CHAPTER 21
CHRISTMAS ON THE FRONT
On Christmas Eve afternoon Marko and Karl stopped by the stable to visit with the Russian horses. Joseph nickered and perked up his ears the minute he saw Karl.
“Joseph sure likes when you talk Russian to him,” Marko said.
“I don't think it matters what I say.”The horse pushed his nose into Karl's hand.”He's just lonesome for home.”
Joseph sniffed all of Karl's pockets for a treat. Then he suddenly raised his nose and pushed Karl's cap off, knocking a hidden carrot to the ground. “You can't fool him,” Marko laughed as Joseph picked the carrot up and munched it.
When Joseph had finished his snack, he laid his neck across Karl's shoulder so Karl would pet him.
“I've seen horses lean against my father when he's shoeing them,” Marko said, “but I've never seen one do that.”
“I'm lucky he doesn't put his full weight on me.”
“He'd flatten you like a bug,” Marko laughed.
As Marko and Karl were walking back toward the tent, Kekko let out a yell. “We're gonna have us a Christmas feast!”
Juho and Seppo had skied into camp pulling a sled loaded with a sack of flour and a pickle barrel.
Juho nodded. “We found an abandoned store behind the Russian lines. It was empty except for this stuff in the cellar.”
The cooks didn't have milk or baking powder, but they whipped up a batch of pancakes, with fat garlic pickles for dessert.
Kekko was the first to sample the pancakes. He doffed his crooked helmet to the cooks.”After this little war is done, you boys should think about opening a pancake restaurant.”
Marko tasted one of the flat-looking pancakes and frowned. “A little sugar would have helped,” he whispered to Karl.
“They're chewy,” Karl said, “but these are mighty fine pickles.” He took a crunchy bite and grinned.
The front was dark and quiet on Christmas Day. Snow clouds kept the sky gray, and the Russians showed no sign of moving. The men were given limited duty for a change, and Marko used the extra time to rest and write to Mother.
Marko and Karl were the first ones to get back to the tent after lunch. Marko pulled out his puukko knife to open a letter from home. Karl was sitting next to him. Marko leaned forward and whispered, “Is your name Elsa, by chance?”
Karl ignored him. Marko said, “Or how about—”
“Didn't you listen to a word I said?” Karl kept his voice low. “When I first got to the front, all I wanted to do was die. I can't tell you how many times I thought about skiing toward the Russian lines and letting them shoot me. Why did I deserve to go on living when my whole family was dead? But the longer I've been here, the more I realize that my purpose is to be a part of this fight. And for that to work I've got to be a boy.”
“I felt the same way after Johan died,” Marko said.
“You understand, then?” Karl touched his hand.
Marko nodded. Karl would have to stay a “he” in his mind.
When Niilo lifted the tent flap, Karl jerked back his hand and asked Marko, “Is that knife handmade?”
“It's my father's design.” Marko showed Karl the carved handle as Niilo and the rest of the men walked in. “We made it in our shop. From the time I was little I'd sit at the kitchen table and draw outlines for blades and handles.”
Niilo walked over. Had he seen Karl touch Marko's hand? But Niilo pulled out his own knife and said,”Take a gander at this.”
“A reindeer antler handle,” Marko said, turning the edge to the light, “and a well-honed blade.”
“I made it myself,” Niilo said.
“Very nice,”Marko said. He handed it back and used his own knife to open the letter. “Good news?” Karl asked. “You want to hear it?” “Sure.”
Dear Marko,
I hope that you are warm and safe tonight. I'm trying not to worry myself sick over you and Father both being in harm's way. I still haven't heard from him.
Whenever I see a sleigh approaching the hospital, I pray you aren't lying in the back. But at the same time, the sleigh drivers are a blessing since they bring me your letters.
It's been an agony to have my family gone, but I keep telling myself that Finland's freedom is worth our sacrifice. Christmas is only a few days away, but holiday spirit is in short supply. The blackout applies to Christmas lights, of course, and candles are not permitted in the cemeteries. But even if we can't light a candle for Grandpa, we can all say a prayer for him.
