Together the two men lifted Maki’s cooling corpse up. As they did so Hale winced in pain, “What’s wrong?” Omni asked.
“My shoulder was injured a few days ago.” Hale replied.
“Let me get a look at it.” The medic said.
“You’re bleeding! I can take care of Maki, you let him check that shoulder. I’ll see you at the aid station as soon as you can manage.” Omni said.
“I can help.” Hale said.
“Nonsense, you’re hurt. Let the medic patch you up.” Omni said.
Omni hefted Maki’s corpse over his left shoulder and began walking slowly toward the smoldering remains of the village.
“Unbutton your coat and let me have a look at that shoulder private.” The medic, a Corporal as indicated by the two stripes on his epaulettes of his coat, ordered.
“Yes sir.” Hale replied.
He unbuttoned the top four buttons of his overcoat and winced as he pulled his right arm out of the sleeve. “Take your shirt off too, I need to see the wound.” The medic said.
Hale nodded dully and did as he was told. The moment his bare skin was exposed to the air, the hair on his body stood up on end and goosebumps formed. The medic poked and prodded the wound causing Hale to cry out in pain.
“Sorry, I had to check it. The wound isn’t infected. You need to take at least few days to let it heal though. It looks like you have reopened it several times. Luckily for you, you’ve kept it clean.” The medic said.
Hale let out a bitter laugh, “There’s a war on, I haven’t exactly had time to take a holiday.”
The medic placed a hand on Hale’s uninjured shoulder and squeezed it, “I know, you have done what you must to save our country.” His eyes briefly alighted on the corpse of Maki being carried away by Omni. “But if you don’t get some rest, you won’t be any good to us much longer. If you don’t give yourself some time to heal, this wound will become infected. Then no matter how strong you are, you’ll die in a pool of your own sweat.”
Hale, nodded in acknowledgement and said, “All right. Where do I go?”
“Follow your friend to the aid station north of the village. The doctor there will diagnose you. With luck, if you’re from Karelia, you’ll get to go home for a few days.”
Hale’s shoulders slumped, Home! “I’ll do as you say Corporal.”
The medic smiled, “I thought you might. I’ve got to keep moving with the counterattack to treat our casualties. I’m officially ordering you to the aid station. There the doctor will make sure that you are sent north so you can recuperate. You’ve earned the rest soldier.”
Hale smiled faintly at the Corporal and turned toward the village. No longer caring about the battle, he dropped his newly captured Russian rifle on the ground and began walking in the direct of Kivennapa. Through the fuzz of his exhaustion and pain, his mind started to race as he walked.
What would it be like to see his family again? To see Nea? His thoughts were interrupted by shooting pain in his shoulder. The killing, it’s changed me so much. Will they accept me or will they despise me for all of the butchery I’ve committed?
Hale’s thoughts were interrupted as his eyes registered the smoldering hulk of a T-28. The smell of cooked flesh filled his nostrils as tendrils of flame snapped and danced from the open hatches of the green metal beast. As he reached the front of the vehicle, his eyes took in a grisly sight. The charred remains of one of the crew members lay half out of a hatch in the top of the tank. Black smoke billowed out from the opening and circled lazily into the sky.
As he moved past the tank a voice said, “Don’t come any further.”
Hale looked toward the sound of the voice that came from the direction of the village. His eyes teared up as he tried to see through the clouds of smoke, “Why?” He replied, “I’ve been ordered to the aid station.”
“Mines. Stay where you are at. Private Rinehart, escort this young man through the mine field.”
A younger less confident sounding voice responded with a, “Yes sir.”
Hale stood there for about a minute. His shoulder hurt, his stomach churned from the stench of burnt flesh, and his body trembled slightly with exhaustion. The adrenaline from the recent battle was leaving him and being replaced with an overwhelming wave of exhaustion.
A strong hand grasped his right arm and he winced in pain, “Sorry.” Private Reinhart said.
Hale gave the man, who was about the same age as himself, a dull smile, “It’s my shoulder, I was stabbed.”
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
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?”