The Winter Sniper

by James Mullins

  Hale, noticed a second item at the bottom of the box, it was a sheathe for the knife. The supple well-oiled brown leather glistened up at him. He took the sheathe out of the box with his left hand and gently slipped the pukko into it. The blade was a perfect fit. Hale smiled up at his grandfather and said, “Thank you!” Before taking a step forward and embracing the old man.

  Hale’s grandfather returned the hug and said, “You’re welcome. A man needs a good blade to make his living.”

  Hale took a step back, stood up straight, and said, “A man?”

  “Yes, now that you are thirteen you are a man of this family.” Hale’s father said.

  Hale smiled so widely he thought his face would crack. I’m a man now! Hale thought excitedly.

  His father’s next sentence dampened his enthusiasm somewhat, “Being a man comes with a lot of responsibility. You must provide for your family.”

  As Hale’s father spoke, his mother slipped into the kitchen and came out with a long wooden box. The box was about nine inches wide, six inches tall, and nearly as long as Hale was tall. Hale’s father took the box from his mother and thrust it into Hale’s outstretched hands, “A man needs the right tools to put food on the table.”

  Hale looked down at the long and slender wooden box, This must be a rifle! He thought. The wide-eyed expression on his face unabashedly displayed his excitement, “Go on open it.” His father urged.

  Taking a deep breath and then letting it out slowly Hale lifted one brass and then another. He paused for a moment as his father placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked back at him nervously. His father gave him an encouraging smile in return. Hale slowly lifted the top of the box. Within, was a brand-new rifle.

  Hale’s eyes widened as he slowly took in the weapon. The metal parts of the rifle were covered in gun oil to prevent it from rusting, “Go on, pick it up.” Hale’s father urged.

  Trying to calm his nerves, Hale took another deep breath and let it out slowly before reaching out and placing his hands on the wood of the rifle. As he ran his fingers along the grain of the wood, it felt smooth and cool to the touch. Finally, he wrapped his fingers around the stock and the wooden piece that surrounded and lifted the weapon out of the box.

  Hale’s mind snapped back into reality as he spotted the corpse of the Russian he had slain. Walking up to slain soldier, he noticed that the cap was missing. He looked about and spotted the furry green hat a few feet away from the man’s head. It must have flown off when I shot him in the back. He thought.

  Hale quickly scooped up the hat and made his way back to the camp. He spotted Corporal Pekka leaning back on the bench seat behind the wheel of the truck as the engine idled. The Corporal was smoking a cigarette and blowing smoke rings into the air of the cab. Hale walked around the olive drab green truck and opened the passenger side door. A cloud of smoke billowed out of the truck as he pulled himself up into the empty seat.

  The smoke tickled the back of his throat and Hale coughed. Taking a quick sip from his canteen to wash the tickle away he asked, “So what’s the plan?”

  Pekka turned his gaze to Hale, and blew a cloud of cigarette smoke over him, “I figured we would drive until we catch up with the next column. Dressed like this, we should have no problem falling in with them. When they make camp, we can figure out what to do from there.”

  “You honestly think that we will be able to make camp with the Russians and pass ourselves off as them until they all conveniently fall asleep for us?” Hale asked exasperated.

  “Why not? We’ll just keep to ourselves. If anyone asks us, we’ll use the Russian we learned in class.” Pekka replied.

  “Why not?” Hale rolled his eyes and snorted, “Unless your Russian language skills are a lot better than I think they are it won’t work.” Hale snapped back.

  “Do you have a better plan.” Pekka paused for a moment before adding, “Private.”

  “As snipers what was the mission given to us.” Hale asked.

  Pekka’s eyes narrowed as he replied, “To delay the enemy as much as possible and demoralize them.”

  “Parts of your plan has some merit. If we could somehow make our way into a Russian camp during the darkness of night and slit a lot of throats. They would be utterly demoralized and easy work for our boys on the Mannerheim line. Another way we could use this truck to advantage is to drive back towards the Soviet Union and leap out of it the moment before it smashed into the lead vehicle in the next column.” Hale replied.

