After World War Two, most of the world expected the inevitable to occur in a clash of arms between the East and the West; the Red Bear of Communist Russia and the Eagle of the American Republic.

Inevitably, the experts maintained, the clash of arms would march from the clash of armor on armor in the Fulda Gap of Germany, to the usage of nuclear arms on army divisions and the inevitable reduction of each countries cities and population to the stone-age.

Yet in this 'inevitable' clash of East and West, of Communist v Republic, most of the 'experts' overlooked one matter of keen historic interest...

It is a time that occurred as the echoes of the Great War merged into the time of the Great Depression and the rising tensions of nations in 1930s Europe...

For at the end of the decade a time of war began, one that proved to be the first clash of arms between Communist Russia and a Democratic nation...

It is the time of the nearly forgotten Winter War, it is the time whenn the nation of Finland fought for its very survival against Russia and for a time did the impossible...

It is in this time I present to you my alternate history of the Winter War, and ask of you to consider on this journey, what if one event had occured, no matter how small, that could change history...

So it is I present to you the tale of how the Snow Fox became a legend, and invite you to share the journey with us all...

 

Part one...

23 August, 1939 (Headlines)

In a move that has shocked the political world at large; the governments of Germany and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics have concluded and signed a treaty of mutual non-aggression. The released statements of many world leaders has ranged across the spectrum, from ones of rejoicing that the prospects of another great war in Europe has been avoided, to others who unofficially are seeking more information or are involved in a series of ‘intense discussions’ with allied governments.


1 September, 1939 (Headlines)

Ladies and gentlemen today it is my sad duty to announce that war has returned to the continent of Europe as on this day the armed forces of Germany have invaded western Poland. Heavy fighting is reported by all sides, with Germany announcing ‘deep, massive and sweeping penetration’ by its armed forces. Allegedly the Polish army is already collapsing; surrendering in ever growing numbers and the government has fled the nation for asylum in Romania. Unofficial accounts from radio operators in Poland speak of continued resistance that is ‘stout, strong and determined’ in the face of the unprovoked aggression of Germany.

Many world leaders have strongly denounced this aggression on the part of the government of Germany, with France, Britain and the United States of America demanding that the armies of Germany cease all hostilities at once. This is to be followed by withdrawal to the original border, while an international mediation via the League of Nations occurs to settle the matter of hostilities between the respective governments.

No comment has been relayed from the German government.


3 September, 1939 (Headlines)

On this day the crisis in Europe has grown exponentially, with the governments of France and Britain officially declaring war upon the government of Germany for the invasion of Poland. Contacts within the respective military and government departments tell that armed intervention in Poland, and the direct territorial invasion of Germany ‘shall occur within a hand count of days, or at most, before the next two weeks are over.’

The fighting continues on, with the government of Germany reporting more and more territory gained with each passing hour, while Polish sources report the main thrust of the German Blitzkrieg has been blunted, but that the nations casualties have been high. The announcement of the declaration of war by France and Britain has brought renewed hope for the beleaguered nation.


17 September, 1939 (Headlines)

In a move of blatant opportunism and aggression the armies of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics have invaded eastern Poland. The representatives of the USSR declared that the move is to ensure that law and order and stability are maintained in the face of the complete collapse of the Polish government. Within hours the move had been condemned by most members of the League of Nations…



5 October, 1939 (Headlines)

Poland has officially ceased to exist according to the governments of Germany and the USSR. The small nations of Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia have been annexed by the USSR after being coerced into signing one sided ‘mutual defense pacts’ with the central communist government of Russia….

Unconfirmed reports mention that officials from Finland have been invited to Moscow for ‘discussions of a most specific nature concerning the mutual defense of both countries.’ One former high-ranking military officer explained that usually means ‘Moscow makes the threats and Finland will make concessions, or there shall be war in the end…’

₰₰​

Deep in the halls of STAVKA, Supreme Headquarters for the armed forces of the USSR, the assembled leaders stand at attention as the lone man walked calmly in the door and silently proceeded to the head of the long, map-covered table.

His every footfall echoed like thunder across the room, and heightened the thick tension that was further magnified by his aura of power, authority, ruthlessness and determination. He reveled in the fear that radiated from all of those present, for all knew with a simple gesture, a nod, or one spoken word, he could make or break any or all of their careers, send them to the gulag for life, or have them summarily executed.

Taking his seat he motioned for all to sit and began to explain the matters at hand. “Comrades, the conquest of Poland and the annexation of Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia are nearing completion. The ancient territories of our great Rodinia are nearly complete, with one vexing exception. Despite our most generous offers to them, the lackeys of the Imperialist West, especially those of Britain, who ‘govern’ in Finland, have slapped aside the hand of communist generosity.”

“Comrades, as of now I am instructing all of you to enact the plans we have prepared for such an eventuality,” the man stated, hammering away on the table with his fist as his eyes, cold and gray, blazed with fury and rage at the government who has defied him since he was forced to sign the 1921 Treaty of Tartu forced upon the peaceful people of the USSR by the decrepit and Imperialist-led League of Nations.

“Comrades, explain to me again every detail of the plans as they exist at this time, do not leave out one detail,” he declared as he motioned for the NKVD guards, members of the feared State Security apparatus, to watch for the first hint of defeatism, hesitation or anything that may be construed as treason. For those so suspected the results would be publically declared ‘a quiet and well earned retirement’…

Something that all at the table, especially the man who inspired such awe and terror in all about him, knew to mean ‘death by firing squad.’

