Saksa had invaded Puola, all hell had broken loose. The Great War had started in 1939 and had been going on for almost two and a half months now. There wasn't a single nook or cranny in Europe that hadn't been affected.

Tino Väinämöinen had volunteered himself for the Finnish military only a year ago. He was a small man, about 170 centimeters in height. He had fluffy blonde hair, and sharp blue eyes that held an ever calculating look in them. A round face, small nose. Almost feminine by some standards. Suomi had been threatened multiple times by the Soviets of a takeover. Of course, that was inevitable. Russia had wanted their land back for ages. So they had set up a few squadrons to keep an eye on the border to make sure that Russia didn't decide to invade and catch them unaware. Tino had quickly worked to become best sniper in his division. The men in his squadron had always called him ässä, (which meant ace) or teased him by shortening the word by a letter. (He wasn't a fan of that)

Though it was old, he had never missed a shot with his M1891/30. It had a 30 inch barrel and was known to be the longest rifle to be used in the last Great War. It stood taller than he did, and had an additional 23 inch steel bayonet on the end. Recently, he had been offered a more recent design of the gun, just the plain 1891/30, but he wasn't so sure. However, with the threat of the Soviets coming in, he was about ready to give in on the condition that he could keep his old model.

It was in the late morning of November 30th, 1939. Tino had already been excitedly preparing for Christmas, much to his groups enjoyment and dismay. The little hut they were all sharing had home-made tinsel and popcorn strings all over the place, and a bush outside had been decorated with the stuff. They had all been (horribly) singing Jouluyö!Juhlayö! (Silent night) and enjoying themselves with the best vodka they had.

Jouluyö!Juhlayö!

Päättynyt! Kaikk' on työ,

Kaks vain valveill' on puolisoa

lapsen herttaisen nukkuessa,

seimikätkyessään!

A loud banging came from the door. The soldiers all looked at each other curiously. Tino brushed his shirt clean of whatever could be on it and quickly went to the door and came face-to-face with a uniformed soldier.

"Tino Väinämöinen! You have been summoned to the line of duty for Suomi!" The soldier said, holding out an envelope in an almost snappish way. Tino nodded, taking it with trembling fingers. The soldier nodded and turned on his heel in the snow, practically marching away. Tino felt a bubble of fear in his throat as he watched the soldier go.

He was going to war.

Tino had been briefed and was terrified by the odds that had been presented to him. Almost one million men had been estimated by those who had seen the Soviets coming. About seven thousand tanks maybe, and at least three thousand aircraft that had only been seen.

"And what do we have, exactly?" Tino had asked, trying to hide the fear that was building up in his chest. He still had that terrible feeling just digging a deeper and deeper pit in his stomach. The commanding officer that had been his escort, along with his new group, looked at them.

"About four hundred thousand."

"Aircraft?"

"Men."

Tino was speechless. Completely and totally speechless. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish for a moment before he decided to just snap it shut. His teeth clicked together loudly. "What else?"

"Forty tanks. Almost a hundred twenty planes."

Tino looked at his new partner, Berwald Oxenstierna. A larger man at about 183 cm, he had a strong build, and short, blonde hair. He was one of the volunteers from Lantutn. He looked far more like a soldier than Tino did, and even scared the smaller man a bit from his lack of emotional show. His mouth was in a constant, straight line, and his cobalt eyes were steely and cold. He didn't speak much, and when he did, his voice was deep and grating, and his language was in short, simple phrases. Tino almost found that to be a comfort at the time… simplicity in the midst of so much complication.

"It's going to take a miracle." Tino breathed out shakily.

The plans were simple, efficient. Suomi was on the defensive, and if they could call in help from someone, that would be great. Tanska had sent some help, and Norja had chosen to stay completely out of it. Unkari and Italia had told them they would send help, as to when, no one knew. Viro had sent a group of twenty, for it was all they could afford. No one else wanted to be associated with the cold weather.

It was only four hours until they had deployed Tino to his station. He was placed right at the front, where the Soviets had penetrated the lines of the countries defenses. He pressed his gun closely to his side, as if it were a warm and comforting blanket. He was currently lying on the ground behind a small pile of rocks. Basically, he was out in the open with blank hopes of being missed if his white, camouflaged uniform was seen by the enemy.

