The Private swallowed nervously and said, “I see. Let me get you to the aid station.”
The Private released Hale’s right arm and moved around to his other side. He looked nervously up at the befuddled sniper before he grasped his left arm. This time there were no cries of protest. Reinhart pulled gently on Hale’s arm and said, “This way. The safe path is over here.”
Hale, let the Private lead him through the safe path. He couldn’t see any difference between this snow-covered spot, and the rest of the land in front of the village. As they walked, Hale became aware of dozens of Russian corpses strewn about. The corpses were in various states of dismemberment. Some looked as if they had just laid down on the frozen soil to take a nap. Others had horrible wounds that had frozen in the sub-zero temperatures.
Many more, had been blown into smaller pieces and strewn about in front of the village. As the two men walked slowly through the safe path, a young Russian’s eyes snapped open surprising the two Finns, “Vody.”
Startled the two men stopped and looked down at the man. The injured Russian’s olive drab overcoat was torn to pieces. His front torso was riddled with bullet holes, at least a dozen in all. The air had quickly frozen the wounds preventing the injured man from bleeding out. Miraculously, thanks to the sub-zero temperatures, he still lived.
Hale dispassionately looked into the eyes of his enemy. Expecting to see nothing but hate, all he saw was hopelessness and fear. Private Reinhart gasped at the state of the wounded Russian as Hale said dully, “He’s asking for water.”
Reinhart nodded, unbuttoned his gray overcoat, and pulled out canteen. As he knelt down beside the dying man. The mortally wounded Soviet made a feeble attempt at lifting his arms to grasp the canteen. Unmoved by the plight of the young Russian, Hale placed a hand on Reinhart’s shoulder and said, “No. Don’t give it to him. Let him suffer. Let them all suffer for what they’ve done. To our land.” He paused a moment to fight back tears thinking of Pekka and Maki, “To our people.”
Reinhart’s wide eyes looked up at Hale, indecision etched on his face. Hale, losing patience, slapped the canteen from the Private’s hands, “No!”
The liquid, all the more precious in its unfrozen state, poured out of the canteen where it had struck the ground and mixed with the blood of the Russians. Reinhart threw Hale a look of horror, and then picked his canteen up. He wiped the blood off of it with a dead Russians sleeve, pulled out a pistol, and shot the injured Russian in the head. Turning, he met Hale’s angry gaze and said, “He’s suffered enough.”
Hale started at Reinhart for a long moment before slowly nodding and turning toward the village. Ignoring the Private, he turned and stalked into the village. What have they done to me? My mind is filled with such rage. I’ve become a monster!
The defenders of Kivennapa’s eyes followed Hale as he slowly trudged past their lines. Tortured by his own thoughts Hale ignored them.
Chapter 8
Dusk Karelia Finland, Village of Kivennapa, December 4th, 1939
Hale reached the aid station. The gray tent, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, had a large white square on it’s top, with a red cross in the middle. Several men lay outside the tent groaning from their wounds. A nurse knelt by one of the men and helped him take sips from a steaming cup of tea. Noticing Hale, she stood up and turned to face him, “Are you injured?”
Hale nodded and said, “Yes. I’ve been stabbed in the shoulder.”
The nurse wore a mink coat that would have been the height of fashion in London or New York. Here, amidst the forest that was home to the animals harvested for the pelts to make the coat, it was a common sensible garment for anyone to wear in the cold. She looked him up and down. Quickly noticing the tear and flecks of red on his coat, “Pull your coat off that shoulder so I can see.” She asked.
Hale, was taken aback by the business-like attitude of the woman. She was the first female he had seen since Oda, had tried to teach him some Russian a few months back. Irritated by her cold brusqueness, the young woman, pushed a blond lock of hair from her face with her left hand and said, “Don’t stand there with a stupid look on your face. You’re taking me away from these dying men.”
Hale mumbled an apology and exposed his injured shoulder to the poking and prodding that was sure to come. He wasn’t disappointed, “Ouch!” He exclaimed.
The nurse flashed him a look of apology, “It’s not infected. You’re lucky.”
“How does being stabbed, poked and prodded make me lucky?” Hale asked.
