“Don't you ever mind your own business?”
While Marko buttoned his coat, Karl pointed to some hoof prints. “Here they are.”
Marko looked down. “The spacing shows they're moving fast.”
“They must really be spooked.”
The trail crossed an open field and then meandered through a logged-over area where the horses had stopped to nibble aspen saplings. “They're eating bark,”Marko said. He thought of Tuuli back home in the barn.
“At least they're walking now,” Karl said.
Finally the boys spotted the horses, standing at the edge of a cedar swamp. Their bridles dragged in the snow as they munched on branch tips. “Take it slow,” Karl said as he slipped off his skis.
“They're huge compared to Finnish horses!” Marko said.
When Karl stepped toward the shaggy animals, the largest horse planted his feet and faced them with his nostrils flared.
“That big bay is the leader.” Karl kept his voice low. “If we get him on our side, it will be easy to corral the other one.”
The bay horse's ears were straight up, and his tail switched from side to side. He looked ready to bolt. Then Karl said, “Idi syuda, mal'chik.”
To Marko's surprise the horse nickered softly.
“What did you say?” Marko whispered.
“My mother taught me a little Russian. She used to say that when she called our gelding. It means 'Come here, boy.'“
Then Karl pulled a carrot from his pocket and repeated, “Idi syuda, mal'chik.” The horse moved toward them.
“Where'd you get that?” Marko asked.
“From the cook. In case the lieutenant wanted me to take care of Kahvi,”Karl said.
“So that's why Kahvi likes you so much,” Marko said.
When the bay reached for the carrot, Marko caught his bridle. The horse jerked back, but Karl said, “Spokojno, mal'chik,” and patted his shoulder.
“Let me guess,”Marko said.”That means,'Easy, boy'?”
“You pick up Russian fast,” Karl laughed.
Marko was relieved to see Karl smile. “If we lead him, the other should follow,” Marko said. Indeed, as soon as they started down the trail, the second horse fell in line behind the bay.
“How did you learn to handle horses so well?” Marko asked.
“We owned a pretty chestnut named Salla.”
“We had a pair of chestnuts named Tuuli and Teppo. But they drafted Teppo into the army.”
“They let us keep Salla because she was our only horse.”
“We should think of a name for these horses,” Marko said.
“How about Joseph and Cheslav? After Stalin and Molotov. Molotov's first name is Vyacheslav.”
“That's a good one,” Marko said.
Karl grinned.
“How long have you been in the Junior Civil Guard?” Marko asked.
Karl's mood suddenly changed. “None of your business.”
After skiing all night, Marko had lost his patience.”I didn't know there was a law against making conversation.”
Karl looked ready to snap back. But he turned to Marko instead. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Sure.” Marko nodded.
“We're friends, aren't we?” Karl looked at Marko.
“I'd like to have a friend.”
“I came here because I had nowhere else to go.”Karl paused as if he couldn't decide whether to continue or not. “I'm not in the Civil Guard.”
“Really?”
Karl nodded.
“Wow! Where did you get the uniform?”
“It belonged to my brother.”
“I promise not to tell,” Marko said.
“There's more.”Karl took a deep breath.”The morning the war began I was in the barn feeding the cows. My brother would have been with me, but he stayed in the kitchen to talk over his wedding plans with our parents. I was about to start the milking when I heard screams from the house.”Karl's voice quavered as though he was about to cry.”Then there were rifle shots.”
Karl stopped, and Joseph nosed his shoulder. Karl patted the horse's neck.
“I ran to the barn door and looked out. Two soldiers spotted me. I ducked back inside, but they chased after me and cornered me in a stall. When the first man saw how young I was, he laughed and leaned his rifle against the wall. Then he pulled out a knife.”
