Scenario 23 Silent Death
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Scott B
Sep 2, 2022, 6:40:04 PM9/2/22
to Squad Leader AARs
HISTORICAL OVERVIEW
The Russians of the 18th ID were met with only weak forces that harassed and stalled them without the fortifications or anti-tank weapons like the Mannerheim Line. They should have been ecstatic but they were not. All around them, the silent forests beckoned with bielaja smjert, white death, and no one dared leave the road and protective artillery for fear of disappearing forever. The eerie silence was short-lived. Before long, the roads to which the Russians clung for safety became frozen graveyards as Finnish patrols began surprising their campsites with deadly strikes.
Toivo Marttinen provides his personal account of this raid in his story “Home Sweet Home” in Miensten Kertomaa. It is as personal an account as I have ever read and upon which scenario twenty-three is based. Those interested may find an English translation at the end of the After Action Report
RESOURCES
Scenario 23 Silent Death card.
Suchar, Joseph and Mishcon, Jon. “The Percentage of Doom, CRESCENDO OF DOOM Scenario Evaluations” The Avalon Hill General Sept. 1980, pp 20-24.
Engle, Eloise and Paananen, Lauri. The Winter War: The Russo-Finnish Conflict, 1939-40. Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1973. Pages 85-88, 106, 110, 118, 161.
Ville Repo, editor. Miesten Kertomaa. Weilin Göös, 1967.
Marttinen, Toivo. “Home Sweet Home”. Miesten Kertomaa.
https://forum.axishistory.com/search.php?keywords=marttinen&t=175436&sf=msgonly (Accessed 26 August, 2022).
Google map coordinates.
The Russians of the 18th ID were met with only weak forces that harassed and stalled them without the fortifications or anti-tank weapons like the Mannerheim Line. They should have been ecstatic but they were not. All around them, the silent forests beckoned with bielaja smjert, white death, and no one dared leave the road and protective artillery for fear of disappearing forever. The eerie silence was short-lived. Before long, the roads to which the Russians clung for safety became frozen graveyards as Finnish patrols began surprising their campsites with deadly strikes.
Toivo Marttinen provides his personal account of this raid in his story “Home Sweet Home” in Miensten Kertomaa. It is as personal an account as I have ever read and upon which scenario twenty-three is based. Those interested may find an English translation at the end of the After Action Report
RESOURCES
Scenario 23 Silent Death card.
Suchar, Joseph and Mishcon, Jon. “The Percentage of Doom, CRESCENDO OF DOOM Scenario Evaluations” The Avalon Hill General Sept. 1980, pp 20-24.
Engle, Eloise and Paananen, Lauri. The Winter War: The Russo-Finnish Conflict, 1939-40. Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1973. Pages 85-88, 106, 110, 118, 161.
Ville Repo, editor. Miesten Kertomaa. Weilin Göös, 1967.
Marttinen, Toivo. “Home Sweet Home”. Miesten Kertomaa.
https://forum.axishistory.com/search.php?keywords=marttinen&t=175436&sf=msgonly (Accessed 26 August, 2022).
Google map coordinates.
AFTER ACTION REPORT
VICTORY CONDITIONS
The Finnish player wins by eliminating 22 Russian units (squads, crews, leaders) and/or building hexes. Deduct one unit from the Russian losses for each Finnish unit which is lost.
SETUP AND FINNISH ENTRY
AFTERMATH
Eliminated Units
Finnish Comments
I enjoyed this scenario because the designer captured the feel of a raid. The Russians are asleep for the first player turn unless they can roll a ‘2’ or less with one die, so expect twelve of nineteen units not to fire or engage in Close Combat. Skis provide the Finns mobility as they glide along at 1MF through open ground, woods and buildings. Conversely, the Russians are hampered by extreme winter, paying 2 MF for open ground and 4 MF for woods, lower SW break numbers and fate eliminations on ‘11’. The player feels the stark contrast in the fighting abilities between opponents, one adapted and trained to his environment and the other not.