“Because it looks like this wound has been reopened several times. Why didn’t you seek help sooner?” The nurse admonished.
“I’m sorry, I was a bit busy killing the monsters that have invaded our country.” Hale replied gruffly.
The nurse flashed Hale a smile, “Sorry, I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Tora.”
“Hale.”
“Well Hale, head on into the tent and get warmed up. Try not to disturb the doctor, he is in the middle of an operation. When he finishes he’ll take a look at you.” Tora said.
Hale relaxed, “Thanks Tora.”
The two shared a long gaze. Hale lost himself in her ice blue eyes for a long moment before she looked away her cheeks turning crimson, “I’ve got to get back to my patients.”
“Of course.” Hale replied politely.
Hale walked over to the entrance of the tent and pulled a flap back to enter. A wall of warm air hit him as he stepped into the surprisingly brightly lit interior of the aid tent. At least a dozen lanterns hung from the ceiling brightly lighting the room. It took a few seconds for the shift in temperature register, then the stench hit him. The stink of the place overwhelmed him. Looking down he saw the floor was covered in blood and bits of. The thought abruptly cut off as he inwardly shuddered.
Hale looked up and saw two figures. In the middle of the tent was a man in a red stained lab coat. Next to him, a woman, wore a blood-stained apron. Hale’s eyes immediately went to her dress underneath the apron. It was form fitting and complimented her figure. The woman, a nurse presumably, stood beside the man and held the tray up where he could easily reach it.
The man in the white lab coat, was using a metal instrument that resembled a large pair of tweezers. Using the tweezers, he pulled a piece of shrapnel from a grisly wound in the gut that the poor unfortunate on the table had. The man in the white lab coat, presumably the doctor, didn’t turn to look as he released the shrapnel into a small metal bowl on the tray.
The nurse, had calmly shifted her tray, so that the metal bowl was underneath the Doctor’s hand, when he released the shrapnel. The tiny piece of metal made a faint tinkling noise as it landed in the bowl.
“I think that’s the last of it. Let’s close him up.” The doctor said.
The nurse set the tray she had been holding on a table behind her, and picked up another tray. This one was covered by neatly arranged rows of instruments. The Doctor turned to look at the tray. For a moment his gaze met Hale’s. Ignoring the young sniper, he selected two items. The first looked to be a needle and thread. The second item was a small packet. Satisfied he had what he needed, he turned back to the injured soldier on the operating table.
The Doctor worked quickly on the unconscious man as the nurse looked on. Hale seeing an unoccupied chair by the wood burning stove that kept the tent warm, walked over to it. Wanting to sit, he removed the two weapons from his back, and sat down in it. He let out a small gasp of pleasure as his exhausted body was finally able to relax.
As the Doctor worked, Hale slowly warmed up. As he did so, he removed his white great coat, then his pants. Underneath was several layers of garments that had helped keep him warm in the subzero temperatures. He glanced at his shoulder. Through several layers of torn shirts, he could see the wound slowly oozed blood. The skin on the edge of the wound had a very angry looking red cast too it.
As the Doctor finished up, a truck pulled up outside. Two men ent
ered, like the medic that had directed Hale to this tent, they were dressed in the gray uniform of Finland and sported white arm bands with a red cross. The Doctor turned to the two men and said, “Good timing, I just finished up with him. You can go ahead and load him into the truck. Don’t leave before I’ve had a chance to look at the Private sitting by the stove. I think he’ll be joining you.”
The two men stiffened to attention and said, “Yes sir.”
“You know I don’t like that yes sir crap.” The doctor admonished, “I’m a healer not a damned pretentious ass with a command stick shoved up his ass.”
Hale, unable to stop himself, laughed loudly at the Doctor’s words. Those sharp eyes immediately fell on him again. Noticing that Hale was not wearing a uniform underneath his clothing, the man said, “What seems to be the issue?” He paused for a long moment before adding questioningly, “Private?”
“Private would be correct sir. I’m not regular army. Just a volunteer reservist trying to keep my home safe. There isn’t enough uniforms to go around for everyone, since I usually work along I don’t need one.” Hale noticed the blank look on the Doctor’s face as the exhausted man waited for Hale to get to the point, “It’s my shoulder sir, I was stabbed a few days ago.”
