Chapter 11: If You’re Scared, Scream It Out

"Move fast. Don't wait for the bodies to freeze solid, or we’ll never pry them loose."

Simo slung a submachine gun across his chest and called out three names: "Walter, Juha, and Eero. With me."

Walter and Juha flipped over and readied themselves with practiced ease. But in the corner, Eero remained curled into a ball, clutching his knees with his face buried in his arms. His body was still twitching rhythmically, as if he hadn't heard a word.

"Hey! The squad leader is talking to you!"

Becoming impatient, Juha strode over and grabbed Eero by the collar, intending to hoist him up like a stray chick. "Stop playing dead—"

Juha froze mid-sentence.

A warm, pungent stench of urine, mixed with the acrid scent of gunpowder, drifted into his nostrils. He lowered his gaze to Eero's crotch. On those grey wool military trousers, a large, dark wet patch was beginning to give off wisps of steam in the -20°C wind.

"Ha!"

Juha was stunned for a second before exploding into a piercing, jagged laugh. "Hahaha! Look at this! The kid pissed himself! He actually did it!"

He pointed at Eero, whose face was now flushed a deep crimson as he tried to bury his head even further into his lap, as if he’d discovered a new continent. "My god, I thought the trench had a leak! Eero, are you trying to melt the permafrost? Or just leaving a mark for the Russians?"

A few others nearby let out stifled snickers. The air grew thick with a cruel, awkward brand of amusement. Eero’s trembling intensified, tears welling in his eyes—the sheer, desperate weight of ultimate shame.

"Shut it, Juha."

Simo Häyhä strode over and swiped Juha's pointing hand away. He didn't even look at Juha; instead, he crouched down until he was at eye level with Eero.

"Get up," Simo said calmly.

"I... I..." Eero choked out, having no strength left to stand.

"If you think it feels warm in your pants, it's only temporary," Simo said. There was no mockery in his voice, only a cold, clinical statement of fact. "In five minutes, that piss will turn to ice. It’ll freeze your junk and your balls off. Then you really will be a girl."

He reached out a rough hand, gripping Eero’s shoulder with a steady gaze. "Listen, recruit. There’s no shame in being afraid. I’m scared. Walter is scared. But out on the battlefield, pissing your pants is the stupidest way to handle it."

"Then... what should I do?" Eero asked through his sobs.

"If you're scared, scream it out," Simo said, staring into his eyes. "Roar like a beast, or curse your mother, or the Russians, or me. Spit the fear out of your lungs, and then move."

Eero sniffled. Looking at the squad leader, who was shorter than himself, he finally grabbed Simo’s arm and wobbled to his feet. His legs were still weak, but at least he didn't shrink back down.

"Let's go," Simo turned. "Go grab some rifles and ammo. We need the gear."

…

Four figures hugged the frozen snow like geckos, crawling slowly toward the pile of corpses.

Walter crawled at the rear, pulling rear-guard duty. He watched Eero’s clumsy, seal-like movements ahead of him and sighed internally, raising his muzzle slightly to cover them.

About forty meters from the trench lay the Soviet bodies, strewn about in a haphazard tangle. Despite their mental preparation, the sensory assault of being in close proximity to the dead was still overwhelming.

Walter rolled over a corpse. It was a young face, eyes still open, staring dead-eyed at the grey sky. Expressionless, Walter unfastened the ammo pouches and two grenades from the man's belt and stuffed them into his pack.

"Jackpot!" Juha whispered excitedly. He dragged a light machine gun with a circular pan magazine from the pile; its heavy weight gave him a sudden sense of security.

Eero was also trembling as he searched a body. Just as he reached for a Mosin-Nagant rifle, a flash of fire erupted from the shadows at the edge of the forest.

Bang!

The bullet struck the frozen earth right next to Eero’s hand, spraying ice chips into his face.

"We've been spotted! Retreat! Move it!"

Simo reacted instantly. He kicked a body out of his path and began crawling back, dragging two crates of ammunition. "Keep low! Don't raise your heads!"

The gunfire from the woods intensified. The main Soviet force may have retreated, but their scouts were clearly not blind.

Walter and Juha were veterans; they kept their faces pressed to the ground, scurrying backward like lizards. Bullets whistled overhead with a shrill, terrifying scream.

But Eero snapped.

That single bullet hitting the ground next to his hand shattered what little psychological defense he had managed to build. Survival instinct overrode reason; his mind went blank.

"Aaaaaah!"

Eero let out a high-pitched shriek. Forgetting Simo’s instructions, he pushed off with his hands and lunged upright, attempting to bolt back to the safety of the trench.

Standing up to run on an open snowfield made him nothing more than a target at a shooting gallery.

"Get down! You idiot! Get down!" Simo roared from behind, his eyes turning bloodshot with rage.

But Eero couldn't hear him. He just wanted to be faster, faster, back to that safe hole in the dirt.

Bang!

A sharp report rang out.

Mid-stride, Eero stumbled violently, as if someone had delivered a heavy slap to his head. Blood instantly stained one side of his face, but miraculously, he didn't fall. Driven by pure adrenaline, he scrambled and tumbled over the edge into the trench.

"Eero!"

Walter and Simo rolled in right after him. Juha leaped in last, still clutching the machine gun to his chest.

"My ear! My ear!"

Eero clutched the right side of his head, screaming in agony. Blood seeped through his fingers, staining his collar a deep crimson. Simo rushed over and forced his hand away.

Where the right ear should have been, there was now only a bloody, mangled stump. The bullet had sheared off the upper curve of the ear, leaving the cartilage exposed. It was a gruesome sight.

"It’s fine, it didn't punch through your skull." Simo pulled out a field dressing and pressed a wad of gauze firmly against the wound. His tone was harsh. "Stop screaming! This is what happens when you don't follow orders! If you’d stayed down, that bullet would’ve only taken your hat!"

Eero twitched in pain, but between Simo’s reprimand and the lingering smell of urine, he didn't dare scream again. He just gritted his teeth, letting out low, gutteral whimpers.

"That’s your first lesson, Eero," Simo said quietly as he bandaged the wound. "Consider this ear the tuition fee. Next time you stand up and run, it’ll be your head."

The stuttering coward had paid a price. But in this brutal meat grinder, trading an ear for a life-saving lesson was, perhaps... the luckiest outcome he could hope for.