Winter Sniper 03 Assaulting the Commissar, page 1
part #3 of Winter Sniper Series
Assaulting The Commissar
By James Mullins
©2021 James Mullins
Published By: Longinus Publishing
All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in any form, in whole or in part, without written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
ASIN: B09FHRPKTD
Chapter 1
Near the Finnish/Soviet Border, Karelia Isthmus Finland,
December 16th, 1939
Hale scooped up a handful of snow and placed the frosty mass into his mouth. He exhaled slowly over the frozen lump of ice as he peered over the fallen tree that concealed him from Soviet eyes. The main north-south running road in this part of Karelia, stretched out in front of him. His eyes confirmed what his ears had been telling him for some time, a convoy was coming.
The group of vehicles was heading south or left to right from Hale’s perspective. This convoy differed from the ones that Hale had encountered before. Instead of tanks, and an endless row of Gaz-MM trucks, this group consisted of a single Red Army truck slowly moving down the road in the direction of the Soviet Union. Like the hundreds of trucks Hale had seen before, it was painted a dark green, and the passenger side door was emblazoned with the red star of the Soviet Union.
Unlike the Gaz-MM’s he had seen before, this truck lacked the familiar canopy that often hid a squad of soldiers within its shadowy abode. Instead, a heavy machine gun was mounted upon the flat cargo deck. The machine gun was manned by two men. A gunner and a loader. The two men were partially obscured by sandbags that had been set up in a protective half circle around the gun. To their rear, the metal cab of the truck provided additional cover. Hale studied the weapon for several moments before identifying it, A Maxim Heavy Machine Gun.
Hale’s mind slipped back to a classroom during his training. Sergeant Kivi flipped a page on a large easel sitting at the front of the classroom. He smacked a large black and white picture with his wooden pointer and said, “This is the Maxim M1910 Heavy Machine Gun.” He paused for a moment and smiled malevolently at the class before continuing, “If you see one of these, you know you are in the shit. The Maxim can fire up to 600 rounds a minute. Most fire teams cannot manage this rate, as the bullets are fed into the machine using 250 bullet belts. Like everything else the Red Army uses, the Maxim fires 7.62mm ammunition.”
Hale’s mind returned to the present and his eyes focused on the gun. The barrel of the gun, pointed toward the rear of the truck, and looked up the road northward. Hale gasped as his eyes shifted to the next thing in the line. Chained together at the wrists and shackled at the ankles were two Finns. They wore tattered and torn clothing that provided them with inadequate protection from the ferociously cold air. One a male, the other a female. Both looked haggard and exhausted. Stretched out behind them, was a long line of Finns in a similar state, cold, miserable, hungry, defeated, and without hope.
Hale’s stomach churned as his eyes slowly moved over his unfortunate countrymen. He did not see a single uniformed male amongst them. Civilians. Hale thought.
Walking to either side of this mass of miserable humanity was the occasional Red Army Soldier. The soldiers wore the standard Red Army issue dark green fur caps, and overcoats. Each of the Soviet infantrymen held a Mosin-Nagant 1891 rifle in their hands. The rifles these soldiers carried were very similar to the rifle Hale used with some subtle differences. Hale’s was manufactured by Sako, a Finnish company, based in Helsinki that produced many of the Finnish Army’s arms. The original Russian version, by contrast, was manufactured in the old Ishevsk factory near Leningrad. Not very far from here. Hale thought.
When Hale joined the military, his rifle had been converted, using an upgrade kit, from a bolt action hunting rifle, that required the internal magazine be loaded one bullet at a time. By contrast, the upgrade kit converted the weapon into being able to receive five bullets at once using a thin metal clip. This enabled Hale to reload his rifle much faster than he could have feeding one bullet at a time into the original rifle’s loading mechanism. Though manufactured in different factories, since the guns shared a common origin, many of the parts were interchangeable.
The line slowly moved south down the road in front of Hale. What should I do? Should I attack? Hale’s eyes shifted and came to rest on the heavy machine gun pointing down the road at his countrymen. If I attack, that gun will likely slay all of them. Hale’s eyes then shifted and he slowly looked down the line of shackled humanity shuffling southward. If I don’t act, these innocent people will be made slaves of the Soviet Union. What kind of life will that be? Hale paused and envisioned what life would look like as a slave to Communism. He shuddered at the images his mind conjured up. They are doomed to suffer until they die if I do not act.
Making his decision, Hale closed his left eye, and lined up the two iron sights on his rifle with the machine gunner’s head. Once his target was lined up, he took a deep breath and held it. A moment later he squeezed the trigger. The rifle bucked in his arms and slammed into his shoulder as it flung death in the form of a led bullet toward Hale’s target. Hale’s shoulder gave him a small twinge of pain, reminding him of his recent stab wound.
Like so many shots fired before it by Hale, this one flew true ending the life of the Machine Gunner. The soldiers on the road guarding the Finns immediately raised their rifles and looked about for a target. Simultaneously, the machine gun loader screamed, “Ignalization!”