  Pekka rolled his eyes and laughed, “Because that worked so well for you the last time you did it. If I hadn’t come along to rescue your dumb ass, you’d be a frozen corpse right now.”

  Hale joined in the laughter, “Perhaps you’re right. I have another idea. Maybe instead of trying to use the truck as a weapon, or as a means to sneak into a Russian camp, we use it as bait.” Hale said.

  “Go on, I’m listening.” Pekka replied.

  “What if we drove towards Russia for a bit and just parked it. We could then set up good firing positions a few hundred feet further north from the truck and use it as bait.” Hale said.

  Pekka pondered Hale’s words for several moments before replying, “I like it.”

  “I think if we picked a spot where we had enough room to turn the truck around so that it was pointed into Finland, and then parked it in a way that blocks the road it would maximize the time, we had to get some kills.” Hale said.

  Pekka nodded, “In fact it will probably seem pretty normal to them since Russian equipment is crap. Those idiot peasants they draft and use as cannon fodder don’t know how to maintain the vehicles and equipment they are issued. To capitalize on this, we should also put the hood up, so they are less suspicious about a truck that is detached from one of their columns.”

  Pekka put the truck in gear and started driving down the road to the south. He drove perhaps half a mile, until the abandoned Soviet camp was out of sight. He slowed the vehicle and looked about for a good spot to turn the truck around. After a few hundred feet he spotted a piece of the road where the trees thinned and he was able to turn the wheel to the left and pull the front wheels of the Gaz-MM into the snow.

  Pressing on the clutch, he threw the truck into reverse. He backed up until the rear end of the vehicle bumped a tree. Shifting into first he then drove forward and maneuvered the truck until the front end was pointing roughly northwest, so that it blocked the entire road.

  The two men hopped out of the truck and looked around, “This looks good. What do you think?” Pekka asked.

  Hale met the older man’s gaze and said, “I agree, this should block the road while looking convincingly broke down.”

  “I’ll kill the engine. You get the hood up.” Pekka ordered.

  Hale did as he was told. As the Corporal turned off the truck. The engine sputtered to a stop as Hale found the catch that held the hood closed. Tasks complete the two men met each other by the left front bumper of the truck, “What about these uniforms?” Hale asked. “We definitely need to get out of them, this green is very visible against the white terrain.”

  Pekka let out a deep breath. The steam from his warm discharge created a large cloud of which slowly dissipated into the air around the two men, “Let’s set up our firing positions. Then if we have time, perhaps we can build some snowmen and clothe them with these uniforms to use as a decoys.” He replied.

  Hale grinned widely, “Clever.”

  Pekka paused and slowly looked out into the forest, “We will likely be come upon by a large column. I think one of us should set up so that we can target whoever gets out to investigate and the first few vehicles of the column. I think the other needs to set up a few hundred feet to the south, so that we can fire at them from two different positions.”

  Hale nodded in agreement, “Smart. That should maximize the chaos.”

  Pekka pointed at a large oak that was situated a few dozen feet along side the road to the north of their decoy and said, “I’ll use t
hat large oak. It will provide me a great view of the column at a slight angle so I can shoot down the road.”

  “Are you sure you want to make yourself such a visible target for the column? The last time I was in a tree I got blown out of it by a Soviet T-28.” Hale replied.

  “I’ll take the risk. It’s too good of a position to pass up.” Pekka replied.

  “You’re funeral.” Hale said.

  “You have your orders private. I suggest you see to them.” Pekka snapped back.

  Hale stiffened to attention and saluted, “Yes sir!”

  Uneasy silence hung over the two men before both broke down into laughter. Once they were able to bring their mirth under control, they stripped out of their Russian overcoats and hats. Pekka opened the driver side door of the truck and held it as Hale tossed his in. Pekka quickly followed suit and then closed the door.

