Frustration growing, the Sergeant took several large steps toward the decoys. As he raised his hand to grasp the shoulder of the decoy closest to him, his forehead exploded in a fountain of blood as Pekka’s first shot smashed through bone and brain before exiting out the back of the unfortunate’s head. Before the tank commander could react, Pekka operated the bolt on his rifle and put a bullet in his head as well. Given the haste of his aim, his second shot was not as perfect as the first.
The squad of soldiers behind the sergeant, four on either side of the decoy truck, dove to the ground upon hearing the first shot. Simultaneously, Hale fired his weapon at a truck driver in the middle of the column. His shot broke the glass of the Gaz-MM and struck his target in the side of the head.
Chaos erupted across the column, as men began to pour from the cargo areas of the canopy covered trucks. Pekka and Hale, slew several more Soviets with their rifles, as more and more of them emerged from the covered rear cargo areas of the trucks. Hale, being careful not to expose himself, worked the bolt on his rifle quickly and slew five men in ten seconds.
When he heard the clang signaling an empty magazine, he ducked back down, hit the button that released the empty clip, caught it with his left hand, and slipped it into his left coat pocket. He reached into his right coat pocket for his next clip and with a well-practiced movement, slammed it home into the slot. He operated the bolt of his rifle to pull a round into the chamber.
Sitting back up into his firing position, he took a moment to marvel at the scene of chaos before him that two snipers have caused. Most of the men that were in the backs of the trucks had emerged and quickly dropped to the frozen earth. As Hale took in the scene, he targeted one of the last men to emerge from the trucks and put a bullet in him. The quickly aimed shot was far from perfect as it slammed into the unfortunate’s abdomen. Hale had been aiming for the center of his chest.
Before the men, now laying in the frigid snow could draw a bead on Hale’s location, Pekka shot one of the soldiers from the first squad crawling up the road in his direction. One of the seven survivors thought he saw movement up ahead, so he jumped to his feet and let out a loud whoop as he began charging up the road in Pekka’s direction.
The Russian made it about ten feet before Pekka’s well-aimed shot put an end to his career in the Red Army permanently. Unfortunately, this gave away his position to the now dead soldier’s squad mates. They leapt to their feet and began charging up the road in Pekka’s direction. As they closed the distance to the solitary sniper, they bellowed a fearsome war cry.
Pekka, ignoring the screaming meant to intimidate, quickly dropped another Russian with a well-placed shot. Unfortunately, the six survivors closed the distance to his oak tree all too quickly. Cursing in frustration, he pulled out his German grenade, yanked the pull cord to activate it, and tossed it at the charging Soviets. The grenade spun end over end as it sailed through the air toward the Russians.
With a dull smack, the device struck the frozen mud at the feet of the lead Soviet and exploded a moment later. This had the result of tearing this unfortunate into about a dozen different pieces which were flung in random directions as the column of flame billowed upward. The two men immediately behind him were also killed instantly, as they were flung backwards by the expanding explosive cloud.
The other three members of the squad were peppered with shrapnel from the case of the grenade as the deadly bits of metal sailed through the air in a twenty-foot circle around the initial point of explosion. These men dropped to the ground and began groaning from their severe injuries. Pekka immediately raised his rifle and looked to see if any other Russians had spotted his firing position. None were looking in his direction.
In the middle of the column, Hale quickly used up his second clip of ammunition. As the Soviets ran around indiscriminately trying to determine where the gun firing was coming from, young man after young man panicked and sprang to their feet. As these panicked targets presented themselves, Hale took a deep breath, held it, took aim and fired.
Back at the front of the column, Pekka noticed that the driver of the T-26 had poked his head up out of the metal monstrosity and was looking up the road in his direction. The Finnish Corporal took a deep breath and held it as he took aim at the man’s leather skull cap covered head. The driver caught a glint of metal coming from the large oak tree down the road. Seeing the sniper that had been tormenting the column, the driver’s eyes widened and he dropped back down into the tank.
The moment before the driver spotted him, Pekka squeezed the trigger and immediately cursed as the driver disappeared from sight. The bullet sailed through the spot where the driver’s head had been just a moment before and impacted harmlessly on the armor of the tank with a loud ping.
