WINTER WAR MEMORIES 1939-40

Valto Antero Tolvanen. Karkkila. Summer 1939.Photo: VTK.

    In the summer of 1939 I spent my vacation in Kannas [the Karelian Isthmus] helping with the building of fortifications [Salpa-linja]. I think I may have some pictures of that but they aren’t anything special. 

Salpa Line construction, 1939. 

     The spirit there was very patriotic, and some people even made trips to the border, to Terijoki, where a bridge and a railroad track go over the river.

Pre World War 2 districts on the Karelian Isthmus. 

Pre World War 2 map of Terijoki, Finland. 

      With us on the trip were some foul-mouth ruffians who threatened the Russian border guards and in every other way were obnoxious and loud. Maybe that was reason enough to start a war, who knows. But in any case the volunteers built rifle pits and cement bunkers so that we would be more prepared for the coming winter. All of the members of our volunteer militia regiment tried to spend at least a part of their summer vacation helping with the fortifications. 

Volunteer shovel crews in Karkkila, (Kannas), Finland, working on fortifications along the eastern front with Russia. Antero Tolvanen on the left with a shovel over his shoulder, emerging from behind a tree. 1939.

     And then suddenly it was November 30, which is my name day [Anteron Päivä], as well as the day when the Finns commemorate the famous Viipuri Explosion [Viipurin Pamahdus]. As I recall the Viipuri Explosion too place in 1485. So I guess that special day has been commemorated many times since then. 

Olaus Magnus included the Viborg explosion in his 1536 Carta marina.

 

      Early the very next morning, December 1, the Russian bombers came and started bombing. The Russian airfield was in Tallinn [Estonia] – a distance of only 60 kilometers away. And there seemed to be no end to their fleet of planes.

Aftermath of Russian bombing of Helsinki, December 1, 1939.

 
      We didn’t have very many aircraft ourselves, and it was nearly impossible to obtain them from anywhere else in this emergency. But in spite of this the Russians lost over 1200 planes in the next 100 days. The most memorable event which has stayed with me was the heroic effort of Joppe Karhunen who, all by himself, destroyed a whole fleet of Russian planes – 7 of them. 

Joppe Karhunen - Knight Flight Commander, 1939.

     
     And he was not the only one. – Italy sent 50 bombers to our aid, but our good friend Germany stopped them at the border. After all, they had a friendship and defense treaty with Russia as well, and Russia was a big player in the region. Well, on the battlefield they [the Russians] lost over 1800 tanks. And from a speech given by Khrushchev after Stalin’s death, it became evident that the loss of life had been over 1,000,000 men for the Russians. We on the other hand only had about 300,000 men on the front lines. 

      During the Winter War there were all kinds of regulations which meant that many men were not able to serve in the military. For instance, full time government employees such as I was were exempt from servicing in the military, and no one seemed to be able to make changes to these regulations during the Winter War. I was called up, or actually I volunteered, for the Home Guard on behalf of the Postal Service, and since I was the only Home Guard volunteer I was made the Assistant to the Commander of the Home Guard. 

Antero Tolvanen in his home guard uniform with little sister, Sirkka. Helsinki. 

      He was the director of the Post Office yet we rarely saw him performing his Home Guard duties. He had his own interests, but then so did I. This was when I met Aune Irene Mäkinen, who was performing volunteer service of her own working at the switchboard at the bomb shelter. And so we met and fell in love. I had to be on guard duty almost every day and night, and so I hardly ever went home.

Aune (rt.) at the switchboard. Post-Len-Tel. Helsinki, Finland 1939.

 

     That was when Aili and I became officially separated, even though getting together had been very infrequent even a few years before the war.  The feelings between Aune and me blossomed and grew stronger, so that by the time the Winter War was over we were nearly inseparable.

     When my guard duties finally ended I went home, but as soon as I received my summer vacation I left to go build fortifications at Miehikkälä. There was one difference, however, and that was that I

Salpa Line Constrution. Miehikkälä. 1940.

was paid for my work.  First I became the secretary to a certain Lieutenant who was familiar to me from our days at Kannas. He was a Transportation Chief, and when I became familiar with the routine, I was made Transportation Officer. I guess I took care of my duties quite well because as I was leaving the Battalion Commander, Karhu, said to me, "We would have all kinds of work for you here if you stayed."