The Finnish player skis onboard to little resistance, assaults his targets and engages the sleeping Russian in close combat without retaliation. Two Finnish squads against a Russian yields 4:1 odds in close combat, a KIA of ‘9’ or less. They may use Molotov cocktails to ignite the buildings and then watch it spread in later turns. He continues to chase down the enemy and kindle fires for four turns and then exits, hopefully the last turn kindling some buildings and advancing off.
I found a hammer and anvil approach effective with more units in the hammer to attack decisively. The northern anvil was to block fleeing Russians. Exiting south provides buildings along the board edge for a last turn kindling attempt. Keep the squads within reach of leaders to assist in rallies, a self-rally of ‘4’ is not reliable. Fires spread faster than you think in mulit-hex buildings (but not at all between single hex ones). You must be aggressive but allow two turns to withdraw.
The Finns eliminated 15 units and 12 buildings for the loss of 2 squads and 1 pulkka. 15 +12 -3 = 24.
A fun scenario but the trouble may be finding an opponent to play the Russians. I thank Monty for volunteering for this dubious assignment. He maintained his moral through the worst of it.
Russian Comments
In this scenario, the Russians were caught napping as Finnish commandos ski into their rest area. This time, only Five of 19 units were awake to defend themselves. That number is a bit low, but the Russian player should expect 67% of their units to be asleep on average.
The total defensive effort killed 2 Finnish squads and one pulkked. It was not enough as the attackers set 12 building hexes on fire. It was over by Turn 3. At that point, the Finnish had finished their job and were making an orderly exit to the south.
When playing this scenario one must consider the defense of the two story building carefully. Extra units downstairs could have delayed the fall of the position. Even if more troops are added there, it is still no guarantee that the Finnish with their Demolition charges and Molotov Cocktails will not make short work of it. Somehow the Russians must survive long enough to block the exit of the Finnish commandos as every enemy unit that does not exit counts against their Victory Conditions.
Like many Squad Leader scenarios, this one sets up the attackers to achieve tough Victory Conditions. The defenders have to get in the way to slow them down. It is an interesting puzzle to solve. Thanks to Scott for a great game. I am sure the Russians will trip them up the next time…..
I enjoyed this scenario because the designer captured the feel of a raid. The Russians are asleep for the first player turn unless they can roll a ‘2’ or less with one die, so expect twelve of nineteen units not to fire or engage in Close Combat. Skis provide the Finns mobility as they glide along at 1MF through open ground, woods and buildings. Conversely, the Russians are hampered by extreme winter, paying 2 MF for open ground and 4 MF for woods, lower SW break numbers and fate eliminations on ‘11’. The player feels the stark contrast in the fighting abilities between opponents, one adapted and trained to his environment and the other not.
The Finnish player skis onboard to little resistance, assaults his targets and engages the sleeping Russian in close combat without retaliation. Two Finnish squads against a Russian yields 4:1 odds in close combat, a KIA of ‘9’ or less. They may use Molotov cocktails to ignite the buildings and then watch it spread in later turns. He continues to chase down the enemy and kindle fires for four turns and then exits, hopefully the last turn kindling some buildings and advancing off.
I found a hammer and anvil approach effective with more units in the hammer to attack decisively. The northern anvil was to block fleeing Russians. Exiting south provides buildings along the board edge for a last turn kindling attempt. Keep the squads within reach of leaders to assist in rallies, a self-rally of ‘4’ is not reliable. Fires spread faster than you think in mulit-hex buildings (but not at all between single hex ones). You must be aggressive but allow two turns to withdraw.
The Finns eliminated 15 units and 12 buildings for the loss of 2 squads and 1 pulkka. 15 +12 -3 = 24.
A fun scenario but the trouble may be finding an opponent to play the Russians. I thank Monty for volunteering for this dubious assignment. He maintained his moral through the worst of it.
