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.