Finnish Army Commander, Ilmari Karhu.

       In the meantime, however, I had made some new friends, one of whom was Lieutenant Kelhu, the Quarter Master who for some reason wanted to be transferred to Kuusamo. And that’s where I followed him.

Lieutenant Kelhu and Antero Tolvanen. 1940.

      Unfortunately Kelhu was one of those acquaintances who wanted to put down and belittle his associates. He was the "Lord and Master" and everyone else had to lick his boots. He had his own circle of friends from Helsinki who followed him to Kuusamo. And he wanted me to be part of that same group who were willing to do whatever to please their master. It was midwinter in Kuusamo right at that time so there wasn’t much daylight to be seen. Another guy, Iimo, and I started drinking and ignoring out duties, so I didn’t last past the end of January when I had to make my hurried exit back to Helsinki. That was one time when I got my fill of Lapland. I went back to my job at the Post Office – back to sorting the mail as I had done previously.

       I had, however, been on leave for almost six months and because my pay at the fortifications was much better than at the post office, and Aune was taking care of all my affairs in Helsinki, I was soon starting to pay down my debts to a great extent. I took a room with a young couple in Käpylä. I lived only a few blocks from Aune’s home where she had a carefree life living in her father’s privately owned apartment unit. We were able to meet on a regular basis. Aili had signed for my paycheck from the Post Office until now, but when we became separated she demanded that I pay her 800 marks per month for spouse support.

Antero and Aili Tolvanen with daughter Tuula, and several friends. Helsinki. 1936.

         Our  daughter, Tuula, had already gone to Sweden in the fall on 1939 as a war refugee – that’s where many Finnish children were taken to escape the war. I felt sorry for my little girl, but what could I do since I had to build a new life on top of the ruins of my old one. And so it was that I didn’t see Tuula again until after the Continuation War had started. At that point we went our separate ways.

Translated from the original Finnish by Marja-Leena Tolvanen Rogers

MILITARY SERVICE AND HOMEGUARD 1930-1938

Valto Antero Tolvanen. Military Pass. 1928-1930.

      In June 1930 began my 15-month training in the Military Intelligence Corps. We ended up almost immediately at a bootcamp in Perkjärvi [Muolaa district near Viborg on the Karelian Isthmus],

and there we new recruits got sandblasted. Clouds of sand flew around us as we boys were made to run and march. Especially in the beginning when we were commanded to sing, and not a single one of us could get even a word out of our mouths, and so we ran. And when we came to a halt, we were ordered to sing once again. So in one day we learned how to do it. Clear as a bell resounded the words and melody of the song “Eskolan Kaisamuori” [Old Lady Kaisa from Eskola] out of the throats of these young recruits, and the Chaplain for the Battery ran out absolutely horrified to demand from the Lieutenant why these boys were singing such irreverent, foul songs. But the Lieutenant could care less what the Chaplain thought. The main thing was that these boys learned the marching songs.

Antero Tolvanen in the Homeguard Military Intelligence Battery unit. 1931.

    And so because of the singing it turned out that I was made the choirmaster for the Battery. Even if I have to say so myself, I already had experience from my choir days, and had a clear, strong baritone voice. So it became my lot to begin some tune, and start it at a pitch that didn’t become too tasking for male voices. And I performed very well. As I was leaving training camp, I had put together several verses for a new marching song. But nothing further ever became of that because the rhythm for my composition was so odd that no one could turn it into a functional marching song. At least not without a lot of practice beforehand. And that was that – my song never made it as a marching son. But I think I can still remember the first verse of it:

                                    An Intelligence boy had just one dream

                                    As he stands awake on guard at camp
                                    That when we finally arrive at the “Castle”

                                    The joys of life will await us,

                                    Hämeenlinna, such a dear place to us,

                                    As we think of you, our song rings out, ... etc.
                                    Remember Korhonen.

