Hale made eye contact with the man’s pale blue eyes which were much like his own and said, “Hale.”
“I’d say it’s nice to meet you Hale, but I believe you have some explaining to do. Let’s start with why you are in a wrecked truck belonging to Mother Russia.” The officer asked.
Ignoring the question Hale asked several of his own, “Who are you and what are you going to do with me?”
The officer signaled to two nearby men who unceremoniously pulled Hale to his feet. The Soviet took a step forward, and leaned in until their faces were a few inches apart. He smiled wickedly and said, “You appear to be in possession of Soviet property. I’d say you are a spy and you deserve to be shot for your crimes against the revolution.”
As he said the last words, he leaned in close so that their faces were a mere inch apart. Hale could smell his foul breath which reeked of garlic, tobacco smoke, and vodka. Fighting back the darkness that threatened to engulf him as his head swam, Hale said, “You’re in Finland. That makes the truck mine.”
The Soviet officer tilted his head back and laughed heartily. Finishing, he met Hale’s look of defiance with amusement and gestured to the Sergeant with a tilt of his head. The Sergeant smiled malevolently as he reared back with his arm and punched Hale in the side with all the force he could muster.
Hale nearly bit his tongue as the blow took him by surprise. His knees gave out and he began to topple to the ground. Two firm sets of hands reached out and prevented his collapsed, “I will ask you this once. You will start giving me answers, or I will let the Sergeant have his way with you. I imagine you would want to avoid being beaten to death, yes?”
Hale nodded, “Good. Now tell me are you a Finnish soldier?” The Officer asked.
“Yes.”
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it Hale?” The Russian replied. His inflection on the H made it sound more like he said Whale.”
“How did you learn to speak my language?” Hale asked.
“My mother was Finnish.” The Officer replied.
Hale opened his mouth to speak again but the Officer slapped him across the face with a glove, “Enough! I ask the questions here. You provide the answers.”
“How did you gain possession of this truck?” The Soviet asked.
“I found it abandoned on the side of the road.” Hale replied.
The man looked skyward and let out a hearty laugh, “You found it abandoned on the road.” The man paused to laugh again. Once he was able to bring his mirth under control he asked, “And how many warriors of the revolution did you slay in the vicinity of this truck?”
Hale tried to take on a countenance of mirth himself as he said, “Warriors you say? I don’t recall there being any warriors around this truck. Just illegal invaders trespassing on Finnish soil.”
Enraged by Hale’s flippant tone, the Sergeant moved to slap Hale across the face. Before he could strike, the Officer reached out with his hand and stopped the assault, “Dovol’no!”
The Sergeant threw the Officer a glare before nodding curtly and stepping back. Using his loose black leather glove, the Officer once again slapped Hale in the face with it. The stiff leather caused a sharp prickly pain to erupt in Hale’s cheek. Starting to enjoy the anger he was evoking Hale fought down the urge to cry out and remained silent.
“Day mne vintovku.” The officer snapped.
From somewhere behind him, a soldier passed Hale’s rifle to the officer. The man turned to Hale, held up his rifle and said, “Judging by this rifle I’d said you are a cuckoo. I imagine many sons of Mother Russia have perished from this instrument of cowardice.”
“Bird’s don’t use rifles.” Hale replied.
“There is another word for it.” The man closed his eyes and his face crinkled as he slipped deep into thought. Finally, he opened his eyes, met Hale’s gaze, and said, “I believe the word in your language is sniper.”
Hale met the Russian’s gaze impassively and tried to look disinterested. He failed. The officer smiled, thrust Hale’s rifle into his face and asked, “How many soldiers of the Revolution did you slay with this to gain possession of this truck?” The lieutenant asked.
“Sadly, not all of them.” Hale replied with a smile.
Turning to the Sergeant the Soviet officer gestured at Hale and said, “Komik. Zastaqvit’ yego krovotochit’ nae tot raz.”