Karl's eyes welled up with tears, and his shoulders sagged. “The one with the knife lunged toward me. He was so close….” Karl closed his eyes. “I'll never forget the stink of tobacco on his breath … the cold stare … that blade flashing at my throat. I reached back and grabbed a shovel. I swung it as hard as I could. The next thing I knew, his head was split open. He fell backward. Blood splattered everywhere. It was awful, Marko.”Karl lowered his head and cried quietly. “Then—”
“You don't have to say anything more.”Marko shuddered. How terrible it must feel to kill someone.
“No, I want to tell you everything.” Karl wiped his eyes with his mittens. “Then the second soldier made a move for the rifle, but I grabbed it first and he ran.
“When I got to the house I found my mother and sister lying in the kitchen. Their dresses were torn and …” Karl's voice got so quiet it was hard to hear. “I could tell they'd fought hard. My father and brother were dead, too.
“I was about to get sick to my stomach when I heard shouts. I looked out the window and saw more Russians coming. I grabbed my skis and my brother's Civil Guard rucksack, sneaked out the back door, and headed into the woods.”
“You put on his uniform?” Marko asked.
Karl nodded. “Once I got clear of the Russians.” Then he went on, “I skied south. The next day Juho and Seppo found me. I told the lieutenant I wanted to fight on the front lines, but he said he'd only let me stay if I agreed to be a messenger.”
“Does he know the whole story?” Marko asked.
“Just that my parents are dead. You said you wouldn't—”
“I won't tell anyone,” Marko said. Now he truly understood Karl's bitterness. Marko knew how lucky he was to still have his family, even though they were scattered across Finland and Sweden. He prayed that everyone was safe.
“There's one more thing—”Karl stopped.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. We'd better get these horses back.”
It was midday when they returned to camp. The lieutenant smiled as he inspected the horses. “Mission accomplished!” he said. “These are fine mounts. They look hungry, but we'll get them back in shape.”
“Karl named them Joseph and Cheslav,”Marko said.
“After our archenemies,” Juhola chuckled.
Kerola stepped forward and picked up the reins of the bay. “Should I bring the horses to the stable, sir?”
“Good idea. You both deserve a reward. How about if we take you off double spark duty?”
“I could use some extra sleep,” Karl said.
“Me too.” Marko grinned.
The big bay suddenly snorted. Marko looked up as the horse reared and jerked the bridle out of Kerola's hand.
“Stop,” Kerola yelled as both horses ran up the hill. Marko expected the animals to break for the woods; instead they wheeled and trotted back to Karl. The lieutenant laughed as the bay sniffed Karl's pocket, looking for another carrot. “Looks like you've made yourself a friend. You and Marko better turn Joseph and Cheslav over to the teamsters yourselves.” “Will do,” Karl said.
CHAPTER 20
LETTERS HOME
Marko woke to the sound of hushed voices. He was still wearing his coat and boots and lying on top of his blanket. It was dark outside, and the lieutenant was talking to Juho and Seppo. “Don't take any unnecessary chances, but the more intelligence you gather, the better for us all.”
“We know a few tricks,” Juho said.
Marko was surprised that Juho and Seppo left with only a light pack and a pistol between them.
Marko sat up and rubbed
his eyes.
“Awake already, Koski?”the lieutenant asked.
“Why didn't they take their rifles?”
“They're going on a different sort of mission tonight.”
When Karl woke, Kerola gave the boys an order.
“Now that the shelling has stopped, you two help clear the forward trenches before that dirt freezes.”
“Let them have their supper first,”Juhola said. Then he turned to Marko and Karl.”And if the action heats up down there, scoot back to the command trench at the first whistle of an artillery shell.”
During supper Karl frowned.”I'm getting sick of this watery stew every night. At home we cooked up a liha-soppa soup that was loaded with meat, potatoes, carrots, and onions.”
“My mother made that, too,” Marko said.
“But my favorite meal was our silakkalaatikko casserole,” Karl said. “I get hungry just thinking about it…. Marko?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for listening this morning. I needed to talk … but I didn't know who to trust.”
“I know what it's like to hold something inside,” Marko said. “My friend Johan was the only person I could talk to.”
