“How did they perform?” Hale asked.
“They were well equipped with the best the Soviet Army had to offer at the time. As a group, they fought much more ably than the Spanish peasants did.”
“And individually?” A private named Leo asked.
Sergeant Kivi laughed for several moments before replying, “Individually, they are as dumb as a fence post. They haven’t been trained to think for themselves you see.”
“Why does that matter?” Dal asked.
“Because private, if you don’t have a sergeant to direct your inexperienced ass when it’s time to shoot the enemy, or seek cover, you’ll just stand there with a dumb look on your face.” Sergeant Kivi replied.
“So, the Soviets are at their worst, if we can break them down into small groups?” Hale asked.
Sergeant Kivi smiled and said, “Well I can see that at least one of you isn’t an idiot. Yes, that’s correct Hale.”
The memory faded from Hale’s mind as he drifted back into the present. The recollection of that warm fall day, a few short months ago, was much more pleasant than the frigid cold of his current reality. Hale continued to lay on the icy earth waiting for the Russians to lose their patience and make a mistake. He sat still and listened. For an hour all he heard was the sound of the faint wind pushing the smallest of the tree branches about overhead. The stiff branches, frozen from the extreme cold, made noise as they stiffly moved about.
Finally, his ears registered a sound that didn’t belong. Off to his right he could faintly hear the sound of boots crunching in the snow, The sniper.
Hale, slowly used his right hand to reach the holster on his right hip. He unsnapped the flap and drew out his pistol. If I remain still and silent, I can surprise him.
The sounds of the crunching snow disappeared for a time as Hale sat wondering. Was I hearing things?
Hale’s doubts slipped away, as the sniper began slowly moving forward again. The sound of the crunching snow under the man’s boots grew ever closer. Every few minutes the sniper would pause and listen. When the man was satisfied, he would start moving forward again.
As the Soviet Sniper drew closer, the passage of time seemed to slow to a crawl in Hale’s mind, Where is he? Hale thought for the hundredth time in the last twenty minutes. The sniper paused again, and grew silent. By Hale’s reckoning he was maybe twenty feet off to the right.
Hale began to sweat despite the bitter cold. Did the bastard see me somehow?
Finally, after what had felt like an eternity to Hale, the man started moving forward again. Careful to not make a sound, Hale unbuckled the strap of leather that secured his knife to his left hip. The knife sheathe, like the pistol holster, rested on his hip. Step by step the man drew closer, until he was just on the other side of the large tree trunk that concealed Hale from his sight.
The sniper chose that moment to stop and listen, Oh come on! Just one more step and I’ll have you. Hale lamented.
The seconds slowly ticked by as Hale did his upmost to remain still and not make a sound that would give away his position. He wrapped the fingers of his right hand around his knife, planning to stand up and stick it in the man’s chest as soon as he rounded the tree in front of Hale.
The Soviet Sniper satisfied that no one was near, finally took that step. Unfortunately for Hale, the man chose to walk around the back side of the tree, and immediately spotted Hale’s legs laying in the snow. As the Russian brought his rifle up to put a bullet in Hale’s posterior, Hale released his hold on the holstered knife, rolled over, and slapped the sniper’s rifle away with his free hand.
The enemy soldier’s rifle thundered in Hale’s ear as the man put a bullet into the ground a mere inch from Hale’s right knee. If I hadn’t of let go of the knife and spoiled his aim, I’d be dead now. Hale thought.
Hale stepped forward and moved around the front side of the tree, pistol in hand. The man took a step back and frantically worked the bolt on his rifle to chamber another round so he could take another shot. Before the Soviet Sniper could finish, Hale emerged from the other side of the tree with his pistol raised.
The sniper met Hale’s eyes with his own, they were hazel, and gave him a faint smile. He dropped his rifle and raised his hands up and said, “Sdacha.”
What am I supposed to do with him? They never told us anything about prisoners. Hale thought. A shot rang out, it must have come from the other two Soviets nearby to the north. A moment later the Soviet sniper clutched his chest, and collapsed to the ground.
Hale threw himself to the earth, as a second shot rang out, The other Russians. I forgot about them! A moment later the bullet slammed into the tree that Hale had been hiding behind earlier. Was I seen, or was the second rifleman just taking a guess? Hale asked himself.
Fueled by a shot of adrenaline from his near death, the sound of his heart thundered in his ears as his blood pressure increased. Trying to calm his frayed nerves, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Quieting the drum in his ears, he sat perfectly still for a minute and listened intently for the Soviets. The only thing he heard was the sound of silence.
Satisfied that the two men weren’t rushing him, he crawled over to the twitching corpse of the sniper. Searching him, he found a small bottle of vodka, a grenade, and a picture of the man’s sweetheart. Hale placed the bottle and grenade into his pack. With this much vodka, I’ll be very warm tonight.
He took another moment to listen for the other two Russians. Once again, his ears were greeted with silence. Satisfied, he looked down at the picture. The woman, slender in appearance, with high cheekbones, and a small nose looked back at him from whatever moment in time the photograph was taken. She wore a floral printed dress, that showed off her figure, which bulged and curved in all the right places. I guess you’ll be in the market for a new man soon.
The picture reminded him of a happier moment and Hale’s thoughts slipped away from the present back to his last day at home. Germany had invaded Poland and thanks to the Molotov-Ribbentrop pact the Soviet Union was given a free hand in Eastern Europe to include Finland. To prepare, Finland had mobilized the army and called for volunteers. Hale had heeded the call.
It was a bright and warm early September afternoon. His last full day at home before he boarded the train that took him to the army. Looking up he saw his beloved Nea walk into the barn, “What are you doing?” She asked.
He put down the shovel he was using to muck out the cow’s stall, and met the gaze of her green eyes, A man could get lost in those eyes forever. “Mucking out the barn.” Hale replied.
“This is your last day before you have to leave for the army. Shouldn’t you be doing something a bit more fun than shoveling cow dung?” Nea asked.
Hale took his gloves off and turned to face her, “Probably. Did you have something in mind?”
“How about a walk? The leaves are starting to turn.” Nea replied.
Hale nodded and took her hand. They walked out of the barn and quickly found their way onto a nearby path that led into the forest. Hale marveled at how closely Nea’s red hair matched the color of many of the turning leaves. As they walked, his eyes slowly traced the lines of her creamy colored neck as her skin disappeared into the folds of her dress.
As his eyes continued to trace the lines of her body beneath her dress, she stopped walking, and turned to face him. Surprised by her sudden stop, he jerked his eyes upward as she met his gaze. Too late. He thought.