For that lone man, Premier Joseph Stalin, he wanted it no other way. He and he alone ruled in the USSR, and he held the fate of all in his hands alone.

For nearly twenty years he had fumed over the humiliation Finland and her Imperialist backers had inflicted upon him in 1921. So now he will have his revenge and have the proper lands of the Old Russian Tsar’s restored to the motherland, under proper communist guidance of course.

He listened as the details were explained over several hours, with only one small addition proposed to ensure there will be no doubt as to ‘Finnish aggression’ being the cause of the coming invasion. “Make it so,” said Stalin.






31 October, 1939 (Headlines)

Today before the assembly of the Supreme Soviet, Foreign Minister Molotov, for the first time in public announced the terms ‘requested’ of the government of Finland to ‘ensure the defenses of the peaceful people of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.’

The ‘requests,’ a polite term for what most people in the democratic nations of the world will call ‘demands at the point of a gun’ were for land to be leased for thirty years, or transferred directly into the hands of the USSR while the government of Finland would receive in return land that is barren and worthless. German Chancellor Adolph Hitler has called upon the people of Finland and their leaders to accept the terms peacefully while time remains for them to do so…

Needless to say, the message of ‘while time remains for them to do so…’ has dramatically increased tensions in a continent already at war between the Allies and the Axis powers.

₰₰​

Stephen half-listened to the news coming from the daily radio broadcasts that detailed the current build up of tension between Finland and Russia. Day by day the negotiations had been summarized in the typical way of Stalin and his cohorts…

“Agree to our terms with no compromise or face the fist of steel from our armies.” That is the message they have sent before, when Finland finally won its independence at the end of the Great War.

Memories of that fierce time played across his mind as he examined the masterly-crafted rifle that he held; its perfect design and balance, custom-made as a birthday present to one special to him, will make her one of the greatest of hunters ever to stalk game in the woods. The new scope mounted to it was commissioned by a friend of his, whose designs were a generation or more ahead of their time.

Stephen twirled and tossed the rifle; rapidly worked the bolt-action to gain the final feel of how smooth it will play when time was of the essence – as he learned recently with a bear that almost had him for dinner. No flaw could be found, no blemish, no mistake in his greatest creation of all the firearms he has handcrafted in his life as an armorer, soldier, hunter and…dealer in goods and stuff best left unexplained and preferably never found by agents of the law.

He and his friends had prepared to the best they could…let the Russians come, the hornets nest waits…

Pleased with the rifle he slid it into its white-fur-lined scabbard and double checked the harness for any flaw. Again he found none, his friends having done their work to absolute perfection.

“She will love this rifle,” Stephen said as he mulled over the coming event, “her birthday is on the 30th of November. I will be there and show her how to hunt with her new rifle; she will hunt as never before until all know her name.”

All too soon Stephen would come to understand the prophetic tone of his words. For that rifle will be wielded by one to become a legend…



24 November, 1939 (Headlines)

Tensions continue to build between the government of Finland and the USSR as two counter proposals were made to find an honorable solution to the demands of Moscow. Both proposals were summarily rejected as being completely unacceptable on the premise they would leave the USSR completely vulnerable in the region of Leningrad.

All diplomatic ties between Finland and the USSR have been severed by the departure of the Finnish party after being ordered home to Helsinki for ‘consultations.’


26 November, 1939 (Headlines)

Unconfirmed reports coming from the party news services of the USSR have declared a ‘surprise and dastardly attack on Russian territory has occurred by units of the Fascist government of Finland upon instructions by their masters, the Imperialist Industrialists of the West.’

Foreign Minister Molotov has condemned this ‘massacre of Russian youth and destruction of much Russian history in the border village of Mainila…

₰₰​

“My fellow comrades,” declared the legendary ‘man of steel,’ Premier Stalin to the Soviet High Command who stood at attention before the table where he sat. “Negotiations have fallen through with the Fascist government of Finland, and now we have this unprovoked assault upon our homeland. As per plans already prepared for such an occurrence, the orders are henceforth given to you and your troops…just before dawn on 30 November the great army of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics shall invade Finland and liberate her oppressed masses who cry for freedom under a proper communist government.”

His anger flared hot in his eyes and iron-cold in his words as he slammed his hand on the hard table, “I will be very clear in this matter. Failure will not be tolerated; the slightest sign of incompetence, cowardly action and treason against the party or the state will mean summary execution by the NKVD. All orders and plans made will be approved by them before any are carried out. Remember, they answer to me alone…”

Needless to say everyone got the message.

Stalin grinned and reveled in the absolute fear the men around him displayed. HE was in control, the master of all in Russia to do with as he pleased.

Soon enough the disgrace inflicted upon him by Finland so long ago will be avenged, a dark spot on his fierce reputation. Everyone present knew that the words he spoke of failed negotiations were mere window dressing, for the might of four Russian Army Corps are in place at key crossing points along the Finland – Russian border.

Invasion had been inevitable for some time, and the Fin’s would pay for their obstinacy in fire and blood.

 

Part two

30 November 1939 rear-area of Russian Ninth Army Corp

Major-General Yuri Bogdan watched the border region from the wooded ridge just shy of the Finnish-Russian border. The small village, little more than a hamlet not even worthy of a mark on any official map, showed at the limits of his binoculars, just one more minor obstacle for the grand liberation of Finland that will be erased in a few more minutes.