“Is he in the Civil Guard, too?”
“Not anymore,” Marko said. He told Karl the story, and he was grateful for the darkness that hid his tears.
“That must have been awful,” Karl said.
“It felt like … having my chest crushed … I don't know….”Marko sighed.”We better get going.”He knelt and washed his mess kit in the snow.
“There's something else I should tell you,” Karl said.
“What is it?”Marko started down the hill.
“Can you keep it a secret?” Karl walked beside him.
“What could be a bigger secret than you not being in the Civil Guard?” Marko said.
“This would be really hard not to tell, and it would ruin everything if it got out.”
“I know how to be a friend,” Marko said.
“You're sure?”
Marko nodded, but Karl still hesitated.
“Well?” Marko asked.
Karl looked back up the hill. “You won't tell?”
“I said I wouldn't.”
Karl glanced over his shoulder and whispered, “I'm a girl.”
“What!”Marko stumbled and almost fell.”You're a—”
“Quiet!” Karl said. “I wanted to fight the Russians, but I was sure they wouldn't let me join if they knew I was a girl.”
“You've got to be kidding. I—”
“Keep your voice down,” Karl said.
“Karl Kangas is a girl,” Marko said, as if he was trying to convince himself it was true.
“I knew this was a mistake. Would you quiet down!”
“What's your real name?” Marko lowered his voice.
“I can't tell you. You might let it slip out.”
“I said you could trust me,” Marko said.
“Call me Karl. And hush, there's the trench up ahead.”
The whole time Marko and Karl helped the infantry squad clear their trench and realign the log rifle rests, Marko could think of nothing but Karl's secret. As Marko breathed in the scents of burnt powder and damp earth, and as he watched the steam rise from the infantrymen's shoulders, one thought was stuck in his mind: Karl Kangas is a girl.
While Marko was in shock, Karl seemed relieved at having shared his secret.
Marko tossed a shovelful of dirt onto the outer berm, and Karl said, “Doesn't it feel strange to be digging in dirt with snow all around us? The smell reminds me of planting time.”
“My mother says the same thing when she steps into our root cellar. Most women are happy to card wool and knit and sew in the winter, but she gets lonesome for digging in her garden.”
“She sounds like a special lady.”
“She loves the outdoors. And she's a crack shot with a .22 rifle.” Marko bent to scoop up more earth, sighing. “I thought we were done with shoveling when we finished the horse shelter.”
“The dirt work never ends around here,” Karl said. “There's always a fresh hole to be dug or an old one to be cleaned out. It was the same way back on our farm. By the time I finished weeding the last row of potatoes, I had to start all over again at the top of the field.”
After Marko and Karl had dug their way to the far end of the trench, Marko asked, “If I guess your name, will you tell me if I get it right?”
“Stop it, Marko.”
“But I can't be thinking of you as Karl when you're a girl. Is it Aliisa?”he asked.
“Marko!”
“Or Anna? If you won't give me any hints, I'll just go through the alphabet until I get it.”
“I've got to be Karl to you and everyone else, or you'll ruin everything. You've got to think of me as a boy. Quiet now. Someone's coming.”
When they were still shoveling after midnight, Karl said, “I almost wish the Russians would fire a shell so we could go up to the command trench and rest.”
“I feel like I could sleep standing up,” Marko said.
“Your leg must be killing you. I don't know how you keep going.”
“I'm used to it,” Marko said, rubbing his calf. “My mother taught me to break every job into small steps. When I'm digging I take it one shovelful at a time. When I'm skiing I never think any farther ahead than getting to the top of the next hill. But right now my back aches a whole lot worse than my leg.”
Karl's shovel made a ting as it struck metal, and he knelt down and brushed away the dirt.
“What is it?” Marko asked.
“A Finnish helmet.” Karl lifted it in the silvery moonlight.
“Look at the bullet hole.” Marko pointed at a neat dot above the front brim. The back of the helmet was ripped open.
