Iron Sights

In the cold days of one winter war
One pale warrior became to be feared
By the enemy, a ghost they thought
The White Death they named him

He froze the snow before his station
He kept snow in his mouth to be hidden
Once he saw the enemy in his iron sights
There was no going home for that poor bastard

A hundred days of war, five hundred dead
A sniper without parallel in history
After his face was blown away by the enemy
He shot him dead before they knew it