A moment later, the barrel of the tank began traversing upwards in Pekka’s direction, Oh fuck. The veteran thought.
Pekka slid his rifle onto his shoulder and pulled himself behind the oak. He turned away from the tank, and began climbing down the tree as his world exploded into flame and wooden splinters. The impact of the high explosive shot and subsequent explosion flung Pekka to the ground before metal and wooden shrapnel had a chance to tear into his body.
He landed in the snow a second later with a loud thump and passed out. Hale heard the explosion, looked in Pekka’s direction and cursed, I warned him not to get in the tree.
The young sniper ducked behind his log and reached into his pocket, Only one magazine left.
He crawled the short distance to the rock and peered around it. The Soviets had organized into several squads of men and were fanning out in all directions to search for him. It’s time to go. He thought. He slung his rifle onto his shoulder and began crawling away from his firing position in a westward direction away from the road and the Soviet column.
As the voices of Soviet sergeants barking their commands filled his ears, he reached a small gully that ran to the north. He slid into the gully and began scrambling on all fours as quickly as he could manage northward without exposing himself to the approaching Russians. The Soviets, seeing enemies in every shadow, began indiscriminately firing as they advanced.
Bullets whizzed by overhead as Hale continued his progress northward. Finally, the gully deepened into a depression and he was able to stand up, while leaning far forward, and managing a run of sorts. This odd posture kept him just below the top of the gully. He continued on in this manner, tripping and falling a few times, until he felt that he had drawn parallel with Pekka’s oak tree.
Stopping, Hale brought his rifle out, and opened the breech, it was empty. After ejecting the empty magazine, he reached into his right pocket, grabbed his last clip of bullets, and slammed the magazine home. He then peeked up over the edge of the depression he sat in. Ahead, the tree that Pekka had occupied was missing its top half. The rest of what remained of the tree was engulfed in flames. He inwardly cursed at the sight.
Thank God they don’t have him yet. Hale thought.
He looked down the road to his right towards the column and cursed again. Several squads of Russian soldiers were advancing towards Pekka’s last known position. Not knowing the fate of his comrade, Hale stood up so that he could see the ground at the base of the flaming oak tree. He instantly spotted Pekka’s prone form. Is he alive?
Pekka rolled over onto his back and groaned. Thank God! Hale thought.
Satisfied that his companion still lived, he ducked back down behind the edge of the depression. He quickly pulled out his two empty clips, opened up his white coat so he would have access to his bandoliers, and quickly plucked five bullets off the leather straps. Working quickly, he slid the bullets into the empty clip and dropped the now full magazine into his right pocket.
Hale quickly repeated this sequence to load the second empty clip. He checked over all of his equipment to ensure all was in readiness. Nervous, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly before raising his head above the edge of the gully. He immediately spotted the
advancing Russians. Raising his rifle, he took aim at one of the soldiers in the middle of the three squads that approached his injured comrade, held his breath, and squeezed the trigger. A moment later, the unfortunate Russian grabbed at the left side of his neck as the impact of the bullet simultaneously knocked him off his feet.
In reaction to Hale’s shot, the three squads of Red Army soldiers, immediately plunged to the ground. Hale quickly operated the bolt on his rifle and chambered another round. He then scooped up a handful of snow and placed it in his mouth to hide his breath in the frigid air. Satisfied that his breath would not give him away, he waited.
He began to hear the voices of the Soviets on the ground. It won’t be long before an NCO orders one of the poor beggars to stand up. Hale thought.
He wasn’t disappointed. Thirty seconds later one of the twenty-five or so men laying prone on the road, slowly stood up, and began moving toward Pekka. Hale ignored the man for several moments as he patiently waited for another to stand up. The Russians disappointed him.
Pekka let out an audible groan as he brought his left hand up to his head and rubbed his forehead. The sound, caused the approaching Russian to pause, spotting Pekka, the man raised his rifle to take aim. Before the butt of the rifle touched the young soldiers’ shoulders, Hale ended his war permanently.