Russian Comments
In this scenario, the Russians were caught napping as Finnish commandos ski into their rest area. This time, only Five of 19 units were awake to defend themselves. That number is a bit low, but the Russian player should expect 67% of their units to be asleep on average.
The total defensive effort killed 2 Finnish squads and one pulkked. It was not enough as the attackers set 12 building hexes on fire. It was over by Turn 3. At that point, the Finnish had finished their job and were making an orderly exit to the south.
When playing this scenario one must consider the defense of the two story building carefully. Extra units downstairs could have delayed the fall of the position. Even if more troops are added there, it is still no guarantee that the Finnish with their Demolition charges and Molotov Cocktails will not make short work of it. Somehow the Russians must survive long enough to block the exit of the Finnish commandos as every enemy unit that does not exit counts against their Victory Conditions.
Like many Squad Leader scenarios, this one sets up the attackers to achieve tough Victory Conditions. The defenders have to get in the way to slow them down. It is an interesting puzzle to solve. Thanks to Scott for a great game. I am sure the Russians will trip them up the next time…..
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TRANSLATION OF “Home Sweet Home”, Miesten Kertomaa
Toivo Marttinen
Home sweet home
“Kansa Taisteli”, 02 1963
Somewhere in the enemy rear at Aittojoki, Suojärvi.
Os. Pajari (Detachment Pajari) comprised JR 16, Er.P. 10, 11, 112, 9./KTR13 in the period 24.12.1939 – 13.3.1940.
Estimated date 21st to 27th January 1940.
Clouds are slogging on low, fleeing like the night. Wind is chopping them up and shoving them somewhere in the direction of the Arctic ocean.
It is a January morning in 1940. The village is there, quiet in front of us. Its houses are silhouetted against a clear patch of the sky. A rusty weathervane squeaks somewhere and a dog is barking very far away. Or is it a fox ? The rumble of war has receded for a moment, silenced by the cold weather. As the night recedes the cold intensifies, dry tree trunks are snapped by it . Phone lines overhead at the roadside are buzzing quietly.
A group of long range patrol-men in white camo are standing on their skis in a patch of forest next to the village. They are leaning at their ski sticks and listening. When the frost cracks a trunk in the forest, the men twitch, point their SMG s and stare in the forest attentively. As nothing else happens the men again shift their posture soundlessly , leaning on their ski sticks. They are waiting.
Lt Perälä, a young Reserve officer, slowly skis past the line of men to the extreme wing and stops by me. I can see him in profile. There is frost on the breast of his white camo suit. The straps of his pistol holster and map case constitute a cross in the front of his breast. He is whispering in my ear:
-So this is your home village. You are familiar with the area. Our intelligence has reported that the enemy divisional HQ is situated in that house over there... The one on the extreme left, do you see it?
I nod. I know the house: it is my home. I intend to tell that but change my mind, there is now a lump in my throat.
The Lieutenant continues:
-We are going to sneak there and destroy as many of them as possible. We shall torch the house. Also we shall torch as many of the other houses as we can... But destroying that HQ billets is the first priority. Burning it down may create confusion which is our aim.
Again I nod. I am looking at my home...my old home. It must be sacrificed...like everything else, I am thinking. A great cause calls for great sacrifice. The house is dead already, being occupied by the enemy. Nobody knows it is my home, and I make up my mind not to talk about it.
-The two of us shall be the spearhead, the Lieutenant continues, -you and me. There seems to be a sentry in the yard. We are going to take him out. The ahkio sleds are left here and guarded by one man. We have to act fast before it is too light.
I bend down to check my ski bindings: they are all right. I switch off the safety of my SMG and move the weapon on my breast. Frost is biting my cheeks yet I am feeling how an odd wave of warmth is passing through my body. I am ready...