The Sergeant nodded curtly and said, “Da”
Turning to Hale, the Sergeant smiled malevolently, cocked his arm back and punched him in the face with all of his strength. Hale’s nose exploded in a gout of crimson as it crumpled under the mighty blow. His mind swam, and spots appeared in his eyes as the intense pain radiated from his nose. He tried to fight back the light headedness he was feeling. Failing, the edges of his vision grew dark and then faded altogether. Giving in to his overwhelming sense of fatigue, he lost consciousness.
The Lieutenant sighed in disgust, turned to the sergeant, and said in Russian, “Idiot, you hit him too hard.” He paused a moment to register the darkness and the blocked roadway, before adding, “The sun has set let’s set up camp here we can unblock the road in the morning. Ensure that he is tied up and placed in a dark tent. I want him to be disorientated when he wakes.”
The Sergeant stiffened to attention, saluted, and said, “Yes comrade commissar!”
An indeterminant amount of time later Hale awoke. Keeping his eyes closed he listened. His ears picked up the faint sound of the wind rustling through the stiff tree branches of the Karelian forest above. He focused on that sound for several minutes thinking back to the moment it was last this quiet, The hours before the Russians came. Hale thought.
His reverie was destroyed by the sound of a man starting to snore. Even in slumber they assail my ears with their endless racket. As Hale became fully aware, he felt the harsh sting of the rope against his bound wrists as he began to struggle against them, They have tied me up!
Trying to choke off the panicked thoughts flooding his mind, he tried to move his legs. Like his hands, they were bound up. How did I get here? Hale’s mind raced as his desperate thoughts overwhelmed him. Must escape!
Adrenaline exploded into Hale’s veins as he grew frantic. The sound of his heartbeat thundered in his ears as the adrenaline released into his bloodstream gave him strength and clarity. For the first time since he was captured, the fuzziness in his mind melted away. With strength born of desperation, he tugged at the ropes that bound him. I can’t get out!
After several minutes of fruitless struggle, Hale was no better off than when he had started. In fact, he was lucky that they Russians had tied the rope over his white overcoat. Otherwise his wrist and legs would be bleeding from his fruitless efforts to escape.
He sat there for several more minutes. His breath, fueled by his panic, whistled and rasped shallowly from his lungs. After what seemed like an eternity to him, lying there alone in the darkness, his mind quieted and a wave of fatigue washed over him.
He awoke sometime later in the darkness. The sound of men snoring and occasionally making wind filled his ears. Hale listened for a time, and picked out the individual voices within the chorus of slumber. There were four different men that he could discern snoring. What must have been a large man nearby, probably that brute of a Sergeant, sounded as if he was drawing all of the air in the forest in. When he finished, it burst out with such volume, it’s a wonder they didn’t hear him all the way in Helsinki.
A bit further away, the other three men, seemingly clustered together, pierced the night with their own, lesser versions of this racket. As Hale listened to the disharmony piercing the forest outside of his tent, his mind slipped into the past.
Hale awoke in the middle of the night. He had thrown his blanket off at some point, probably during a bad dream, as he was covered in sweat. The chill air of the unheated cabin, that he lay in, along with forty other men had caused him to start shivering, which woke him. He pulled the coarse wool blanket over himself up to his neck,
and curled up into a ball, trying to warm up. As he slowly stopped shivering and warmth crept back into his limbs, he was struck by how loud a room full of forty men were, when they were asleep.
The silence of the night was pierced by a cacophony of sounds erupting from the denizens of this cabin. Snores, coughs, and often other noises that would result in smells that made one’s eyes water would erupt from the slumbering men. In between these noises, the steps of the guard could be heard as he slowly made his way back and forth across the room, watching over the sleeping men.
As Hale warmed up, his thoughts turned to the day ahead. Sergeant Kivi. The Sergeant had singled Hale out and humiliated him in front of the other men of the unit. Why does he have it in for me? Hale thought.
Before Hale could explore the memory further, he was brought back to awareness. He registered the faint sound of fabric tearing nearby. Curious, he focused his senses on the sound. It’s coming from behind me.
