A Timeless Romance Anthology: European Collection (2 page)

The young soldier reached for her suitcase, which she surrendered with a smile. She turned back to the older man. “Are you Colonel Talvela?”

“No, no. He is my commander. I’m Kuusinen. No relation to the fake president.” He shook his head, clearly disdainful of the puppet government Stalin had erected for the Finns.

“I’ll remember that,” Anna said, and followed them through the snow, picking her way behind them toward a jeep. She could hardly see where she was stepping. If she reached the car without slipping and falling on her face, it would be a miracle, even though she’d bought a pair of sensible boots to go with the coat and gloves instead of the pretty boots with the high heels she’d eyed in a Manhattan department store. Even so, Anna had to scurry to keep up.

They finally reached the jeep, which was parked near a snowbank. The young man hefted Anna’s suitcase into the back then hopped behind the wheel. Kuusinen gestured toward the back seat. “For you— the back is a somewhat gentler ride.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you,” she said, taking his hand as he helped her up.

Climbing up in a skirt was tricky business, but as she settled into her seat, she was extra glad for the thick long johns she’d put on underneath. Otherwise, her limbs would have frozen right off.

She clutched her purse on her lap and made sure her suitcase was steady. “Has my photographer arrived yet?” The magazine promised to send a photographer along, but they had different itineraries. As Anna was a last-minute replacement for Keith, she didn’t know when the photographer would be arriving or even who it was.

“Yes. He came yesterday morning,” Kuusinen said as he lifted himself into the jeep.

Whoever he was, he’d gotten almost two full days’ worth of experience ahead of her. She hoped he was a team player, that he’d share his information so his pictures and her stories that went with them would be good— award-worthy good.

“Let’s go,” Kuusinen said after Anna scooted back in her seat. The younger man nodded and started up the engine.

They were off, bouncing along icy roads, the headlights looking like two slashes cutting the way before them. The darkness felt so all-consuming and unfamiliar that Anna wished herself back home in her apartment with a cup of chamomile tea.

At least someone from home was in camp; a little bit of the familiar would be welcome, particularly when the “little bit” was simply a fellow American. Not for the first time during this journey, Anna wished she’d gotten a chance to meet her photographer and get to know him so she could get a feel for how he worked and how best to utilize their skills.

The jeep slid around a corner, just missing an animal, which pranced off through some trees. “Was that a— a reindeer?” Anna stammered. Her arms shot out, griping the jeep for dear life.

“Yes,” Kuusinen said. “We mustn’t hurt the animals, of course.”

Of course? How about we keep ourselves safe first?
Her grip tightened.
Oh, I need a good laugh if I ever get safely back on solid ground.

What she wouldn’t give for her cozy bedroom with the yellow glow from her lamp as she read a novel under her comforter. She’d done so the night before she left three days ago, but it felt like another world, another lifetime now as the jeep hurdled her through the inky, never-ending blackness.

At least this will keep me from thinking about Pete.

“I hear it’s this dark in the day as well.” she called to the front seat, determined to keep Pete out of her head. The cold air bit her throat and lungs. “Is that right?”

Kuusinen turned to talk to her over his shoulder, one arm resting on the driver’s seat. “This time of year, yes.” He looked as relaxed as if he were strolling down Hollywood Boulevard. “We get a few hours of light each day. Three or four, maybe.”

“Three?” Anna repeated, incredulous. People lived this way? How?

“Or four,” Kuusinen said. “Oh, but just wait six months, and we’ll have so much light, you can hardly sleep at night. That’s when we have three or four hours of
darkness
a night.”

“Goodness,” Anna said, shaking her head as she tried to grasp what such a life would be like. She wouldn’t mind seeing a Finnish summer, but she was rather glad she wouldn’t be here anywhere near long enough to find out what they were like.

“It’s a beautiful country and a beautiful life,” Kuusinen said. His face grew more serious. “A wonderful life we
will not
lose to Russia.”

She nodded. “I believe you.” The intensity in his eyes said that no matter what, he and his people would never give in, even against the giant Soviet army.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Anna said.

“Sisu,” Kuusinen said without missing a beat.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know that word.” Anna’s forehead crinkled. “See-soo? What does that mean?”