  Splitting up, they went about setting up their firing positions. Pekka reached his chosen spot first. He looked up at the imposing tree and smiled, I think the kid is wrong about using trees as firing positions.

  Pekka started climbing up the venerable oak as Hale walked down the road looking about for a good firing position of his own. He spotted it off to his right, a large gray rock that jutted out of the snowscape. The rock had a large log wedged up against it that formed a natural point between the two objects. Hale left the road to investigate more closely.

  As the young sniper examined the spot closely, he saw broken remains of a tree scattered in front of the rock. This tree must have fallen, struck this boulder, and the top part of the tree broke into smaller pieces as it struck the earth. He thought. He walked around the south side of the boulder trying not to disturb the snow that had piled up on the gray stone, and the log.

  Getting down on his knees, he pulled out his rifle and sighted it up and down the road as it stretched out in front of him in either direction, This is a great field of fire and I have plenty of cover! He thought with excitement.

  Hale set about piling up snow underneath the log, so that the gap between the ground and the log was blocked. He then counted off the steps to the road from his spot so he could gauge the distance. He did this several times at different angles and wrote down the distances in his notepad with a pencil. After half an hour or so, he was satisfied that he had the distance of the road from his firing position calculated for every part of the road that was visible to him.

  Task complete, he pulled a small hatchet out of his pack, and cut down one of the small evergreen trees that grew near the road. He began to walk back to his firing position with the tree dragging behind him, in each of the spots where he had left tracks. After another half an hour of this, he had successfully covered up all of the tracks that led back to his spot.

  Satisfied that all was ready, he walked from his spot back to the truck. He was careful to walk north in the forest for a time, so that his tracks would not be visible from the road. He walked past the truck about a hundred feet and then made his way toward the road. He tread carefully through a depression that made its way toward the road. He was pleased in the knowledge that he was well beyond the point that an approaching column would see his footprints before they reached the truck. Finally making his way onto the road, he walked down one of the tire tracks in the road southward. Reaching the truck, he looked around for Pekka. The older man was not visible.

  Hale moved his eyes up the road to the oak tree several hundred feet to the north that Pekka had proposed using as his firing position. He slowly looked up and down the tree, but didn’t see Pekka. He was surprised by a sudden shout coming from the direction of the tree, “Bang, you’re dead.”

  “Where are you?” Hale asked.

  Pekka waved an arm at Hale from behind the trunk of the oak, “I’m here.”

  “How are you hiding behind the trunk of the oak, and twenty feet in the air?” Hale asked.

  “I’m standing on a thick branch pointed toward the north. Turn away and I’ll get into my firing position.” Pekka replied.

  Hale did as he was told, “Now look.” Pekka said.

  Hale turned around and looked back at the oak tree, “Is your gun pointed at me?” Hale asked.

  “Yes.” Pekka said.

  Hale looked at the spot where he had seen Pekka’s arm a minute earlier. All his eyes could make out was a small black shadow that filled the light gap between two of the branches on the tree, “Are you in your spot?” Hale asked.

  “I’ve got my gun pointed in your direction.” Pekka replied.

  “Perhaps you’re right then. Maybe that is a great spot. I personally would not get back up into a tree though. It’s too easy to get blown out of it by a tank.” Hale said.

  Pekka ignored Hale’s statement and said, “Let’s get to work on building some decoy snowmen, so we can put those uniforms to work for us.”

  Hale waited, as Pekka climbed down the tree, and then walked toward him on the road. Like Hale, Pekka was careful to stay in the tire tracks that had been cut by the wheels of the previous Soviet column to rumble through this part of Karelia’s vast forest.

  As Pekka reached Hale, who was leaning against the truck, the older man asked, “Any thoughts on how we should set up our two decoys?”

  “To make the scene believable I think we should set them up at the front of the truck.” Hale said.

  Pekka nodded in agreement, “Yes, that’s good, perhaps we can even make it so that only their backsides are sticking out from under the hood to keep their heads out of sight.”

  “I like it.” Hale said.

