"Destroy the White Snakes!"

In Helsinki, capital of Finland, faces were sombre last week. No bombs fell: the pretty, deadly silver ships that droned far overhead passed the city by. No enemy warships threatened the mined, ice-locked harbor. No hostile army was within 200 miles. A tense, ominous quiet settled down over the capital as its inhabitants waited for news of the great battle that would decide the fate of Finland.

In the blood-soaked snow and frozen muck of the plain south of Viipuri, Finland's Verdun, a sleepless, exhausted and incredibly brave Finnish army had for twelve days withstood a mighty offensive by the best & biggest army that Russia could put into the field. Not since Marshal Haig sent tens of thousands of Britons to their slaughter at the Somme in 1916 had a high command been so prodigal of its men. Stung by its failure, in two months of bitter warfare, to subdue the stubborn Finns, apprehensive that outside help might make the Finns unconquerable by spring, Soviet Russia had risked its morale, its prestige and perhaps its future on a frontal assault against Finland's Mannerheim Line.

In nearly a fortnight of continuous attack the Russians had gained only a few outposts, and their tanks ground over the bones of the dead that strewed the battlefield. So jammed were their roads and railroads with fresh troops and supplies that they left their wounded to freeze to death where they fell. The Finns retreated cautiously, carrying their wounded with them, for to Finland's tiny army every man was precious. How many men the Russians used, nobody knew. It did not matter; they had all they could deploy and replacements for all who fell. From the other fronts they had to defend, the Finns could spare a bare 100,000 to man their Mannerheim forts and entrenchments--and they had no reserves. As the second week of battle drew to a close General Harald Ohquist's Karelian Army was exhausted but still confident. There seemed to be a lull in the onslaught, and in Helsinki people said the worst was over.

13th Day. But the lull had been like the momentary quiet of a thunderstorm before a terrific crash. The worst began on the 13th day of fighting. Supported by heavy artillery and airplanes that bombarded the Finnish lines day and night, the Russians threw fresh troops and tanks against the vital Summa sector, where the villages of Summa and Kamara guarded the road and railroad to Viipuri (see map}. Simultaneously they attacked in the middle of the isthmus, trying to force the defiles between the chain of isthmus lakes and encircle Lake Muolaa. This action, if successful, would flank the defenders of Summa. At the same time the Russians hit both ends of the Mannerheim Line, along the Taipale River on the east and, on the west, across the frozen Gulf of Finland in an effort to silence the murderous batteries at Koivisto. The Russians used tanks, armored sleds, infantry shields and flamethrowers. Finns estimated the Russian artillery dropped 300,000 shells in 24 hours.

Against the Summa and Muolaa sectors the Russians sent company after company of their best troops. Each wave advanced as far as it could, then when its ranks began to thin a fresh company came up from behind to join it. Then another and another and another. These were just the tactics the British had used in the Somme, and, as had the Germans in 1916, the Finns were forced to fall back. Fighting fiercely with their puukos (hunting knives), they sold their lives and their soil dearly.

In Helsinki, for the first time in this war, officials openly admitted dismay. Said an officer of the General Staff: "In spite of the fact that the Russians are falling in tens of thousands, they always have more men to put in. That is why we need help. We need more men, more guns, more airplanes. . . . We rely on other civilized nations to do their utmost to relieve us."

That night the Russians entered the remains of the village of Summa, but the Finns did not admit it until four days later.

14th Day. The drive showed no sign of abating. The Russians pushed on past Summa, heading toward Kaemaerae on the railroad. Hand-to-hand fighting was general throughout the isthmus, but except in the Summa wedge the Russians made no gains. Russians trying to advance over the ice toward Koivisto were blasted by the Finnish guns of that fortress. Tanks plunged through the shell-shattered ice. So fierce was the shelling that the Finns' gun-bores wore out.

In Helsinki, the government called men of 42 and 43 to the colors, renewed its appeal for quick help from other countries. Foreign Minister Vaeinoe Alfred Tanner accused the Russians of using poison gas and explosive bullets. President Kallio said bitterly: "If the world ignores us in our need, we have no choice but to fight to the last man."

15th Day. All across the isthmus the Russians pounded the weary Finns. Sleeplessness, exhaustion and frayed nerves were their allies. In the east, in the centre and at the western end of the line the Finns still held on, but the crack in their line at Summa widened into a breach. Through this breach the Russians kept pouring tanks and men, supported by an incessant bombardment. While their artillery was being moved up to support the continued advance, the Russians kept up the bombardment with planes. The Finns had no respite. Far behind the Russian lines transport was choked with men and supplies, but the supply lines did not break down. Jubilantly a Leningrad communique told of the Red Army's approach to Kaemaerae. The Finns admitted a withdrawal to new positions, insisted the main line still held, called up men of 44 and youths of 19 and 20.

