“Too bad we can't chop a hole in the river,” Niilo said.
With a yell Kekko lifted up the canvas and dove into a snowbank. The rest of the men followed. As Marko rolled in the snow, his skin prickled all over. He watched steam rise off the bodies of the men. It felt so good to be clean.
“Holy St. Henry!” Joki tilted his head back. “Take a gander at that.”
Marko looked up. The northern lights blazed above the trees. But instead of the usual wispy trails of green, the sky was streaked with red. The black pine tops were backlit by the bloodred fire, and flecks of starlight burned above.
“I'm not one to believe in curses,” Joki said, “but it scares me to think what that bloody sky might mean.”
“It probably means your chimney bomb just blew a good chunk of the Red Army straight to heaven,” the lieutenant said.
“Ain't none of those Red devils going to heaven,” Kekko said.
“As if you've got a place reserved for yourself up-stairs,”Joki said, and the men all laughed.
CHAPTER 17
THE WRATH OF GOD
When Marko woke the next morning, he was sleepy from another night of double spark duty.
“Cold today.” Marko eyed the thick frost in the corners of the tent.
Niilo was already dressed. “It's about time we had real winter.”
“This weather will test the Russians,” Juhola told them, pulling on his coat. “I'm off to the command trench. You boys check in down there after breakfast.”
The messengers stepped outside and heard a far-off whistling. The noise rose to a higher pitch, like the air rushing from a giant bonfire. “Down!” Niilo yelled over the screech, and they all dove into the snow.
The shell exploded at the base of a nearby pine. Marko covered his head as chunks of dirt and rock rained down. The tree shivered and crashed to the ground. Marko's ears rang from the concussion, and his heart pounded.
When the next two shells exploded down the ridge, Niilo stood up. “They're aiming at the forward trenches now.”
Marko lifted his head and smiled.
“What are you gawking at?” Karl asked.
“Where'd you get that haircut?”
Karl's blond hair was plastered down, except for a few sawed-off clumps that stuck straight up. His forehead was white from being covered up by his hat, and his blue eyes looked huge.
“Let's get breakfast.” Karl slapped his stocking hat on his leg to knock off the snow, then pulled it down over his ears.
Instead of stopping after a few rounds, as the shells had last time, the Russian artillery thundered all morning long. Each time a shell screamed toward the command trench, Marko swore it was going to be a direct hit. The explosions were twice as loud as they'd been in the woods, forcing the lieutenant to shout his orders. Smoke and dust burned Marko's eyes and throat.
While Niilo relayed messages to the forward trenches, Marko and Karl helped the medics use pulkkas or sleds to drag the wounded soldiers up the hill to the hospital tent. The slope made the pull difficult, and the chunks of rock and dirt that had been blasted over the snow forced the boys to lift the sleds over the roughest spots. The first two soldiers had minor shrapnel wounds, but the third man had been hit in the chest. Before the boys lifted him onto the sled, the medic gave him a shot of morphine. Despite the painkiller the man kept screaming.
“Hang on. We'll get you to the doc,” Marko said, panting as he and Karl skidded the sled past a muddy crater and a splintered pine tree. Each time they bumped a root or a rock the man's screams stabbed Marko. “Hurry,” he whispered to Karl. “We've got to hurry.” Marko's head pounded. All the blood and the squealing reminded him of a pig-killing on his farm.
Once they carried the man inside the hospital tent, the head medic pulled back the soldier's dressing and shook his head. “He'll be ready for the cooling tent soon,” he said softly. Then he moved on to the next patient.
When the boys started back down the hill, Marko asked, “What's the cooling tent?”
“That's where they keep the bodies,” Karl said.
Marko stopped.”They're just going to let him die?”
“They help the ones who have a chance,” Karl said.
“What if that was your bro—”Marko stopped. Don't mention family.
Karl was about to answer Marko when a soldier came staggering toward the hospital tent.”Oh my God,” Karl said.
The soldier's right arm had been blown off above the elbow.
The boys ran to help him.