And you can be sure I will be praying for you and all of the brave soldiers.
Marko smiled when he read about the candles. “My family used to have so much fun at Grandma's on Christmas,” Marko said. “We got up early when the sky was still black and walked along the riverbank to church. As we got closer, we saw candles glowing in the windows. The heat melted away an arch in the middle of each frosty pane, giving the snow a golden—”
“Does little Marko miss his mommy?”Seppo looked over Marko's shoulder.
“Why don't you mind your own business for once?” Karl said.
“Our messenger boys have joined the same crybaby club.”
Juho and the rest of the men laughed.
The lieutenant looked at Marko and Karl. “Do you have your skis waxed?”
“They're ready to go,” Marko said.
“Tomorrow HQ is sending over a fellow to help our signals man lay a phone line. You'll lend him a hand.”
The next morning Marko was looking forward to the change in routine until he saw the huge coils of wire piled on the sleigh.
“That looks like enough wire to go all the way to Helsinki,” he said.
“Just to HQ,”the signals man said.
Marko and Karl helped the men load the wire onto smaller sleds and pull them through the woods. Marko's hands were soon numb from wrestling the wire around rocks and through the brush.
Marko told Karl about the time he and Johan had collected barbed wire. “At least we don't have to worry about phone wire cutting our hands.”
Karl said, “And there's another good thing about this job.”
“What's that?”
“The farther we go, the lighter our load gets.”
The following afternoon the signals man made the final connection to the command trench and handed the lieutenant his field telephone. The lieutenant smiled. “Not only will this save you messengers some trips,”he said,”but if the Russians start a big push, we'll be able to call in mortar support.”
Later, when Marko and Karl headed back to the tent, Marko said, “The phone reminded me … of that morning in the church tower with Johan. I can't get over how normal that day was. We were talking and joking. Then we heard the bomber engines …”
“It was the same for me when the soldiers came to our farm,”Karl said.”One minute I had a milk pail in my hand, and the next thing …”
“I can't imagine … and then to have them come after you …”
Karl nodded. “I didn't want to run.”
“But you had no choice,” Marko said.
“I've tried to tell myself that.” Karl hugged himself as if he was cold. “But it doesn't stop the nightmares.”
CHAPTER 22
BELAYA SMERT
On New Year's Day Karl and Marko were returning from delivering a message to HQ. The lieutenant used the telephone when he could, but the connection was often broken, and important dispatches still needed hand delivery.
“I never dreamed I'd be celebrating New Year's this way.” Karl's breath steamed out of his face mask, and his eyelashes were covered with frost. An icicle hung from his chin.
“Me neither,” Marko said. His skis squeaked to a stop when he stopped poling. He took off his mitts and pressed the backs of his hands against his eyes to melt the ice.
“That's better,” Marko said, flicking the water from his eyes. Then he shoved his hands under his coat to warm them.
Karl did the same. “It's got t
o be colder than thirty-five below. My lips are so numb that I feel like I'm mumbling.”
“The metal on my brace feels cold enough to break.”
“If I had to ski with that thing strapped on my leg, I'd give up on the first hill.”
“I just tell myself how easy skiing is compared to what it was like learning to walk again.” Marko put his mitts back on and flapped his elbows to warm up his arms.
“Didn't you feel like giving up?”
“Every day. But with my family cheering me on— especially Mother—I couldn't let them down.”
Karl's head dropped.
“I'm sorry I mentioned my family,” Marko said.
“That's all right,” Karl said. “We'd better get going.” He planted his poles and kicked forward with a squeak of his skis.
They got back to camp after dark. It was so cold that the smoke was trailing flat off the stovepipe above the tent and then sinking toward the ground.