16th Day. The Russians reached Kaemaerae and hammered against the Finnish right flank that cut them off from Koivisto. Between Lake Muolaa and the Vuoksi River the Finnish lines broke. Muolaa village fell and the Russians poured into the narrow strip of land just west of Lake Muolaa. Around the north shore of the lake they pushed and, with only flat ground ahead, they soon made contact with the divisions at Kamara. This broke the back of the Mannerheim Line.

Foreign Minister Tanner flew to Stockholm to beg two divisions from the Swedes. The Swedes refused (see p. 23).

Nor did it look as if effective help would come in time from the Allies. London murmured something about helping Finland in the Near East.

17th Day. "Soldiers," pleaded Field Marshal Mannerheim, "the moment has come when by stern and vigorous measures the enemy's attacks must be stopped at the new defensive line, to whose support I have dispatched from my reserve new forces and artillery. You can rest assured the enemy will never be able to break my defensive system. . . . We are raising new fortified positions to wear down unto the end his offensive power. . . . We must stand unfalteringly." This was tacit admission that the main structure of the Mannerheim Line had been broken, that the Russian power drive had not yet been stopped. To stop it might yet be possible, and there was still plenty of fight in the Finns.

18th Day. North of Lake Laatokka, at Syskyjaervi, they surrounded the Red Army's 18th Division, began hacking it to pieces. At Kuhmo they had trapped 5,000 men. But these victories helped them little while on the isthmus the Russian offensive rolled along, led by commissars who cried: "Comrades, destroy the white Finnish snakes!" In what had been the Summa sector, the drive widened, reached the Gulf of Finland, isolated Koivisto fortress. It carried the victorious Russians to Sainio only four miles south of Viipuri. From that apparently doomed city the last women and children were evacuated. The tanks rolled nearer.

"Proletarians, to horse!" Persistently reported in charge of the Russian drive is famed Field Marshal Semen Mikhailovich Budenny, and the character of the offensive makes this likely, for Cossack Chieftain Budenny is the toughest and ablest military man in Russia. Born into a large Cossack family in the Russian province of Voronezh about 1883, he was first a cattle herdsman, then a peasant laborer, and then, at 20, a Cossack cavalryman. When the Russian revolution came in 1917, he was fighting Turks at Bagdad. Without bothering to be demobilized, he started back to his native village of Polotovsk. One night Budenny and six other deserters came upon a detachment of White General Denikin's troops in a wood. The deserters had one rifle with four cartridges, one revolver with seven bullets and a sword. They went whooping through the woods toward the sleeping men, scared them so that they turned tail and ran. Budenny captured four machine guns, 275 horses, 360 rifles, 16,000 bullets and eight men, who promptly joined his forces.

Taking his spoils to Polotovsk, Budenny issued a call which became a watchword in Russia: "Proletarians, to horse!" As leader of a guerrilla troop, for a while he fought everybody who came his way. Living in forests, his horsemen emerged at night to fall upon Denikin's men or upon freebooters like themselves. By August 1919, Denikin had conquered the Ukraine and was only 200 miles from Moscow. Trotsky did not even know that Budenny existed, but it was Budenny who stopped Denikin, at Kursk. The Bolshevists quickly recognized him, began to capitalize on his spreading fame. The rumor that Budenny was coming threw the Whites into a panic. After the revolution he was given various Government committee jobs, in most of which he was useless because he could not read or write. At 46 he entered the Moscow Military Academy, graduated with honors at 50, in 1932.

Fierce, outspoken, daredevil, vodka-loving, horse-smelling, barrel-chested, mustache-proud* Cossack Budenny is probably the only man in Russia who has never kowtowed to Boss Stalin. He survived all the purges because of 1) his popularity with the people, and 2) his value to the Army. He was made a Field Marshal in 1935, Commander of the Moscow District in 1937, Vice-Commissar of Defense last year. Although a past master of guerrilla warfare, when he cannot fight guerrilla-style he adopts the tactics of Confederate General Nathan Bedford ("Git-Thar-Fust-With-The-Mostest-Men") Forrest and relies on frontal assault. Military experts predicted last month, when he was first reported in charge of the offensive, that he would recklessly risk tens of thousands of men (but none of his own Cossacks). If Field Marshal Budenny rides into Helsinki this year, Field Marshal Mannerheim will at last have met his match.

-- One side is thinner than the other, having been burned in Poland in World War I.

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