“I see. Out on a mission?” The Doctor inquired.
“Yes sir.” Hale replied.
“Like I was telling these two.” The doctor gestured toward the two orderlies who were busy removing the patient to their truck, I’m a healer not one of these damned pompous asses that need their boots licked every morning to feel good about themselves.” He paused to take a deep breath and let it out slowly before adding, “Call me Gar.”
Hale laughed at the Doctor’s words and said, “Well met Gar. My name is Hale.”
“Let me get a look at that shoulder. Take off all those shirts.” Gar ordered.
Hale nodded in acknowledgement of the Doctor’s request and took off his shits. He started with the baggy woolen sweater his mom had knit him. She had spun the wool their flock of sheep had provided into thread and painstakingly knit the sweater over the course of many days. Seeing his mom’s beautiful creation torn and bloody, made Hale’s heart ache.
Next was another sweater, this one was tighter and more form fitting than the one his mom had knit. It has been purchased through a catalog from a department store in Helsinki. Hale couldn’t remember which one. Next, was a button-down flannel shirt. Unlike the two sweaters, he was able to remove this one without wincing. Underneath this shirt, was a white undershirt. It had been stained with the sweat from his numerous exertions over the last several days and of course blood.
He stifled a cry as he removed the tight form fitting shirt, and then looked up at Gar. The older man met his gaze, his eyes full of reassurance. The Doctor, took a step forward and stared down into the wound. He poked and prodded the wound eliciting several gasps of pain from Hale.
“You’re lucky, you’ve reopened this wound numerous times during the last several days. I think that is what has prevented it from becoming infected. You’re going to have to take some time to heal. Let me put some sulfa in it and close it up. Then I’m sending you to the hospital to recover.” Gar said.
“What’s sulfa?” Hale asked.
“It’s a powder that you put into wounds to prevent them from becoming infected. It was invented by the Germans a few years back. It is supposed to revolutionize the medical arts. For the first time ever, we can actually prevent and treat infections.” Gar said. Noticing Hale’s blank look the Doctor added, “Trust me, this is an exciting development.”
“If you say so Doctor.” Hale replied.
“It’s going to save millions of men who survive their injuries from infection.” The doctor replied.
Gar, looked around for the nurse and her tray, they had both disappeared. Frowning, he retreated to a gray metal cabinet set into the far corner of the tent and opened it up. He withdrew a small packet from one of the shelves. As he approached Hale, he tore the packet open. Next, he stood over Hale’s injury and tipped the packet so that the powder slowly poured into the wound.
Hale winced at he felt the grains striking his open wound. The Doctor continued this process for about a minute as he spread the powder evenly over the knife injury, “There we go. Now I just have to close it up.”
“Close it?” Hale asked nervously.
“Yes, I have to sew it shut or it will never heal.” The Doctor replied. Seeing Hale suddenly turning pale he added, “Don’t worry it won’t hurt.”
The Doctor was wrong. It did hurt, a lot. His shoulder now feeling like it had been kicked by an angry jack ass, throbbed mightily, “Thank you.” Hale winced as a shooting pain from his shoulder caused him to grimace, “I think. Am I free to get dressed and go?” Hale asked.
Gar smiled at Hale, “Don’t worry. I know it hurts now, but you’ll feel better later. Let me spread a bit more sulfa onto your stiches so they don’t become infected.”
Hale stood by patiently as Gar went back to the gray metal cabinet. He pulled the latch to the right and tugged on the door opening it. The mechanism screeched in protest at being disturbed. Within seconds he had picked up another packet of the sulfa powder from the neatly arranged shelves and had torn the top off as he walked back across the small space to Hale. Gar then concentrated as he carefully spread the white powder into Hale’s stitched wound.
“There you go, that should prevent infection. You need at least seven days of rest, and then you’ll be good as new.” Gar said.
“After the seven days, will I be able to fire a rifle then without pain? I’m a sniper, that’s kind of important.”
Gar eyes widened at Hale’s words, “It will probably still hurt, but it should be able to take the kick at that point. What do you shoot with?”