I start skiing as the spearhead. Our pals are looking at us, silent. Skis are hissing in the soft snow. We reach open ground. There is a sauna, the sauna of my home, where I have bathed innumerable times...I may have been born there. Now it is smelling of soot and rotten birch leaves: it has not been used. The snow is untread and the path is covered with snow. We are skiing past the window of the sauna and I think I spot a piece of candle and a matchbox on the window sill inside. My chest is aching and a smarting veil is rising on my eyes.
We stop and start staring at the houses. They appear to be dead but our ears discern sounds of horses chewing and stomping in the stable and the cowshed. We are skiing closer.
Suddenly the Lieutenant firmly grabs my arm: he has seen something. I am following the direction of his gaze. Quite right: there is a sentry in the shadow of the porch. He is watching the road, presenting his side to us. There is a black SMG on his chest, visible against his white camo suit. Holding my breath I am staring at the man. There are a number of stacked rifles in the yard which tells me that there is at least one Company of soldiers billeted in my home and they are sleeping in the main room. The HQ is billeted in the guest rooms, I am guessing.
The Lieutenant signals me. I understand it and hand over my SMG to him. Then I pull out my pistol and get off my skis. When kneeling to start creeping the sentry moves. That makes me freeze for a while. I point my pistol although I know that my Lieutenant, too, is aiming at the man standing in the yard in case there should be a surprise. But the man keeps standing there, immobile. Maybe a weak premonition of danger is lurking in his subconsciousness.
I am creeping in the yard of my home. I remember that I used to creep there when I was but a boy. The yard used to be my playground back then. Now I am facing a cold and cruel reality, but despite the tension mixed with fear the ancient memoirs are revived in my mind. Trying to expel them I am creeping ever more carefully. A failure would be fateful not only to me.
I feel how the back of my shirt is soaked with sweat. I am right behind the back of the man. I am holding my breath. Silently I get up, then my one arm is grabbing around the throat of the man and I stab.
We carry the man in the space between the cow-shed and the stable. Everything happened in a brief moment. The Lieutenant gets on his skis and is away. I hear a brief command and in a moment the entire Platoon is standing in the shadow of the houses. The Lieutenant is whispering his orders. Half of the platoon is skiing to secure. Some of them shall target two of the nearest houses.
I am entering in the porch as scout. Foreign smell hits my face, but as I open the door of the main room it squeaks with a familiar sound. There is a sound of snoring in the big room. Three hand grenades and two Molotov cocktails are flung through the entrance... They burst before we are out of the porch. There is a flash of flame in the windows. There is yelling and men trying to get out. SMGs join the melee, their nasty chatter is heard at the neighboring houses, too. There are men pouring out from the stable on the snow covered yard illuminated by flames flashing out of the windows. Our attempt has been successful and we start quickly retreating back to our ski track.
There is a howl of a siren...Bullets are whistling overhead. We retaliate randomly and get back to the men guarding our sleds. Arriving at the edge of the forest enemy AA weapons open up at us. Shells are bursting overhead but now is not the time to seek cover. We put our wounded in the sleds and start our return journey as the first rays of the sun are illuminating the tops of pines. Now it is a clear January morning.
Our “visit” has indeed created confusion. Although we now find ourselves deep in the forest we still can hear lively shooting and shouting. Three houses used by the enemy had been torched. I am skiing in the securing rear detachment and I stop every now and then to listen. There may be pursuers at our heels any moment. I am in low spirits. I know that I shall never more see my home as it once was. There is only going to be sooty ruins with chimneys sticking up.
We are skiing through forest that I know. There, under a thick layer of snow, is lying a pile of firewood I cut last autumn...there is another...and if I remember correctly it was here that I had a break and ate my provisions. There is a big boulder, one side is bare of snow. I have been hunting in this forest, it is here that I got my first prey of game. Everything is familiar but dead, cold. I keep skiing, sunken in my thoughts. I scarcely notice the drops of blood by the ski track... our wounded in the sleds have left it behind.
