The Winter War of 1939-40 is a true-life David-and-Goliath story that would have seemed like an impossibility, if it hadn’t actually happened. When the armies of Stalin’s Soviet Union invaded Finland in late November of 1939, any outside observer might have concluded that Finland was doomed. Yet the “gallant little Finns” fought back, making up for the inadequacy of their war materiel through courage, innovation, and a thoroughgoing knowledge of their wintry homeland – all of which makes William R. Trotter’s The Winter War a compelling read.
Trotter, a North Carolina writer, grew up in Charlotte and attended Davidson College, a prestigious liberal-arts institution in the Charlotte area. Most of his other books have related to the history of his beautiful home state, as with his three-volume study The Civil War in North Carolina (Volume 3, The Coast, is a popular seller in bookshops along the Outer Banks). Why, then, did a writer so strongly steeped in the history of North Carolina, U.S.A., want to write a book about Finland?
Here is one possible reason. Trotter’s The Civil War in North Carolina has plenty of bad things to say about the Confederate government; the author’s contempt for Jefferson Davis is palpable. And yet Trotter offers plenty of stories of plucky, outnumbered North Carolina rebels who somehow find ingenious ways of getting the better of numerically superior, better-armed, better-equipped Unionist adversaries. That archetype – the doughty underdog prevailing against heavy odds – certainly can also be seen in Finland’s ultimately successful fight to maintain their national independence in the face of Soviet aggression.
The early chapters of The Winter War set forth the initial Soviet demands for cessions of Finnish territory. Stalin’s regime claimed that the U.S.S.R. was merely trying to provide for the security of the city of Leningrad (now St. Petersburg); but it becomes increasingly clear that Stalin’s real aim was total Soviet domination of Finland. With his well-known wish to reclaim for Russia as much of the former czarist lands as possible, Stalin may even have wanted to incorporate Finland into the Soviet Union – a fate that would befall the Baltic States of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania.
It is fortunate for Finland that, amidst the confused welter of Finnish interwar politics, a suitable leader for the Finnish war effort emerged: Baron Carl Gustav Mannerheim, known universally then and ever since as Marshal Mannerheim. An old-school aristocrat, a 19th-century man to the core, Marshal Mannerheim seemed decidedly out of place in the 20th century – but, as it turned out, his unbending personality and stiff-upper-lip approach to both life and combat made him the perfect man to lead Finland in the Winter War.
The soldiers of the Finnish Army made good use of their knowledge of Finland’s landscape. Soldiers in white snowsuits, traveling to battle on skis, launched lightning raids on slow-moving Soviet formations; the Soviets came to refer to the Finns as Белая смерть, Belaya Smert’ -- the “White Death.”
And as it progressed, the Winter War engaged the imagination and the sympathy of Western observers, in large part because of the quiet courage of the Finnish soldiers. That Finnish brand of courage became known, outside as well as within Finland, via the Finnish term sisu – a term for which Trotter provides a helpful definition:
That bristling little word was once the most famous Finnish idiom ever to become part of the outside world’s vocabulary. It can be translated as “guts” or “spunk” or “grit” or “balls,” or as a combination of all those words together. The word in Finnish has nuances that resist easy translation. (p. 62)
A good example of Finnish sisu can be found in Lieutenant Colonel Aaro Pajari’s 12 December 1939 raid on Soviet forces near the town of Ägläjärvi. At first, Pajari’s raid sounds suicidal – “With one company, he was preparing to ambush an entire regiment” (p. 106). But Pajari – leading the attack even though he was suffering from serious heart illness – had sisu to spare. The attack achieved complete surprise – so much so that the only Finnish casualty was Pajari himself, collapsing from his heart illness, while the panicky Soviets increased the significant casualty count that the Finns had already inflicted when two Soviet battalions fired into each other!
Trotter sums up well the salutary effect that the Pajari raid had upon Finnish morale: “Word of the raid’s success, the first Finnish victory anywhere on the crisis-plagued Fourth Corps front, spread quickly and had a bracing effect on the defenders’ spirits. The Russians could not only be beaten, they could be made fools of” (p. 107). The Battle of Tolvajärvi, of which Pajari’s raid was a part, resulted in almost 10,000 Soviet casualties, as opposed to about 500 for Finland; and it was through just such improbable victories that the “gallant little Finns” began to capture the admiration, and not just the sympathy, of the larger world beyond that theatre of war.