“There is no good English word. Some say it’s ‘guts,’ but…” He made a face and shook his head, showing his disdain for the translation. He pounded his chest. “Sisu. It’s what makes us strong. Determined. Brave. We get through anything. We keep going no matter how hard. The Russians thought they could come take over with their tanks and cannons and hundreds of thousands of men against our small numbers. But we don’t surrender.
This
is what we learn from living with these winters and defeating them every year.”

As he spoke, puffs of white escaped his mouth. He leaned closer to Anna and narrowed his eyes. “
That
is sisu.”

Chapter Two

They arrived in camp perhaps ten harrowing minutes later. Anna had never been more relieved to have a car stop in her life. Kuusinen took his leave. The young soldier had lit a small lantern and carried both it and Anna’s suitcase across the snow. She hurried along behind him.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Me?” He paused in the snow, seeming hesitant to speak English. “I am— Antti.”

“Nice to meet you, Antti.”

He smiled at that then continued on, leading her to what looked like a hilly mass of branches and snow. Not until he stopped before it and knocked did she realize that this was a shelter of some sort— a camouflaged dugout. It blended in perfectly with the surrounding the forest.

Antti set the suitcase before the door. “Here is the women’s place. I don’t go in,” he said, gesturing toward the dugout. He lifted a hand and gave a slight nod, as if he were tipping a hat— as he probably had to ladies on the street before the war broke out— and walked away with the lantern. Alone in the darkness, Anna felt even colder than before.

She lifted a hand to knock again, but the door opened before her knuckles made contact, revealing a pretty woman with a round face and blonde hair pulled into a tight bun. “
Oi anteesk
—”

Anna shook her head, hands raised. “I’m sorry; I don’t speak Finnish.”

The woman looked up. “Oh, hello.” She spoke the two English words with confidence. “American?”

“Yes. I’m a reporter. Antti says I’m to stay here?”

“Ah. You came to see the war and write for a newspaper, yes?”

“For a magazine, yes,” Anna said. She pointed inside the dugout. “Do I stay in here?”

“Yes, yes,” the woman said. “Come.” She led the way inside. Anna struggled to drag her suitcase inside. She closed the door, and immediately felt better; the bitter cold was gone. She was enveloped by a highly unexpected feeling. Not warmth, exactly, but also not the freezing cold she’d stepped from. This was quite tolerable. She looked around. The walls were covered with hides with short hair. A glow spilled from a lantern in the corner, making the room lighter than Anna would have expected. She reached up and stroked one of the furs on the wall. “What animal is this from?”

“Reindeer,” the woman said.

“Brilliant,” Anna murmured. Drawing her hand down the wall, along the concrete, which gave her a feeling of security, although she had no idea whether it was a false sense of safety. Could a bomb or tank still bash it to pieces? Probably. But this area of the war was supposed to be quiet.

She heard a boom in the distance. Mortar fire or a bomb, surely. But how close? She swallowed back the nerves climbing up her throat, reminding herself that she’d asked for this assignment.

I
will
prove myself as equal to any other reporter on staff.
Another boom, this one closer. It took Anna’s breath away.

When the boom subsided, the woman crossed to a cot on the far side of the room, seemingly unfazed by the noise. “My name is Kaisa. I’m a nurse. And I believe this is your cot.”

“Thank you,” Anna said, following from behind and setting her suitcase beside the cot. The dugout had ten cots, with nine obviously in use; personal effects and clothing were stacked beneath them and on top of them. Each cot had a small shelf unit or other storage. Remarkably nice for an icy war zone.

Kaisa turned toward the door, apparently ready to leave, but Anna called her back, unwilling to be left alone with nothing to do. She pulled out her notebook and pencil and hurried toward Kaisa.

“Could you show me where my photographer is?” Anna asked. “Kuusinen said he arrived yesterday.”

The nurse stopped at the door and turned around. “Tall man, blond hair, very handsome. Could pass for a Finn?”

Anna shrugged but smiled at the description. “I don’t know; I haven’t met him.” She mentally went through the photographers she knew at the magazine, but that didn’t do much; several were tall and blond, including Pete.

Ugh. Stop thinking about him!