He turned to the regimental commanders who surrounded him, each standing tall and proud, as he gave them his final instructions in the great crusade that is to commence. Each order was repeated back in precise detail to him and to the division’s chief commissar, Major-General Vitaly of the NKVD (State Security). All of the officers knew that one misstep, one failure, one infraction, or the appearance of any of the aforementioned, can become grounds for summary execution by the NKVD.

Anyone doubting that only had to glance at the freshly turned earth that marked thirty graves of fellow officers who were shot an hour ago for ‘inappropriate lack of fighting spirit for the cause of the state.’

“Comrades,” Major-General Bogdan spoke to the gathered officers, “our division has been granted the honor of spearheading the crusade in the liberation of our communist brethren from the fascists who currently rule Finland. As you know, less than 72 hours ago, our sovereign soil was violated in a border clash designed to provoke the world’s sympathy for the banditti leaders of Finland and thus turn them against our honorable leader Comrade Stalin.”

He watched Major-General Vitaly casually stroll back and forth around the officers, as one would expect of a rancher or farmer inspecting his prized collection of cows and steers before sending them to market. He went on with his speech, “Comrades, each of us will execute our parts to perfection, and we will maintain radio silence as per Army Headquarters orders until instructed otherwise. Use the motorbike couriers you have well and with due diligence, no opportunity to crush the enemy must be wasted.”

He hammered his clenched fist into his gloved hand, “Speed, shock and unrelenting pressure, this is how we shall split this section of the front line wide open and advance ever onward. All prisoners taken are to be sent to our comrades of State Security unless directed, as per orders signed by Premier Comrade Stalin, otherwise by each regiments commissar or by orders of Major-General Commissar Vitaly.”

He pointed to the recently filled graves to one side of the gathered officers, “Understand, there is to be no retreat or surrender,” his voice deepened as his rage mounted, “those who do so are guilty of treason and shall be dealt with swiftly as these traitors to the state have been dealt with.”

“Now return to your regiments and get ready to cross the border as per plans,” he watched the officers salute and flee for their staff vehicles like a panicked gathering of rabbits in the sight of a band of hawks on the hunt.

₰₰​

Stephen had just crested the small hills summit when he heard the first thundering of artillery unleashed from across the border. He watched in horror as blast after crushing blast of cannon shell and rockets landed around the hamlet of Summers Mist, where his granddaughter Nikkei’s birthday party is taking place, a day of joy and happiness as his homeland neared war that no one wanted to have happen.

Sadly, as the clouds of smoke and churned earth merged with the cries and screams of his family and friends, he knew the war no one wanted had begun. He shouldered the cloth-wrapped present he had spent so many months crafting for Nikkei’s birthday, and felt the tears flow down his cheeks as he watched his world taken from him for the second time in his life by warfare.

₰₰​

Her world spun in a haze of pain and dizziness as she struggled to open her eyes. The gentle crackling of a fire flooded her ears and the mixture of cooking meat, burning wood and other odors assaulted her sense of smell with overwhelming force. She struggled to rise, slowly lifting herself onto her elbows and then falling back to the ground still enshrouded by the thick blanket someone had put over her while she was unconscious.

A figure leaned down next to her and handed her a cup of cold water that she guzzled down, all but choking upon its chilled descent into her parched mouth and throat.

“Easy Nikkei, easy there take your time,” Stephen said as he helped her sit up. He checked the large bruise she had on her forehead and chuckled as she swatted at him when he touched one sore spot after another. “You will be fine Nikkei; at the least I still have my granddaughter with me.”

“Grandpa what happened,” Nikkei asked, not comprehending his last words he had said to her, “Where are all the others, mama and papa and my brothers…” She stopped upon seeing the expression that showed upon his face, understanding at last what had happened to everyone else.

“No grandpa, no not that, please not that,” she said, collapsing into his arms as he drew her close. She broke down completely, the sobs coming hard and fast for the loss of her entire family. “Why grandpa, why did this have to happen?”

“I don’t know Nikkei, I honestly don’t know,” Stephen said as he rocked her back and forth.

Actually he did know, having followed the intense negotiations between the Finnish-Soviet governments. Each day the USSR had become more and more demanding in the concessions it sought, making it clear with none-too-subtle threats and gestures that war would be the result save for complete and unconditional surrender of all territorial demands made…a chain of demands that Stephen knew could not be accepted by Finland.

Yet he, like most in the hamlet, had hoped for common sense and peace to come about. So it was that Nikkei’s eighteenth birthday offered a time to celebrate and for the community to forget about the outside world for a short time…then the bombardment arrived, slaughtering nearly everyone and destroying every building in the area.

Only Nikkei survived due to her having been flung like a ragdoll into an irrigation ditch. Stephen had found her half frozen and brought her to one of the small cabins in the wooded hills he called home, hoping to figure out how to get her to safety when she could travel again.

Nikkei pointed to the bound bundle next to Stephen and asked, “Grandpa, what is that you have there?”

He looked into her pain-filled eyes, glad for something to distract her even for a short time from the crushing loss of all that she had known. “This is my birthday gift for you Nikkei, just as I promised to make last year, one all of your own.”

Nikkei watched as Stephen untied the bundle and removed a rifle scabbard from beneath the canvas. He turned and presented it to her as if she were a queen of some forgotten land worthy of a rare and precious gift from her people.