He quietly shifted his position to turn his head in the direction of the sound. As a result of his movement, the sound paused for several moments, before it resumed again. The impenetrable darkness of Hale’s prison shifted slightly as a sliver of faint light appeared. Hale studied the growing shard as the tearing sound continued. Over the course of several minutes the hole slowly grew larger.
From time to time, he noticed the edge of a blade as it slowly sawed away at the fabric. Who’s on the other side? Are they here to rescue me? Hale’s thoughts began to race as he considered the possibilities. For the first time since he awoke, despair gave way to hope.
The sound abruptly stopped. From somewhere outside Hale heard the telltale crunch of boots on frozen snow as someone approached the tent from the opposite side of the growing hole. A few feet away from the tent the man came to a stop and listened. Please God, don’t let him notice the hole, and whoever is making it.
The seconds slowly ticked by. For Hale each one seemed like an anxiety filled eternity in which his benefactor might be noticed. The Soviet guard, took another step forward toward Hale’s tent. This time the impact of the man’s booted foot upon the snow was much quieter than it had been, He must have heard something and become suspicious. Hale thought.
Suddenly the darkness was broken, as the guard threw back the tent flap and peered into Hale’s prison. The light of the full moon shone into the tent. Hale squinted and blinked in reaction, as his eyes adjusted to the unexpected glare. Over several seconds Hale’s eyes adjusted and he met the gaze of the guard glaring at him.
Like all Soviet soldiers, the man was dressed in a dark green overcoat. Upon his head was a matching green cap with a large red star emblazoned upon it. The star was faintly visible as the man’s shape was silhouetted by the light of the moon. Seeing Hale’s eyes upon his own, the man smiled to reveal several missing teeth. Those that were still present were a mixture yellow and often speckled with black marks.
Hale, hoping the man would just go away, met the Soviet’s gaze impassively, trying not to attract any further attention. He failed. The man, lowered his head and stepped into the tent with Hale. The enemy soldier reeked of stale tobacco smoke and a hint of something else. Vodka? Are these Russians ever sober? Hale wondered.
Before he could further contemplate the state of sobriety amongst soldiers of the Soviet Union, the man fell to his knees in front of Hale. He began roughly pawing at Hale. Reaching into his pocket he found the picture of the woman that Hale had taken from the Russian Sniper.
Raising it up into the light, the man smiled and whistled softly as he gazed upon the attractive woman in the picture. He reached down to touch himself as his growing admiration for the woman’s form manifested itself. His musing was interrupted, as a shadow cut off the moonlight from somewhere behind him. Surprised, the man started to turn as a puukko was slowly drawn across his neck. Simultaneously, before the hapless guard could cry out, a hand was placed over his mouth.
Following the slight snick sound of the blade being stowed in a metal holster, another arm appeared and wrapped itself around the soldier’s torso as he struggled against it. The Russian tried desperately to break the grasp of the man that had slit his throat. This went on for about a minute as his efforts became weaker and weaker. Finally, the light left the guard’s eyes and what remained of him was quietly lowered to the ground.
Behind the guard, was a slender form dressed much like Hale in white overcoat and trousers. Recognition dawned on Hale’s features, as he looked at the man in the silvery moon light. Hale whispered, “Corporal Pekka?”
The Corporal’s well lined and weathered face crinkled as it broke into a smile, “Keep quiet, there are perhaps a half dozen Russian pigs within ear shot. Can you walk?”
“I think so.” Hale replied.
Corporal Pekka nodded in response. He paused a moment to clean the blood of his puukko using the slain guard’s coat and then set about sawing at the rope around Hale’s wrists. The snoring outside the tent continued unabated as the corporal finished up freeing Hale’s arms. With a faint snap, the ropes around his wrists loosened and fell away.
The corporal handed Hale the puukko and said, “Take care of your legs. I’m going to search this fool. Do you know where they have your weapons?”
Hale shook his head, “No. When I awoke, I was in this tent.”
Pekka sighed deeply, “It’s almost daylight, so we don’t have time to search the camp for them.”
