What Really Happened When Soviets Invaded Finland (The Winter War)

Sure! Here’s a sanitized version of the provided transcript, removing any explicit language and sensitive content while maintaining the overall narrative:

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The white forest was filled with soldiers. The men moved through the trees silently, wading through nearly waist-deep snow. Each breath froze on their faces, leaving their eyelashes tipped with white. It was easily below -30 degrees Celsius, the coldest conditions many of these men had ever experienced. Their commanding officer, walking in the middle of the squadron, fell into the snow face-first. A moment later, a bang echoed through the trees. “SNIPER!” The cry went up but was quickly silenced by another shot. The men scattered in all directions, diving behind trees and rocks, trying to spot where the enemy soldier was hiding. There were 25 of them in this squad, more than enough to take down one enemy gunman. But despite their efforts, no one could see where the shots were coming from. There was no smoke, no glint of a scope, not even a puff of air from the shooter. It was as if they were fighting a ghost. The bullets continued to whiz through the forest, each followed by a loud crack. The men lay flat, totally behind cover. There was no way a sniper in front of them could pick them off, yet one by one, the men kept falling into the snow. Cries of panic echoed around the group. Where was their attacker hiding? Some soldiers lost their composure and tried to flee through the snow, only to collapse after a few steps. Bullet after bullet flew through the trees until there was just one soldier left, cowering behind a rock. How could this sniper be shooting them all from up ahead? Unless… The bullet finished him off before he could piece it together.

A few minutes later, a patch of snow rustled, and a short man stood up, alone in the woods. He was 150 feet behind the soldiers. They had all walked right past him without noticing. There was no scope on his rifle, just the iron sights. He spat out the last bits of snow from his mouth and watched as his breath curled into steam again. Very calmly, Simo Häyhä, known as the White Death, packed away his equipment and walked back to camp.

It is difficult to say who won the Winter War. Three months into the chaos of the Second World War, amidst conflicts erupting all across Europe, the Soviet Union launched an invasion of Finland. Three months, one week, and six days later, the war was over. Finland had lost 25,904 soldiers as well as 11% of its land. The Soviets, victorious, had lost between 126,875 and 167,976 soldiers. On average, every Finnish person who died took down about six Soviets with them.

On paper, the Soviets should have easily overwhelmed this small country. Their military strength dwarfed that of their Nordic neighbors, yet they struggled to make any meaningful progress all winter. The Soviets walked away from this war embarrassed on the world stage. But how?

For starters, the history of the two countries has always been closely tied. The Northern Crusades in the late 13th century saw Finland absorbed into the Swedish Empire, where it remained for centuries. That was until 1809 when the Russian Empire grew uncomfortable with the Swedes having such close access to St. Petersburg. Russia captured and annexed Finland, releasing it from one Empire directly into the control of another as it became the Grand Duchy of Finland, an autonomous state ruled by the Russian Empire. Yet Finland wasn’t just a patch of Swedish land or Russian land. It had a people with a unique language, culture, mythology, and history. Finland had culture.

What the Russians failed to anticipate was the explosion of Finnish culture and national identity that would take place under their rule. Freed from the Swedes and given some level of autonomy, the Finnish people began to ask whether they wanted to be a country in their own right. Russia, realizing what was happening, attempted to assimilate Finland into its empire in the 19th century but failed, which only fueled the desire for Finnish independence. Then, in 1917, the Russian Empire collapsed entirely, giving Finland a sudden opportunity to secede. Finland capitalized and gained their independence in a matter of months, but their future as a nation was still uncertain. The conservative Finns, known as the Whites, who were pushing for independence, faced fierce opposition from the pro-Russian Reds. A bloody civil war threatened to divide the new country before it had even begun.

In the midst of the chaos, a former Russian Lieutenant General named Carl Gustaf Emil Mannerheim took leadership of the Whites’ military. Thanks in large part to his leadership, four months later, the Finns achieved peace, with the Whites victorious and standing at the dawn of their independence. Mannerheim became a hero.

