Post by Warork on Aug 16, 2014 9:21:23 GMT
Chapter 1: Old Dogs and New Tricks
November 30th, 1939
Along the banks of Lake Saimaa on the southern outskirts of the town of Varkaus there ran a small road. It was a hard, rutted, unpaved path through the sea of trees that seemed to surround the lake. Down that road ran a little boy no older than twelve, his small figure bundled in winter clothing to ward off the cold and ice that could be seen year round in this region of the world. His boots squished in the mud that had not yet frozen alongside the road and in his arms he held a bundle of newspapers bound for the lumber mill up ahead. The mill was one of the larger structures in town, a brick and iron colossus that rose up out of the trees and as he neared it, the boy could hear the sounds of machinery faintly in the air. Down the road in the foggy grey morning a truck from the mill came down the road. Sometimes they carried men and sometimes they carried huge logs of lumber depending on what day it was. The truck passed the boy with a roar of its engine as it bounced and sputtered down the frozen road, its tires caked with grey mud and its exhaust visible as a cloud of black smoke in the cold air. The boy payed the truck no mind, he kept going. Eventually he made it to the gate and could see the men inside the yard going this way and that. Some were carrying tools, some held large axes in burly arms, and others were talking to each other in small groups in quick hushed tones. The boy had seen the same behavior from the adults in the town, they all seemed worried about something, they kept talking about things happening in other parts of the country or along the border. The boy payed the talk no mind and just figured it was more boring grown up talk. Besides, he had a job to do.
His father was away working in the army and when he wasn't in school, the boy went around town asking what work he could do to help his mother who was alone at home. His friends were out playing in the woods he was sure but the boy knew he had to work for his own family. Sometimes he cleaned things, sometimes he helped carry things, but today he was delivering newspapers to the men at the lumber mill. He had read the headline so he knew what to shout when he got in the yard even though he wasn't sure what the words meant. He ran into the yard and held up the first paper in the stack he was carrying with both arms.
"Newspaper! Newspaper!" He cried to everyone who would hear him. "Russia invades Finland! Bombers over Helsinki! Mannerheim made Commander in Chief of the Army! Get your newspapers here!"
His cries made all the talk in the yard cease as men ambled over, fishing for coins in their pockets and wallets to hand to the boy in exchange for newspapers with the headlines in bold black letters displayed across the front page. In mere moments, most of the newspapers had been dispersed amongst the men in the lumber mill as the machinery and buildings behind them lay empty after having drawn everyone from their work from the commotion. The boy stood there counting all of the coins he had been given in exchange for the papers to make sure he had the correct amount when he heard someone walking towards him. He looked up to see a broad shouldered man with unkempt brown hair and a rough unshaven face that all the lumberjacks seemed to share pushing a wheelbarrow filled with split wooden logs towards him. He was dressed in the work clothes of the lumber yard and his splitting axe was set on the pile of logs he was pushing. The man stopped the wheelbarrow as he neared and the boy could see the familiar scars across his nose.
"Good morning Mister Swede!" The boy said, smiling. He didn't think that was the man's real name but all the adults called him "The Swede" so naturally the boy called him "Mister Swede." The man never seemed to mind.
"Good morning, Timo." The man said gruffly in his strange accent. Timo had almost laughed when he first heard the man speak. But the man's hard face and scars had convinced him not to. "Mind if I buy your last paper?"
"Sure." The boy said simply. He handed the Swede the paper after the man had fished in his pockets for the appropriate change. The Swede opened the paper and read it for a few moments and the boy considered heading back to the town when a familiar creature poked its head out from behind the Swede's legs.
"Sachi!" The boy said in delight. In response the female Husky that had been hiding behind the Swede came out and ambled up to Timo, wagging its tail and licked the boy's face as he bent over to pet the dog. He looked back up to the Swede after a while.
"What does all that stuff mean, Mister Swede?" Timo asked, breaking the man's concentration.
"It means that there are some dark days ahead." The man said simply. He went back to reading and then swore under his breath. "I've done a lot of hard things in my life, boy, but learning to read Finnish is one of the hardest."