She took the rifle scabbard in her hands and laid it across her lap, stroking the soft leather covered in white fur. The rifles stock, made of finely lacquered wood carved in detailed images of her hunting in the deep woods spoke of Stephens’s skill as a master gun maker and armorer.

Gently Nikkei pulled it free of the scabbard and examined it for some time, feeling the precise balance and form that already felt a natural extension of her. The telescopic sight glistened in the soft firelight, and she spotted the signature of an old friend of her grandfathers, a man who made masterwork optics superior to even the finest made in Germany.

Two wonderful treasures for her birthday; such a prize of riches she felt unworthy of possessing let alone being able to hold in her hands.

“Grandpa I can’t take this, it’s more worthy in your hands…” she shushed as Stephen shook his head.

“You saved me from that bear last year Nikkei,” he said with a smile. He had made one mistake on the hunt he had taken her on, one moment of carelessness in which the bear reared up and threatened his life. Nikkei proved the quicker though, as she placed three slugs into the bears heart and head and thus mortally wounded the brute. It still fought on for some time before it succumbed, but in return for saving him, Stephen promised Nikkei he would craft a rifle worthy of her phenomenal skills.

“I wish mama and papa could have seen this, along with everyone else…’ she began to sob again as the truth slammed home hard in her heart. Her family is gone forever, as are her friends, all save for Stephen. Something deep in her soul snapped, flooding her with a fiery resolve that consumed her in an instant. The beasts who had done this to them will be made to pay, and in blood.

“Grandpa, where are the monsters who did this, where are they?” she demanded, her voice filled with anger and rage none could have dreamed existed. None save for Stephen who had long recognized the same traits in her that he had, and understood nothing will hold her back from having her revenge on the Russians, no matter if in the end it cost her own life.

He shook his head, recalling the time back in the struggle of 1918 when Finland won its independence from the Tsar’s of Russia, and the times of trouble which followed. He had been a colonel then, and for a time he fought as a partisan behind the lines, becoming such a scourge on his enemies that they called him ‘Ghost Bear.’

“And so history will repeat itself…” he whispered. That drew a curious look from Nikkei who still waited for his answer.

“Nikkei we are going to get you to safety and then I and some friends will begin to fight these monsters, I will not lose…oh why I even bother…’ He snorted and rolled his eyes to the heavens as she struggled to stand up and storm out of the small cabin to go it alone. “God above, she is more like me than even her mama could have figured…”

“Nikkei hold on there,” he grabbed her as she began to collapse to the floor, still woozy from the blow to her head. “Fine then, I have a few things to get ready for our hunt, we will be partisans then here in our area of the woods and hills; one thing emphatically, I call the shots and we do this my way until we have driven those monsters out of our homeland.”

“Fine grandpa,” Nikkei said as she wrapped up once again in the thick blanket. “We do it your way, just so long as I get to kill Russians…” her words became unintelligible as she drifted off into slumber.

₰​

As Nikkei slumbered away the day, Stephen headed off into the woods, making contact with some old friends who dealt in matters best left unmentioned in the presence of the authorities. They had prepared for the chance of war coming, establishing caches of arms and other gear around the area for a band of partisans to use if they needed it…and now they will, for once again ‘Ghost Bear’ will enter into war and make his enemies pay for their crimes in blood.

He continued on into the woods, seeking a place where his personal cache of ‘special goods’ waited retrieval.

As the destination came into sight, little more than a cluster of rocks and shrubs covering a small cavern in their depths he reached into his coat and rested his hand upon the hilt of his hunting knife. The faintest odor of cigar tobacco filtered through the air, coming closer with each passing second, soon to be joined with the soft crunch – crunching of several pair of snowshoes coming towards him.

He edged into the nearby shrubs and trees, concealing himself so as to appear as little more than another small clump of rocks at the base of a mighty northern pine as the people who followed him closed in, step by step, and into striking distance of his ambush…

Lightning fast he slammed his elbow into the gut of the man who had snuck up behind him, following up with a fist to his foes throat, as he grabbed the man by his coat and dragged him to the ground. Stephen pulled out his knife to deliver the death blow and suddenly stopped as the man beneath him gently chuckled.

Captain Robinson of the Finnish Army grinned and looked at Stephen, “You have not lost any of the skill you taught all of us those years ago Colonel Stephen. Now if you don’t mind, let me up and I will signal my men not to try and shoot you…”

“Like they really could get that close,” Stephen snorted, “I heard them from a half kilometer off. You learned the lessons well, but apparently your own students have not. Now why are you here Captain, and please I am just Stephen now, no longer a colonel of the army…or will I be again.”

“Stephen is it then,” began Robinson, “we’re here to scout and harass the advancing Soviet Army as it heads up the road. Someone has to stay behind and become partisans, though from the grin on your face I assume you already have begun that task?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Stephen filled in his old student and friend in on his plans. “Right now I am off to contact others in the area who will watch and strike as they can. Even in our independent ways, we can work together and make the Russians life a living hell.”

Robinson nodded as he caught the subtle usage of ‘we’ in his last sentence, telling of another who will hunt the Russians with Stephen.

“Fair enough Stephen,” Robinson said as his men advanced, shocked to see their leader talking to an old man who appeared to come out of nowhere. He looked at Stephen and asked of his old friend, “So then, what name will our mysterious hunter be called?”