Not wanting to give away his position, Hale ducked back down into the gully and waited several moments. The nervous enemy soldiers, snapped off several shots in random directions. Well, the buggers know I’m here now, but they haven’t figured out where I am. Hale thought in relief.
He crawled a few dozen feet to the south, scooped up another handful of snow, and placed it in his mouth, and then raised himself into position to observe the Soviets. Through the tangled snow-covered underbrush, he could see a bit of green contrasting with the surrounding white. Smiling, he took aim at the patch of olive drab green and pulled the trigger. He was awarded with a scream as his bullet slammed into the prone form of a Soviet private.
This caused his nearby comrade to lose his nerve and stand up. Before the man had a chance to take a step, Hale put a bullet in him. This soldier joined his comrade in death, as his body toppled over and landed on his injured companion. The snow around the two men quickly turned red as their life blood leaked out onto the frozen earth.
Before he was spotted, Hale quickly ducked back down into the gully and made his way fifty feet to the north. He briefly peeked over the edge of the gully to keep tabs on his enemy. His face broke into a smile as his eyes took in the scene. Nearly two dozen Soviets were hugging the frozen earth, paralyzed by their fear.
As he ducked back down into the gully, he ejected his nearly empty clip, opened his coat, and calmly reloaded the magazine as his thoughts slipped back to his training.
A middle-aged man stood at the front of the class. He was resplendent in his grey uniform. Multiple metals caught the light from the classroom’s electric light. Wrinkle free and neatly pressed, the man obviously took pride in the uniform he wore. Using a wooden pointer, he indicated a spot on the map, “What does this deployment and subsequent reaction by the opposing force to two snipers tell you about the role of fear on the battle field?”
A squad member of Hale’s raised his hand to reply. The officer, standing at the front of the room, raised his pointer and gestured at the young Finnish soldier. You there, with your hand raised, speak, “Sir-“
The man’s face instantly turned red as a vein bulged in his forehead. Cutting the hapless private off he roared, “The name is Sergeant Riku not sir!”
Sitting in the back of the room Sergeant Kivi smiled as the private nervously sputtered out, “Sergeant Riku, the change in deployment doesn’t make any sense. Why would so many react to two men in such a manner?”
Sergeant Riku’s eyes panned over the men of Hale’s training squad. Most looked away, but Hale dared to make direct eye contact. Sergeant Riku raised his pointer and said, “You there. Why do you think the larger group is reacting to the two snipers in this manner?”
Hale leapt to his feet, snapped to attention, and said, “Fear.”
Sergeant Riku ignored the fact that Hale failed to properly address him, smiled and said, “Precisely. The sniper’s best weapon against a foe, especially one that will outnumber us like the Red Army is fear.”
Hale’s mind snapped back into reality as he finished preparing. Satisfied all was ready, he slid the clip back into place on the rifle. As soon as he heard the click of the magazine as it locked into place, he operated the bolt of his Mosin-Nagant to put a round in the chamber.
Hale leaned up against the wall of the gully and took a deep breath. He raised his right, gloved hand and looked at it for a moment, it trembled slightly. Stay calm, Pekka needs you. He took another deep breath, let it out slowly, and then scooped up a handful of snow and shoveled it into his mouth.
Moving very slowly he peeked over the ridgeline. None of the Soviets had stood up and advanced during the few minutes he had reloaded and collected himself. Smiling slightly, he cast a glance in Pekka’s direction. The injured Corporal had not moved, Come on, you’ve got to wake up and get out of there! Hale thought. These bastards are going to figure out that there is only one of me out here very soon, and then the fear will be gone.
Suddenly, a whistle blew, and all of the enemy soldiers stood up simultaneously. With a loud roar, they charged up the road toward Pekka and the smoldering tree. Desperate, Hale began firing, hit, work the bolt, hit, work the bolt and hit. The fourth time he took aim, a bullet kicked up the snow about a foot to his right spoiling his aim as he pulled the trigger. They’ve spotted me!
Hale ducked back down into cover and worked the bolt on his rifle. As the final bullet in the clip slid into the chamber, he ejected the magazine, and slammed another one home. He then peeked up over the edge of the gully. An entire squad of eight men were advancing directly toward him, Shit!
