Chapter 301: Impasse
Cries of pain rose and fell throughout the forest.
Startled birds burst from the branches in chaotic flocks.
The Finnish elite detachments were composed of hunters who had spent years traversing this frozen wilderness. To men accustomed to stalking alert stags through deep snow, Soviet soldiers were far easier prey.
Inside the snow covered forest, tanks and armored vehicles could provide little close support.
Heavy snowfall obscured the sky, making aerial bombardment nearly impossible.
The Soviet forces could do little more than unleash artillery fire upon every patch of woodland that appeared suspicious.
Under the bombardment, white pine branches were stripped bare, revealing the dark green needles beneath.
The gray sky gradually turned black.
An entire day passed.
After suffering more than fifty dead and over thirty wounded, the 1st Army Group had not even approached its assigned objective. It had barely secured the outer edge of the forest.
The cold wind blowing inland from the Arctic Ocean made every soldier tremble.
Snowflakes clung to their hair and froze into thin threads of ice.
Every breath scraped painfully against their throats. The white vapor they exhaled carried the heavy scent of blood.
Their hastily erected tents leaked cold air from every side.
Several soldiers crowded beneath a single blanket barely long enough to cover one man. They huddled around a weak campfire and rubbed their hands together, desperately trying to preserve what little warmth remained in their fingers.
Above them, on a forested hillside, Simon cut a palm sized piece of smoked meat into strips.
He pierced one with his hunting knife and chewed slowly, resembling a snow wolf gnawing at the frozen remains of its prey.
Beside him sat a German soldier who had been assigned to observe and learn from the Finnish hunters.
The German rubbed his hands together and asked quietly, "How do you keep yourself warm, Simon?"
"I feel as though you are far more resistant to the cold than we are."
The special winter uniform issued by the German Ministry of Defense did not seem to be helping him much.
Simon glanced at the man's clothing.
Its stitching and details were far more refined than his own. It looked almost like a ceremonial uniform.
But from Simon's experience, the more complicated a winter garment became, the less practical it often was.
"You should simplify it," Simon said.
"Less attention to appearance. More attention to warmth."
"The cap should be replaced entirely with a fur hat that covers the ears."
"The gloves do not need to fit so closely. Sacrifice some precision for better grip."
"When you have held a rifle for a long time, your hands become numb and the weapon begins to slip. At that moment, grip matters more than elegance."
The German soldier carefully wrote down every suggested modification.
Then he asked skeptically, "And why are you so resistant to the cold?"
"I use a sauna every winter."
The German frowned.
"What does a sauna have to do with resisting cold?"
"Afterward, I usually swim in an icy lake."
The German soldier was about to ask another question when Simon suddenly raised one hand.
His left ear twitched slightly.
His posture changed at once.
Like a hare sensing movement beneath the snow, Simon bent low and turned his gaze toward the left.
A faint glimmer appeared several hundred meters away.
The German wiped the mist from his scope.
When he noticed the old Mosin-Nagant in Simon's hands, he was about to offer him a replacement German scope.
Before he could speak, Simon had already assumed a firing position.
He rested the rifle across his forearm and adjusted the muzzle by a fraction.
Click.
A cartridge entered the chamber.
The German stared toward the distant light.
At this range, can he truly hit anything?
Bang!
A flash erupted from the muzzle.
Several hundred meters away, a Soviet soldier collapsed.
The German watched through his binoculars, his mouth falling open.
What happened next shocked him even more.
The hot cartridge casing landed in the snow with a faint hiss.
Simon paid it no attention.
He calmly adjusted his aim again.
Through the binoculars, the German saw the surviving Soviet soldiers beginning to flee.
A thought appeared in his mind.
Surely he is not going to...
Bang!
The gunshot echoed through the trees.
The bullet struck a fleeing Soviet soldier precisely through the lung.
The man staggered, coughed up blood, and collapsed into the snow.
Not far from him, another Soviet soldier was struck directly in the center of the forehead.