Marko watched as Karl knocked the dirt out of the helmet and turned it over. When Karl saw the crusted black blood inside he turned pale.
An infantryman took the helmet from Karl and called to one of his friends. He looked at the stained insides. “Ain't it awful what a machine gun can do to a fellow?”
Another soldier bent down and said, “This must be his, too.” He pulled a worn leather mitt out of the dirt. It had big holes in the fingers.”No wonder he complained about the cold.”
“What should we do with it?”the first man asked.
“It's no good to us,” the other said. They tossed the mitt and the helmet over the berm and into no-man's-land.
Marko and Karl got back to the tent just after dawn. As they took off their coats, Marko reminded himself: Don't give away Karl's secret.
A voice called, “Special delivery,” and Juho and Seppo stepped inside.
Juho opened his pack and dumped a pile of letters and papers onto a blanket. His uniform and his hands were stained with dirt and dried blood.
“Those Russkie uniforms was froze like boards.” Seppo squinted as he took off his steamed-up glasses and wiped them on his sleeve. “We had to slice open their pockets with our knives. Found some extras, too.” He showed a tobacco pouch, a badge with a red flag painted on it, and a pin with a hammer and sickle.
“Keep that Russian tobacco clear of me,” Niilo said. “It stinks like burning garbage.”
Karl spat out, “I hate that smell.”
Marko stared at the table. He couldn't believe the lieutenant had sent Juho and Seppo out to search dead bodies.
Juhola saw Marko's eyes. “It's an ugly business,” he said. “But if we can gather intelligence that saves our men, we have no choice.” He turned to Juho and Seppo. “Find anything unusual?”
“Just regular stuff,”Juho said. “The Russkies haven't run out of black bread yet.”
“I can see that.”The lieutenant knelt and picked up a wrinkled envelope. The flap had been sealed with a half-chewed glob of black bread. He opened the letter and handed it to Kerola, who read slowly as he translated from the Russian.
My dearest wife,
Nothing has c
hanged. Finland is cold, dark, and miserable. I don't know why we would ever want to invade such a country. They promised us that the Finns would lay down their guns and receive us with open arms. We are not being greeted with flowers and parades. If the politruks weren't guarding our rear, we would all turn and go home.
“Politruks?” Juho asked.”Them political officers?” “Yes,” Juhola said. “They watch the rear lines. Any man who shows a hint of cowardice is shot.”
Kerola scanned the rest of the letter. “He goes on to complain more about our desolate country and sends his love to his kids.”
Marko thought of the soldier's family waiting for his return. How many weeks or months would it be before they found out he was dead?
And how is Father? Dear God, please keep him safe.
“This one is from an officer,” Kerola said, opening an envelope with a bloodstain on the corner. He read silently for a minute. “It's to his brother-in-law.”
I would give up everything—my commission, my property, and all my rubles—to escape this place. We have sent tanks and infantry against the Finns with no success. They hide in the woods and in trenches so we can never get a clear shot. We have no idea how large their force is. One day we sent 150 men to attack. Only 23 returned. That leaves us no choice but to sit and wait for—
“Belaya smert,” Juhola finished, looking over Kerola's shoulder. “I know that one. It means 'white death.' “
Kerola nodded.” 'That leaves us no choice but to sit and wait for white death to come.' “
“Save that one,” the lieutenant said. “We'll send the letters with useful intelligence to HQ. Put on your reading glasses, Mr. Kerola, they brought you a pile of homework.”
Marko stared at the letters. The reality of war was so different from the bright August day when he and Johan had received their Junior Civil Guard certificates. A band had played, and the boys had marched in shorts and new military caps. Then each of them had shaken the local lieutenant's hand. At the end of the ceremony they'd saluted the flag and recited a poem called “Soldier Boy”:
The field of glory was his world, He always stood merry and steady Where he had taken his place In fire, in blood …
A field of glory? Marko shook his head. All I've seen out here on the front is fire and blood.
The Winter War Page 9