Three months- or was it four? - had passed since. Much was on Tino's mind, but he tried to stay focused on what was at hand. He looked down the scope of his gun, adjusting the angle after glancing at the wind gauge next to him. The blonde took a deep breath, steam escaping from his lips as he exhaled his doubt, and pulled the trigger. The gun fired, her silent explosion echoing faintly in Tino's mind. Blood exploded from the side of the targeted Soviet's head as Tino reloaded his gun, marking another ten successful shots. The bullets clicked into place and he moved the barrel down.

As with every other sniper, he had been issued a new model of the Masin-Nagent. The M/27rv. He wasn't familiar with this gun, it didn't have the bayonet on the end anymore and the barrel was much shorter. However, he was grateful for the new accuracy of the gun. She was, in fact, the best gun he could have possibly been given. Each shot was precisely made. He kept his older model with him- just in case.

The Guerrilla tactics being put into action were already effective. The Soviets weren't prepared for the negative forty-three degree Celsius cold that was taking its toll on them already. Tino could see men already dropping from terrible frostbite and illness from it as he aimed his gun. He made sure to aim for people who seemed to know what they were doing, as opposed to those who could easily be taken care of by the ground troop just below, who planned to attack when they settled for camp. The whole war had been a bloody fray. But thanks to many accommodations, The Suomalainen seemed to have a slight upper hand over the Soviets.

For one, they could Ski. The Soviets seemed to have problems with the flat poles strapped to their feet. For another, they were more prepared for the cold. Tino had actually seen amputations take place on the (dare he say it) poor Reds in negative twenty degree weather! They were also forced to walk in large, columns of men because they couldn't ski. There were men in the front that had to dig so that they could march forward. Tino really actually felt bad for them, because they were so unprepared and mistreated. He had heard that this was already being dubbed "The Winter War" and they had broken whatever record there was for the coldest battle in history.

The sun was going down by then, and the air was getting colder. The wild shots by the Soviets ceased, and so did the accurate ones from the Suomalainen. Tino finally let himself loosen his muscles just a bit from where he had been laying for countless hours… his whole body hurt. But now it was time to let the ground troops of Ruotsi Volunteers take over.

They had isolated smaller portions of the Red's supreme forces by splitting them up in different terrains that had been dubbed 'Motti' or 'Pockets'. In these small areas, it was near impossible for the Soviets to live. It had been explained that the Soviets had no choice. If he refused to fight, he was shot. If he tried to sneak away, he'd freeze. And surrender was no option because Soviet to propaganda had told how the Suomalainen would torture them to death.

Of course, the Suomalainen and Lantuts had not been without loss in the war. Be that as it may, the Reds seemed to have some pretty good snipers amongst them. If they had been less cold or more steady in the deep snow… Tino was certain that he would be dead. The bullet holes in the ice around him were proof enough of that. Some were close enough for him to touch with his nose.

Occupied by his thoughts, Tino heard footsteps behind him and whipped around to see who it was. He was relieved to see that in front of him, rather than an enemy soldier, was the white-donned, Berwald.

"How's it." Berwald asked, sounding more like he was stating something rather than asking though. Tino had grown used to his partner's ways of speech after so long though.

"It's started down there. I'm just helping where I can." Tino said, frowning as he took a shot, hitting one of the Red soldiers directly in the temple. The man dropped to the snowy terrain in front of one of the volunteers, who had been struggling with him. The Lantut below looked both relieved and terrified through Tino's scope. "It's horrible."

"Mm." Berwald nodded, dropping to his stomach next to his partner. "Lots'f young people."

"Yea… it's hard. But war is war." Tino said, taking another shot. This one to the chest. "Besides, what do you mean young people? You're not all that old, are you?"

"M' 29."

"Oh, I'm 24. So see? You're not that old compared to us." Tino said with finality and a dry chuckle.

The two sat in the violent silence. A few shots were taken by each, but not much else was done. Tino tried to stay focused, but there was a hefty thought on his mind.

