James Mullins - The Winter Sniper

Hale leaned down and gave Aina a hug and a kiss on the top of her head. As he stood back up his Grandfather handed him a larger box and said, “This is for you.”

Hale made eye contact with his grandfather and smiled. The older man was deep into his fifties with iron gray hair starting to give way to white. His features were well weathered from many decades of exposure to Finland’s harsh winters. His smile revealed yellowing teeth. Hale took the box excitedly. It was wrapped in festive green paper. This time he tore into the paper with relish. Within was another wooden box about twelve inches long. Inwardly he sighed and thought, Another box? At least this one doesn’t already belong to me.

Before his thought could continue his grandfather said, “Open it.”

Hale did as he was instructed and gently removed the lid of the wooden box. A sharp intake of breath was quickly followed by a smile that spread across his face. Within the box was a pukko blade. His eyes slowly panned up and down the length of the knife. The pukko was ten inches in length from tip to the end of the pommel. The end of the blade had a slight curve to it which as Hale knew made it easier to gut an animal with. The pommel was a work of art. Hale marveled at the ornately carved moose bone handle with creatures of the forest meticulously carved into it.

“Try it.” His grandfather said.

Hale held his breath and took the blade into his hand. The pommel was a bit large for his grasp and he awkwardly held it aloft, “You’ll grow into it.” His father said.

Hale, noticed a second item at the bottom of the box, it was a sheathe for the knife. The supple well-oiled brown leather glistened up at him. He took the sheathe out of the box with his left hand and gently slipped the pukko into it. The blade was a perfect fit. Hale smiled up at his grandfather and said, “Thank you!” Before taking a step forward and embracing the old man.

Hale’s grandfather returned the hug and said, “You’re welcome. A man needs a good blade to make his living.”

Hale took a step back, stood up straight, and said, “A man?”

“Yes, now that you are thirteen you are a man of this family.” Hale’s father said.

Hale smiled so widely he thought his face would crack. I’m a man now! Hale thought excitedly.

His father’s next sentence dampened his enthusiasm somewhat, “Being a man comes with a lot of responsibility. You must provide for your family.”

As Hale’s father spoke, his mother slipped into the kitchen and came out with a long wooden box. The box was about nine inches wide, six inches tall, and nearly as long as Hale was tall. Hale’s father took the box from his mother and thrust it into Hale’s outstretched hands, “A man needs the right tools to put food on the table.”

Hale looked down at the long and slender wooden box, This must be a rifle! He thought. The wide-eyed expression on his face unabashedly displayed his excitement, “Go on open it.” His father urged.

Taking a deep breath and then letting it out slowly Hale lifted one brass and then another. He paused for a moment as his father placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked back at him nervously. His father gave him an encouraging smile in return. Hale slowly lifted the top of the box. Within, was a brand-new rifle.

Hale’s eyes widened as he slowly took in the weapon. The metal parts of the rifle were covered in gun oil to prevent it from rusting, “Go on, pick it up.” Hale’s father urged.

Trying to calm his nerves, Hale took another deep breath and let it out slowly before reaching out and placing his hands on the wood of the rifle. As he ran his fingers along the grain of the wood, it felt smooth and cool to the touch. Finally, he wrapped his fingers around the stock and the wooden piece that surrounded and lifted the weapon out of the box.

Hale’s mind snapped back into reality as he spotted the corpse of the Russian he had slain. Walking up to slain soldier, he noticed that the cap was missing. He looked about and spotted the furry green hat a few feet away from the man’s head. It must have flown off when I shot him in the back. He thought.

Hale quickly scooped up the hat and made his way back to the camp. He spotted Corporal Pekka leaning back on the bench seat behind the wheel of the truck as the engine idled. The Corporal was smoking a cigarette and blowing smoke rings into the air of the cab. Hale walked around the olive drab green truck and opened the passenger side door. A cloud of smoke billowed out of the truck as he pulled himself up into the empty seat.

The smoke tickled the back of his throat and Hale coughed. Taking a quick sip from his canteen to wash the tickle away he asked, “So what’s the plan?”

Pekka turned his gaze to Hale, and blew a cloud of cigarette smoke over him, “I figured we would drive until we catch up with the next column. Dressed like this, we should have no problem falling in with them. When they make camp, we can figure out what to do from there.”

“You honestly think that we will be able to make camp with the Russians and pass ourselves off as them until they all conveniently fall asleep for us?” Hale asked exasperated.

“Why not? We’ll just keep to ourselves. If anyone asks us, we’ll use the Russian we learned in class.” Pekka replied.

“Why not?” Hale rolled his eyes and snorted, “Unless your Russian language skills are a lot better than I think they are it won’t work.” Hale snapped back.

“Do you have a better plan.” Pekka paused for a moment before adding, “Private.”

“As snipers what was the mission given to us.” Hale asked.

Pekka’s eyes narrowed as he replied, “To delay the enemy as much as possible and demoralize them.”

“Parts of your plan has some merit. If we could somehow make our way into a Russian camp during the darkness of night and slit a lot of throats. They would be utterly demoralized and easy work for our boys on the Mannerheim line. Another way we could use this truck to advantage is to drive back towards the Soviet Union and leap out of it the moment before it smashed into the lead vehicle in the next column.” Hale replied.

Pekka rolled his eyes and laughed, “Because that worked so well for you the last time you did it. If I hadn’t come along to rescue your dumb ass, you’d be a frozen corpse right now.”

Hale joined in the laughter, “Perhaps you’re right. I have another idea. Maybe instead of trying to use the truck as a weapon, or as a means to sneak into a Russian camp, we use it as bait.” Hale said.

“Go on, I’m listening.” Pekka replied.

“What if we drove towards Russia for a bit and just parked it. We could then set up good firing positions a few hundred feet further north from the truck and use it as bait.” Hale said.

Pekka pondered Hale’s words for several moments before replying, “I like it.”

“I think if we picked a spot where we had enough room to turn the truck around so that it was pointed into Finland, and then parked it in a way that blocks the road it would maximize the time, we had to get some kills.” Hale said.

Pekka nodded, “In fact it will probably seem pretty normal to them since Russian equipment is crap. Those idiot peasants they draft and use as cannon fodder don’t know how to maintain the vehicles and equipment they are issued. To capitalize on this, we should also put the hood up, so they are less suspicious about a truck that is detached from one of their columns.”

Pekka put the truck in gear and started driving down the road to the south. He drove perhaps half a mile, until the abandoned Soviet camp was out of sight. He slowed the vehicle and looked about for a good spot to turn the truck around. After a few hundred feet he spotted a piece of the road where the trees thinned and he was able to turn the wheel to the left and pull the front wheels of the Gaz-MM into the snow.