  The two men set about building the two decoys with Finland’s most common resource on a cold December day, snow. As the two men toiled, they made a game of it by occasionally lobbing snow balls at each other.

  Hale ducked under one such surprise assault and said, “You missed!”

  As the younger man scooped up a handful of snow to return fire, a second round struck him right in the head and exploded. Peals of laughter immediately followed, as Hale’s what hood was knocked off his head, “Got you!” Pekka said.

  Hale quickly prepared his own frozen missile and threw it at the laughing corporal. Pekka deftly sidestepped Hale’s snowball, rolled to his right, grabbed another handful of snow, and came back to a standing position. He immediately threw another snowball at Hale. This time the nimble young sniper was able to dodge out of the way and yelled, “You missed!”

  As Hale scooped up another handful of snow, his ears registered a faint rumble. He held up his hand to Pekka and said, “Shhh. I think I hear something.”

  Snow ball fight forgotten, the two men stood and listened, “I think I hear it too.” Pekka said.

  Hale nodded in response before saying, “It’s getting louder.”

  The two men quickly checked their decoy snowmen one last time. Satisfied that the pair resembled two men working on the truck wrapped in their greatcoats, they turned to each other. Pekka spoke first, “May God be with you.”

  Hale smiled to break up the somber mood, “And with you my friend.”

  The two brothers in arms clasped arms in the old way and shook. Hale glanced in the direction of the growing noise and said, “I’ve got to get to my position.”

  Without another word the two men broke company and headed to their prepared firing positions. As the rumble grew louder Hale ducked into the trees and made his way through the frozen forest to his spot. He got down on his knees and sighted his rifle along the road, I hope this works.

  As the noise of the approaching column grew louder, the snow on several of the tree branches closest the approaching Soviets began to shake loose from the branches and slowly drift to the earth. Hale marveled at the beautiful sight of snowflakes slowly drifting downward. The beauty of the scene and the constant thrum of the approaching engine’s caused his mind to drift.

  Wanting to stay focused, Hale pushed away his drifting thoughts and brought his mind back into sharp focus. He pulled out a magazine from his right coat pocket a
nd nervously fingered the five bullets on the clip. With a growing sound of groaning metal and clanking tracks, the first vehicle in the Soviet column rolled into view, it was a T-26 tank.

  Why must they always have tanks? Hale inwardly cursed. He sighted his rifle on the tank commander who jutted out of an opening in the top of the turret. The tank, painted olive drab green, stood in stark contrast to the back ground of snow and trees and it slowly lumbered up the road. As the clanking monstrosity’s tracks tore up the road, it belched acrid black smoke from its hindquarters.

  Hale observed the tank for several moments as it made its way from his right towards his left on the road in front of him. He noted that the T-26 was smaller than the tank that had blown him out of the tree yesterday. I think this one would be easier to kill. Assuming I had the proper equipment. Hale thought. As the tank disappeared from view to his left, he sighted his rifle on one of the many Gaz-MMs in front of him.

  Knowing that the tank must be in Pekka’s sight, and that it must stop soon because of their decoy, he reached down to the ground and scooped up a small handful of snow and pushed it into his mouth, The cold of the snow in my mouth will keep my breath from giving me away. Hale thought.

  Task complete, he brought his rifle up and sighted it on one of the many truck drivers in front of him. Hale could make out the outline of the man as he stood in contrast to the light coming from the passenger side window of the truck. He kept his shot lined up as he waited for Pekka to engage first.

  The T-26 rumbled to a stop as it drew close to the decoy truck. The commander turned toward the driver of the Gaz-MM immediately behind him and gestured at the stalled truck. The driver nodded in acknowledgement and banged on the window that separated the cab from the cargo area of the truck.

  Several moments later, a squad of soldiers emerged and formed up on either side of the road. The leader, probably a sergeant, called out, “Privet?”

  The man paused for several moments waiting for a response from one of the uniformed snowmen. The Soviet Sergeant called out again, “Privet? Neispravnost’ avtomobilya?”