Another important detail from this period was how the Whites won the Civil War. Finland didn’t have much of an established army of their own. They needed equipment, structure, and training fast. One country, a close ally for many years, stepped in to help them: Imperial Germany. Jägers, the German word for ‘hunter’ and the term they used for infantry, became Jääkäri in Finnish. The Whites modeled their military closely on the German structure and acquired weapons and vehicles to aid them in their victory over the Reds.

In many ways, this conflict established certain international relations that would become crucial to Finland’s decisions in the Second World War. Germany was seen as an ally, while Russia was the enemy. Over the next couple of decades, Finland and Russia settled into a discontented peace, neither side particularly happy about sharing a border. Mannerheim rose through the ranks within Finland, eventually becoming Chairman of the Finnish Defence Council. When given the role in 1931, it came with a warning: it was only a matter of time before war would erupt with the Soviets. Tensions were rising steadily year on year, particularly over the border region of Karelia.

This piece of land was historically Finnish until the Swedes had given it to the Russian Empire. After gaining independence, both countries felt they had a claim to Karelia but only owned half of it. For Finland, it was a point of heritage and identity. There were Finnish people living in East Karelia on the Russian side of the border who should have been unified with the rest of their people. Many Finns in Russian East Karelia agreed with this. For the Soviets, it was a matter of national security. The city of Leningrad was only 20 miles from the Finnish border, and in that stretch of land, there was a growing number of nationalistic Finns. Given Finland’s close ties with Germany, the impending outbreak of World War II intensified these threats. Stalin was worried. What if Nazi Germany convinced Finland to join the war and allow them to launch an invasion through Karelia?

Stalin knew he had to act fast. War in Europe was about to break out, and he couldn’t be caught unprepared. What followed in the late 1930s was a period of intense negotiations. Representatives of both countries regularly met in the months leading up to the Second World War. The Soviets came in with their most minimal request, bolstered by the attendance of Joseph Stalin himself to underline the importance of the deal. Stalin was friendly and lit up with smiles and goodwill towards the Finnish delegates. He suggested that the Finns give them Karelia in exchange for some land further north, allowing him to create more space between Leningrad and potential enemies, as well as take ownership of several islands and establish a naval base in the Gulf of Finland.

Mannerheim, knowing the Finnish military better than anyone, pushed for them to accept the deal. In his eyes, they had no choice. The Soviets negotiating peacefully was Stalin offering an olive branch. If the Finns said no, they wouldn’t stand a chance against the invading Red Army. But the Finnish government, assuming the Soviets had come in with their most audacious request to negotiate down, refused to budge. They were nervous but rebutted Stalin’s offers, waiting for him to back off. They knew they didn’t have the military power to fight off the Soviets, but public distrust of Russia and a strong reluctance to give up any of the land they’d fought so hard to gain meant the talks reached a stalemate.

The Finnish parliament eventually voted no to the Russian demands, much to Stalin’s surprise, who jokingly asked if his votes could be included too. But from that point on, the Soviets stopped attending talks. Stalin had stopped joking around.

On November 26, 1939, in a small village called Mainila on the Soviet side of the border, a small group of Soviet soldiers exploded. Stationed in a guard post, the Soviets were shelled from the Finnish side of the border, totally unprovoked. That gave the Red Army all the reason they needed to ramp up their military presence at the border and prepare for war. Since the end of the war, historians on both sides have concluded that this event never actually happened. Neither country had any artillery stationed anywhere in range of the village at the time. Stalin had lied, using a ‘false flag’ event as an excuse to invade Finland and take the land he believed was rightfully his.

At 8 AM on November 30, 1939, the Red Army launched their attack. Half a million Soviet soldiers stormed into Finland, a country with only 3.6 million people in total. To make matters worse, another half million Soviets were getting ready in reserves. They attacked along almost the entire length of the border, looking to exploit under-defended areas and overwhelm Finland immediately, perhaps inspired by the German invasion of Poland just a couple of months earlier.