The guns were still booming when the messengers stopped for a lunch of dry rye bread and cold tea. The cooks had doused their fire in case a Russian advance forced them to move fast.
“The noise is getting to me.”Marko tried to talk over the artillery blasts. He was too tired to chew the hard bread.
“The shells or the screaming men?” Karl drank some tea.
“Both.” Marko shivered, thinking of the man with the shot-off arm. Remarkably, the medic thought he might survive.
Niilo nodded. “Folks like to pretend soldiers die quick in battle. Just one bullet and down. But it ain't like that.”
Marko looked at his whiteovers, which were smeared with dirt and blood. “Isn't the shelling ever going to stop?”
“Might not be good news if it did,” Niilo said.
“Why?” Marko yelled over an explosion.
“They usually shell the other ridge,” Niilo said. “This might mean they're trying to soften us up for an attack.”
“If only we had artillery to fire back,” Marko said.
“Our boys on the other ridge have a handful of mortars,” Niilo said, “but they're useless without a field telephone to direct fire. And their few old cannons are so low on ammo that they're saving them for an emergency.”
“This isn't an emergency?” Marko asked.
“Not even close.”
It shook Marko to think what a real emergency might be.
CHAPTER 18
FIRE IN THE SKY
The shelling continued for two days. At night the muzzle blasts of the Russian regimental guns lit the sky with red fire, and by day the haze from the explosions blocked the sun.
Except for brief naps and food breaks, Marko and Karl stayed on duty the whole time. They hauled water, blankets, and supplies to the hospital tent. They helped pull injured soldiers up the hill, and they carried food to the trenches.
In the middle of the second night the barrage finally stopped, and Marko fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The sky was still black when he woke to a sound he'd never heard before. Time froze as a steady chunk puff, chunk puff, chunk puff rose from the valley.
Marko sat up. “What's that?”
Karl said,”The Russkies are starting their tanks.”
Marko pulled on his boots as the sound of the engines quickened. A great beast was awakening in the dark and breathing faster and faster.
Kerola lit the kerosene lamp, and Marko tasted sulfur in the back of his mouth as the wick flared. He looked at his watch. Four in the morning.
The lieutenant nodded at Juho and Seppo.”You saw this one coming, boys. Thanks to your report we've got our positions reinforced.”
Then he turned to Marko and Karl.”Are my messengers ready for a night ski?”
“To HQ?”Karl asked.
“Yes.”The lieutenant gave a packet to Karl.”You boys will be delivering this one. I need Niilo here.”
Marko tried to look alert, but his brain was numb from lack of sleep and the constant pounding of the shells. As he stepped outside, the crunch of the snow under his boots told him it was well below zero. Luckily, a half moon made it easy to see.
Without a word, Karl put on his skis and started down the trail. Marko followed, finding the woods much darker than the moonlit hillside.
Marko had never heard a tank attack, but there was no mistaking the sound in the valley when the engines revved to a higher pitch and started forward. The metal-on-me
tal grinding of the gear cases sounded like a giant circular saw ripping through the woods.
A Russian flare burst against the night, and green light filled the sky. The boys stopped and stared at the battlefield. Marko felt a chill up his spine as the whitewashed tanks trundled toward Horseshoe Hill. Blue flames shot from the back of the engines as the drivers accelerated up each bump and then slowed at the top, their headlights bouncing wildly.
The Russian infantry marched ghostlike behind the tanks. Just when Marko thought the noise couldn't get any louder the battle cry rose up: “Urra! Urra!”
The full assault was on.
But no Finnish troops were in sight. Why aren't we fighting back?
“Hurry!” Karl planted his poles and pushed forward. As Marko followed, the barrel of a tank cannon flashed, and a shell exploded at the base of Horseshoe Hill. Orange flames leapt from the tanks; explosions rocked the ridge. Still no Finns fired back.
The boys skied hard, ducking under branches and squinting in the shadows. Behind them the cannon fire was now mixed with the pop of hand grenades and the staccato spit of machine guns. Tanks ground forward, but the only answer from the Finnish side was a rifle shot and a short burst from a Suomi submachine gun.
