"We were all pawns in the great historical game"
Neither the Porkkala evacuees nor those who took their place had any choice in the matter
By Jussi Niemiläinen in Kirkkonummi and Riga
In mid-September 1944, the air around Kirkkonummi was thick with rumours.
"We had a hunch that the Soviets would want a base, just like they did after the Winter War. We imagined it would be Hanko again", recalls Hans Öfverström, 77. "Porkkala came up in the discussions, too, but we sort of imagined that if it happened it would just be the headland itself."
For Öfverström and others, the uncertainty was nerve-wracking. Until...
"At around 10 in the evening on the 19th, the radio news came on and told us what area was being leased."
The newsreader also disclosed the timetable: the “leased territory” was to come into effect in ten days.
“Nobody got much sleep that night.”
The next morning dawned with the entire 1,000 square kilometres area in a state of chaos. But the timetable was inexorable: people had to get down to work rightaway.
"They were a sad and very hectic ten days", says Öfverström.
"First we had to clear the fields of all the grain and the potato crop. Initially all the vehicles were set aside for transporting foodstuffs. The country was still suffering from food shortages."
At the same time as one home was being stripped and boxed up, another residence had to be found. Cars and trucks carried goods and belongings as far as the Kivenlahti bridge. From there on, the evacuees were on their own. "We had to lead the livestock out overnight, so we wouldn’t block up the roads." The farm had 30 cows and seven horses.
Nothing could be left behind. "There was a Finnish liaison officer standing in the yard, who made the final decision on what could fit in the trucks and what couldn’t. The less important things were just burnt. And that usually meant items with sentimental value.”
Finally the emptied and cleaned-up home had to be abandoned. The Öfverströms moved to a rented farm in Espoo.
"It was a heavy journey. A lot of tears."
The family home was left behind the iron curtain.
On the other side of that curtain, the people lived a completely Soviet life, recalls 80-year-old Vladimir Borzov at his home in Riga.
The Russian Senior Lieutenant arrived at the base in the summer of 1948. His Latvian-born wife Vija soon followed.
"The Army ordered me to Porkkala", grunts Borzov. "Opinions didn't count for very much."
This was the Stalin era. "I was just grateful that it wasn’t a comand to the Far East."
In the early stages, that was one of the few causes for celebration. Borzov's task was to establish a training school for NCOs in the village of Degerby.
"The only place for relaxation was a free-time centre that was built in Degerby Church", says Borzov. For someone coming from the large and bustling city of Riga, Porkkala was deadly dull.
"Besides, the discipline was bad, and things just didn’t work." The situation did not improve until an inspection that took place in 1950, after which the base received reinforcements. The standard of living also began to improve.
"We did of course move to Porkkala from Latvia, where the living standards were higher than in Russia itself. For those who got seconded to Finland from Russia, things were immediately better than they had been at home.”
After a spell back in the Soviet Union for further training, Borzov was ordered to return to Masala in 1951. Masala was the location of the headquarters of the Red Army Marine Division.
"We were perfectly happy to come back."
This time, the peace and quiet no longer seemed so strange, it was possible to collect berries and mushrooms from the woods, and the family could cultivate vegetables in the back yard. They even kept a few animals.
"I didn’t really have time to think how lucky we were, all the same. We had two children, and there was plenty to do just to get by."
"We did have some recreation, too, but this was a military base after all."
In the summer of 1955, the order came through to pack up and vacate the base. "It came as a complete surprise. Up to that point the base had been steadily strengthened the whole time I was there."
Borzov took his family home to Riga and then returned to Finland to put the place into shape for handing it back in early 1956. After that his military career, begun as a young man, was over.
For the Öfverströms, the return was a glorious moment. Hans was among the first running over the Kivenlahti bridge after the frontier barrier was raised.
But at the same time it was a bleak homecoming. "If you’ve ever seen pictures of the Paldiski naval base in Estonia after the Soviets moved out, you will begin to understand what things looked like here."
For all that, it was an emotional return.
It was not possible to move back in to the family farm - it had served as a canteen for a thousand labourers and was in very poor shape.
Hans’s father’s birthplace next door had been used by officers as a local HQ, and the Öfverströms still live there today. Ownership had to be applied for from the Finnish state.
"We know personally some of the Russians who lived here. When it comes down to it, we were all just pawns in the game of history.”
Helsingin Sanomat / First published in print 29.9.2004
More on this subject:
 Sixty years ago: Parliament within range of Soviet guns
The iron curtain comes down, and "the world's longest railway tunnel" is created
Links:
What if? (Books from Finland, 4/2001)
JUSSI NIEMELÄINEN / Helsingin Sanomat
jussi.niemelainen@hs.fi
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