Hoot Hauta, who often went outside without a coat, was wearing a hat and mitts and talking with the lieutenant. “These temperatures strain the equipment,” Hoot said.”The rifles and the Suomi submachine guns jam unless the infantrymen dilute their gun oil with kerosene.”
Juhola said, “And when the fellows get careless and touch bare metal, it rips their skin right off. The medics are treating more men for frostbite than gunshot wounds.”
Spark duty for Marko that night meant twice the usual number of trips to the woodpile. And it was so cold inside the tent. His feet stayed warm because they pointed toward the stove, but his stocking-capped head was freezing. “Look at this,” he whispered to Karl as he got ready to take his turn watching the stove. He blew out a puff of air and watched it turn to frost.
Outside, a sniper's rifle popped in the dark.”You can tell how cold it is by that sound,” Karl said.
Marko nodded. Instead of a sharp report the rifle made a flat crack. “It sounds like somebody wrapped a blanket around the barrel.”
Along with the cold front, a blizzard blew in from the north, and it snowed for days. The deep drifts in camp kept the boys shoveling all day long to keep the paths open.
After watching Juhola go through his daily ritual of shaving on a twenty-five-below-zero morning, Marko asked Karl,”Why does he go to all the trouble?”
Karl picked up a snow shovel. “You think the lieutenant should go around with a soot-blackened face and a beard like everyone else?”
“Even Kerola is growing a beard,” Marko said.
“By shaving every day the lieutenant shows that he appreciates order and cleanliness,” Karl said. “Most of these men stink worse than barnyard animals.”
“You just say that because you're a gir—”
“Shut up!” Karl looked back toward the tent.
“So you think the lieutenant keeps neat to remind himself of the order we left behind?” Marko asked.
“Exactly,” Karl replied. “It's his way of saying something against the craziness of this war.”
“Unlike certain demo men,”Marko said with a smile.
Karl laughed.
To help the men deal with the cold, the lieutenant changed the duty schedule to balance periods of action with rest. So that a messenger was always available, Marko and Karl alternated shifts with Niilo. Each day followed the same pattern:
Two hours patrol
Two hours rest
Two hours action
Four hours sleep
Sauna every third day
The sauna time was welcomed by the men. And Marko helped Karl sneak into the sauna after the men had gone to bed. Karl tried to be quick, and Marko guarded the door.
“I know how much my little sister likes to wash up and look nice,” Marko said.
One night when Seppo and Juho were returning from a sniper mission, they caught Marko standing by the sauna. “You lost, mechanical boy?” Seppo's voice shot out of the dark.
“I… thought I heard something”—Marko spoke extra loudly to warn Karl—”and I came up here to look.”
“Whereabouts?” Seppo blinked. He'd been skiing hard and his glasses were steamed up.
“Up there.” Marko pointed toward the woods.
“That's where we came from, dunce,”Juho said.”You just heard our skis.”
The two of them headed toward the tent.
The men celebrated the first sunny day of 1940 with a sauna. Marko was grateful for the chance to steam away the lice, which had now spread to every man in camp. Though Marko burned his long underwear every time Mother sent him a new pair, he found there was no escaping the itchy bites of the pests.
“With all our scratching and our runny noses we look like a bunch of sick monkeys.” Joki coughed as he took off his underwear bottoms and shook them out.
Once the men were seated on the sauna benches, Kekko asked the lieutenant, “How about another Paavo Nurmi story?”
“Remember what I told you about Paavo and the '24 Paris Olympics?” Juhola asked. The men nodded.
“The thing that impressed me most wasn't Paavo's back-to-back wins in the fifteen hundred and the five thousand. And it wasn't his win later that week in a cross-country race on a day so hot that twenty-four men collapsed before they reached the finish line. The thing that showed me the most toughness happened the evening after the fifteen-hundred-meter race. That night our team took a bus from the Olympic village in Colombes to Paris, which is ten kilometers. On the way to town we looked out the window, and there was Paavo walking all the way to Paris!”