“Aren't they ever going to fight back?”Marko asked.
Just then a Finnish machine gun opened up from Horseshoe Hill. Bullets rang off tank armor. The Russians returned fire. Then a charge exploded with an echoing whomp. Marko looked over his shoulder and saw flames.
“We got a tank!”Karl yelled.
Karl stopped suddenly, and Marko nearly skied into him.
A face washed by moonlight stared at them. “Ahhh…” Marko sucked in his breath to hush his scream. The body of a Finnish soldier hung from a tree. His jacket was gone, and a note tied to his suspenders read: Accept your liberation! The fingernails had been ripped off his left hand.
Marko coughed and gagged. He was shaking so badly that he dropped his left ski pole. Were the Russians crouched in the woods, waiting for them? A metal taste burned his tongue as he peered into the shadows and bent to pick up his pole.
“They're hoping to scare us.” Karl tried to sound brave, but his voice cracked.
The boys skied forward as quietly as they could, scanning both sides of the trail. Marko cringed each time his ski bindings or his brace creaked.
When they reached Company One, Karl told their lieutenant about the dead soldier.
“You didn't touch the body, did you?” he asked.
“No sir.”The boys shook their heads.
“Good. Last week those Russkies booby-trapped a corpse. I'll send a couple of men with you to retrieve the body.”
Marko was relieved to have the soldiers ski partway back with them. But as soon as he and Karl were alone, Marko whispered, “We should have asked to borrow a rifle.”
“Too late now.” Karl's voice trembled.
Marko led the way back, skiing fast in the open stretches and slowing down on the corners in case a Russian squad was approaching. Despite the battle noise in the distance, the squeak of the boys' skis jarred Marko's nerves. If the Russians caught them, would they shoot quickly, or dangle them from a tree branch first?
After pushing hard up a hill, Marko slowed as he approached a bend in the trail.
“Almost there,” Karl whispered.
“Good,” Marko said.
Suddenly something jumped across the trail at Marko's feet, and he almost squealed. A rabbit dashed for the woods, its rear legs kicking up snow.
Marko took half a stride forward and froze. Over the blasts from the battlefield, he heard a scraping sound. Someone was coming.”Find cover!”
He slipped off his skis and scanned the forest. Getting out of the moonlight and into the shadows was their only hope. “Cover your tracks,” Marko said, picking up his skis and poles and stepping off the trail. Taking the biggest strides he could, he tried not to drag his boots in the snow. Karl followed close behind. After they'd taken only half a dozen steps, the other skier sounded as if he was about to come into view.
Marko set down his skis and knelt in the snow. Karl dropped beside him. As Marko threw his white hood over his head, he glimpsed the tall hat of a Russian soldier as the man came skiing over the hill, moving stiffly. The last thing Marko saw before he ducked his head and lay down was the red tips on the collar of the Russian's greatcoat. Marko held his breath and prayed that their whiteovers would hide them.
Wet snow stuck to Marko's face mask, and his heart pounded as the squeak of the Russian's skis got louder. Machine guns rattled in the distance. Would the soldiers hear Marko's heart beating from the trail? He imagined one of the Russians aiming a rifle at his head.
The soldiers skied closer. Marko prayed they wouldn't stop. Snow melted down the back of his neck and his cheeks turned numb, but he lay perfectly still. Though the cramped muscles in his leg shot needles up to his chin, Marko clenched his teeth. He could feel Karl shaking beside him.
The skiers slowed down, and a man grunted something. Marko was about to make a dash for the trees when the Russians started up again. Marko heard Karl take a deep breath.
Marko waited a long time before he whispered,”You think it's safe?”
Karl lifted his head. “They must be out of hearing by now.”
“Think there's a second patrol?”
Karl got up and peered down the trail.”Looks clear,” he whispered, and brushed the snow from his clothes. “That was a close call. I can still smell their rotten tobacco.”