"What's botherin' ya." Berwald finally asked.

Tino groaned. "It'll be a miracle if we even get out of this Pocket by the end of the day." He sighed, closing one eye as he peered through his scope and aimed for the hundredth time that day. Berwald shifted next to him in the ice.

"Did'ja hear that." Berwald suddenly asked. Tino paused in his actions, the silence created by the falling snow and surrounding piles of said substance was almost stifling… if not for the small crunches of snow that was coming from behind them. Berwald and Tino barely had time to nod at each other before they leaped up and hid in the nooks and crannies of the rugged terrain as they had been trained.

Their white camouflage blended them into the surroundings much better than what the khaki coloured uniforms of the Soviets did. The blue shadowing was perfect, but with the sun going down, the perfect cover was limited. Tino and Berwald knew that no one knew of their position, they had decided on it themselves. So unless they were some straggling hikers, which was an outstanding chance of zero to none, it was the enemy or a very lost volunteer. Somehow they had to have tracked their shots back to them. It was hard to figure, but since the snipers couldn't shoot from below, they appeared to have sent scouts up. How had Tino missed them?!

Of course, after a moment of thought, Tino couldn't have possibly been able to see anyone that was sneaking around right below him. The steep drop of solid ice below were enough to hide the men below. But he had also been counting on the volunteers and soldiers below to keep an eye out for scouts! Could nothing go right?

He pulled his hood further down, gripping both of his camouflage-painted guns to his side with the thick, white gloves. To anyone barely two feet away, would think he was a wall of ice and snow, but for the fingers that poked out from his gloves. He tucked them behind his gun.

The khaki coloured uniform came into view after the barrel of a black gun did. The soldier moved slowly, cautiously. Tino held his breath to keep the steam from leaving his mouth in the cold. He slowly moved his hand towards his gun. He could see Berwald doing the same.

Tino waited for the soldier to turn away. He prayed that he would turn away, he begged whatever Gods were out there silently, that he would turn away. He would do anything just to get that Red Soldier to get out of there. Tino was very experienced in long distance fighting by now, however, he preferred it to stay that way. He knew some basic and effective maneuvers for fighting hand-to-hand, and he was sure Berwald was very good at it, but he didn't want it to happen. Ever.

Tino silently cursed him and Berwald's luck as he heard even more footsteps coming towards them. Three or four more men were coming, and unless they were blind as bats… they were doomed to be found and be dead in seconds…or captives. Curses.

It seemed that they were trying to find a way out of the pocket. If they did find a way out, the whole operation was null. They had to stop them or it would be too late and the Soviets would get away. Unacceptable- and also a one way ticket to death. Four hundred thousand families had already been forced from their homes in all of this. It was despicable to even think of letting it happen to any more.

Tino did not speak Russian, which was what the Reds were speaking. He only picked up on a few words, like comrade and Finskiye soldaty (Finnish Soldiers). He could read their hand gestures, and was thanking the good Lord that he and Berwald had not been seen yet. But he still kept his hand on his gun, waiting. Watching.

The tallest out of the small group pointed towards the opening that Tino and Berwald had been deliberately blocking. What could they do? They couldn't just attack, they'd be killed on the spot. They couldn't send a signal to the other snipers, they'd be killed on the spot. Really, all options seemed to end in death.

'This is it, I'm going to die. What did I ever do to deserve this?' Tino thought silently, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of his mind that said 'you silently killed men from afar…?' He didn't have time to think about that at the moment. He was trying to think of a way out of this.

Tact was something Tino Väinämöinen had been gifted with from birth. Staying calm was something else he had well in his power, however, using both gifts at the same time when under intense pressure was not a gift given ability. He had trained his brain and heart to keep from panic under the worst situations. But at the moment… he was drawing a blank. The only thing he could cling to at this point was his guns.

Oh.

Tino found himself hesitating. If this didn't work, he was dead. So was Berwald. But really, everything else was just as bad. And if worst came to it, he would shoot them point blank. Messy and unpleasant if one thing, but efficient if another.