Marko smiled. If Paavo Nurmi could walk ten kilometers after winning two gold medals, he shouldn't complain about a little skiing and snow shoveling.
Later Hoot asked,”Are we ready for a roll in the snow? Whenever I sit here soaking up hot steam, I can't help but think of those Russkies shivering by their campfires.”
Kekko said, “We heard they're so short on food they're eating their horses.”
“Don't tell me you're feeling sorry for them Red devils,” Seppo said. His eyes looked even meaner with his glasses off.
The lieutenant said, “Most of that regiment are green recruits, young boys from south Russia. That's why they wear those lightweight uniforms.”
Hoot nodded. “And you gotta remember they're everyday fellows like you and me. None of them asked to be sent here.”
“I just hope they keep stoking up their bonfires,” Seppo said.”It makes them mighty sweet targets.”
Marko understood Hoot's feelings. What would it be like to be camped in a strange country in the middle of the winter, knowing the very fires that kept you warm made you a target for white-suited snipers who stalked the forest and brought belaya smert?
CHAPTER 23
THE FIELD TELEPHONE
During the second week in January the weather warmed to above zero. And more good news came from the northern front.
“They're hitting the Red Army hard up on the Raate road.” Kerola looked up from his newspaper. “Our counteroffensive wiped out Russia's Forty-fourth Division!”
As the men cheered, Karl gave Marko a thumbs-up.
Marko read the rest of the front page. Ten thousand Swedish homes had volunteered to take in Finnish refugees. In her letters Mother said that Grandma and the children were doing fine, but Marko still worried about them. If only another country would send troops to Finland and help end the war!
“How can the whole world sit back and watch us fight alone?” Marko asked.
“Only Sweden has the guts to step forward,” Kekko told him. “They're sending troops.”
Hoot said, “I hear Norway will help.”
“I'm still counting on America,” Marko said.
“Those folks are famous for speeches but short on deeds,”Joki said.
The warmer weather brought another snowstorm. When the snow eased, the lieutenant met with his platoon leaders in the tent. “If any of us was in charge on the other side, we all know what we'd do.”
Hoot nodded. “This could be
their chance to try a break.”
“We can't let them rejoin their main unit.”
Two mornings later the sky was black and still. Marko was dreaming of Christmas rice pudding. He'd just scooped out an almond—a sign that the year ahead would be filled with good fortune—when he woke to what sounded like a huge thunderstorm.
Marko and Karl jumped into their clothes and ran to the command trench. The red muzzle flashes of the Russian regimental guns lit the sky. The shells screamed in with a high-pitched whistling and plowed into the hillside. Dirt clods and hunks of blasted roots and rocks flew everywhere.
The Finnish troops hunkered down and waited.
At dawn the Russian tanks drove out of the woods and lined up in attack formation, but their artillery support kept firing. “It's odd they haven't stopped shelling,” the lieutenant said.
Thick clouds of dust and exhaust made it hard to see. Marko couldn't stop coughing as the tanks crawled toward Horseshoe Hill with the sound of steel grinding on steel.
“They're coming right at us.” Karl's eyes were wide.
As the sound of the tanks got louder, Marko's heart beat so fast that he felt light-headed.
Karl looked sideways at him. “You all right?”
“I just realized I was holding my breath,” Marko said.
“Me too.”
“Every squad's in place, sir.” Kerola's voice was so shaky that Marko could barely hear him over the artillery.
The lieutenant handed his field glasses to Kerola. “What do you think of that?”
“They're veering north.” Kerola sounded confused.
“And running for the road.”
“That can't be,” Kerola said. “We've got the road blocked with felled trees.”
“They plan on making their own trail,” the lieutenant said.
Marko squinted into the smoky haze. Instead of attacking in a broad formation the way they usually did, the tanks were in a single column and heading northeast just out of rifle range. A squad of infantrymen on snowshoes packed the trail ahead of the lead tank. Every few minutes they traded off with rested men.
The Winter War Page 10