The boy chuckled at that. He left the Swede to his reading, untroubled about his words about "dark days" whatever that meant. It was dark alot in his country, especially this time of year when the sun would sometimes never come up above the horizon. He picked up a stick, prompting Sachi to follow him for want of the stick and began his way back to Varkaus where the paper man would pay him for his work.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A night passed. A hundred miles away a war was raging for the heart of the country which began a hundred and five days of desperate defense for the people who called the land home. The morning was as cold and grey as it had been the day before and on the road that lay on the banks of the placid Lake Saimaa a truck rolled into the town like it usually did on days like this one. In the back of the truck were wooden logs to be sold as firewood, a man sitting amongst the logs bundled in winter clothing and wearing some overwhites that hunters and soldiers in the army wore. In his lap sat a rifle, a bolt action M27 mosin that he had used years ago when he had done his year of service in the army. He'd bought the rifle after his time was up, never knowing when he'd need it again. Trouble always seemed to follow him, the man that the people called "The Swede." The truth was that he was neither Swedish nor was he even from Europe but he had come from the west years ago and at that time all he could speak was Swedish. That was really all the Finns needed to know and he hadn't met one yet that claimed otherwise. Beside him sat the husky he'd adopted, a creature of light brown and stark white fur long enough to let it live in the eternal cold of this country. The man stood for a moment, stretching his legs and looked down the road towards the town. He saw something that made him squint; a small figure was running along the road. He recognized it as the boy Timo after a few seconds. The boy looked frantic and upset as he ran along the road and the Swede signaled the driver to stop and beckoned the boy over to the truck.
"What's wrong?" He asked.
"The men in the town." The boy cried, he was red faced and tears were streaming down his face. "They're going to hurt my mother! I tried to stop them but they wanted to grab me so I ran. I thought they would chase me so I didn't stop."
"Come on." The Swede said after a moment, reaching out a hand to lift the child into the truck. "Lets go find your mother."
It was another few minutes drive into town. The truck stopped near the inn to offload the firewood but down the street it sounded like a commotion was going on. There were people yelling near the markets and the Swede could see the back of what appeared to be a gathering of people there all watching something going on out of sight. Timo jumped off the truck and ran into the crowd of people that had gathered. Why werent any of them doing anything? All of them just stood there watching and murmuring amongst themselves. He pressed through the ranks of townspeople to get to the middle of the circle they were making. In the middle he saw his mother on her knees, her basket with the food she had bought that day spilled on the ground next to her as some men took turns yelling at her and yelling to the crowd.
"This is what we think of Russians!" One yelled as he spat on the woman who was sobbing on the ground.
"They've come to take our country and they're going to do it with spies like her!" Another yelled. "I say we shave her whore head and send it back to the Kremlin!" There were a few laughs and cheers from the crowd but generally the people just shook their heads though none of them ventured to stop these men. One of the rough looking men kicked the woman and Timo cried out.
"Stop hurting her!" He yelled and tried to go to her side, someone from the crowd held him back, the men ignored him.
"Lets show this bitch how we deal with spies!" One of them said, He had a rock in his fist and seemed just about the slam it on the woman's head when a shot rang out from the rear of the crowd. The noise was so loud and sharp that everyone stopped, a few cries of surprise could be heard in the crowd and all of them turned to see the Swede standing there, pulling the bolt back on his weapon and pushing it forwards, chambering the next round. A path was suddenly made for him as he made his way into the center of the crowd. Wordlessly he reached out a hand to the woman. After a moment, she took it and got to her feet, grabbing the things she had dropped from her basket as Timo came to her side.
"What do you think you're doing?" One of the angry men asked. The rifle butt that the Swede swung into his crotch caught him by surprise. The man doubled over, holding his loins and cringing in pain on the ground. The rest of the men looked at the Swede.
"Go home." He said. And just like that the crowd began to slowly disperse, the angry men along with them.
"Thank you." The woman said softly, wiping the tears from her eyes. The Swede simply nodded.
"You live far from here?" He asked. The woman shook her head.
"Just near the main road, not far."
"Can you walk?"
The woman nodded so the four of them began to walk down towards the road where the woman's house was. Timo walked next to Sachi along the way and within a few minutes all four of them were standing in front of a house where the road came into the town from out in the wilderness. Trucks were driving quickly in small groups down the road every few minutes, each one filled with soldiers. Timo had never seen anything like it.