Another good example of sisu – that quiet, undemonstrative, peculiarly Finnish brand of courage – comes from the Battle of Suomussalmi (7 December 1939 – 8 January 1940), a Finnish victory that was so one-sided that it is still studied at military academies like West Point and Sandhurst and Kingston. Using motti tactics that involved trapping a larger force, cutting it into smaller pieces, and then destroying the pieces in detail, three Finnish regiments, with some battalion support, wiped out an entire Soviet army division. Finnish casualties: less than 2,000. Soviet casualties: around 20,000.
Against the backdrop of this historic battle, the behaviour of one sergeant, who had taken over and led his unit after all his commanding officers had been wounded or killed, provides a fine example of sisu. A battalion commander, Captain Lassila, saw that the sergeant had received two bullet wounds that had pierced his lung. “Lassila stopped by the man’s stretcher and inquired as to his condition. The sergeant grinned and said that he found it much easier to breathe with two holes in his chest” (p. 215). Sisu!
Eventually, the Soviet leadership, tired of seeing the Red Army amass such appalling casualties, got rid of the political hacks who had survived Stalin’s purges, and brought in competent commanders who improved Soviet tactics and devoted even more heavy weaponry to the campaign against Finland. When the Red Army renewed its offensive on 1 February 1940 with a major artillery barrage, “The sound of that first big salvo…produced a terrifying convulsion of the earth. An iron wall of sound and vibration crashed into the defenders’ nervous systems like the last thunderclap of Armageddon. To the fury of the cannonade was added the impact of concentrated carpet bombing, the heaviest and most sustained aerial attacks in the history of warfare to date” (p. 215).
And when the peace treaty was signed, Finland did indeed have to give up part of its Karelian borderland with Russia; the country’s second largest city, Viipuri, became the Russian city of Vyborg. And yet Stalin had paid an exceedingly high price for the territory that the Soviet Union had acquired: “One Soviet general, looking at a map of the territory Russia had acquired on the Karelian Isthmus, is said to have remarked: ‘We have won just about enough ground to bury our dead’” (p. 263). And, as author Trotter aptly points out, “Of all the Baltic nations that negotiated with Stalin in 1939, only Finland resisted aggression. Only Finland survived as a free nation” (p. 269).
It is impressive to consider Trotter’s dedication to this project, as demonstrated by the verve with which he took on the difficult task of translating Finnish documents about the war. Further evidence of Trotter’s commitment to this project can be seen in the way he visited important sites from the war, a number of which were once in Finland but are now in the Russian Federation.
Discussing the strength of the “Mannerheim Line” of fortifications that the Finnish Army had built as a safeguard against possible Soviet aggression, Trotter informs the reader that “It is still possible to get a first-hand impression of the strength of the line’s fortifications by examining the ruins of several of its blockhouses….The surviving bunkers show signs of terrible damage – the author crawled around inside one that looked as though it had been beaten into the earth with a giant ball-peen hammer.” Trotter adds that “the entire Isthmus is still considered a militarily sensitive area by the Russians. One would be well advised not to go wandering through the woods” (p. 63). Trotter, an American, seems to have his own share of good Finnish sisu.
The Winter War: The Russo-Finnish War of 1939-40 tells an impressive story of courage and resourcefulness under the most difficult of circumstances – a story that no doubt resonates with special pride in the hearts of the Finnish people.
Addendum, 21 January 2023:
Thinking about the way Finland resisted the Soviet Union in the Winter War of 1939-40, and about the way Ukraine continues to resist Russian invaders today, the following parallels come to mind:
1. A dictator in Moscow sends his army to invade a democratic neighbour, believing that his war will be won within days, and that he will be able to do what he wants with his defeated enemy.
2. The leader opposed to the Moscow dictator is thought to be overmatched, out of his depth; but he shows an unexpected ability to adapt to circumstances, and inspires his people.
3. The soldiers and civilians of the invaded nation use their knowledge of their country's landscape to slow and eventually halt the invaders, inflicting heavy casualties.
4. The invading army, composed primarily of poorly trained draftees, and bedevilled by corruption and venality within the commissioned-officer ranks, betrays exceedingly poor morale at all levels.
5. The battlefronts become static, while the invading regime begins to show increasing signs of desperation.
Hoping and trusting that Ukraine will prevail in this era's war, as Finland did in their war of 80+ years ago.