“A Mosin-Nagant.” Hale replied.
Gar pointed at Hale’s weapon on the floor, “That hunting rifle?”
“Yes, my parents got it for me.” Hale replied.
The doctor tilted his head back so that he was staring up at the ceiling of the tent and laughed mightily, “What’s so funny?” Hale asked, irritated.
After Gar’s mirth abated, he met Hale’s gaze and said, “We are invaded by a large modern army with all of the latest equipment, countless technologies devised for the destruction of mankind and we send out the flower of our youth armed with hunting rifles to stop it.”
Hale bristled, “I’ve killed many of the Soviet swine with my hunting rifle.”
Gar held up a hand, “Peace Hale. It wasn’t meant as an insult to you. On the contrary, it was meant as an insult to the Russians. Despite all of the advantages they bring, young boys, like you, who were born free spirts are able to make them pay dearly for every inch of our soil.”
“One of us is worth ten of them.” Hale added.
Gar smiled, “I don’t doubt it. You, and many other good free-spirited Finnish boys are proving the value and ingenuity that growing up free instills in a man.”
The horn on the truck outside honked. At the same moment Gar’s nurse re-entered the tent. She reeked of tobacco smoke, “You had best get going. Enjoy your rest, you’ve earned it.”
“Thank you, Gar.”
Hale finished dressing. As he turned to leave, he shook hands with the doctor as the older man handed him a piece of paper.
“Your pass.” Gar said.
Hale smiled at the older man in thanks, took the paper from the doctor’s outstretched hand, and hastily walked out of the tent. As he emerged outside, a blast of cold air and darkness greeted him. A few feet in front of him, on the road, sat an ambulance. The vehicle had a cab much like the other trucks Hale had seen. On the back, instead of a canopy covered flat bed, it was fully enclosed. How did I rate such comfort?
Seeing Hale emerge from the tent, the passenger, one of the orderlies who had taken the man with the gut wound away, got out of the truck and said, “Let me help you into the back.”
“Thanks. Whe
re are we going?” Hale asked.
“We’re taking you to the hospital outside of Perkjarvi” The man responded.
Hale smiled, Perkjarvi is close to home!
Seeing Hale smile the man asked, “What’s so great about Perkjarvi? I grew up in Viipuri. Seems like a quaint little shithole by comparison.”
“It’s close to home.” Hale responded.
The man’s eyes widened as he realized the insult, he had just paid Hale. He quickly recovered from his blunder and said, “The hospital there is nearly full, and you don’t seem to be that bad off. Perhaps they’ll let you go home to recover.”
Hale’s heart leaped as he climbed into the back of the ambulance. Stepping into the dim interior, he saw that the right side of the space was occupied by the unconscious form of the man who had just gotten the operation. Opposite him was an empty stretcher, sitting securely in an apparatus designed to hold the stretcher in place.
The medic gestured at the empty stretcher, “Get some rest. It’s a long trip to Perkjarvi.”
Hale did as he was told. He set his weapons on the floor of the vehicle and laid down on the stretcher. The medic pulled a pillow out of a metal cabinet set into the forward wall of the ambulance. He handed Hale the pillow, along with a gray woolen blanket, and then retreated. The last sound Hale remembered was the sound of the door being latched shut and then nothingness.
Chapter 9
Early Morning Karelia Finland, South of the Village of Perkjarvi, December 5th, 1939
Hale awoke in mid-air. Immediately realizing his lack of contact with any physical surface his stomach lurched. A moment later he landed back on the stretcher with a thump. As his heartbeat thundered in his ears from the adrenaline rushing into his bloodstream, he heard a groan from the darkness, The man with the gut wound. He thought as realization came back to him. I must have been deeply asleep.
The squeal of breaks filled the small chamber the two men occupied as Hale felt his body sliding forward. Not thinking, he stuck his right arm out to stop his forward motion. The sudden searing pain caused him to cry out. The moment the motion of the vehicle ceased; Hale heard the sound of a door opening up front. This was followed by the sound of boots on gravel as someone, presumably the orderly, made his way around to the back of the vehicle.
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