Suddenly I am alerted. There are fighter aircraft flying overhead. Fortunately the forest here is dense but what is going to happen as we shall cross the bog in front of us? The aircraft are sending bursts randomly, there is whine and cracking in the forest. The Platoon has stopped. Everyone is peering past the treetops.
The aircraft vanish. I can guess that they are seeking us. As we arrive at the edge of the bog I stay there with a ten man squad. The ski track cuts through the bog as a straight line. Snow is glittering, making the ski track look almost black. It is amazing that the airman did not spot it. We are waiting as the rest of us are skiing across the bog. We are listening and watching behind us. A distant noise of firearms starts to be heard from the front line situated somewhere at Aittojoki. Enemy artillery is joining in. They are not far from us because the reports are feeling nasty in our ears. They are nasty because we are aware that every report is sending a dose of death at our friends.
Again the aircraft are coming. Just at the convenient hour as the last man crossing the bog is vanishing in the opposite forest, hiding there. We cannot continue our journey before the fighters have gone away. They are flying low and spraying the forest with their machine guns. Apparently our sabotage has made them bitter. But no pursuers are turning up. They may be assembling their troops believing that we, too, were there in great numbers.
The bog ahead of us is wide. De.-touring it via forest might be fatal. We do not know where the enemy has placed their forces. Now, apparently our track has been spotted from the aircraft. The planes are circling over the bog, decrease altitude and keep in the vicinity of the ski track. There are six of them. They are not shooting any more but two planes leave the formation and fly in the direction of the track above the forest opposite to us. We are lying in the snow, listening. The enemy is not firing, our pals are saved in the cover of the forest.
What about us now? We do not dare to cross the bog as long as there are aircraft overhead. Either we detour the bog or wait for the night. Freeze is numbing our limbs. The two aircraft return and join the formation, after a while the escadrille vanishes in the direction they came from. Now we mount on our skis. Our equipment is light, we shall soon reach the far side.
Then the aircraft return once more. Engines are whining with joy as their trick worked. We dive into the snow and dig in it. The planes are diving and nasty cracking is tearing the cold air. Snow is flying around us as bullets are hitting the frozen moss under the snow cover. We do not budge, we just are waiting for a bullet to hit us. Six fighters are spewing them. One could believe that a bloody aerial battle would be going on. I would like to stand up and retaliate with my SMG but I abandon the idea. My fear is that every one of my pals could be pierced by tens of bullets. They are lying still just as I am. I am thinking how I would be able to retrieve the bodies of my pals.
Then the aircraft vanish. They have completed their task.
I put up my head and meet blinding sunlight. I am looking around. Another head rises, a third one...Actually several more, everyone is getting up from the snow. I am feeling pleasantly grateful. Not a single scratch in any of us. The men are covered with snow and stiff due to cold – but undamaged. I cannot but laugh. I am laughing for a long time while weeping until my pals manage to make me calm down. My nervous tension is relaxed and I am back to normal. In the forest we catch up with the rest of our outfit. They did not leave us behind but stayed to watch the painful show on the bog. They, too, thought that we would not survive.
We find ourselves on the ski track again.
Home, sweet home... Thinking about it I am trying to decide whether I truly did everything I could for it in the best manner. The house is no more but the soil is there, the land and the familiar terrain. Fire was not able to destroy them and shall not be. The destruction of my home was the price to be paid for them. I am resigned to this. Energy is returning in my tired limbs and I am struggling to ski to be the leading man of the Platoon.
We are waiting for darkness. It is favouring us as we shall cross the area patrolled by the enemy on skis. Our wounded are moaning in the sleds, they have been administered the first aid and we cannot do anything else for them.
Lieutenant Perälä skis to my side. His boyish face is tired but he tries to put on a consoling smile.
-Was it your home?
-It was...