Hale operated the bolt on his rifle, took aim at one of the soldiers on the road, and fired. The man reached for his neck, as blood poured out of a new hole that suddenly appeared. As Hale worked the bolt on his rifle, he watched in horror as the loader, pushed the body of the machine gunner to the side, and pointed the barrel toward the Finns on the road.
As another round was pulled into the chamber of Hale’s rifle, the loader squeezed the trigger. A loud roar issued forth from the heavy machine gun and a continuous tat, tat, tat, noise began. As Hale started to raise his rifle back to his shoulder, bullets from the machine gun smashed into his countrymen. A moment later, the gun was silenced when Hale ended the life of the loader, You deserved a far slower death. Hale thought.
One of the guards spotted Hale, took aim at him and fired. As he did so he yelled, “Cuckoo!” Luckily for Hale, his aim was not as sharp as his eyes. The bullet crashed into the trunk of the birch tree right next to Hale with a dull thwack. Ignoring it, Hale took aim at the soldier and returned fire. He didn’t miss. Zeroing in on Hale, the remaining seven guards all swung their rifles in Hale’s direction and fired before the young sniper could operate the bolt on his rifle and pull another round into the chamber.
The enemy fire forced him to duck his head behind the log for cover. As soon as the bullets whizzed by, or smashed into the nearby trees, Hale peered over the log. He was shocked by what he saw. The shackled Finns, using the iron chains that bound their wrists together were strangling the guards.
Hale’s joy at the sight of his countrymen battling for their freedom turned to horror as several of the guards were able to break free of the Finns. Using the bayonets of their rifles, they began stabbing every Finn within reach. Hale, acting quickly, but not quickly enough to save the lives of several of his countrymen, shot these men one by one. As he did so, the driver of the truck pressed on the accelerator and sped away.
After the final guard breathed his last. Hale ran toward the road. His heart sank as he looked upon the bodies of at least two dozen Finns slain by the heavy machine gun. Several more Finns, still alive, were down on the ground bleeding from bayonet wounds. The keening cry of several women mourning over the bodies of their slain husbands, and sons filled the air.
Hale shouldered his rifle and said, “We don’t have much time. Search the guards for keys, so that you can free yourselves.”
Hale’s command was drowned out by the sound of mourning and the cries of the injured. Frustrated, he pulled his pistol out and fired it into the air. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at Hale, “We don’t have much time. Search the guards for keys so that you can free yourselves.”
The nearest of the Finns to Hale said, “There are no locks. They welded the shackles to our bodies.” The man spat on the corpse of the nearest Russian and added, “They didn’t care that the heated metal burned our skin. I hope these bastards burn for all eternity in hellfire for what they have done.”
As the man fell silent, Hale heard a faint squeak, off to the south. As he tried to determine what the sound was, the wailing started again, “Enough! You can mourn later.” Hale yelled.
The group fell silent again and Hale concentrated on the sound. As he listened, the unnatural noise was a little closer the next time his ears registered the sound. In addition to the growing volume of squeaking, he could hear the rumble of an engine, Tanks!
“Never mind the shackles, we’ve got to get you off this road now!” Hale exclaimed.
“What about the injured?” A man asked.
“And the dead?” Another man voiced.
A third voice, a woman, added, “Some of us are shackled to corpses.”
“Help each other carry the dead and injured. We can work on freeing you later, but right now, we need to get you off the road. Tanks are coming.”
This revelation sent everyone sc
“This way.” Hale said.
Hale started walking to the west away from the road. After about sixty seconds he stopped and turned around. The former prisoners had already fallen several yards behind. He sighed, turned, and waited for them to catch up, I’ve never had to lead people before. How can I inspire them to move faster?
As the sound of the approaching tanks grew more audible, the survivors picked up their pace. The nervous Finns slowly shuffled through the difficult to navigate snow-covered terrain. Afraid of what was coming down the road, they frequently looked back over their shoulders.
It was grueling to merely walk through the tree covered terrain and deep snowpack. Doubly so for those that carried another. This part of the forest was bisected by hundreds of small gullies. These gullies forced the Finns down one side, then up the other, making their burdens more difficult to manage. In addition to the gullies, the snow hid numerous rocks and boulders. These large stones formed barriers that had to be traveled around. The combination of the two made it very difficult to maintain a straight path.
Hale decided that the best place for him was not to lead the group, but to cover them as they slowly plodded west over the difficult terrain. When the first Soviet tank rumbled into view the Finns stopped. Many looked on in wide eye terror as the immense metal beast slowly lumbered its way up the road. The weight of the tank caused the ground to tremble under the massive metal monster. As they watched the tank, the snow on the trees nearest the road began to fall to the earth in streams as it was shaken loose from the branches.
We’re not far enough away, we are going to be spotted. “Stop gawking and get down into the gullies. Use them for cover or the tanks will see you.” Hale said.
The group ignored his suggestion and continued to stare wide eyed at the tanks. Doing his best to imitate Sergeant Kivi, his former drill sergeant, Hale growled, “Now!”
Coming to their senses, the Finns did as Hale bade. The young sniper ground his teeth as he watched his new charges slowly, Too slowly! Conceal themselves within the natural trenches formed by the contours of the land.