The corporal, quietly pulled the slain guard’s rifle from the man’s back and passed it over to Hale, “Here, you can use this one.”
“Thanks.” Hale said as he looked down at the gun. It was a Mosin-Nagant carbine style weapon.
Corporal Pekka continued searching the corpse. He smiled as he pulled out a metal flask and opened the cap, “This will help keep us warm.” As he sniffed the contents inside the flask, he frowned at the odor coming from inside, “Why don’t these bastards ever get the nice vodka? Why is it always the crap?”
Hale shrugged his shoulders in response. Finishing his task, the Corporal said, “Here take these, you’ll need them.”
A faint smile flashed across Hale’s face as he took the 7.62mm bullet magazines from Pekka’s hand, three in all. “Did he have any bullets on him?” Hale asked.
“No, all he had was the vodka and these magazines.” Pekka replied.
Hale quietly slung the rifle onto his shoulder and reached down into the darkness. He pawed around the slain Soviet’s corpse until he found the man’s hands. He pried the right one open until it loosened and revealed the picture of the Russian woman. He slipped the picture into a pocket.
“What’s that?” Pekka asked.
“A picture of a woman I got from a sniper’s body.” Hale replied.
“You hoping to have a nice time with yourself later over that?” Pekka snapped, his gaze accusatory.
“No, it has an address on it. I was going to send it back to the address along with a note of how he was slain.” Hale replied.
“That’s overtly nice of you. You a boy scout or something?” As Hale opened up his mouth to answer, the Corporal held up his hand and said, “Never mind. Let’s stop wasting time and go. The horizon is already turning gray.”
Hale wordlessly nodded and quietly stood up. Corporal Pekka turned and silently slipped out of the tent. Hale, right behind him, paused for a moment as they emerged and looked up at the moon. The moon is almost full. The wolves will sing tonight after the sun sets.
Corporal Pekka turned to Hale and whispered, “There’s no time to daydream, we’ve got to get out of this camp.” He points at the ribbon of gray light on the eastern horizon and adds, “It will be daylight soon.”
“What time is it?” Hale asked.
“Nearly eight am. The Soviets made a late night of it because of you, so they are sleeping in.” Pekka replied.
Hale nodded and followed the Corporal. The pair of men very slowly and silently crept through the trees away from the camp. After about two hundred feet the
grizzled veteran held up a clenched right fist. The signal to stop. He turned and looked at a large birch tree off to their left. The immense old tree had thick branches that could support a man’s weight. As Hale’s eyes followed the trunk upward, he noticed that the topmost branches of the tree, was shrouded in the golden light of the rising sun.
“This will do.” Pekka said.
“What did you have in mind?” Hale asked.
“We need to get your gear back. You’re not much good with that crappy little carbine we lifted from the Russian corpse.” Pekka said.
Hale grinned, “The bastards took my puukko. My grandfather gave me that knife, and my father gave me my rifle. What’s your plan?”
“There’s only eight of them left. Six men, the sergeant and the commissar. As soon as they start moving around, I’m going to start putting bullets in them.” Pekka replied.
“That’s going to draw them here. You won’t have long, we’re only two hundred feet or so outside of their camp.” Hale replied.
The Corporal smiled knowingly, “Indeed, that is where you come in. You’ll be down on the ground ready to ambush them with your little pea shooter there.”
Hale frowned and cast a disdainful glance at the Russian made carbine. “I won’t be able to hold them off with this piece of crap.” Hale replied.
Pekka pursed his lips as he contemplated the dilemma. Arriving at an idea, he smiled faintly and started rummaging through his pack, “Here. I was saving this for a special occasion.”
Hale took the item by its wooden handle and smiled, “Where did you get a German grenade?”
Pekka smiled as he winked at Hale, “Do you expect me to give up all my secrets on our first date?”
Hale’s mouth dropped open as he cast Pekka a look of confusion, “This isn’t a date.”
Pekka laughed, “Sure it is. It’s our first date killing Soviet swine together. Isn’t that romantic?”
The Winter Sniper Page 5