-I could guess it since you found the door without trouble in the dark porch, he said, offering me a cig.
Mutely we are staring at the open ground in front of us being very slowly immersed in darkness. Once we have traversed it we shall find ourselves among friends. The sounds of battle can be heard in the otherwise silent wilderness. We are listening to it without talking, leaning on our ski sticks.
-We shall no more use our old ski track from here on. It might be mined.
The Lieutenant is speaking in a low voice. I admit he is right and as we finally are able to proceed in the cover of darkness we are making a new ski track. We manage to slip through and I am feeling really happy after a long time.
Toivo Marttinen
Home sweet home
“Kansa Taisteli”, 02 1963
Somewhere in the enemy rear at Aittojoki, Suojärvi.
Os. Pajari (Detachment Pajari) comprised JR 16, Er.P. 10, 11, 112, 9./KTR13 in the period 24.12.1939 – 13.3.1940.
Estimated date 21st to 27th January 1940.
Clouds are slogging on low, fleeing like the night. Wind is chopping them up and shoving them somewhere in the direction of the Arctic ocean.
It is a January morning in 1940. The village is there, quiet in front of us. Its houses are silhouetted against a clear patch of the sky. A rusty weathervane squeaks somewhere and a dog is barking very far away. Or is it a fox ? The rumble of war has receded for a moment, silenced by the cold weather. As the night recedes the cold intensifies, dry tree trunks are snapped by it . Phone lines overhead at the roadside are buzzing quietly.
A group of long range patrol-men in white camo are standing on their skis in a patch of forest next to the village. They are leaning at their ski sticks and listening. When the frost cracks a trunk in the forest, the men twitch, point their SMG s and stare in the forest attentively. As nothing else happens the men again shift their posture soundlessly , leaning on their ski sticks. They are waiting.
Lt Perälä, a young Reserve officer, slowly skis past the line of men to the extreme wing and stops by me. I can see him in profile. There is frost on the breast of his white camo suit. The straps of his pistol holster and map case constitute a cross in the front of his breast. He is whispering in my ear:
-So this is your home village. You are familiar with the area. Our intelligence has reported that the enemy divisional HQ is situated in that house over there... The one on the extreme left, do you see it?
I nod. I know the house: it is my home. I intend to tell that but change my mind, there is now a lump in my throat.
The Lieutenant continues:
-We are going to sneak there and destroy as many of them as possible. We shall torch the house. Also we shall torch as many of the other houses as we can... But destroying that HQ billets is the first priority. Burning it down may create confusion which is our aim.
Again I nod. I am looking at my home...my old home. It must be sacrificed...like everything else, I am thinking. A great cause calls for great sacrifice. The house is dead already, being occupied by the enemy. Nobody knows it is my home, and I make up my mind not to talk about it.
-The two of us shall be the spearhead, the Lieutenant continues, -you and me. There seems to be a sentry in the yard. We are going to take him out. The ahkio sleds are left here and guarded by one man. We have to act fast before it is too light.
I bend down to check my ski bindings: they are all right. I switch off the safety of my SMG and move the weapon on my breast. Frost is biting my cheeks yet I am feeling how an odd wave of warmth is passing through my body. I am ready...
I start skiing as the spearhead. Our pals are looking at us, silent. Skis are hissing in the soft snow. We reach open ground. There is a sauna, the sauna of my home, where I have bathed innumerable times...I may have been born there. Now it is smelling of soot and rotten birch leaves: it has not been used. The snow is untread and the path is covered with snow. We are skiing past the window of the sauna and I think I spot a piece of candle and a matchbox on the window sill inside. My chest is aching and a smarting veil is rising on my eyes.
We stop and start staring at the houses. They appear to be dead but our ears discern sounds of horses chewing and stomping in the stable and the cowshed. We are skiing closer.