Lifting his older gun, he gently tapped his white-painted bayonet against the icy side of the cliff. The ice cracked slightly from the touch, and he gulped. Risky. Very risky. The Soviets seemed to hear that at first, and looked around, seeing nothing in front of them. Tino thanked the un-named Gods they hadn't looked behind them.

His thank-yous suddenly froze when one of the Reds pointed right at him and started shouting. Tino gasped and jumped down from where he had been and landed hard on the ice, lodging his bayonet deeply into the ice below where a bullet had been embedded earlier in attempt to kill him. Berwald jumped down as well, causing the cracks to start spreading around the blondes. Tino jumped back up to his feet and grasped his other gun, metal cleated boots digging into the ice to keep from slipping. He swung and whacked at the offending soldiers with his bayoneted gun, sometimes allowing her blade to slice at the soldiers. He himself almost lost his head in punches in the process. He was quick to dodge, until they drew their small guns.

Bullets flew around him, and he screeched in pain as two bullets embedded themselves in his left arm and shoulder. Luckily the men's hands were shaking to horribly from the cold for them to take proper aim. By the time Tino had looked up from his kneel- apparently he had fallen to them- Berwald had knocked the Reds away. The Finn clenched his teeth together and went for his precious gun with his right hand. Taking a lopsided aim, he launched two more bullets into the ice at the Soviet soldier's feet.

The ice cracked even more and a thick line of break showed up right in between Tino and the small group of Soviets. Berwald saw this and stomped hard on the ground with his metal-spiked boot. Tino took the opportunity to aim again and shot the front Soviet in the foot, causing him to howl and fall backwards. The break in the ice spread further. Berwald stomped again. Tino shot another soldier. The crack grew until the ice could no longer hold together, and the whole wall and ground gave way.

Berwald leaped backwards just in time, avoiding the slip of ice that offered to take him to his death below. Tino immediately leaped up and grasped onto the side of the icy incline as fast as he could, digging his boots into the side of the ice wall to keep himself up. The two watched while the Soviets fell down the sharp, icy descent. Tino also watched sadly as his precious guns and lifelines fell down with the ice. All he had left now was a standard pistol. He silently thanked them for their service.

"Y'okay?" Berwald asked urgently, shuffling his feet along the horribly thin amount of ice left to walk on just above Tino, who was still clinging to the edge of that thin ice ledge for dear life. His left arm had already given out from the wounds inflicted by the Red soldier's gun, leaving it hanging uselessly at his side.

"Yeah! Just please help me up, I'm going to dieeee…." He whimpered, feeling his bare fingers biting into the horrible cold. He wasn't sure if it was luck or not, but his skin was frozen to the ice already. His hand was slipping despite this, and he was literally holding on by the tips of his fingers, which still were being shredded from the pull of the ice on his skin. His short nails were digging painfully into the ice as best they could, but he was slipping fast. If not for his boots, he would surely have fallen by then.

"Th'was brilliant." Berwald declared, reaching as far as he could for the Finn, who had his eyes squeezed shut in fear. The Lantut managed to catch his friend's wrist and worked to pull him up before his fingers gave way completely. Tino thanked him profusely, holding his injuries with a ginger touch. He breathed heavily and steadily as he tried to calm his racing heart and stay warm. He blew onto his stinging fingers, reddened and bloody from the freezing cold they had just endured. He also let Berwald fuss over his gunshot wounds, they were deep, and he prayed that he would still be able to use his arm after this was all said and done.

"H-have you e-ever heard of- a-a war M-miracle?" Tino asked, still gasping and shivering. The Lantut nodded at his question, looking at him curiously. "They say they o-only happ-en once in a life." Berwald nodded again, wrapping some linen he had pulled from his pocket around Tino's fingers. "That- w-was a- b-brillian-nt- mir-acle." Tino shivered, looking up at the sky, which was darkening with storm. "… w-we're alive." He said. Berwald looked up at the sky as well, and then slid down the wall to sit next to his partner.

"Yeah. Guess w'are."

Finn

Wow that was fun! I had to do this sort of thing for my creative writing class, so I was really happy with how it came out, so drop a review and tell me what you think! Thanks for reading it means a lot to me!