      Well, I can’t remember all of the song anymore. It will be a wonder if I ever recall it again. After all it’s been 50 years this summer since I composed it (1931). So the years roll by! I just have to add that it didn’t take very long for me to write that song. I discovered in myself talents that I didn’t even suspect I possessed. Several other songs were subsequently composed. The greatest body of work were the poems I composed to various tunes at a member of the Postal Course. We had quite of few of them, but most often I seemed to have been the composer in between my work and my schooling. Mother had them in her possession once upon a time, but I think she eventually discarded them along with other items. In many of them I had tried to be especially witty to impress the girls.

Antero Tolvanen with buddies in the Homeguard Military Intelligence Battery unit. 1931.

      In the fall after returning from training camp I was in top physical condition. I entered the Non-commissioned Officer training school and there the men were humbled and made to crawl on their bellies.

Antero Tolvanen as a non-commissioned officer trainee. (2nd row, fifth from the left.) Military Intelligence Corps Regiment.1931.

 
       Our training was nearly over when on one of the last days we were on the ground again, crawling along on our bellies in a wet field of hay, and I caught a chill. I dismissed it as a mild case, but by Monday morning I had to report to the medical hut. I had developed angina with an abscess on my neck as well as in my throat, and the medical skills at the camp were not adequate to treat me. The camp doctor, Tuhkanen, tried to lance the abscess in my throat with a surgical scalpel, but it was a useless effort and did nothing for it.

Aili Linnea Vuori and Valto Antero Tolvanen. 1932.

      By now I was in a semiconscious state, and they had to call Aili  to come, as she was my nearest relative. She sat next to my cot. It didn’t help my condition, of course, but at least it managed to raise my spirits. I lay in this state for about ten days until the throat abscess burst on its own. It eased my condition a lot.

      I was starved because I hadn’t eaten anything during all this time – but my throat was so swollen still that nothing went down, not even water which came right back up again. But eventually I was able to eat and did I ever chow down. I ate quite a few bowls of prune soup – nothing else would go down. The abscess in my throat was gone, but as for the one on my neck I had to go to the Tilkka

Tilkka Military Hospital, Helsinki, Finland. 1930's.

Military hospital in Helsinki to have it treated. A small surgical procedure was performed, and a tube was placed in my neck to drain the liquid from the abscess. But it would not heal. As I recall I was at the hospital for two months. The head surgeon had finally had enough and yanked the tube from my neck. He then pinched some nerve endings in my neck with his tweezers. Everything went black before my eyes and I think I even let out a scream.
    Deciding then and there that I didn’t need any more of this kind of torture, I petitioned to be sent back to my unit. And my request was granted. There may even have been a few day’s leave. Then back to my unit and back in the harness. I was made the secretary to the Battery and served in that capacity until the end of my service.

Antero Tolvanen [middle row left] with his unit in the Homeguard Military Intelligence Unit. 1931.

        Another summer was spent in Perkjärvi, but I was left in peace. This tough guy didn’t even have

Map of Finland's Karelian Isthmus before the start of World War Two.

to do the dish washing, as had been the case the previous summer. I did do the dishes for my unit during one week on each shift because I had to take care of the needs for my group. Some superiors stole the tobacco rations for the group, and I went and complained to the Sergeant Major. It was something that shouldn’t have been done, even though I was appealing not for myself but on behalf of my men who insisted I lodge a complaint. So I appealed – and I will remember that lesson for the rest of my life. It turned out to be the usual harassment which new recruits undergo during their first months of service. This is how they produced tough men, and obedient ones as well. On the whole it was not a very pleasant experience. And when the Old Man addressed an underling, he stood at attention, no matter how fine of a family he was from.

       

Valto Antero Tolvanen in his Home Guard uniform with sister Sirkka. Helsinki, 1931.

 
       I was released from active service in 1931, though I eventually signed up as a volunteer in the Helsinki Homeguard.