When Marko tried to stand up, his weak leg turned under him, and he fell back into the snow.
“What's wrong?” Karl asked.
Marko rubbed his calf. “I'll work it out.”
“Thanks for keeping quiet,” Karl said. “We were this close to being strung up like that other fellow.” Karl held his fingers a centimeter apart. Then he helped Marko to his feet.
“We did good,” Marko said.
The boys reached the command trench at dawn. The Finns had beaten back the advance, and the hillside was eerily quiet.
Niilo pointed to Hoot Hauta. “You're looking at a hero, boys. A tank was about to crush one of his men when he ran out and dragged the fellow clear. Then he ducked behind the tank and set it on fire with a Molotov cocktail.”
Hoot shrugged. “I did my job like any man would.” He nodded at Marko and Karl.”Glad to see you boys are back.”
“I'll second that.”Juhola took the packet from Karl.
“We saw a Russian patrol,” Karl said.
“I never would have sent you out if I'd known how far the Russians were going to wander,” the lieutenant said. “But the good news is you're safe. I'll wager that patrol never saw you.”
“We hid in the snow,” Marko said.
“Good work! I've got another mission for you.”
“Another message?” Marko asked. He was so tired that he didn't think he could ski another kilometer.
“No,”the lieutenant said.”I'd like you to collect some war booty. We sighted two Russian horses bolting past the field kitchen. The trail should be easy to follow in this snow.”
Karl suddenly pointed.”Look at that!”
Marko turned. The sun was rising over the battlefield. Beyond the trenches a charred tank with its turret still smoldering was tipped on its side in an antitank trap. The whitewash had peeled off the tank's armor in places, showing patches of green paint, and the worn steel tracks sparkled in the morning light.
Then Marko saw where Karl was pointing. Frozen in place like a toy soldier, a dead Russian leaned against the side of the tank with his eyes fixed straight ahead. His black fur cap and his eyebrows were coated with white frost. A pistol clenched in his right hand pointed toward the ground.
Marko gulped and stared. “I didn't believe Joki when he said men could freeze that fast.”
The lieutenant said,”The crew jumped out and ran, but that fellow chose to fight.”
Fallen Russians lay ever
ywhere. Many looked like young schoolboys. Some were sprawled flat in the snow, but others had a knee or an arm pointing skyward. Rifles, spiked bayonets, caps, helmets, and ammunition boxes littered the ground. Near the tank a pile of Russians had fallen on top of each other. Marko could see bloody bullet holes in their greatcoats. Only last night these frost-covered heaps had been men eating their supper and writing letters home.
“You're not going to believe this!” Joki yelled. He had climbed out of the forward trench and stuck his head into the engine compartment of the tank. “My English ain't so good, but I think this here nameplate says 'Liberty.'“
Marko and Karl ran down to look at the ten-ton monster. The tank smelled of burnt paint and gasoline. Inside the hatch were rows of unfired brass shells. Marko peered into the cramped interior and saw a car-type steering wheel and foot pedals along with piles of empty machine-gun magazines.
Marko walked to the rear and looked over Joki's shoulder. The markings on the big V-12 engine read Liberty Moth XII. Marko turned to Juhola, who had followed them. “Is that Liberty as in America?”
“It's an American aircraft engine.”
“So the whole time we've been hoping for aid from the United States they've been selling equipment to Russia!”
The lieutenant nodded. “Cicero once said, 'Money forms the sinews of war.'“ He stared at the smoking battlefield for a long time.
Finally he turned to Marko and Karl. “You boys better get after those horses while the tracks are still fresh.”
CHAPTER 19
WAR BOOTY
As the boys skied across the hillside after the horses, Marko fumed, “I can't believe those Americans are selling tank engines to the Russians!”
“See, you can't depend on nobody but yourself,” Karl said.
“I'm sweating bad—time for Niilo's trick.” Marko pulled out a fresh undershirt and stripped to the waist. “Don't you believe it helps?”
The Winter War Page 8