"Are you going to fight?" The woman asked the Swede as the man headed towards the road where the trucks passed.
"Yes."
"My husband Paavo is in the army." She said, handing a picture of a man in a military uniform to the Swede. The man looked at it for a moment and then put it in his pocket. "Please." She said. "I can't thank you enough for what you did today but if you find him out there just tell him I love him and to send letters soon."
The man nodded. "I will." He said. Suddenly Sachi was next to him, whimpering and nuzzling his hand with her head. He patted her on the head and then turned to Timo.
"You and Sachi seem to get along really well." He said. "How'd you like to look after her while I'm gone?"
"That would be great! Can I mother?" The boy said happily. Despite what she had gone through that day the woman managed a smile and nodded. The boy beckoned the dog who came to his side. The Swede shouldered the duffel bag on his back and added his rifle to the things strapped around his shoulders as he bid the three goodbye, waving to them as he walked down to the road.
The Swede flagged down a truck full of soldiers. The officer on board in the back signaled the driver to stop.
"Do you need something?" The officer called out in his thick accent. In his mind the Swede swore he would never sound like an actual Finn even if he spoke the language for a hundred years.
"Do you have room for an extra passenger?" He asked over the sound of the idling truck engine.
"Are you in the army?"
"Does it matter?" The Swede asked. "You're going to need every man you can spare in the coming days."
The officer seemed to consider the statement and finally waved the Swede over to the truck. He took off his duffel bag and threw it up to one of the men in the truck before climbing into an empty seat as the truck rolled off down the road.
"Who are you, stranger?" One of the soldiers asked.
"They call me the Swede." The man said in response.
"No, I mean what is your name?" The soldier pressed.
"Harlow." The man said after a few moments.
"That doesn't sound like a Swedish name."
"It isn't." The man said with a note of finality in his voice. He checked the action of his rifle to make sure it was dry, he was going to need it to work in no time at all...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hello Darkstormers and welcome to another collaboration story from me and Harrab! Sit back and enjoy.
November 30th, 1939
Along the banks of Lake Saimaa on the southern outskirts of the town of Varkaus there ran a small road. It was a hard, rutted, unpaved path through the sea of trees that seemed to surround the lake. Down that road ran a little boy no older than twelve, his small figure bundled in winter clothing to ward off the cold and ice that could be seen year round in this region of the world. His boots squished in the mud that had not yet frozen alongside the road and in his arms he held a bundle of newspapers bound for the lumber mill up ahead. The mill was one of the larger structures in town, a brick and iron colossus that rose up out of the trees and as he neared it, the boy could hear the sounds of machinery faintly in the air. Down the road in the foggy grey morning a truck from the mill came down the road. Sometimes they carried men and sometimes they carried huge logs of lumber depending on what day it was. The truck passed the boy with a roar of its engine as it bounced and sputtered down the frozen road, its tires caked with grey mud and its exhaust visible as a cloud of black smoke in the cold air. The boy payed the truck no mind, he kept going. Eventually he made it to the gate and could see the men inside the yard going this way and that. Some were carrying tools, some held large axes in burly arms, and others were talking to each other in small groups in quick hushed tones. The boy had seen the same behavior from the adults in the town, they all seemed worried about something, they kept talking about things happening in other parts of the country or along the border. The boy payed the talk no mind and just figured it was more boring grown up talk. Besides, he had a job to do.
His father was away working in the army and when he wasn't in school, the boy went around town asking what work he could do to help his mother who was alone at home. His friends were out playing in the woods he was sure but the boy knew he had to work for his own family. Sometimes he cleaned things, sometimes he helped carry things, but today he was delivering newspapers to the men at the lumber mill. He had read the headline so he knew what to shout when he got in the yard even though he wasn't sure what the words meant. He ran into the yard and held up the first paper in the stack he was carrying with both arms.
"Newspaper! Newspaper!" He cried to everyone who would hear him. "Russia invades Finland! Bombers over Helsinki! Mannerheim made Commander in Chief of the Army! Get your newspapers here!"
