Chapter 6. Where It Hurts
6.1. Head to Head
”In the afternoon of the 2nd of May, the situation had calmed down, as most things went. Volunteers were putting down fires lit by the escaped prisoners. The Civil Guard troops in the town and those quickly brought from the surrounding parishes had managed to defeat and disarm most of the groups of armed Reds. At Tammela Square in the small hours of the night, the White action had turned into a veritable bloodletting as a mixed unit of Tampere Civil Guards and a few Swedish volunteers, armed with rifles and a well-placed machine gun had faced off a big group of Reds armed only with makeshift weapons, clubs, spades and the like. Very few of the Red escapees at the square managed to keep their lives, even after they tried to surrender...”
”Later it was estimated that about 4000 of the prisoners at Kalevankangas had taken part in the breakout; of those, about 1000 took part in the fighting with the soldiers and armed townsfolk. The rest went into hiding, and many tried to make their way south and south-west, towards where they though the Red lines were, under the cover of darkness. Hundreds of people were rounded up by White units to be taken back to the camp, but more than 3000 were estimated to have escaped. The countryside surrounding Tampere is still a decade later full of stories from these days, ranging from matter-of-fact recollection to tales of horror. Often these stories are bloody and macabre, featuring trigger-happy White warriors and desperate, ragtag bands of Red escapees on the move.
The most memorable stories from those days centre on the actions of the ”Flying Detachments”, the cavalry units tasked with ”pacifying” the area around Tampere. Many often, these troopers would execute captured Reds on the spot rather than take them back to Tampere or the many smaller, ad hoc detainment camps cropping up in the local parishes. Especially in the areas where the Reds had not caused much harm to the locals, these events made people wary of the often violent and unpredictable White ”crusaders”; and indeed many farmers who had previously supported the White cause found themselves harboring Red escapees from the White cavalry. On the other hand, the tales about the mutiny at Tampere hardened the already extreme attitudes against the Reds in some circles: there are stories about farmers finding ragged, barefeet escapees in their barns or sheds and killing them in cold blood with hunting rifles...”
”It is hard to say how many of the escapees found their way to the relative safety of Red-held areas in the end – the records from the wartime and the following months are sketchy to say the least. We might well never know the full extent of the post-mutiny events.”
Kyösti Kaukovalta: The Kalevankangas Mutiny – Recollections of a Witness, Otava, Tampere, 1930.
”I was one of the lucky ones. There had been three of us; me, my colleague, the journalist Toivo Lehtinen and Mr. Linden, the carpenter. Having seen some of our comrades dragged off to be executed in the previous days, we decided to make a break for it when the Mutiny begun. Generally speaking, we made it our goal to steer clear of the big crowds and the noise: arming ourselves and heading for the town centre would have meant suicide, Toivo and me both agreed. Mr. Linden, an older man who had lost his brother in the camp didn't offer an opinion, but was eager to follow us two young men out of the town.
We made our way south, towards the farmsteds in Seppälä. I remember thinking the front wouldn't be far: we had heard that some White troops had been rushed south to stop a counterattack by troops loyal to the People's Deputation, and as an eternal optimist I hoped that we'd soon run into Red pickets. Thinking about that later, I understand how naive that was. After walking through the night, along side roads, we found an abandoned-seeming shed and hid there to sleep.
I woke up in the afternoon. It was a beautiful spring day, the sun was shining through the half-collapsed roof and around the building the last of the winter's snow was melting. I woke up my comrades, and we debated what we should do next. Mr. Linden thought it most wise to stay in the shed and wait for the night; but I said that we should continue south forthwith – there would still be time before the Whites start combing the countryside. All we knew, the battle in Tampere would still be ongoing or our comrades might have taken control of the town centre. Toivo agreed with me, and with the recalcitrant carpenter in tow we continued forward along a southbound road.