Attack swiftly and from as many directions as possible, stretching the defensive line thin and relying on superior numbers to gain early momentum. And superior numbers they had. Stalin sent in over 450,000 soldiers to face the 33,000 men of the Finnish National Army—21 divisions of soldiers against just three. The Red Army had thousands of aircraft and tanks at its disposal, while Finland had less than 70 aircraft and a dozen WWI-era French Renault tanks. The Soviets had spent months building rail links all the way up the length of the border to supply their troops with food, ammunition, and reinforcements.

Stalin had a plan. Their attack would focus on three areas in particular. The Karelian Isthmus, which they knew would be the most heavily fortified part of the front, was also the most open, with several lakes that would freeze over in December, allowing the Soviets to move tanks and heavy artillery closer to the fortifications. They would fight the Finnish forces here while attempting to flank them where they could, waiting for the rest of the country to fold.

And fold it would, because at the top of the border, the Finnish landscape was wild and rural. They didn’t anticipate heavy resistance that far out, as the land wasn’t well supplied or particularly defensible, so they sent the smaller, less experienced 14th Army to attack the north. The army was tasked with targeting the Lapland port of Petsamo and taking the town of Oulu on the Gulf of Bothnia. With those taken, Russia could cut off all foreign aid from reaching Finland from Sweden.

In the center was the key to their strategy. Their battle-hardened 9th Army would attack as a tight unit, slicing Finland in half and severing communications and infrastructure along the way. With that accomplished, they would push south, pinching the last of the Finnish defense in Karelia. After defeating those forces, they would push through, taking Viipuri, and then roll towards Helsinki, leaving Finland defenseless. They expected to destroy the Finnish resistance in no time—twelve days, to be exact. Lt. Gen. Kirill Meretskov estimated the whole conflict would be over in 12 days. After that point, Russia would choose to either take the whole of Finland back into its control or just the key areas they had identified before the war.

But after just a couple of days, it was clear they had massively underestimated their foe. Remember how we said the Finnish Army was just 33,000 soldiers? That was true. Their official army was only that large. But unbeknownst to Russia, in the months leading up to the outbreak of war, Finnish men had been signing up for the reserve forces by the droves under the guise of ‘additional training.’ The territorial army bolstered its military strength to 127,000. They had another 100,000 in reserves and a further 100,000 in the Civic Guard. Supporting them were the 100,000 women of the Lotta Svard, otherwise known as the Women’s Auxiliary Army.

All of a sudden, the Finnish resistance force wasn’t looking too dissimilar to the 450,000 men of the Red Army. What’s more, while Mannerheim had been keen to accept the peaceful route proposed by the Soviets, he had also spent the last eight years preparing his country for this exact scenario. A veteran of WWI and the Russo-Japanese War, Mannerheim had distinguished himself in combat and strategy from a young age. He was as seasoned a military commander as Finland could have hoped for. But he was not alone. Many of the hundreds of thousands of Finnish men who served were combat veterans themselves, having fought in their own country during the Civil War and WWI. Mannerheim had the soldiers and knowledge of how to use them effectively.

So, how did he plan to save Finland from almost guaranteed defeat? His priority was to establish a strong frontline in the Karelian Isthmus, called the Mannerheim Line in his honor. There, he stationed the bulk of his forces while ensuring to place a good number of troops across the rest of the border all the way up to the Arctic Circle. Mannerheim anticipated the Soviet strategy well. The supposedly unstoppable force of the Red Army met the immovable object of the Finns.

Fighting broke out among the snowy forests along the border. The Soviets, dressed in dark khaki uniforms, stood out as they tried to push forward. In contrast, the Finns were dressed in all white uniforms and set themselves up in foxholes and bunkers, making them virtually invisible. Unsure where the enemy was and panicking, the Russians were picked off quickly without much opportunity to retaliate.

