry,” Marko said, wondering if he'd ever find a subject that didn't bring sorrow to Karl.
CHAPTER 15
THE SAUNA TENT
Marko woke to the sound of a hacking cough. Many soldiers had colds, and the sneezing and coughing made it hard to sleep. Marko tried not to groan as he sat up. The muscles in his back and arms were tight from splitting wood and digging. And the skin on his leg was raw. He wanted to take off his brace at night, but he wasn't about to let Juho and Seppo tease him. If the work was this hard, would he have the strength to keep up?
The sky was still black when Marko and Karl walked back to the trench. After digging by lantern light for an hour, Marko took off his mitts and stuck his hands under his jacket to warm them. “Why do you suppose the Russian army attacked your farm?”
“It wasn't like that.” Karl leaned on his pick. “The infantry stormed past our place before dawn. But at milking time a couple of stragglers showed up. They were small men with slimy-looking eyes. I'll never forget those eyes.” Karl paused, and it seemed as if he was about to say more. Then he tossed down the pick.”We're gonna need a pry bar for this rock.”
The more Marko worked with Karl, the more he missed Johan. Johan would have found a way to make trench digging fun by telling jokes or stories. But with Karl it was just pick and shovel all day long.
When Marko and Karl were walking back to the command tent at suppertime, the lieutenant rode up. His horse was lathered and his whiteovers were stained with soot and sweat. “Evening, gentlemen.” He dismounted. “Karl, would you take Kahvi to the stable for me?” He handed Karl the reins.
After Karl had left, Juhola asked, “Is everything going all right with you and Karl?”
“We're getting to know each other,” Marko said.
“Something's gnawing at him, and I was hoping you'd be able to help. If anyone knows how to bounce back from a rough place, you do.”
Marko smiled. He'd never imagined that his teacher admired his courage.
“I'll do my best,” Marko said. But how can I help a boy who refuses to talk?
By the time the squad had finished supper, a cold wind was blowing out of the north. Back at the tent, Marko started a letter to Mother. Things are quiet here, he began, thinking of words that might ease her worries.
Hoot Hauta, the antitank squad leader, stuck his bald head through the door. “Who's ready for a sauna?” Hoot had stripped to his long underwear but was still wearing his boots. Joki stood behind him, dwarfed by Hoot's broad shoulders.
“I forgot it was time for our Saturday-night bath,” Juhola said. “We wouldn't miss it.”
“The fire's hot,”Joki said.
“And I fixed your watch.” Hoot handed him a gold watch.
“Thanks, Hoot,” the lieutenant said.
As Hoot walked off, Niilo noticed Marko staring. “You wouldn't think Hoot could work on something so small with those big meat hooks of hands. But he's a genius at fixing things. Give him a radio, a car engine, or a Suomi submachine gun and he'll break it down and put it back together before you can blink.”
“You have a sauna out here in the woods?” Marko said.
“Hoot's squad rigged one up.”
Everyone except Karl stripped to their long underwear, grabbed a towel, and followed the lieutenant out the door.
“Aren't you coming?” Marko asked Karl.
“It's too cold,” Karl said.
“The kid never takes a sauna,” Niilo said. “If his name wasn't Kangas, I wouldn't believe he was a Finn.”
Outside, the stars were white and huge. The wind blew through Marko's underwear, making him shiver.
Behind the stable Marko saw smoke billowing from a red-hot stovepipe sticking through a canvas roof. The corners of the building were unpeeled spruce poles and the walls were piled boughs and stretched canvas. The door was a canvas flap.
From the inside Kekko lifted the flap. He held a water dipper in his left hand, and he was naked except for his dog tags.”We've got her cooking tonight!”
The hot air smelled of spruce needles and birch smoke. A wooden water bucket stood beside the stove, and a pail of rocks heated on top. The seats were ammunition crates. As the men took off their boots and hung their underwear on a clothesline, Kekko said,”Watch for slivers as you sit yourselves.”Then he doused the rocks with a dipperful of water, and hot steam rushed up.
“Steam us up good,”Joki said, picking something off his underwear shirt and flicking it at the stove.”I've got to kill off some of these bedbugs and lice before they chew me up.”
Marko was glad that Juho and Seppo weren't there as he slipped off his brace and took a seat.
“Feels just like home, don't it?”Hoot said to Marko.
“Reminds me of the sauna at my grandma's farm.”
“Did she have a smoke sauna?” Hoot tossed another dipperful on the rocks.
Marko nodded.
“I love the charred smell of those old-timey saunas,” Hoot said, leaning back and closing his eyes.
The steam mingling with the smoke stirred up memories of summers at Grandma's. Marko and his father always helped her at haying time. After a day working with the men in the fields, nothing felt better than to sit on the cedar bench in the sauna and steam off the dust. Then everyone dove into the river.
Back on those hazy summer days Marko had never imagined that he'd be sitting in a crude sauna like this in the middle of the woods. As the heat soothed his sore muscles, he thought of the letter he would write to Mother if he could be honest:
We are camped in a cold forest at a place called Horseshoe Hill. I spend my days digging holes in the frozen ground with a boy who refuses to talk. The skin under my brace is blistered and bleeding, and I don't know how much longer I'll be able to stand it. I've seen the power of the Red Army artillery, and I shake every time I hear the whistle of an incoming shell. If the Russians ever pinpoint our location, those big guns will reduce my company to ashes.
CHAPTER 16
A BLOODRED SKY
Marko breathed in the steam of the sauna, and everyone sat back and relaxed except Kekko. He leaned toward the lieutenant and asked, “Would you tell us about the time you went to the Olympics with Paavo Nurmi?”
“Most folks like it quiet in a sauna,”Juhola said.
“I don't like it quiet nowhere,” Kekko said. “I could show the boys a face-pulling trick to liven things up.” He sucked in his cheeks and began rolling his lips over his teeth.
“How about that Paavo Nurmi story, Lieutenant?” Hoot asked.
Juhola smiled. “It was the summer of 1924. The Olympics were in Paris that year. I'd missed qualifying, but I traveled with the team. Paavo was in the best form of his life. He made the finals in both the fifteen-hundred- and five-thousand-meter races. He could have qualified for the ten thousand as well, but the Finnish Olympic team decided he was running in too many races.”
“No fair,” Kekko said, pouring water on the rocks.
“To make matters worse, the French scheduled the finals of the fifteen hundred and the five thousand only thirty minutes apart. Our coaches protested, but the judges only added a few more minutes.
“After winning the gold in the fifteen hundred meters, Paavo had to start the five thousand less than an hour later. He looked strong for the first two laps, checking his pace with his stopwatch like he always did. We figured he'd fade, but when he got to the final lap, he tossed down his watch and left everyone in the dust. The stadium exploded. The French did everything they could to make him lose, but he willed himself to win.”
“I don't know much about track racing, but you'd think the Russkies would've heard of Paavo Nurmi and figured they'd have a fight on their hands when they started a war with us Finns.”Hoot shook his head.
“Stalin planned on a quick march to Helsinki,” the lieutenant said. “But you boys have shown the same toughness that Paavo did.”
“You can count on us to—” Joki stopped when a huge explosion echoed up from the valley.
“What on earth?” Niilo said.
“I'll bet this cold wave finally convinced them Russkies to move into the mayor's house!”Kekko shouted.
Joki slapped his shoulder. “They found that little housewarming present we shoved up the chimney!”
“I can see their faces,” Kekko said, making everyone roar as he pantomimed a Russian soldier warming his hands in front of the fireplace and then looking up the chimney. “Let's celebrate with a cool-down.”
The Winter War Page 7