James Mullins - The Winter Sniper

Hale took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The steam from his warm exhaled air, slowly dissipated in front of him as his ears registered a sound. Is that them? He thought. His thumb unconsciously fingered the safety on his SK Nagant M/28-30 bolt action rifle. He could feel a hint of the cold metal through the thick fabric of his gloves.

He looked around at his immediate surroundings. The land was shrouded in a velvety blanket of whiteness broken by a seemingly endless number of trees. The trees, mostly birch, had lost their leaves to falls chill several months prior. The branches of the trees were all tinged with the white of last nights snow fall. The trees branches, intertwined to form an endless canopy as far as the eye could see. It was a breathtaking sight to behold.

Hale exhaled once more and watched the steam from his breath slowly dissipate in front of him. He felt a dull pain in his posterior, so he shifted his position on the large branch he sat on to relieve it. He sighed in relief as the pain ebbed. The faint sound continued to buzz in his ear. He asked himself again. Are they coming?

He sat in near silence for several more minutes as the faint noise transformed itself into a dull rumble. This is it. Theyre coming. He closed his eyes and imagined where he would be right now if it wasnt for them. Certainly not perched in a tree in the miserable cold of this late November morning, awaiting the invaders.

Reality fell away, and an image began to form in his mind of a blanket wrapped around his shoulders as he sat on the floor in front of a warm fire. He was sipping a cup of hot cocoa. As he let his imagination take over, he could almost feel the hot liquid slide down his throat and fill his insides with its sweet tasting warmth.

He looked around the room. In front of him was a fire place. Within the fire place was a pair of logs. A warm flame crackled and occasionally snapped as he absorbed the warm glow. The heat created a ruddy red glow on the pale skin of his face.

From behind, he felt two arms wrap around him. He smiled and turned to see his little sister grinning at him. She was missing one of her front teeth. The tooth had recently fallen out. Good morning. His sister Aina said.

Hale returned the smile and with a, Good morning. Of his own. The smell of sizzling meat wafted over them. Turning toward the kitchen Hale added, Smells like breakfast is almost ready. Would you like some of my hot cocoa?

Ainas grin broadened into a full smile and she nodded vigorously, Yes please!

Hale turned to hand her the cup when a dull clanking noise pulled him back into reality. He opened his eyes and looked to his right at the lonely ribbon of mud and gravel that broke the seemingly endless rows of trees that surrounded him. Yes, that has to be them.

Hale removed the mask that kept his face warm and slipped it into his pack. He then set his rifle down gently in his lap and removed his left glove. Stowing it in the pocket of his thick overcoat he flicked off the safety with his left thumb. Despite the frigid cold, the well-oiled switch clicked into place without resistance. Remembering the day the rifle was given to him, he thought, Thanks Dad. He pulled the glove back onto his left hand and craned his head so that he could see as far up the road to his right as possible.

The dull clanking noise continued to grow in volume. A pair of stags bounded by below him heading away from the noise. He took another deep breath, looked up, and saw several squirrels dashing amongst the branches above him. They too headed away from the noise, North. Away from the invaders and toward safety.

Hale began to feel the ground shake as the large Soviet column came into view. A Russian T-28 tank, painted white to blend into the terrain and emblazoned with a large red star on its turret, slowly clanked and groaned as the metal monster made its way up the road. The steel beast belched black smoke out of its hindquarters and spat mud and gravel from its tracks as it chewed up the soil of his homeland, Finland.

The vehicle had tracks on the left and right side with two large wheels at either end, eleven small wheels on the lower half of the track, and three small wheels that touched the upper track. The two large wheels worked to drive the vehicle forward and the smaller wheels aided in holding the tracks in place.

Atop the tank, sticking out of a hatch in the turret was a man. He wore a green fur cap and a heavy green coat. The coat, also a dark green in color, disappeared below his chest into the hatch. His black gloved hands held a pair of binoculars which he used to scan the forest around him as the tank slowly lumbered forward.

As Hale watched, the next vehicle in the column slid into view it was a GAZ-MM. The GAZ-MM was a truck. The truck, had a cab in the front that could hold two people, and a canopy covered rear deck, where soldiers or supplies could be carried. He could see the faint outline of the drivers head through the glass in the door as the vehicle slowly made its way forward behind the T-28. The truck was painted a dark green and had a red star of its own emblazoned on the drivers door.

The canopy of the GAZ-MM was the same dark green color as the tank commanders coat. Hale took another deep breath and let it out slowly as he raised his rifle to his shoulder. This time he held his breath as he looked down the length of his rifle and drew a bead on the head of the tank commander with the iron sights.

Hale peered through the first sight which was a half square that stuck up out of the rifle at the base of the barrel just beyond the bolt mechanism. He did this with his right eye as he closed his left. The square had a small notch in it that he lined up with the pip on the end of the rifle. He moved the rifle until both the notch and the pip lined up with the tank commanders head. The head appeared as a small green dot within his gun sight.

He then shifted the rifle slightly forward, so that the head barely showed in the hole of the square on the right side and slowly applied pressure to the trigger of his gun. The rifle belched acrid smoke and flame as it roared to life. The sound of the single shot echoed off the thousands of nearby trees as the bullet traveled nearly instantaneously to the head of the tank commander and hit it.

The bullet carved through the mans fur lined cap, then his skull, next into the fleshy brain beneath, and finally out the other side as it continued on its course. Before the bullet ended its journey by striking the trunk of a tree situated somewhere behind the tank commander his lifeless body hunched forward, and the mans chin struck the edge of the turret ring he stood in and blood began to pool on the top of the T-28 contrasting sharply with the white paint. I have just taken a life. God please forgive me. Hale thought.

Before the column could react to Hales shot, he pulled the bolt on his rifle and ejected the first bullet. As he slid the bolt back, the second bullet in his five-bullet magazine clicked into place. He then swiveled his rifle to the right, lined up the first truck drivers head in his sights, and squeezed the trigger again. This time his bullet shattered glass the moment before it struck its target. As the driver slumped forward, the bullet, now misshapen from its impact with both the trucks window and the drivers skull, began to tumble as it slammed into the body of the Russian sitting to the right of the truck driver.

The bullet penetrated the mans arm, just above the bone in his left bicep, and entered his chest. As it continued along its path the bullet cleaved the mans heart in two and exited out his right side before coming to rest in the passenger side door of the truck. The column lurched to a stop, as Hale pulled the bolt on his rifle again. A small puff of smoke emerged from the rifle as he did so. Like the first time he pulled the bolt action on his rifle, the spent cartridge was ejected. Hales eyes followed the steaming brass metal for a moment as it began its journey to the forest floor below.