Stephen grinned, knowing then and there Robinson will go along with anything he asked or needed done, “The Snow Fox, for we will demonstrate the true craftiness us Fins have when on our home ground. Now I have to get a few other things done and ‘acquired’ then the hunt will begin.”

So it was, after a quick handshake, the men departed.

 

So far so good, can't wait for more to read

 

I don't often read of war but with your ability with confusion, I can see remarkable possibilities with what you are presenting here.

 

Thank you.

My 'ability with confusion.' That is one way to describe my writing style, since it is basically true.:excited:

I will admit Darthel the Winter War began when I found small references to the Russian - Finland war in other books of mine; any reference were little more than footnotes and I came to understand as I delved into this all but forgotten war how incredible of a story it presented.

The way I have written the story, sequenced by dates and focusing on Stephen/Nikkei intersperced with the 'larger picture' is a first in my style of writing as is a 'alternate-history.'

Hopefully the remaining portions will be well worth it. Especially one part that is, how shall we say, 'waste of a good car...':-E

Oh well, as they say 'when the snowleopard comes to play..."

 

Alternate history is always an fun playground. I don't mess around in it often, though I have for game sessions just nothing I've written as a story. I may have to give it a try after the shining example you've provided here.

I'm guessing here that the Snow Fox was inspired by someone close, at least the character name?

I'm still looking forward to more of this and a rewrite of To Dream of Dragons, and if not a rewrite a new story in the same world.

 

The Snow Fox is mostly a creation of mine, but partly inspired by the Finnish sniper known as the Snow Devil. His exploits are amazing.

As for the Dream of dragons, in due time the first TWO stories will be rewritten (and the first expanded upon)...

Somehow I know I'm going to regret this but - Dream of Dragons three is in writing as of today. It will be a true long saga and thus will take some time to write.

 

Glad to hear it Snow on all counts. When's the next chapter of this one coming?

 

Just an FYI - Snow likes to complete his stories before posting them and then he teases us with dribbles and drabbles until we squirm in frustration

--- just needling you, Snow. You know that I enjoy your work when I read it.
Had to add the disclaimer as I have yet to read Sharks

 

This is very well written and has a very good pace.

I am not usually a fan of modern war based stories as they tend to bring back memories I would prefer to lose in the mists of time. I would read more of this though.

Thanx
Brootforce

 

Part three

3 December 1939 near front line of Russian 163rd Infantry Division


Major Joseph stood by the armored staff car with his sub-machine gun clenched tight in his grasp. His superiors in the NKVD (State Security) had made his instructions painfully clear; keep a close eye on the activities of Major-General Bogdan as he served as his driver, courier and personal bodyguard out in the field. Failure in any way will result in summary execution.

Over a dozen more soldiers, young lieutenants and captains, stood around or waited in their own staff cars for instructions from the general. Almost all of them gazed from time to time to the advancing line of trucks, tanks and tank-riding infantry that snaked its way along the single road ever deeper into Finland. The distant ground-shaking roar of the artillery no longer registered with them, having become little more than background noise in the fourth day of their lightning fast (sort of) pace of the attack.

Major-General Bogdan stood high upon the hood of his car as he scanned the horizon with his fine binoculars, a gift from his grandfather many long years past. His frustration mounted by the minute at the stubbornness of the Finnish defenders who have defied his ability to smash through them for the last three days. Three days and his division were barely twenty miles across the border.

“Speed, speed and ever more speed. That is how we win this war, speed, shock and uncompromising aggression against any who stand against us,” he muttered to himself. “Captain Craigson, ensure that all regimental and lower commanders understand the orders. Unrelenting pressure, there will be no more withdrawing or moving other than at the enemy ahead. Any failures and I will personally shoot the officers myself if need be.”

The captain repeated back his instructions, saluted and retreated to his staff car, which tore off down the road with due haste to ensure the message was received and duly carried out.

Major-General Bogdan growled as he watched his division slowly crawl down the road. “The Finnish lackey’s of the Imperialist West and Capitalists will learn what it means to defy the Soviet Union. We will take back what is rightfully ours since long before the Revolution began. They wanted war, so now they shall have it and we will rebuild their society into a true Communist state as it should be.”

His mood suddenly brightened at the sight of a of a battery of truck-mounted rocket launchers and two batteries of artillery moved off the road and began to set up for firing at targets located by his scouts. So much firepower being prepared meant that at least a battalion or two of enemy soldiers had gathered to make a desperate last stand against his armor and infantry tearing ever deeper into their homeland.

The sound of a motorbike informed him that a messenger had arrived, and he nodded in satisfaction as the man stopped his bike, handed his note to Captain Dima who double-timed it to the general. When he read the note, Major-General Bogdan felt his blood boil as he shouted, raged and cursed while directing another motorbike mounted messenger to move forward and tell his divisional headquarters to push his three lead regiments forward with all speed or face execution at his own hands.

He cursed the orders of ‘absolute radio silence’ that came from his superiors at Army HQ’s fifty or more miles behind his division. “Damn them for their defiance to the needs of the motherland!” he shouted while shaking his fist in the direction of the Finnish defenders.

Nearby another senior officer smiled at the absolute rage of Major-General Bogdan. Of course when this officer smiled, all the attendant officers of the general cringed, instantly coming to attention and saluting, if only to save their own lives, not knowing death stalked all of them from another position…

₰​

“Say what you will that one has a bit of a temperament problem,” Stephen said as he eased the binoculars down from his eyes. Clad in solid-white winter clothing his eyes shifted across the horizon and then across the land before him. Even the slightest movement drew his attention as he quickly dismissed it as the wind, an animal or a Russian Soldier moving around on some mission or another.