He quickly took aim at the lead soldier and squeeze the trigger. With an audible grunt, the bullet struck the man in the chest and he went down. This brought the other seven to a stop and they raised their rifles and took aim at Hale. Hale’s eyes widened as he met the angry gaze of the Communists glaring back at him. As he ducked back down into the gully the roar of seven rifles discharging simultaneously pierced the forest.
The volley was followed by a loud series of screams as the squad bellowed, and charged. Hale, heedless of being spotted stood up, took aim, and killed another one. In the time it took him to operate his bolt, they closed to a hundred feet. He nervously took aim at another, as his arms trembled slightly. Fortunately, hitting center mass when they were charging right at him was easy.
His shot dropped another of the advancing soldiers to the ground. This one clutched his gut and started screaming in agony. Hale stood his ground and calmly fired until his clip was exhausted. Despite his failing nerves he was able to put a bullet into each of the targets he aimed at.
As the two survivors drew within twenty feet of Hale, they stopped and took aim with their rifles. Hale ducked back down into the gully just as the two men pulled their triggers. Dropping his rifle, he pulled out his pistol and stood back up. The two surviving Soviets were working the bolt on their rifles to eject their spent round and pull another into the firing chamber.
Hale, now fully visible, raised the pistol and took aim at the Russian on his right. The man’s fur lined green cap fell to the earth as he violently wrestled with the bolt on his rifle, it had frozen. Hale squeezed the trigger on his pistol. A moment later the frustrated enemy soldier clutched his shoulder and fell to the earth.
The other Russian raised his rifle and took aim at Hale. The young Finn dove for cover as the invader pulled the trigger. Hale could feel the wind of the bullet as it flew through the space, he had occupied only a moment before. With a grunt, he hit the hard-frozen earth.
Hale, maintained his grip on the pistol and rolled over onto his back as the Russian appeared at the edge of the
gully standing over him. The man smiled, his yellowing teeth catching the sunlight. He then dove at Hale, leading with the bayonet on his rifle. Hale raised his pistol and shot the man in the mouth.
Yellow teeth crumpled and flew in all directions as the bullet shattered his teeth. Still alive and now very angry, he tried to stab Hale with his bayonet. Hale attempted to roll to the left to avoid the blow, he failed. Searing pain erupted in his right shoulder as the bayonet bit into his flesh.
Shocked, he dropped his pistol as his instincts for survival kicked in. He grabbed his pukko with his left hand and drove it into the back of the Soviet’s head as the man struck the ground beside him. The man let out a deep breath as Hale drove the blade through his skull into his brain.
Hale sat up and looked over at his shoulder. His white coat was stained red with blood and his shoulder throbbed. He quickly unzipped his coat and pulled it off. His injured shoulder screamed in protest as he pulled the coat off his right arm. Keeping the coat partially on, as it was ten degree below zero. He looked down at the wound.
The bayonet had not gone into the shoulder, instead, the edge had scraped across the top until it was deflected by the bone. Hale rummaged around in his pack until he found a bandage. Holding it with his right hand, he tore it open with his left and slapped it into over the wound. He quickly secured it in place with a wrap and pulled his coat back on. Ignoring the pain, he thought, Pekka needs me.
Fighting back tears, he holstered his pistol, picked up his rifle, and pulled himself up to the edge of the gully. His stomach sank at the sight that greeted him. The survivors of the other two squads had reached Pekka. Inwardly cursing, Hale slipped back down into the gully and pulled his last clip of ammunition out of his pocket. This isn’t going to be enough.
He opened up his white overcoat and patted his bandoliers to check for more ammo. There were no more bullets, Fuck!
Taking a moment to calm his nerves, Hale peeked up over the edge of the gully. The Russians had pulled Pekka to his feet. The gathered crowd of Red Army soldiers had made a lane for a new figure that approached. Hale’s looked at this man, his olive drab green overcoat was of a better cut than the rest of the group. On his overcoat, affixed to the collar were three red squares. Squinting, to see the man’s features, Hale’s heart sank, The Commissar!
The Winter Sniper Page 8