Ed Strosser - Stupid Wars - A Citizen's Guide to Botched Putsches, Failed Coups, Inane Invasions, and Ridiculous Revolutions

Two items reveal the level of planning that would spell trouble for the Soviets. First, they trucked in large numbers of antitank guns even though the Finns had no tanks. Second, despite not having winter coats, they were well supplied with Communist propaganda and printing presses, just in case some Finns needed a refresher on the glories of life in the workers’ paradise.

The war started on November 26 when the Soviets fired a few artillery shells into Finland. With well-honed insouciance Stalin claimed Finnish aggression and, appropriately out­raged, declared he had to take steps to handle this “Finnish question.” On the morning of November 30, the Soviets threw four armies across the border. Six hundred thousand troops flooded into Finland over their eight-hundred-mile border. Planes roared overhead, bombing and strafing the Finnish countryside and cities, killing hundreds of civilians. It was a glorious beginning. Watch out, Sweden.

The Finns staggered back, outnumbered by more than ten to one. In the north, soldiers quickly donned their white winter ski jackets and homemade skis and took to skiing circles around the Soviets, machine-gunning the invaders before slipping away into the frozen forest.

After the first day of the invasion, the Soviets trucked in a Finnish Communist, O. W. Kuusinen, who was living in Moscow since losing the Finnish civil war in 1918, and de­clared him the new leader of Finland. The puppet provided the Soviets with the refreshing change of attitude they were looking for as he rapidly agreed to the Soviet demands. Three cheers all around!

To further boost the puppet, the Soviets created an army just for Kuusinen. Made up mostly of other Finnish Commu­nists living in Russia, the pathetic herd paraded around for the world’s press. Unable to find any other clothing, the army dressed in ancient tsarist-era uniforms pillaged from a local military museum. Outraged by this aggression and cha­rade, the rest of the entire world threw Russia out of the League of Nations and rooted for the brave little Finns.

As they slowly were pushed back up the Isthmus, the Finns booby-trapped everything. They planted mines, wired barns with bombs, and even turned frozen livestock into deadly traps. The Russian steamroller slowed to a crawl.

Mannerheim’s plan was to deny the interior rail system to the invaders. By keeping the Soviets on the back roads, he knew they would bog down and become easy prey for his mobile guerrillas. It might not spell victory but would at least buy time.

The first problem the Finns encountered was fighting the Soviet tanks. Mannerheim’s men had virtually no antitank guns and where they did exist, ammunition was in short supply. To throw off the tanks they relied on sisu and ingenu­ity. The most common weapon was the “Molotov cocktail,” which they perfected and named. It consisted of jars filled with gasoline, kerosene, and other flammable liquids, thrown at the tanks from close range. The technique was simple; someone jammed a log into the tracks of the tank to stop it, and then the tank was attacked with flaming bottles of gaso­line. The Finns also used bags of explosives and hand gre­nades against the Soviet armor. That also took loads of sisu . About eighty tanks were knocked out in the first few days but with sharp losses for the brave tank-attackers.

Despite the stout resistance, by December 6 the Soviets reached the Mannerheim Line, which consisted of an eighty-mile-long series of concrete blockhouses, smaller pillboxes, and firing trenches. Manned by determined fighters, it was a formidable barrier. But it was short of antitank guns, artil­lery, and antiaircraft weapons. The Finns dug in. The Soviets pushed ahead, ready to stomp their enemy. “Tactics,” they sneered, “we don’t need no stinking tactics.”

The Soviets launched their siege on the defenses but quickly fell into a predictable rhythm. They would move out just after first light, slowly approach the defenders, make furious assault after assault in tight formations, causing few Finnish casualties but resulting in piles of Soviet dead, some­times numbering a thousand an hour. The Russians would retreat at dark and form defensive circles around huge campfires. Then the Finns would reoccupy any lost ground and snipe at the nervous Soviets all night. Some attacks broke up under well-aimed artillery; others evaporated from intense machine-gun fire. Throughout December the Soviets pushed against various sectors of the Finnish line only to suffer the same results everywhere. Finnish gunners mowed down row after row of attackers who slowly moved for­ward in virtual suicide attacks, unprotected by any trees or tanks. The Soviet dead were so numerous that some Finnish soldiers broke down emotionally from the stress of killing so many of the enemy. True to form, the Soviets never wa­vered in their tactics.

Finns live for winter — they know how to dress, ski through the dense woods, quickly remove the skis for fighting, and keep warm. The Soviet army, despite living in an equally cold country, inexplicably knew none of this. Many didn’t even know where they were. So while the Soviet troops suffered miserably from the cold in their dark uniforms that stood out against the white world in which they had plunged, the Finns donned camouflaging white sheets, slept in well-stocked and -heated dugouts, and even enjoyed the occasional sauna. The Soviets built huge campfires every night and the men huddled around, easy targets for snipers. For the invaders, simply sur­viving another day became an achievement. It was almost an unfair fight, except the Soviets had ten times the strength. Ac­tually, it still was an unfair fight.

As the battles raged at the Mannerheim Line, the Soviets threw divisions against the overmatched Finns on the north side of Lake Ladoga. Here the Soviets pushed relentlessly forward as the Finns engaged in a fighting retreat. As the So­viets approached key crossroads that would allow them greater movement, Mannerheim committed his reserves in early December. Even with his forces boosted, the Finns were still greatly outnumbered. Mannerheim knew he needed a victory to revive the spirits of his men. On the moonless night of December 9, two companies of Finns crossed a frozen lake to attack the camped-out Soviets. One company got lost. The other, led by Lt. Col. Aaro Pajari, snuck up on an entire regiment of Soviets, took careful positions, and opened fire. In a few minutes it was all over and the entire regiment lay dead, over a thousand men wiped out. The raid unnerved the Soviets, who remained immobile for two days, while the Finns found a new bounce in their step knowing the Reds could be beaten.

The Finns kept pushing. One Soviet probe of about 350 men got ambushed by a Finnish task force, killing every Rus­sian. Another Russian night attack into the Finnish rear was halted when the attackers stopped to eat sausage soup from an abandoned Finnish kitchen. As the Russians dined al fresco, the Finns regrouped and wiped out the sausage eaters. The Finns spotted another Russian night advance on a lake and opened fire, not stopping until all two hundred Soviet attackers lay dead on the ice.

On December 12 the Finnish commander Mannerheim moved his troops forward. They pressed the attack, despite fierce Soviet resistance. When the Soviet troops were too beaten up, they would just call up fresh ones. The Finns lacked this luxury, but they kept fighting with their dwin­dling numbers. By the time the attack petered out on Decem­ber 23, the Finns had pushed the Russians far enough from the main roads to feel secure. The cost was about 630 Finn­ish deaths and over 5,000 Soviet dead and another 5,000 wounded. While a stunning victory for Mannerheim, it also showed that even with a 10:1 kill ratio, the Finns would run out of troops well before the Soviets.