He watched a second officer, probably the NKVD counterpart of the officer who stood atop his cars hood, stroll with pure arrogance and insolence becoming of a Commissar of high rank over to the vehicle and climb upon the hood as well. The remaining officers stood at a respectable distance, all save for the officer’s driver who looked and moved like a small terrier determined to protect its master from a pack of ravenous wolves.

₰​

“Yes comrade they do have it coming for their defiance to the needs of the motherland,” said Major General Vitaly, Political Commissar for the division of Major-General Bogdan. “It appears you are ahead of schedule by a bit, despite word coming of some resistance run into by your lead elements.”

“Comrade Commissar it is good to see you up and about.” Major-General Bogdan said as he gave his comrade the best salute he could manage. “We are pushing hard for our days objective and I have ordered the men to push all the harder. There is some reported resistance, yet we shall push harder than before and shatter them completely. In short order any prisoners will be in your hands, as they should be, and we shall be one step closer to flying the flag of International Communism high over this land of defiant banditti.”

₰​

To Stephens left, slightly higher up upon the craggy heap of stone and shrubs among the great pine forest a pair of bluish eyes stared at the officers through the scope of her rifle. She slowly brought her hand up to the scope and made some minute adjustments, allowing her to deal with the range, wind and other variables to place her shot right on target when the moment arrived.

Both officers on the cars hood turned to watching the horizon through their binoculars.

She drew the crosshairs level with the newly arrived officer’s skull, and braced the rifles stock against her shoulder while resting her finger on the trigger.

“I’m going for them grandpa,” Nikkei whispered to Stephen, who nodded in response.

One final calculation of the range and all variables flowed through her mind as she squeezed the trigger…

 

More

MORE PLEASE SOON

Please Snow, don't keep us waiting too long. I need new material to digest and I've about emptied the Kindle Free Books selections for things I'm interested in. Help me Please!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Part four

Major-General Bogdan smiled as the heavy artillery sounded off, the loud roaring of the howitzers merging with the screaming cry of Katyusha rockets tearing off from their truck-mounted launchers. He shook his fist in delight, imagining the carnage beginning to fall on the hapless Finland Army regulars’ just kilometers ahead when he felt something wet splatter across the side of his head, left arm and chest.

He turned in time to see the body of Major-General Vitaly collapse to the ground with all of the grace of a butchered boar. The sight of the gaping wound left from the bullet his head had intercepted caused Bogdan to freeze, unable to move, speak, or even think. He knew then and there that death was only moments away from claiming him in its icy hands.

Major Joseph leapt upon the cars hood and tackled Major-General Bogdan. The bullet meant for the general took the man in the back, severed his spine and ruptured his heart, dead before he and the general plummeted to the ground, sheltered by the armored car from the snipers fire.

Pandemonium reigned in the generals unit as some of the men ran to help Major-General Bogdan and the fallen Commissar and Major Joseph. The rest dove for the nearest cover they could find and returned fire with pistol, rifle or sub-machinegun at suspected sniper locations as the field artillery continued to thunder away and make it nearly impossible for one man to hear another even close up.

With mechanical efficiency, one officer after another flopped to the ground, a single red wound found in their torn throats or skulls. In less than two minutes, as the artillery fell silent once again and their crews commenced preparations to move on down the road, thirteen men lay dead on ground, while the survivors huddled in the protective shadow of cover, not daring to move or even breath.

Even the normally unflappable Major-General Bogdan looked about, stunned and overwhelmed at the sheer carnage wrecked by some unknown foes in such a short span of time. It was over a half-hour before he regained his composure and shouted out orders to move the unit to his divisions headquarters and even longer to notify Army Headquarters of the loss of Major-General Vitaly.

₰​

“Come Nikkei its time to leave and quickly,” Stephen said to her as he finished wiring the last of many ‘gifts’ he had set out earlier to further punish the Russians when they came to investigate the area. As he considered the carnage to come from his ‘gifts,’ Stephen and Nikkei donned their skis and disappeared into the woods little more than twin ghosts headed to one of many temporary shelters they will come to use in the weeks and months ahead.

₰₰₰​

The sight of the snaking trail of tanks, trucks, artillery and infantry which pushed ever deeper into his homeland sickened Captain Robinson. He wondered how much of a chance his nation honestly had to stop this unyielding mass of metal and men bent upon the complete conquest of Finland.

One of his men tapped him on his shoulder and pointed down to the roadside where a force of infantry began to gather under the enraged orders of officers watched by stern-eyed NKVD Commissars. Some of the officers, led by a Commissar Major, examined one area of ground and the bodies left behind after some kind of ambush had occurred.

A quick count of the infantry told him that he and his men faced a reinforced company of Russian soldiers, who began to spread out. Some marched unto a small crag of stone and shrubs while the remainder headed towards Robinson and his men at a brisk walk. He could see that the members of this second band were hesitant and on edge, though their fears of the commissars outweighed any danger from the woodlands ahead of them.


Captain Robinson and his handful of men dropped down under cover as a small explosion erupted from that rocky crag, felling over a dozen Russian soldiers. Chaos erupted as a second blast erupted, unleashing a wave of metal scraps, nails, and other projectiles that wounded a score and five of men. The surviving infantry began to fire at random into the woods with rifles and sub-machineguns as fast as they could while yelling at the top of their lungs.