Translated from the original Finnish by Marja-Leena Tolvanen Rogers

LIFE HISTORY 1919 - 1921

Tohmajärvi, in Finnish Karelia

Summer Vacations in Karelia, 1919-1921
Here I have to mention our summer vacations before the year 1921 when Father remarried and our home situation completely changed. At school they began giving out train tickets for summer vacations to those students who had relatives in the countryside -- and we were among those who did -- Father had relatives in Tohmajärvi and Värtsilä.

Tohmajärvi 1919
In Tohmajärvi, 5 kilometers north of the village of Kemie, lived Father's sister, Iida Kolehmainen. The name of the house was Kolehmala. The old man of the house (her husband) was named Jussi, and his bachelor brother was named Eemeli. During the summer of 1919, Father's brother, Juho, who was ailing and very sickly, was looking after the house. He had contracted a terminal illness while a prisoner of war. I can't recall him ever saying much of anything. In my memory is etched the face of a suffering old man and his stern, almost cold eyes. The old man, Jussi, was equally a man of few words -- I'm sure they didn't care much for us being there -- we must have been more of as a nuisance. But Aunt Iida was like a substitute mother to us -- gentle and understanding.

Finnish "savusauna" or smoke sauna

We especially enjoyed the smoke sauna and were always ready to help in getting it warmed up. During haying time we had the sauna heated up every day. Perhaps we were of some help out there in the fields --I remember standing on top of the hay wagon stomping down the hay so it took up less room. And I probably was able to swing a rake when need arose. That first summer (1919), we probably didn’t do much more than that, just played most of the time. Every day, however, we had to go berry-picking. Each of us had a little basket which had to be full when we returned home. The berries were then dried in the warmth of the baking oven, and we could later take them home as treat. The baking oven was huge and one could sleep on the shelf above to it, and perhaps someone did. We boys slept on a bench next to the wall, and the older folk in two bedrooms.

Uncle Eemili was still a bachelor that first summer (1919). One day we were with him out on the bogs where he was clearing more land for pasture. I guess he swung his pick a bit too vigorously because he got a bad cut on his left foot. That probably was the end of clearing the land because the old man of the house was too infirm to do it. He was a quiet man, crippled with arthritis, very old and bent over. We continued adventuring in the nearby forests, feeling quite at home as we roamed around. As we had been ordered to come back with our baskets filled with berries, and only a few could be found in any one place, this meant going far afield to pick them.

Summer of 1920
By the following summer, that is 1920, we were quite familiar with the area. There wasn't much for us to do, so we were constantly into mischief. Aunt and Uncle tried to find work for us to do to keep us busy, so they sent us to a nearby farm to work for a family named Ruuth. For some reason I recall that this house had once been in our family, but there is no way of knowing. There we were put to work weeding the garden. For the first two or three days we performed our required task pretty diligently. It was a fairly easy task -- weeding the turnips and rutabagas and such which were easy to spot among the weeds. Then we were asked to weed the carrots and by this time we were getting tired of this kind of work.

We boys had acquired no type of work ethic or sense of duty, because at home in Helsinki we had always done pretty much what we wanted. We were rarely assigned any tasks, unless it was gathering firewood and chopping it up. Somebody had to do it, if there was any firewood to be found. If none could be found, then we had to buy firewood from the wood shop, if there was any money. Well, our work at the neighbors became worthless. We just goofed off together. There were a couple of boys our age at the house and we occasionally played with them.

The Ruuth family lived most of the time in Joensuu, but spent the summers at their farm in Tohmajärvi. There may even have been several families living at the home, because they had cattle and a breed bull, so some of them must have lived there even in winter. Well, this bull captured our interest. Because it had a nose ring with a chain attached to it, we boys decided to harass it and started throwing pieces of turf at it to get it riled up. Some neighbor saw what we were doing and reported it to the family. The result was that we received a few coins for our work and our walking papers. And off we boys went!