Suddenly the Lieutenant firmly grabs my arm: he has seen something. I am following the direction of his gaze. Quite right: there is a sentry in the shadow of the porch. He is watching the road, presenting his side to us. There is a black SMG on his chest, visible against his white camo suit. Holding my breath I am staring at the man. There are a number of stacked rifles in the yard which tells me that there is at least one Company of soldiers billeted in my home and they are sleeping in the main room. The HQ is billeted in the guest rooms, I am guessing.
The Lieutenant signals me. I understand it and hand over my SMG to him. Then I pull out my pistol and get off my skis. When kneeling to start creeping the sentry moves. That makes me freeze for a while. I point my pistol although I know that my Lieutenant, too, is aiming at the man standing in the yard in case there should be a surprise. But the man keeps standing there, immobile. Maybe a weak premonition of danger is lurking in his subconsciousness.
I am creeping in the yard of my home. I remember that I used to creep there when I was but a boy. The yard used to be my playground back then. Now I am facing a cold and cruel reality, but despite the tension mixed with fear the ancient memoirs are revived in my mind. Trying to expel them I am creeping ever more carefully. A failure would be fateful not only to me.
I feel how the back of my shirt is soaked with sweat. I am right behind the back of the man. I am holding my breath. Silently I get up, then my one arm is grabbing around the throat of the man and I stab.
We carry the man in the space between the cow-shed and the stable. Everything happened in a brief moment. The Lieutenant gets on his skis and is away. I hear a brief command and in a moment the entire Platoon is standing in the shadow of the houses. The Lieutenant is whispering his orders. Half of the platoon is skiing to secure. Some of them shall target two of the nearest houses.
I am entering in the porch as scout. Foreign smell hits my face, but as I open the door of the main room it squeaks with a familiar sound. There is a sound of snoring in the big room. Three hand grenades and two Molotov cocktails are flung through the entrance... They burst before we are out of the porch. There is a flash of flame in the windows. There is yelling and men trying to get out. SMGs join the melee, their nasty chatter is heard at the neighboring houses, too. There are men pouring out from the stable on the snow covered yard illuminated by flames flashing out of the windows. Our attempt has been successful and we start quickly retreating back to our ski track.
There is a howl of a siren...Bullets are whistling overhead. We retaliate randomly and get back to the men guarding our sleds. Arriving at the edge of the forest enemy AA weapons open up at us. Shells are bursting overhead but now is not the time to seek cover. We put our wounded in the sleds and start our return journey as the first rays of the sun are illuminating the tops of pines. Now it is a clear January morning.
Our “visit” has indeed created confusion. Although we now find ourselves deep in the forest we still can hear lively shooting and shouting. Three houses used by the enemy had been torched. I am skiing in the securing rear detachment and I stop every now and then to listen. There may be pursuers at our heels any moment. I am in low spirits. I know that I shall never more see my home as it once was. There is only going to be sooty ruins with chimneys sticking up.
We are skiing through forest that I know. There, under a thick layer of snow, is lying a pile of firewood I cut last autumn...there is another...and if I remember correctly it was here that I had a break and ate my provisions. There is a big boulder, one side is bare of snow. I have been hunting in this forest, it is here that I got my first prey of game. Everything is familiar but dead, cold. I keep skiing, sunken in my thoughts. I scarcely notice the drops of blood by the ski track... our wounded in the sleds have left it behind.
Suddenly I am alerted. There are fighter aircraft flying overhead. Fortunately the forest here is dense but what is going to happen as we shall cross the bog in front of us? The aircraft are sending bursts randomly, there is whine and cracking in the forest. The Platoon has stopped. Everyone is peering past the treetops.
The aircraft vanish. I can guess that they are seeking us. As we arrive at the edge of the bog I stay there with a ten man squad. The ski track cuts through the bog as a straight line. Snow is glittering, making the ski track look almost black. It is amazing that the airman did not spot it. We are waiting as the rest of us are skiing across the bog. We are listening and watching behind us. A distant noise of firearms starts to be heard from the front line situated somewhere at Aittojoki. Enemy artillery is joining in. They are not far from us because the reports are feeling nasty in our ears. They are nasty because we are aware that every report is sending a dose of death at our friends.