They charged at the woods edge, only to have their ragged formation shattered by a chain of blasts triggered by hidden tripwires. Pillars of smoke and tossed dirt rose as men fell to the ground seeking cover, dead or dying.

“Now men, now, take them down while we can!” Captain Robinson shouted to his men as the perfect time for a improvise ambush had arrived. Rifles merged with the tap-tapping of four light machine guns which scythed across the Russian infantry, felling them one after another after another.

In less than a minute the battle was over and his men swarmed among the dead Russians to gather rifles, ammo and anything of worth in the way of military intelligence they could find. Two minutes after they began, he and his men disappeared back into the woods, where two hours and seven kilometers away the captain examined a set of orders to the NKVD Commissar Major to ‘find and liquidate the banditti who slew Major-General Vitaly and 14 other officers.’

“Fifteen officers and they left behind a chain of booby traps for their pursuers?” Sergeant Jermaine, the aide of Captain Robinson, whistled softly and shook his head in disbelief. “Who could possibly have done that?”

“I’ll tell you who did this,” Captain Robinson said with a look of amazement on his face, “It was the work of the Snow Fox and the Ghost Bear. I need a runner to get the information we have back to our side of the lines, and get it there on the double.”

Captain Robinson watched the messenger ski away and then turned to his men and nodded. Quiet as the still air around them they departed, determined to watch and hit the invading Russians whenever and wherever they can to make life as miserable for them as possible.

 

Part five

7-8 December, 1939 Sweden – unknown manor house

Swedish Prime Minister Hansson looked out the libraries window upon a land covered in snow and for a moment dreamed that the world was still at peace. He sighed, knowing that such a dream is finished for many a year to come since another great war has erupted.

Turning back to his two other guests he looked upon his old friend Ryti, Prime Minister of Finland and here on ‘private matters’ for his nation. “Will the terms be acceptable in the end?” he asked of Ryti.

Prime Minister Ryti looked at the third gentleman in the room, a man of ruthless ambition and ill-concealed greed. No matter the absolute contempt he held for this man, Finland needed the weapons and supplies even more; so he has dealt with the lesser of two evils to save his home. “It will be acceptable, as per the terms we have agreed upon.”

“Very good then,” the third man declared as he stood and adjusted his coat, “have the money transferred into my Swiss accounts by the usual means; just to be clear, this meeting never happened and I will deny any and all mention of it in public. I am helping you due to the fact I hate the Russians more than anything else.”

With that the man, German Marshall Herman Goring departed for his flight home.




7-8 December, 1939 rear-area Russian Ninth Army Corp

In the old prospector’s cabin, little more than a renovated shack, Nikkei watched as the sun cast its last rays of light before departing below the horizon and allowing the night to encompass the land in its grip. She put the blanket back into place, to keep even the slight firelight from escaping into the outside world. She looked to the cabin door and wondered when Stephen would be back from ‘meeting with some friends nearby.’

She returned to cleaning her rifle with great care, determined to ensure that the weapon of her revenge was kept in perfect condition for the next ambush set by Stephen and her. Step by step as she had been taught so long ago she cleaned and oiled each part in turn, ensuring that not one speck of dirt, grit, or anything could jam or plug it up at the moment when she would need it most.

The small radio Stephen had somehow gotten his hands upon whispered news of the outside world between the static-filled cries of the aurora borealis dancing overhead. What news came from official sources among the Northern and European stations painted a bleak future for her homeland, as four massive army groups have crossed the borders from north to south, seeking to conquer the entire nation.

To the south, on the Karelian Isthmus the Russians have pushed the Finnish army back to the Mannerheim line. A massive artillery bombardment, nearly two days in length if the reports are to be believed, preceded a massed infantry assault in the region of Taipale supported with regimental strength artillery, rocket-fire, aerial bombing and loudspeakers used to broadcast calls for surrender of the Finnish army until they were shot apart by Finnish snipers.

Nikkei listened and smiled, pleased to hear the news of the Finnish army had dug in deep, with well sighted artillery and weapons, and then ripped apart the Russians assault. Casualties from the carnage were estimated at 5000 dead Russians and twice that injured, along with 500 prisoners. Curiously she heard about the crushing defeat made against the Russian armor, some eighty tanks destroyed or disabled and captured.

She and Stephen had seen a few such tanks moving along the lone road that linked Russia and their army that advanced slowly into Finland. Stephen seemed genuinely afraid of the metal beasts, though she respected what they could do, the sight of the gasoline-filled fuel drums mounted on the back deck of them gave her an idea of how to stop one…literally it would go up in flames…

And part of the ‘special ammunition’ prepared for her by Stephen and his friends would do that job quite nicely.

Nikkei looked at the small trio of bottles tied to her pack, each one prepared to deliver another lethal surprise on any armored beast or vehicle when assailed during an surprise attack. Stephen had been rather dubious about the idea when she suggested it, but on the narrow secondary roads in the thick forests, five burned out trucks and a armored car testified to its simplistic and brutal efficiency.

Once she had finished her care for the rifle she gently traced the newest markings burned into the wooden stock. Each mark was that of a snow fox, barely 8mm in size, and representing a single kill she had scored since she had become involved in the war for her homeland. Twenty-four little foxes, twenty-four kills, some of them the motorbike couriers being used to transmit orders between Russian Headquarters.