His cries made all the talk in the yard cease as men ambled over, fishing for coins in their pockets and wallets to hand to the boy in exchange for newspapers with the headlines in bold black letters displayed across the front page. In mere moments, most of the newspapers had been dispersed amongst the men in the lumber mill as the machinery and buildings behind them lay empty after having drawn everyone from their work from the commotion. The boy stood there counting all of the coins he had been given in exchange for the papers to make sure he had the correct amount when he heard someone walking towards him. He looked up to see a broad shouldered man with unkempt brown hair and a rough unshaven face that all the lumberjacks seemed to share pushing a wheelbarrow filled with split wooden logs towards him. He was dressed in the work clothes of the lumber yard and his splitting axe was set on the pile of logs he was pushing. The man stopped the wheelbarrow as he neared and the boy could see the familiar scars across his nose.
"Good morning Mister Swede!" The boy said, smiling. He didn't think that was the man's real name but all the adults called him "The Swede" so naturally the boy called him "Mister Swede." The man never seemed to mind.
"Good morning, Timo." The man said gruffly in his strange accent. Timo had almost laughed when he first heard the man speak. But the man's hard face and scars had convinced him not to. "Mind if I buy your last paper?"
"Sure." The boy said simply. He handed the Swede the paper after the man had fished in his pockets for the appropriate change. The Swede opened the paper and read it for a few moments and the boy considered heading back to the town when a familiar creature poked its head out from behind the Swede's legs.
"Sachi!" The boy said in delight. In response the female Husky that had been hiding behind the Swede came out and ambled up to Timo, wagging its tail and licked the boy's face as he bent over to pet the dog. He looked back up to the Swede after a while.
"What does all that stuff mean, Mister Swede?" Timo asked, breaking the man's concentration.
"It means that there are some dark days ahead." The man said simply. He went back to reading and then swore under his breath. "I've done a lot of hard things in my life, boy, but learning to read Finnish is one of the hardest."
The boy chuckled at that. He left the Swede to his reading, untroubled about his words about "dark days" whatever that meant. It was dark alot in his country, especially this time of year when the sun would sometimes never come up above the horizon. He picked up a stick, prompting Sachi to follow him for want of the stick and began his way back to Varkaus where the paper man would pay him for his work.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A night passed. A hundred miles away a war was raging for the heart of the country which began a hundred and five days of desperate defense for the people who called the land home. The morning was as cold and grey as it had been the day before and on the road that lay on the banks of the placid Lake Saimaa a truck rolled into the town like it usually did on days like this one. In the back of the truck were wooden logs to be sold as firewood, a man sitting amongst the logs bundled in winter clothing and wearing some overwhites that hunters and soldiers in the army wore. In his lap sat a rifle, a bolt action M27 mosin that he had used years ago when he had done his year of service in the army. He'd bought the rifle after his time was up, never knowing when he'd need it again. Trouble always seemed to follow him, the man that the people called "The Swede." The truth was that he was neither Swedish nor was he even from Europe but he had come from the west years ago and at that time all he could speak was Swedish. That was really all the Finns needed to know and he hadn't met one yet that claimed otherwise. Beside him sat the husky he'd adopted, a creature of light brown and stark white fur long enough to let it live in the eternal cold of this country. The man stood for a moment, stretching his legs and looked down the road towards the town. He saw something that made him squint; a small figure was running along the road. He recognized it as the boy Timo after a few seconds. The boy looked frantic and upset as he ran along the road and the Swede signaled the driver to stop and beckoned the boy over to the truck.
"What's wrong?" He asked.
"The men in the town." The boy cried, he was red faced and tears were streaming down his face. "They're going to hurt my mother! I tried to stop them but they wanted to grab me so I ran. I thought they would chase me so I didn't stop."
"Come on." The Swede said after a moment, reaching out a hand to lift the child into the truck. "Lets go find your mother."