We walked the whole day and grew increasingly hungry: our only rations for this sojourn had been last of the moldy bread we had received at the camp the previous morning. Mr. Linden wouldn't stop complaining about his sore leg, which I remember irking me. Without his complaints, the nagging hunger in my stomach and my broken shoes I just might have enjoyed our hike, despite the war. We had managed to avoid the few people we had spotted along the road, by hiding on the roadside. Suddenly, we heard noise behind us: the hooves of a horse! Before we had the time to help Mr. Linden to a roadside bush, said horse arrived at a slow trot, with a cart. A man was slumped at the seat and appeared unconscious. I then jumped from the roadside to catch the reins of the horse, despite my friends' protests, for I had recognised the man on the cart: it was Honkaniemi, a quarryman, a former Red Guard and a fellow prisoner of war. He was wounded, badly it seemed. It looked like he had been shot. I tried to talk to him, but he was beyond reason, mumbling incoherently under his breath.
If Honkaniemi was here, and in this condition, surely the Whites were not far. I presented the horse and cart to my friends as an opportunity, a faster way to get to the Red lines than trudging ahead on foot. My suggestion that a White patrol might be close by was enough to overcome their scepticism, and soon we were travelling south on the cart, with Mr. Linden trying to look after the delirious Honkaniemi who we feared would bleed out if we couldn't find friendly troops soon. The sun was already setting. We would ride through the night, afraid to stop lest the butchers catch up with our small band of refugees...”
Arvo Tuominen: The Memoirs of a Career Revolutionary, Vol. I, ”Progress” Publishing, Viipuri, 1951.
”On May 7th ”Työmies”[1] reported in its headline that ”Mannerheim's Army is Trapped Between Tampere and Hämeenlinna”, attributing the recent success of the revolutionary forces to the ”inspired actions of comrade Commander Eino Rahja, who has created a strong fighting spirit among the Red Guards under his leadership”. On the very same day, Rahja's troops would do battle with White forces in the small town of Toijala along the Tampere – Hämeenlinna railway. This was the day that has been seen as the culmination of the Fourteen Days by most historians. For days, Rahja's troops had been pursuing the demoralized Whites formerly under Mexmontan. The veteran officer who had led his troops into the trap set by his Red counterpart at Loimaa was dead: he had been shot by a Red warrior while trying to escape his last command post. Or so says recent, post-Kingdom Finnish research. During the interwar period, the White historiography painted Mexmontan as a hero who fought fiercely against the Reds until his own demise, blasting away at the oncoming ”Red horde” until he run out of ammo for his Mauser. He was actually (quite paradoxically) a target of a fair amount of hero-worship among the soldiers of the Royal Army!
At Kylmäkoski a few kilometres before Toijala, White troops arriving from Tampere caught up with their comrades withdrawing along the railway, and after a while the temporary leader of this new force, Jäger Captain Hanell, managed to stop the fleeing Whites and form a coherent force out of the troops present. Hanell ordered this mixed formation to build positions just outside Toijala on the west side of the railway, expecting the enemy to attack in a matter of hours. He was not mistaken: the first Reds arrived via the railway in late afternoon to scout the White positions, withdrawing south-west as they found a stronger enemy they expected. Soon the Red Nieuport was seen too, flying in a wide arc around the White positions and returning towards Rahja's advancing troops just after 5 p.m. This time the Red commander was himself aboard and was delighted to see how close he was to the southbound railway. Just a little push more, that was all he seemingly needed to cut Mannerheim's railway connections.
Hanell's Whites were in quite good positions, nevermind the short time available for preparations, but they had precious little artillery or even machine guns. Mexmontan's troops had left their heavy weapons behind during their retreat, and the Tampere relief force had managed to scrounge up only so much during their hasty departure from the town. And to add to Hanell's woes, the telegraph and telephone connections from Toijala station were down, somewhat mysteriously: he couldn't call out for help for the time being.