The Finnish strategy was simple: hold the line. Foreign support would eventually come from the UK, France, or Sweden. Or Stalin would grow frustrated and broker peace. Until one of those things happened, the Finns wouldn’t shift, and with a harsh winter bearing down on them, the Finnish soldiers had one mission: survive. And survive, they did. Despite lacking conventional vehicles of warfare, the Finns knew the land better than anyone and were resourceful. Most of these men had grown up in the countryside where winters were harsh, and living was tough. While the Russian soldiers were bogged down wading through waist-deep snow, the Finns used skis to get around quickly and quietly, as they had always done in the winters.

The Jaegers, Finland’s elite soldiers, had bicycles that they would use to quickly traverse behind the front line, allowing them to pop up in different spots and perform effective strikes on exposed targets. When tanks rolled through, Finnish men would jam logs into their tracks, effectively grounding the heavy vehicles. They would then light Molotov cocktails and throw them at the exhaust vents, disabling the engines and destroying the tanks. Several tons of Soviet engineering were brought down with some wood, alcohol, and a couple of glass bottles.

And that wasn’t the end of the Soviets’ troubles. In the two years leading up to the war, Stalin’s paranoia led him to gut the Red Army’s leadership and replace seasoned commanders with promoted rookies. The grand strategy in place may have been sound, but much of the middle tiers of their army were out of their depth, especially against such an unconventional defensive force. They immediately experienced crippling traffic jams. The roads into the country were small and far apart, meaning they had to move single-file without the support of those parallel to them. The roads themselves were poor quality and ruined by extreme weather, not to mention the Finnish resistance. So, even with 1,000 tanks ready to fight, the Soviets could barely get any of them into the country.

Stuck in traffic jams, the Red Army couldn’t fan out and were easily surrounded. With destroyed vehicles blocking the few usable roads, these army columns were brought to a standstill. Finland had littered the border with booby traps and mines, making the Soviets hesitant to stray from the main roads. The Finns also placed lone snipers throughout the forests. Men dressed in all white who would lie in wait for hours on the lookout for potential targets. A single sniper was capable of delaying a Russian convoy for hours as they were difficult to detect and frighteningly accurate due to their experience hunting in the Finnish forests. By far, the most notorious of these snipers was Simo Häyhä.

Häyhä had grown up near Viipuri, the first city that the invading Red Army would take if the Mannerheim Line failed. For him, as was the case for almost all other Finns, this war was deeply personal, in stark contrast to most of the Soviets crossing the border who had little connection to the conquest of Finland. Throughout the conflict, Häyhä racked up over 500 kills, making him one of the most lethal marksmen in military history, even though he was only in combat for less than 100 days. Häyhä would take up position first thing in the morning, before daybreak, and long before any enemies were expected to pass by. He would cover himself in layers and lie flat in the snow with a small mound of snow in front of him. As the war dragged on, temperatures dipped down to as low as -40, yet Häyhä would lie there waiting, snacking on bread and sugar to keep warm.

Armed with a SAKO M/28-30, Häyhä opted to forgo any kind of scope. He didn’t want the glint to give away his position or have to raise his head to look through it. With the iron sights he’d grown familiar with, he could stay hidden while still being accurate. It also helped that he was only 5ft 3”. As the enemies approached, he would pack snow into his mouth so that his breath wouldn’t steam up as it passed his lips and rest the barrel of the rifle on the snowy mound he built earlier to cool it and reduce the smoke trails from his shots. He’d sit there watching the enemy for a long time before firing, studying their movements, counting their numbers, and lulling them into a false sense of security. Then he’d pull the trigger.

On December 21, 1939, Häyhä achieved his highest daily count of 25 kills. The Finnish propaganda machine noticed and quickly drummed up a kind of mythology around the man. Everything about his character perfectly summed up what they wanted the Finnish spirit to be. But as a result, viewing Häyhä accurately through a historical lens is challenging. Häyhä gained the