It was another few minutes drive into town. The truck stopped near the inn to offload the firewood but down the street it sounded like a commotion was going on. There were people yelling near the markets and the Swede could see the back of what appeared to be a gathering of people there all watching something going on out of sight. Timo jumped off the truck and ran into the crowd of people that had gathered. Why werent any of them doing anything? All of them just stood there watching and murmuring amongst themselves. He pressed through the ranks of townspeople to get to the middle of the circle they were making. In the middle he saw his mother on her knees, her basket with the food she had bought that day spilled on the ground next to her as some men took turns yelling at her and yelling to the crowd.
"This is what we think of Russians!" One yelled as he spat on the woman who was sobbing on the ground.
"They've come to take our country and they're going to do it with spies like her!" Another yelled. "I say we shave her whore head and send it back to the Kremlin!" There were a few laughs and cheers from the crowd but generally the people just shook their heads though none of them ventured to stop these men. One of the rough looking men kicked the woman and Timo cried out.
"Stop hurting her!" He yelled and tried to go to her side, someone from the crowd held him back, the men ignored him.
"Lets show this bitch how we deal with spies!" One of them said, He had a rock in his fist and seemed just about the slam it on the woman's head when a shot rang out from the rear of the crowd. The noise was so loud and sharp that everyone stopped, a few cries of surprise could be heard in the crowd and all of them turned to see the Swede standing there, pulling the bolt back on his weapon and pushing it forwards, chambering the next round. A path was suddenly made for him as he made his way into the center of the crowd. Wordlessly he reached out a hand to the woman. After a moment, she took it and got to her feet, grabbing the things she had dropped from her basket as Timo came to her side.
"What do you think you're doing?" One of the angry men asked. The rifle butt that the Swede swung into his crotch caught him by surprise. The man doubled over, holding his loins and cringing in pain on the ground. The rest of the men looked at the Swede.
"Go home." He said. And just like that the crowd began to slowly disperse, the angry men along with them.
"Thank you." The woman said softly, wiping the tears from her eyes. The Swede simply nodded.
"You live far from here?" He asked. The woman shook her head.
"Just near the main road, not far."
"Can you walk?"
The woman nodded so the four of them began to walk down towards the road where the woman's house was. Timo walked next to Sachi along the way and within a few minutes all four of them were standing in front of a house where the road came into the town from out in the wilderness. Trucks were driving quickly in small groups down the road every few minutes, each one filled with soldiers. Timo had never seen anything like it.
"Are you going to fight?" The woman asked the Swede as the man headed towards the road where the trucks passed.
"Yes."
"My husband Paavo is in the army." She said, handing a picture of a man in a military uniform to the Swede. The man looked at it for a moment and then put it in his pocket. "Please." She said. "I can't thank you enough for what you did today but if you find him out there just tell him I love him and to send letters soon."
The man nodded. "I will." He said. Suddenly Sachi was next to him, whimpering and nuzzling his hand with her head. He patted her on the head and then turned to Timo.
"You and Sachi seem to get along really well." He said. "How'd you like to look after her while I'm gone?"
"That would be great! Can I mother?" The boy said happily. Despite what she had gone through that day the woman managed a smile and nodded. The boy beckoned the dog who came to his side. The Swede shouldered the duffel bag on his back and added his rifle to the things strapped around his shoulders as he bid the three goodbye, waving to them as he walked down to the road.
The Swede flagged down a truck full of soldiers. The officer on board in the back signaled the driver to stop.
"Do you need something?" The officer called out in his thick accent. In his mind the Swede swore he would never sound like an actual Finn even if he spoke the language for a hundred years.
"Do you have room for an extra passenger?" He asked over the sound of the idling truck engine.
"Are you in the army?"
"Does it matter?" The Swede asked. "You're going to need every man you can spare in the coming days."
The officer seemed to consider the statement and finally waved the Swede over to the truck. He took off his duffel bag and threw it up to one of the men in the truck before climbing into an empty seat as the truck rolled off down the road.
"Who are you, stranger?" One of the soldiers asked.
"They call me the Swede." The man said in response.
"No, I mean what is your name?" The soldier pressed.
"Harlow." The man said after a few moments.
"That doesn't sound like a Swedish name."
"It isn't." The man said with a note of finality in his voice. He checked the action of his rifle to make sure it was dry, he was going to need it to work in no time at all...
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hello Darkstormers and welcome to another collaboration story from me and Harrab! Sit back and enjoy.