Hale, confident that he wouldn’t be spotted at this distance in his white snow suit, laid down on the ground. He pulled a small notepad and pencil from his pocket and began to tally up the number of T-26s and T-28s as they rolled by. In addition to the count, he also recorded the serial number painted on the side of each tank. For the Finns, shivering on the ground, it felt like an eternity of misery laying on the frozen earth not knowing whether they would be spotted or not.
Finally, after nearly half an hour, the last tank in the line rumbled by, “That’s the last of them. Everyone, get up and get moving toward the west.”
As the uninjured Finns stood up, and went about picking up their injured and deceased burdens, several cried out in alarm and a few began to weep. Rushing over to the group, Hale asked, “What is it?”
A middle-aged woman, whose lips were starting to turn blue from laying on the ground in the bitter cold, without adequate clothing, sobbed as she said, “My husband died!”
Looking down at the cooling corpse at his feet, Hale said flatly, “I’m sorry for your loss but we’ve got to get away from this road.”
Fury began to boil its way through the woman’s veins. Her eyebrows pulled together and her nostrils flared as she glared up at Hale, “Are you heartless? My husband has died and all you care about is moving!”
“No, I care about ensuring that those of you who are still alive stay that way.” Hale fired back.
Rage overcame the woman and she began pounding her fists on Hale’s chest, “This is your fault!” She screamed.
“How can this be my fault? I didn’t shoot any of you. Should I have left you with the Russians to die?” Hale growled back.
A nearby man grabbed Hale by the shoulder and spun him around, “Why are you picking on that woman? She just lost her husband. Have you no decency?”
Hale was completely stunned by how quickly this group, that he had just rescued, turned against him. He took a step back and said, “I’m not trying to pick on anyone.”
Before he could continue another woman interrupted, “You are a heartless bastard!”
Hale’s mind began to race, I don’t know what to say to get these people to listen. Why are they being so difficult? I rescued them for crying out loud.
Hale opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when he felt a hand squeeze his shoulder. Fearing another angry man, he turned his head to look, and was met with Pekka’s icy blue eyes, “Let me handle this.”
“Good people, if you’ll listen to me for a moment.” Pekka said with his palms facing outward at waist level. Immediately, everyone fell silent, “Thank you. We’re in a very bad spot here. A Soviet column could happen by at any moment. I know that many of you are hurt and have lost loved ones, but they would want you to carry on and survive.”
Pekka paused to give his words time to sink in. After a few moments, a man asked, “What must we do?”
“We need to get everyone heading in that direction.” Pekka pointed toward the west, “Does anyone require assistance to get moving again?”
The woman, who had just lost her husband, cast Hale a quick glare before turning to Pekka and asking, “I’m chained to my husband, he’s dead.” She fought back tears before she was able to steal her resolve and continue, “A-a- and I-I-I’m not strong enough to carry him.” As she said the words she began to sob.
“I can help you carry your husband.” Pekka said, “Does anyone else require aid to move?”
When Pekka was met with nothing but silent, expectant eyes, he said, “Good, let’s get going.”
“Where are you taking us?” A man asked.
“We have a camp a few kilometers away. We’re taking you there so you’ll be safe.” Pekka replied.
Another woman snorted, “How can any place be safe with so many Russians crawling around our forest?”
“While no place in Karelia is perfectly safe, the Russians don’t really stray far from the road.”
“Will there be something for us to eat when we get there?” A young boy asked, “I’m hungry.”
“Of course, my young friend.” Pekka pointed to his battered face, “Hale over there just rescued me from the Russian’s hospitality a few days ago. He’s kept me well fed, so I’m healing quickly. Let’s get moving before more Russians come. I’ll answer as many questions as I can once we reach the camp.”
As the group began to slowly move forward again, Pekka waved Hale over with his hand. As Hale joined him, Pekka looked over at the woman who was shackled to the corpse he carried. Her dull gaze stared off into the frigid forest. Lost in her own world, she didn’t seem to register Hale’s presence.
Pekka signaled with his hand that he wanted to whisper, “Let’s get a bit out in front of the rest so they can’t hear us.”
Hale nodded and the two men quickened their pace. The woman cooperated and hastened her gait. Satisfied that no one in the group could hear them, save the woman, and she didn’t seem to be mentally tuned in, Hale asked, “Why did you promise them food? We barely have enough for just us and even that will last only a few days.”
“These people have completely lost heart. They needed something to look forward to.” Pekka replied.
“How is lying to them going to help the situation? They’re pretty pissed as it is.” Hale said.
“That’s why I need you to move on out ahead of us. Go hunting when you get near the camp, and bag a stag or a moose. With luck, you’ll have meat roasting above a fire before we arrive.” Pekka said.
Hale’s eyebrows furrowed as his lips dropped into a frown, “As you wish, but even I don’t bag something every time I go out. Especially not when there is a time pressure.”
Pekka put a reassuring hand on Hale’s shoulder, “These good people are depending on you. Do the best you can. Now get going.”
Chapter 2