Again the aircraft are coming. Just at the convenient hour as the last man crossing the bog is vanishing in the opposite forest, hiding there. We cannot continue our journey before the fighters have gone away. They are flying low and spraying the forest with their machine guns. Apparently our sabotage has made them bitter. But no pursuers are turning up. They may be assembling their troops believing that we, too, were there in great numbers.
The bog ahead of us is wide. De.-touring it via forest might be fatal. We do not know where the enemy has placed their forces. Now, apparently our track has been spotted from the aircraft. The planes are circling over the bog, decrease altitude and keep in the vicinity of the ski track. There are six of them. They are not shooting any more but two planes leave the formation and fly in the direction of the track above the forest opposite to us. We are lying in the snow, listening. The enemy is not firing, our pals are saved in the cover of the forest.
What about us now? We do not dare to cross the bog as long as there are aircraft overhead. Either we detour the bog or wait for the night. Freeze is numbing our limbs. The two aircraft return and join the formation, after a while the escadrille vanishes in the direction they came from. Now we mount on our skis. Our equipment is light, we shall soon reach the far side.
Then the aircraft return once more. Engines are whining with joy as their trick worked. We dive into the snow and dig in it. The planes are diving and nasty cracking is tearing the cold air. Snow is flying around us as bullets are hitting the frozen moss under the snow cover. We do not budge, we just are waiting for a bullet to hit us. Six fighters are spewing them. One could believe that a bloody aerial battle would be going on. I would like to stand up and retaliate with my SMG but I abandon the idea. My fear is that every one of my pals could be pierced by tens of bullets. They are lying still just as I am. I am thinking how I would be able to retrieve the bodies of my pals.
Then the aircraft vanish. They have completed their task.
I put up my head and meet blinding sunlight. I am looking around. Another head rises, a third one...Actually several more, everyone is getting up from the snow. I am feeling pleasantly grateful. Not a single scratch in any of us. The men are covered with snow and stiff due to cold – but undamaged. I cannot but laugh. I am laughing for a long time while weeping until my pals manage to make me calm down. My nervous tension is relaxed and I am back to normal. In the forest we catch up with the rest of our outfit. They did not leave us behind but stayed to watch the painful show on the bog. They, too, thought that we would not survive.
We find ourselves on the ski track again.
Home, sweet home... Thinking about it I am trying to decide whether I truly did everything I could for it in the best manner. The house is no more but the soil is there, the land and the familiar terrain. Fire was not able to destroy them and shall not be. The destruction of my home was the price to be paid for them. I am resigned to this. Energy is returning in my tired limbs and I am struggling to ski to be the leading man of the Platoon.
We are waiting for darkness. It is favouring us as we shall cross the area patrolled by the enemy on skis. Our wounded are moaning in the sleds, they have been administered the first aid and we cannot do anything else for them.
Lieutenant Perälä skis to my side. His boyish face is tired but he tries to put on a consoling smile.
-Was it your home?
-It was...
-I could guess it since you found the door without trouble in the dark porch, he said, offering me a cig.
Mutely we are staring at the open ground in front of us being very slowly immersed in darkness. Once we have traversed it we shall find ourselves among friends. The sounds of battle can be heard in the otherwise silent wilderness. We are listening to it without talking, leaning on our ski sticks.
-We shall no more use our old ski track from here on. It might be mined.
The Lieutenant is speaking in a low voice. I admit he is right and as we finally are able to proceed in the cover of darkness we are making a new ski track. We manage to slip through and I am feeling really happy after a long time.
Scott B
Sep 3, 2022, 12:39:57 AM9/3/22
to Squad Leader AARs
An easier to read pdf is here.
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