Meanwhile, Rahja had used his trains to bring his troops forward towards the White line. Already a few batteries of artillery were set up in good positions. They were low on ammunition, though: what logistics the People's Deputation had in place for keeping its frontline troops in military necessaria were, in truth, collapsing at this point of the war. Rahja's unnaturally quick advance had done nothing to help the situation, either. Because of this, the Reds had already left some of their artillery behind: in the battle ahead, Rahja would depend mostly on the guns on his two armored trains, placed again as the vanguard of the attack.
There was still some light left in the spring night, and thus the Red troops moved against the White positions. Despite Hanell's preparations, the Whites along the railway found themselves outnumbered and outgunned, again, and fell back towards Toijala. The demoralization of the troops spread now also to the newcomers who had seemed so sure of themselves just a few hours before. Only the determined, level-headed countenance and orders by Hanell stopped the situation from deteriorationg into a rout. He also managed to keep his line intact, as the flanks fell back towards north-east together with his main force. By 9 p.m., the Whites were barely holding on to the west side of the railway, with Hanell himself moving into the Toijala station, where the station master was trying, now desperately, to repair the communications to get in touch with Mannerheim's army.
As darkness fell, both sides settled into defensive positions. The night allowed a breathing space for both sides: while Hanell's troops were pushed back and their morale was at breaking point, Rahja had also lost many men killed and wounted during the last few hours. Since Loimaa, his ranks had thinned out decisively, also through desertion: just during the previous night, the men of the Russian ”Skull Batallion” had commandeered one of Rahja's trains and quietly made off in the direction of Turku. Stolbov, their leader, was with them: he had left a note saying his men were ”taking a sorely needed vacation”. Rahja, hung over, had very nearly shot the man who brought him the note; he swore he would kill Stolbov with his bare hands if he ever laid his eyes on the man again.
During the night, Rahja received a curious delegation in his temporary HQ at the Kinnari farm. Four men arrived on a horse cart, demanding to see the leading officer. They were Arvo Tuominen and Toivo Lehtinen, the journalists, with two Tampere workers, one of them badly wounded. The men were among those who escaped from Kalevankangas during the mutiny, and they had very luckily managed to slip past the White lines to reach the Red side. Rahja thanked the men for what information they had and allowed the two former newspapermen from ”Kansan Lehti”[2] to continue on towards Turku. This was the first time Rahja and Tuominen, future coworkers and adversaries met: in post-war Finnish historiography, this chance meeting has been often considered a harbinger of things to come.
In the morning, both sides again prepared for battle. It was a grey, rainy morning: it had rained through the night. There had been an unseasonal thunderstorm, in fact, though the men on both sides had been too tired for that to keep them awake. Things came to a head a bit after 9 a.m., when a runner arrived at Rahja's headquarters telling the Red warlord that his troops were receiving fire – from the south, not north-east where the White positions were. Startled by the news, Rahja ordered the Nieuport ready to reconnoitre the enemy positions. About the same time, also Toijala station received visitors: a railway locomotive arrived from the south, flying white flags. It brought along a White messenger, telling the surprised Hanell, that during the night a considerable White contingent had arrived from Hämeenlinna, and were now already in the process of attacking the Red positions. The storm in the night had masked the preparations very well. The visitor also explained the communications problems: Hämeenlinna could indeed hear Toijala, though only at times, but Mannerheim himself, fearing that the lines were compromised, had ordered that Hanell was not to be told about the arrival of the relief force.
The force to the south of Toijala, about a reinforced battalion, consisted of the main part of the 2nd Swedish Volunteer Brigade. Together with Hanell's troops in place, the White force was roughly the same size as the troops still under Rahja's command. The Swedish Major Allan Winge assumed control of the joint force, under Mannerheim's direct orders. He was tasked with breaking the Red contingent and then returning with the bulk of his force to join the Battle of Hämeenlinna, then already underway...”
Väinö Linna: Between Tampere and Helsinki, Norstedts, Stockholm, 1975.
[1]”The Worker”, the People's Deputation's official paper
[2]”The People's Paper”, Tampere Socialist daily