“He’s
very
handsome.” Kaisa’s eyes lit up. “He went on a ski patrol a few hours ago. They should be back soon. Would you like to wait in the mess hall for him?” She pushed the door open, letting a stream of frigid air into the dugout. “That’s straight ahead about one hundred meters. You can use the flashlight on your cot to find your way.”

Anna found the flashlight, which she hadn’t noticed before, and flipped it on. The yellow beam was a strange comfort in this land of what felt like eternal night.

“I must go to my shift in hospital now,” Kaisa said, making a move to leave.

Anna jumped at the opportunity. “May I come with you?”

Kaisa stopped in her step a second time and looked questioningly at Anna. “You want to see hospital?” Her voice sounded incredulous.

“I want to see the war from all sides.”

Kaisa seemed to consider the suggestion for a moment before nodding. “Very well.”

Anna quickly opened her purse, from which she snatched two extra pencils in case one broke, and followed Kaisa into the bitter cold. Even though she’d been outside only moments before, the sheer force of the winter was again a shock to her system, as if she’d walked into a wall of ice. She tried not to show her reaction to Kaisa, who tromped along, seemingly without noticing or caring about the temperature or the snow squeaking beneath their boots.

Along the way, Anna couldn’t see tents, dugouts, or other structures until they were nearly upon them. Only their two small flashlights kept Anna from stumbling and running into things.

“I’m glad you’re leading the way,” she said to Kaisa, hoping to keep the heaviness of the darkness from pressing in on her like a heavy weight. “I’d be liable to wander into the trees and get lost in the snow without your help.”

Slowing her step, Kaisa turned around, her face suddenly somber. “That is exactly what happens to the Russians. They aren’t ready for our winters and don’t want to fight anyway. Their leaders lie about why they’ve invaded our country.”

“What kind of lies?” Anna mentally opened her reporter’s notebook so she could remember this conversation. She couldn’t take notes in the dark, but she wanted to hear what was on Kaisa’s mind. Anna’s journalistic instincts promptly overcame her desire to get out of the cold, and she felt no need to hurry, even though her toes burned with the cold.

“Stalin tells his soldiers that they are coming to liberate us poor, downtrodden Finns. Some prisoners we’ve captured say they can hardly believe their eyes when they see how we Finns live more comfortably than they do in Russia. We have everything we need. They have nothing to offer us.” She shook her head wistfully. “Poor Russian boys…” Even though she spoke of her enemy camped somewhere in the dark in the distance, her face showed compassion. “Most of the Russians soldiers are hardly trained at all. So many young men are just sent to the border on trains and then they march. Many have died from the cold as they come across the border before they ever see battle. Those who survive are told that if they are captured, the Finns will torture them, pluck out their eyeballs, and then kill them. Of course we do no such thing.”

Anna’s stomach twisted. “How horrible. Why don’t the soldiers refuse to fight?” Even as she asked the question, she knew the answer. Soldiers didn’t disobey orders.

The faint glow of Kaisa’s flashlight showed her pained smile. Clearly, the idea of suffering was hard for this nurse to bear, even if it meant the enemy. “The commanders give them no choice. Russian soldiers march toward us with guns at their backs. They are shot either by our snipers or by their own commanders.” Kaisa nodded toward the forest behind Anna. “Or, if they try to escape into the trees… they get lost, as you said. It doesn’t take long for them to freeze and die.” She cleared her throat, shook her head as if to clear such sad thoughts, and turned toward the path in the snow again. “Come. I must report to my shift.”

They entered one of two tents, both of which Kaisa indicated belonged to the field hospital. The other was for surgeries, this one for the recovering wounded. The tents were large and painted white as camouflage in the snow. Kaisa held open a heavy canvas flap, which, like the dugout, was lined with fur. Anna stepped inside. The temperature within the tent didn’t feel quite as warm as in the dugout, but the sting of cold wasn’t here. Cots lined both sides, more than half filled with wounded.

Kaisa consulted her superior as she began her shift, and Anna took in every detail, trying to commit it all to memory as she looked for a spot to sit where she could take notes. She spotted a chair the opposite side of the room from Kaisa, where she sat to jot down all she’d learned so far.