Oda, met Hale’s relieved gaze and gave him a faint smile of encouragement before she turned back to the class and said, “One more time, repeat after me, Ya pochinyauys, I surrender.”
The class dutifully repeated the words as Sergeant Kivi spun another hapless victim around and yelled, “Was it you?”
The older man, his faded blond locks turning to gray and his face etched by many years of exposure to the sun and the wind smiled up at Sergeant Kivi and said, “Yes it was me.”
Sergeant Kivi glanced down at the nametag on the man’s uniform and said, “Corporal Pekka, I trust that you will stop disrupting the class so that my privates can focus on their lessons.”
Corporal Pekka reared back in laughter and said, “If you’d stop being such an ass from the back of the room, perhaps they could focus.”
Sergeant Kivi, grabbed Corporal Pekka by his uniform shirt and pulled him up out of the chair as a voice from the doorway barked, “That’s enough Sergeant, Corporal Pekka with me.” Lieutenant Riku said.
Corporal Pekka threw Sergeant Kivi another smile and gently removed the Sergeant’s hands from his uniform. The Sergeant’s hands dropped wistfully to his sides as Corporal Pekka made eye contact with Lieutenant Riku and said, “At once sir.”
“Class, I think you have this one. Let’s move on to the next phrase.” Oda said.
The remaining members of the class, all privates under the guiding hand of Sergeant Kivi said in unison, “Yes ma’am.”
Oda smiled, “Good, now repeat after me, “Pokazhi mne svoi ruki. Put your hands up.”
Hale’s mind slipped back into the present as the voice on the other side of the gun yelled again, “Pokazhi mne svoi ruki!”
Obeying the command, Hale slowly raised his hands up. The man holding the gun took a step back and another set of hands reached in and unceremoniously pulled Hale from the cab. The man with the SVT-38 gestured upward with the gun barrel as he said, “Vstavat.”
Getting the message, Hale nodded and slowly came to his feet. As he reached his full height, his head swam, causing him to stagger. The same arms that had pulled him from the truck reached out and steadied him.
“Nazovite sebya!” Barked the Russian with the two triangles on his coat collar that indicated his rank of Sergeant.
I guess angry and loud sergeants are universal. Hale thought.
The Soviet Sergeant took a step forward and punched Hale in the gut with his right hand and yelled, “Nazovite sebya!”
Hale, surprised by the blow, crumpled and dropped to his knees. What does he want? Hale desperately wondered. His mind tried to go back to his brief half day lesson in Russian, but before he could. The Sergeant slapped Hale in the side of the face with his open palm. The blow caused stars to explode into Hale’s vision and he toppled sideways striking the ground.
As the cold embrace of the frozen snow greeted him his foggy mind thought, The cold feels good.
The Sergeant took another step forward. He loomed over Hale, leaned down over him, while placing his hands on his knees and once again yelled, “Nazovite sebya!”
The Russian raised his gloved hand to strike Hale again. Bracing himself for the blow, Hale closed his eyes. Before the enraged Sergeant could land the blow, another voice barked, “Dovol’no”
After several seconds and no blow came, Hale opened his eyes to see what was happening. A hand was wrapped around the Sergeant’s raised arm. Like the Sergeant, the newcomer wore an olive drab green overcoat with a fur lined cap. The cap was emblazoned with the red star of the Soviet Union. The Soviet caps Hale had seen thus far sported a Red Star of varying size, made out of cheap red thread. This man’s cap, had a shiny red star fashioned out of metal and painted a bright cheerful red. In addition to the difference in the Red Star, instead of an enlisted man’s triangles, the man’s collar sported three red squares, An officer! Hale thought, I’m really in the shit now.
Surprisingly the newcomer addressed Hale in his own language, “You’ll have to forgive the Sergeant’s enthusiasm. Like most of the men of the Soviet Union, he is a simple peasant who doesn’t understand any language other than force. What’s your name?”
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.