Led by Raivo, the group navigated through a dense coniferous forest until they finally reached the so-called "base" in a secluded hollow. It was a hunter's cabin almost completely buried by snow, its roof reinforced with spruce bark and moss. To an untrained eye, it looked like nothing more than a massive snowdrift.
Raivo pushed open the heavy wooden door, and a wave of warmth rushed out, carrying the scent of burning pine and roasted meat. Though the interior was spartan, a large stove roared at the center, the floor was covered in thick reindeer pelts, and several crates of vodka were stacked in the corner.
"Quick! Get the wounded by the fire!"
Raivo directed his men to clear space, settling Juha and Aalto in the warmest spot. As the rest filed in, the stubborn donkey that had been trailing them smelled the warmth and food; it lowered its head, trying to squeeze through the doorway.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing, you beast?"
Old Juhani was quick, grabbing the reins and delivering a firm rap to the donkey's head. "There's no bunk for you in here! Stay outside!"
The donkey blinked, stunned, then snorted a defiant puff of air, lowering its head as if to ram Old Juhani.
"Heh, quite a temper on this one," Raivo laughed as he walked over. "Tether him in the lean-to out back. There's hay there; he won't freeze."
Old Juhani spent a great deal of effort dragging and shoving the reluctant animal away, muttering under his breath the whole time, "I'm going to stew you one of these days..."
With warmth and food provided, the squad's morale, and physical strength, began to return. Walter sat by the stove, cradling a cup of hot tea.
"Here, try this," Raivo handed over a piece of sizzling, fatty venison. "Fresh kill from a few days ago. Good stuff."
"Thanks," Walter said, taking the meat.
"You two have some real skill, escaping from Wolf's clutches," Raivo remarked with interest, watching Simo and Walter eat.
"Luck, mostly," Simo replied flatly.
"Don't be modest." Raivo paused, pulling a crumpled, hand-drawn map from his coat and spreading it near the fire. "Since we're all on the same side, I'll be direct. We're planning to stir up some trouble in a few days."
"What kind of trouble?" Walter asked.
"There's a new checkpoint nearby." Raivo pointed to a junction on the map. "It's a bottleneck for the Russian supply line. Trucks pass through there every day."
"Our job is to make life difficult for them. Take some potshots, toss a few grenades, make sure they don't get a wink of sleep."
Walter and Simo exchanged a look. They understood that if they were going to accept hospitality and rations, they had to contribute. Besides, after being hunted by Wolf for so long, they had plenty of pent-up aggression. Better to strike back than to wait like sitting ducks.
"We're in," Walter said, setting down his cup. "Count us both in."
"You two?" Raivo blinked. "You just arrived. Don't you need rest? And..." He glanced at Juha and Aalto in the corner. "Your brothers still need looking after."
"We're not that fragile," Simo said calmly. "If we eat your meat, we do the work. Besides, if we don't take the initiative, that mad dog Wolf will find us eventually. Better to cause him some trouble first."
"Good!" Raivo laughed loudly, clapping Simo on the shoulder. "I like your grit! We partisans are poor, but we specialize in curing arrogance."
"However, my two brothers are badly hurt," Simo noted.
"Don't worry," Raivo promised, patting his chest. "There's enough food and medicine here, and my men will keep watch. It's safe."
Before leaving, Simo pulled Old Juhani aside.
"Old Juhani, I'm leaving things here to you. Keep an eye on Juha and Aalto. Don't let them wander."
"Rest easy. As long as these old bones are still moving, they won't lose a single hair," Old Juhani nodded solemnly.
"And the donkey," Simo looked at the tethered beast and couldn't help but smirk. "Don't butcher him. We might still need him to bolt if things go south."
With everything settled, Raivo picked a dozen partisans. Along with Simo and Walter, the group geared up and set out. A night of rest hadn't fully restored their stamina, but their bellies were full and their bodies were warm.
The next morning, the blizzard eased slightly. Walter and Simo scrounged through the partisans' armory for usable ammunition. Walter topped off three magazines for his M28/30 and tucked two homemade Molotov cocktails into his belt. Simo took a particular liking to the captured PPD-38 submachine gun; he had grown fond of the feeling of fire suppression. He asked Raivo for two full drum magazines and hid a backup knife in his boot.
"Ready?" Lieutenant Raivo asked, wrapped in a white camo cloak, clutching his Suomi submachine gun.
"Ready as we'll ever be," Walter said, tightening his sling.
"Move out!"
The target checkpoint was roughly five kilometers away, situated on a snow-covered forest road. Along the way, Raivo became noticeably quieter.
"Remember, we are partisans, not a suicide squad," he whispered. "Our mission is to harass, create chaos, not to go toe-to-toe with Russian bayonets. Hit and run. Don't linger."
"Are there main Soviet forces nearby?" Simo asked.
"Plenty." Raivo pointed into the distance. "To the south, there's at least a battalion and a few tanks. If we get pinned at that checkpoint, once the shooting starts, we'll be surrounded in less than an hour."
An hour later, they crawled to the vicinity of the checkpoint. It was a substantial outpost. They hadn't just used logs and barbed wire to create a defensive perimeter; they had also built several semi-buried bunkers into the hillside and a two-story wooden watchtower.
This wasn't the small fifteen-man outpost Raivo had expected. It was a reinforced strongpoint garrisoned by at least a platoon, possibly more.
In the clearing, seven or eight soldiers in khaki greatcoats huddled around a fire. Further out, in the bunkers and trenches, more silhouettes were visible. Two Maxim heavy machine guns were positioned on high ground, their dark muzzles providing interlocking fire across the road entrance.
"Damn it," Raivo lowered his binoculars, his expression souring. "There are at least forty or fifty of them."
"Are we still doing this?" a young partisan asked tentatively.
"Yes," Walter replied coldly. He found a perfect sniping position next to a pine tree on a high slope, offering a commanding view of the entire checkpoint. "We've come this far; we shouldn't go back empty-handed. Besides, with that many of them, their reaction time will be slow."
"Exactly," Simo agreed. "We don't need to wipe them out, that's for the regular army. Our job is to harass, to let them know this road isn't safe."
He pointed toward the thick woods behind the checkpoint.
"We dump a magazine and retreat into the trees. If those Ivans are brave enough to chase us, they'll walk straight into our pocket."
"An ambush?" Raivo's eyes lit up.
"Right. Bait and strike," Simo narrowed his eyes. "Inside that checkpoint, they have bunkers and heavy machine guns, it's a turtle shell. But once we lure them into the woods, the game changes."
"Brilliant!" Raivo slapped his thigh. "Then that's the plan! Hit them hard at the start. Make them angry!"
He quickly redeployed his forces into three fire teams. Walter, Simo, and a few of the partisans' best marksmen would handle the opening salvo. Raivo would lead the assault team to provide suppression and sow chaos, while the rest lay in wait along the predetermined retreat route.
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