The Sniper

(Source)

Her name was Angelina Denisovna Sergeyeva, she was 19 years old. She and her spotter, Marianna Vladimirovna Makarova, also 19, were carefully concealed in a small ruined village on the outskirts of Leningrad. Sergeyeva was a corporal, Efréĭtor in Russian, Makarova was a simple private, Krasnoarmeyets. But in the field they called each other by their nicknames, Angel and Maria. As Sergeyeva had said, "All that formal stuff is fine in the rear, out here we have to trust each other. Are you alright with that, Marianna Vladimirovna?"

Makarova had smiled, "I'm from Siberia, rules are for commissars and city people."

The two women had become fast friends. Both had excelled at marksmanship in school, something the Soviet Union insisted that was something that all Soviet citizens should learn. Those who proved talented at it usually wound up in uniform. After the German invasion of the Motherland, that included the women as well.

"Angel, look to your left, near that lone chimney."

Sergeyeva moved her rifle slowly to that direction. Sure enough, there was movement just past the chimney of what used to be someone's home. She watched, soon she could discern that the movement was caused by the tops of helmets, men trying to stay as low as possible, and almost succeeding.

"Watch them carefully, Maria. I need to keep an eye on the ruined factory, the Comrade Commissar said that the Hitlerites are up to something in that area. We're here to collect information, not to kill Germans."

"Most unfortunate." Makarova sighed. Both of her older brothers had died in the fighting in the summer of '41. Her only purpose in life was to kill the men who had invaded her homeland. Nothing more, nothing less.

Unterfeldwebel Georg Hansen was leading a small patrol into an area that wasn't really controlled by either side, not exactly no-man's land, but close enough. The area was sort of behind German lines, but in this fight, sometimes it was hard to know exactly where the front was.

His lieutenant, Jürgen von Lüttwitz, had told him to exercise caution, more so than usual. Intel had asked for the patrol to try and flush out a Soviet sniper team rumored to be in the area.

About 500 meters from where Hansen and his men were, there was the remains of a grain silo, much shorter than it had been before the war, the upper parts still commanded an excellent view over this sector of the front. Major Hermann Richtig, sat patiently atop that ruined structure, waiting, observing.

"Tell me again why we're out here, Herr Unterfeldwebel?" Klaus Tryb asked, not even bothering to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

Hansen stopped and took a knee, as did the other three men. "I told you, we're bait. We move around, the Herr Major watches the spots he would hide if he was a Soviet sniper. The idea is that they will expose themselves, then he kills them."

"Them?" Soldat Herbert Brüning asked.

"Their snipers, our snipers, they often work as a team, two men. One is the spotter, one is the trigger puller. They can swap off. It's a good practice." Hansen explained.

"The Herr Major went out alone ..." Tryb pointed out.

Hansen paused, then said, "Don't tell anyone I said this, but the Herr Major is something of a prima donna. Doesn't like to use a spotter, he feels that a two man team is easier to spot."

"But aren't two pairs of eyes better than one?" Brüning asked.

"You're not as dumb as you look, Bubi."

"There, do you see it, near the top of the ruined silo." Makarova was excited, but she controlled herself. Too much excitement could make one's movements jerky and uncoordinated. A jumpy spotter could make the shooter jumpy as well. Not to mention give away their position.

"I have him, German sniper. Looking for us, no doubt. Now I know why the patrol is out there, seemingly wandering at random. They're the bait." Sergeyeva settled her sight on the German's head. Then she squeezed the trigger.

Richtig shifted his weight, he was getting too old for this game, he was, after all, almost thirty.

He was beginning to think that the reports were wrong, he hadn't seen anything yet ...

Then he caught a brief flash, as he turned to look, Sergeyeva's bullet took the top of his head off.

Hansen nearly jumped out of his skin, the shot had come from just above them. He looked up, there, movement. He fired his MP 40 instinctively, not sure if he had a target or not.

He heard a sharp intake of breath above him. There was someone up there!

"Go Angel, get away from here."

Makarova had been hit in the hip, she could feel the blood soaking her trousers. Amazing that the Germans had gotten so close, she should have seen them. As she told Sergeyeva to leave her, another fusillade of bullets hissed around them, some hitting masonry, flinging dust and grit into their faces.

Sergeyeva hesitated for just a minute, she glanced at Makarova, who was grimacing in pain. She was bleeding badly enough that the snow underneath her was red with her blood.

"Maria ..." Sergeyeva reached out towards her friend, but Makarova's eyes lost focus. She had bled to death.

Sergeyeva slid down the passageway they had cut the night before. Her eyes were wet, and not from the masonry dust.

Leutnant von Lüttwitz cocked his head to one side, "Do you think it was a single Soviet sniper, Georg?"

Hansen shook his head, "Nein, Herr Leutnant, it was a team, we saw where the other one had escaped. A passageway, almost like a tunnel, through the rubble. The dead woman was the spotter, she had the binoculars. The shooter got away."

Von Lüttwitz continued, "They found Major Richtig, the Soviet put a bullet through his head. Whoever it was, he was very good."

"She ..." Hansen offered.

Von Lüttwitz nodded, "Makes sense, a man and a woman might get distracted, if you know what I mean."

"No sir, we found an extra cap, had long blond hairs inside. The spotter was a brunette." Hansen explained.

Von Lüttwitz looked into the distance, "What next? The Reich sends us soldiers who have barely started shaving. Now the Russians send women against us."

"War is strange, Sir. I'd rather be home in Dresden." Hansen said.

Von Lüttwitz sighed and said, "You and me both, Georg."