Map of Tohmajärvi and Värtsilä area, Finnish Karelia

Värtsilä
The last part of the summer we were sent to Värtsilä (a few kilometrs east of to stay with our Aunt Josefiina (Nousiainen) and Aunt Vilhelmiina (Laasonen). Actually we didn't stay at the Laasonens. Aunt Josefiina was also a very kind and religious woman -- though she may have been a little more formal and strict than was Aunt Iida. At least we were quite shy around her, and we had to apologize right at the start for the silly songs we had sung to her while in the forest a year earlier. Aunt Vilhelmiina was more gentle and quiet, but not many memories of her have remained. I recall Aunt Josefiina much more vividly since we spent a lot more time with her. Most likely we only spent a couple of weeks with our aunts before we had to return home to Helsinki as school was starting again. Summer vacation was then -- as it still is now -- three months long, June through August. So it may have been that same summer that we took that trip to go berry picking with Father in Haagalund.

Viborg Train Station in the 1920s

Journey Home to Helsinki
On our way home on the train we traveled through Viipuri, and were in awe as we gazed around inside the imposing depot lobby. The building was truly magnificent and we wondered how we could take a quick look around the premises. And as luck with have it, there was a kindly young man sitting on the same bench who said he would be happy to watch our things for us. And off we went. How long we were gone -- probably not very long -- on our return we saw this guy carefully going through our basket. Whether he found anything, I don't know. Maybe there were hidden gifts in there for the folks at home we knew nothing about it. Well, we were too young and inexperienced to pay any attention to such things. This guy may have forgotten it, but I clearly recall this incident even to this day. Wonder if his conscience ever troubled him?

Tohmajärvi and Karelian Food
During our vacations in Tohmajärvi, we became very used to delicious Karelian foods, such as oven-baked pies, talkkuna (made from a mixture of roasted barley, rye, oats and pea flours), and Karelian pasties. Karelian talkkuna was like a stiff pudding; you took some from a dish placed in the middle of the table using a spoon or your fingers, which you then rolled between your palms into a ball and popped into your mouth with a little butter. Milk was plentiful, as was buttermilk and sour cream. We could get a squirt of warm milk right from the cow, but I never cared for this and to this day still prefer my milk to be cold. Having grown up in the city I wasn't used to warm millk.

Final Summer in Tohmajärvi 1921
Our last summer spent in Tohmajärvi was in 1921. Most likely we were as much of a nuisance then as we had

Tohmajärvi and Värtsilä area in Finnish Karelia

been on previous visits, always doing mischief and goofing around. On one occasion then it so happened that at the dinner table we got the giggles for no apparent reason. All we had to do is glance at one another and we would burst into laughter. The old man finally had had enough and tapped Veikko on the head with the bowl of his pipe. Veikko was extremely offended by this. No one seemed to notice that in the afternoon he had gathered all his gear and walked the 5 kilometers to the Tohmajärvi train station. Not until that night did anyone notice that the boy was nowhere to be found. They eventually discovered that he had walked all the way to the train station, climbed on the train and gone home. And Father probably wrote the folks to inform them that the boy had come home.


Lahdenpohja
I don’t recall what Voitto’s fate was, but I spent the rest of the summer with Uncle Eemeli Nousianen in Lahdenpohja (just a few kilometers east of Värtsilä). He owned a lemonade factory, and I helped there washing bottles and doing other chores as well. He had a lemonade stand by the railroad station and there I sat on many a day. There wasn’t that much business at the stand

Lahdenpohja, Viborg and Lake Ladoga. Area of
Finnish Karelia ceded to the Russians in 1944

so it left me free to read and ponder, whatever thoughts I might have pondered in those days. Nothing at least comes to mind, forgotten like so many other things by now.

I do remember that Uncle Eemeli had a hunting dog that needed to be walked every day. One day I decided to let the dog run, and it was such a strong dog that a little boy like me couldn’t control it. It soon got loose after having dragged me along on my knees until they were bloody. I suppose eventually someone found it and brought it back. On another occasion Uncle Eemeli took us on a boat trip to some islands at Ladoga Lake. We beached the boat at one island, but were very careful as we walked around because it was rumored that the island had snakes. That’s where it got the name Kyysaari (Serpent Island). We did have a picnic there, so that at least was a break from the daily routine.

 

 
Translated from the original Finnish: Marja-Leena Tolvanen-Rogers