The last courier had turned out to be the most vital one to date. She and Stephen had been crossing one of the secondary roads during a light snowfall with her in the lead, and covering Stephen after she reached the far side. No sooner had she prepared her rifle the courier came tearing around a bend in the road. She had aimed and shot him down without a seconds hesitation, and thus gained both of them a usable motorbike and the vital goods in the couriers satchel case.


Long into the night Stephen had sat in this very cabin after dumping the motorbike, out of gas and appropriately booby-trapped for any curious Russians. The paperwork he looked through contained high-value military codes and communiqués, orders of battle and supply status – it detailed the low level of provisions and ammo among the Russian army units in this area.

Stephen had explained he needed to get this stuff to some ‘friends in high places’ and would be back as soon as he could. She was given some special instructions: if he is not back by the first ray of dawn the next day, or at the first sighting of a Russian, she is to flee at once and head for one of the six sights he described. Of course if time permitted before she bolted, she was to ‘activate’ the small surprise contained in the cabin for the stupid Russians.

Her sleep that night was fitful and tormented by nightmares of strange things coming out of the mists she could not remember after being woken by a flight of Soviet Air Force bombers and fighters overhead. She took a peak out the small window facing to the east and hoped against hope to see Stephen coming up the trail in the rising sun…

Instead she gasped at the sight of four score Russian infantry advancing towards the cabin.

 

Wolf Knight - I'll do my best.

 

LOL.

Apparently I am not the only speedy reader on this website.

 

Darthel - here is a little treat from the third story of 'dream of dragons' that I thought you might enjoy...I have some real twists to this one...

Mind you this is still in its rough, unedited form.


Chieftain Blood Drinker lifted his mug of ale to his fellow tribesmen and declared their raid a success, “My fellow warriors we have won an awesome victory over the humans and human-kin in the lands long ago taken from us…” He went into a tirade of crimes and humiliations ‘inflicted’ upon orcs and ogres by the humans going back centuries, even though his tribe had only arrived in the area two decades ago.

“Now, with the might of Night Shades benefaction for our cause, we shall be rid of the humans and begin to build an empire of orcs and ogres,” he raised his arms high as the tribe cried out his name and that of the one who has supported their efforts. “Soon there will be more victories such as this one…ACK!”

The three score count of orcs and hulking ogres looked on with stunned horror at the quivering arrow sunk to the fletching in Blood Drinker’s heart. His eyes turned lifeless, and he plunged face-first into the roaring fire just as Grinner screamed in unearthly horror…

They turned to see Grinners slayer – the ‘stone’ he had sheltered behind – and commenced to scream, beg and plea for mercy. Some simply stood shaking in unadulterated terror as the great beast arose to show off its full glorious horror and majestic terror…

Slightly larger than a Clydesdale the great beast roared in triumph, its twin iron-hard, razor-sharp frills which run from skull to tail glistening in the evening light. Its mottled hide shifted in coloration to a sandy brown rent with iridescent fires, and its great jaw opened to reveal great teeth of glistening ivory capable of cleaving the strongest of armor.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

In quick succession three of the orcs toppled to the ground and flopped about like a landed fish as they passed onto the next world. Each one had been felled by the same kind of arrow which moments before had taken down Blood Drinker; in the space of five heartbeats five more orcs went down as arrows flew from the deep woods.

At that moment the great beast unleashed a ground-shaking, mind-rending, battle-loving scream as it leapt into the gathered mass of flesh and bone. Razor-sharp projections along its limbs and side flared out and rent flesh as its whip-like tail – keen edged and hitting with the force of a giant – slashed left and right on its rampage of destruction.

One orc warrior, braver or dumber than the rest challenged the great beast as he whirled his spear around in a display of martial prowess many a soldier would have envied. “Face me dragon for I know of your kind, I, Huntsman Reaver, have slain over a score of your kin and am not impressed…”

A moment later the mighty dragon stepped upon the smoldering corpse of Huntsman Reaver, reduced to char and cooked flesh by its fiery breath. “You think these brutes would realize by now,” it said, sheer contempt for the orcs and ogres in its voice akin to a rockslide, “I have no others of my kind, and none are my equal…’

 

Picayune detail - Dragons in their natural form are classified as up to colossal and even Stone Giants - at 12' tall and ~ 1,500 pounds - are only large. I THINK that one who assumes that "I have no others of my kind, and none are my equal…" would be 'just a little bit' larger than a Clydesdale (as in having a pair for breakfast with a tun - according to Wiktionary : An old English measure of capacity for liquids, containing 252 wine gallons - of beer to wash it down) and older than simply an adult, possibly an ancient, wyrm, or even great wyrm.

IIRC, an adult would be approximately 20' long in its body (ignoring neck+head and tail) and stand approximately 10-12'tall at the shoulder and this is an animal that does not stop growing with simple adulthood being the top of the first half of its life (maximum of about 150yo) with ancients being about 750yo, wyrms being up to 1200yo and great wyrms being over 1750yo. I COULD, however, be misremembering my data.

Other than that small detail, however, well told little ambush.

 

It's worse than that for me. I'm not a "Speed Reader" in the sense that I don't use the techniques taught to speed readers. I read word for word at a rate that some people call speed reading, 400 - 600 pages is 6 to 8 hours and sometimes faster. Got through 250 pages in an hour once.