Mannerheim's Dilemma: The Man Who Sided With Hitler To Save His Country

Helsinki, Finland. The prosperous, confident capital of a prosperous, confident country. Much of this prosperity can be traced back to World War II, where this small country battled against the odds to survive and lay the foundations for its current economic success. But what you don't see emphasised on the war monuments is that for most of this war, the Finns fought not on the side of the Allies, but on the side of the Nazis. And amongst the prominent Finns that gave their full support for this was Finland's greatest hero, Marshal Mannerheim. The Finns justify this collaboration by saying that the alternative was to be swallowed up by Communist Russia. But is this true? Was Mannerheim right to advocate fighting alongside Nazi Germany? Is it indeed possible to justify collaborating with the most evil regime in history? Could the Finns be that rare thing? Good collaborators. September 1939. War is declared. Germany and Russia invade Poland in a deal to split the conquered country in two and share the spoils. But in the north, Russia saw the chance to settle a long-standing grudge with an old enemy, Finland. Finland had been independent from Russia for just 22 years. Now the Russians wanted it back. In November 1939, Helsinki is attacked by Russian aircraft. 400,000 Russian soldiers pour over the border. At the start of what became known as the Winter War, there seemed to be no contest. The Russian forces massively outnumbered the Finns. Their generals confidently predicted a victory in 10 to 15 days. Finland, after all, was only a small nation of just 3.5 million people. 80% of their forces weren't professional soldiers, but volunteers. The Finns lacked key military equipment like tanks and had just two weeks' supply of ammunition. But Finland did have two secret weapons. The 1939 winter was exceptionally cold, which the Finns could use to their advantage. They also had a commander who knew the Russians like the back of his hand. Carl Gustav Mannerheim had served for 30 years in the Imperial Russian Army. He had then returned to Finland to lead the country to independence after a bloody civil war. Now this cigar-smoking aristocrat was back in charge of the Finnish army at the age of 72. It was Mannerheim's sure grasp of the tactics and strategy a small nation could use against a much larger aggressor that now would make all the difference. In the years leading up to the war, he had concentrated on building a series of trenches in the disputed Karelian Isthmus to the south of the country near Russia. Now those new defences, which became known as the Mannerheim Lines, were being put to the test as the Russians advanced ever deeper. They held back the Red Army for a crucial 46 days of unrelenting pressure. And Mannerheim wasn't content just to defend. He organised small bands of soldiers, often lightly equipped on skis, who soon got the measure of the Russians. They used the terrain of forest, lakes and wood to frustrate and trap the Red Army. This land may look beautiful now, but 50 years ago it was a killing field. A favourite tactic of Mannerheim's was to trap the long Russian armoured columns by attacking the convoys at the front, in the middle and at the rear. The Finns then set about killing the remaining Russians in lightning attacks from all quarters. And if the Finns didn't get the Russian conscripts, the weather did. The fortunate were captured. Others froze to death. 200,000 of them. But despite these early Finnish successes, Mannerheim knew that the might of the Red Army would eventually win through. So in March 1940, he urged a battered and exhausted Finland to sue for peace with Russia. The result was a treaty in which it had to surrender much of Karelia, including its second largest city, Vipuri. 400,000 refugees fled into what remained of Finland. Many Finns felt betrayed, but Mannerheim stressed that their troops had done well and at least Finland had not been conquered. But it was a very dark time. And it could only get worse. Mannerheim knew he needed help. The Russians were bound to come back. They always did. Because Finland and Russia shared a long and savage history. For a hundred years, Finland had been ruled as part of the old imperial territories of the Russian Tsar. Finnish independence seemed simply a dream. But then in 1917, towards the end of the First World War, imperialist Russia collapsed under the Communist Revolution. Finland became an independent nation. It was, though, too good to be true. The new communist rulers of Russia encouraged the Finnish working class to rise up and establish a Finnish communist state. Finland divided between the left, the Communist Reds, and the right, the Nationalist Whites. Civil war became inevitable. The Reds took over Helsinki and looked to Russia for help and support. The Whites regrouped in the country and looked instead for help to an old friend, Germany. After several months of very bloody battles, the White Nationalists, led by the virulently anti-Communist Mannerheim, triumphed. Over 80,000 Red sympathisers were interned, some in islands around Helsinki, in appalling conditions. 