"My God..."
Simon showed no excitement.
He picked a strand of meat from between his teeth, swallowed it, then drew his knife and carved another notch into the rifle stock.
"Is there anything else you want to learn?" he asked quietly.
"I can also teach you how to survive longer in the wilderness."
The German soldier had momentarily lost all interest in winter warfare.
Only one question remained in his mind.
"Those marks on your rifle..."
Simon glanced at the gunstock.
"Yes."
"They are all trophies."
He paused.
"To speak plainly, each one represents a man."
The German forced a stiff smile.
There were fifteen notches.
Simon had killed fifteen Soviet soldiers in less than one day.
This was not an ordinary man.
He was a precise machine built for killing at long range.
The Kremlin.
The report from the first day of fighting was placed on Stalin's desk.
The Army staff officer who had delivered it had barely taken several steps toward the door when Stalin's stern voice stopped him.
"What is the meaning of this?"
"Why has the operational timetable failed across the entire front?"
Stalin's expression turned cold.
Darkness seemed to gather within every wrinkle around his eyes.
The staff officer swallowed as though forcing a knife down his throat.
After carefully considering his words, he finally answered.
"Comrade Stalin, our forces were unfamiliar with the Finnish terrain during the first day of operations."
"However, once this period of adaptation has passed, the four major fronts will begin advancing rapidly."
"We will strive to break through Finland's entire defensive line before May."
Stalin stared at him.
"Is that your personal military pledge, or the Army's?"
"I do not want pledges."
"I can tolerate slow progress on the other three fronts."
"But the advance on the Karelian Isthmus is unacceptable."
"The 1st Army Group possesses the largest number of tanks and the strongest artillery support, yet it advanced less than fifteen kilometers without encountering serious resistance."
His voice hardened.
"Comrade Chekar, answer me."
"Is that an acceptable result?"
The staff officer remained silent.
"In one week, I want to see the 1st Army Group achieve decisive progress against the Mannerheim Line."
Stalin's demands were severe because another report had reached him only moments earlier.
Just as Soviet Russia began its campaign against Finland, Germany had made its move in North Africa.
Komar.
Headquarters of the German North African Expeditionary Force.
Having once again left his family behind, Rommel had returned to the calculating and cold expression of a battlefield commander.
"Order the 13th Panzer Division and the 5th Panzer Division to halt their advance."
"They have moved too close to Algiers and are allowing De Gaulle's armored forces to lead them on a chase."
"We have not inflicted significant losses upon the French armored units."
"If our front becomes too extended, both divisions could be isolated and destroyed."
Rommel's gaze swept across the staff officers.
"Everyone must remain cautious."
"Even when every advantage is in our hands, we must remain humble and treat the enemy seriously."
The staff officer saluted.
"Yes, sir."
"The Navy has also sent a telegram."
"They request that we delay the operation to capture Algiers. They are preparing to launch a surprise attack against the British and French fleets in the Mediterranean."
"Then postpone the assault for another two days."
Rommel nodded.
"That will create an opening for the Navy."
He turned toward another section of the map.
"What is the situation in the battle for the city in the Gerdas region?"
"The operation is already halfway complete."
The adjutant hesitated before continuing.
"There is another matter, sir."
"Local resistance has suddenly become much stronger."
"We suspect the French may have offered improved terms to persuade local forces to continue fighting."
"Another possibility is that indiscriminate bombing by our Air Force has caused the population to turn against us."
Rommel's expression did not change.
"We do not have the time or manpower to become trapped in such matters."
"Let the Internal and External Intelligence Department conduct the negotiations."
"If negotiations fail, break their legs."
His voice was cold.
"Then we shall see whether they can remain so defiant."
Rommel waved the matter aside and immediately returned his attention to the plans for the coming campaign in Egypt.
....
https://discord.gg/KvMN2CFsMR
[If you don't want to wait for the next update, read 50 chapters ahead on P@treon.]
[[email protected]/FanficLord03].