11,000 of them perished. The Whites had triumphed, but it was a triumph that was due not only to Mannerheim, but also to the German army, who in April 1918 helped take back Helsinki. It was a lesson all Finnish nationalists learnt. Finland was free, and this latest Russian threat had been resisted, but they had needed German help. Download the app now to watch everything from the gripping story of the Band of Brothers to Operation Barbarossa and D-Day. Immerse yourself in the dramatic stories of this remarkable era by signing up via the link in the description. Ten years later, the Russian threat returned. The Great Depression caused the financial meltdown of the whole continent. In the descent into social unrest and industrial disarray, Finland was not immune. Millions lost their jobs. Communism became attractive once again, especially to the working class and the poor. In elections all across Europe, the Communist parties gained ground. In 1929, in Finland, they won 14% of the vote. Deep in the Finnish countryside, many were appalled. This rise in Communism meant just one thing, the return of the Russians. Finnish farmers became the backbone of Lapua, a nationalist movement formed in 1929 dedicated to the eradication of Communism. Its most prominent supporter was Gustav Mannerheim. After the Civil War ended in 1918, Mannerheim had retired to an elegant wooden house in the most expensive part of Helsinki. There he entertained and stored all the many trophies he'd acquired in his travels. Today it's a museum, kept in the elegant style in which he lived. Although his bedroom reflects the soldier he always remained in his heart. But the rise in Communism at the end of the 1920s persuaded him to return to public life and start hunting different kinds of prey. He did not like the complete politics of the Lapua movement but of course he did not accept the Communist ideals and that was the reason why he more sympathised with Lapua. Lapua persuaded the government to outlaw Communism. But it then went much further, using terror and intimidation against anyone who opposed their vision of Finland. In 1932, Lapua was banned. But soon another right-wing party emerged, taking inspiration from Nazi Germany. The People's Patriotic Movement consciously copied elements of Hitler's political thinking, notably the national community where the individual is secondary to the fatherland. Its newspaper called for a Finnish Hitler and there was only one person they had in mind. For Mannerheim and Finland, it was a crucial moment. He had to choose between a Finnish democracy, whose weakness he despised, and a nationalist movement which shared his hatred of Communism but also was close to an ideology he feared as much as admired. Nazism. Mannerheim chose democracy. He decided the best way for Finland to resist the Russians was for him to stay out of politics and reorganise and rearm the Finnish army. The Winter War of 1939 proved him right. The Finnish army's resistance had stopped Russia taking back all of Finland, at least for now. It gave Mannerheim time. Time to find an ally who could help defeat the Russians when they inevitably returned. But who should they turn to? Mannerheim's preference was for the Western allies, particularly Britain and France. In the Winter War, the British cabinet had discussed sending a Franco-British volunteer force. But the Baltic Sea was controlled by the Germans, and in the end, it came to nothing. The 12,000 volunteers from all around the world who did make it to Finland included only a handful of British and French citizens. The option of a successful collaboration with the British and French seemed highly improbable. There was, however, another option. Finland's old friend, Germany. The only problem was that this was a very different Germany. It was now controlled by Hitler and the Nazis. The Nazis had agreed a pact with the Soviet Union and stayed neutral in the Winter War. But everyone knew this pact was cynical, and Hitler started conceiving the idea that his Russian ally would soon become his enemy. He was determined to strike first by preparing in secret an invasion. One key to a successful invasion would be taking the city of Leningrad. And to make sure of that, Hitler needed the Finns. In August 1940, Mannerheim received a letter from Hermann Goering, the most senior of all Hitler's commanders, requesting permission for German troops to cross Finnish soil. Granting permission would open the floodgates to cooperation and collaboration. It was a crucial moment. Mannerheim's flirtation with Lepore and Finnish nationalism in the 1930s had given him a distaste for fascism. And he knew dealing with the Nazis would destroy his international reputation forever. Yet the Winter War had made the Finnish people weary and hungry. The country was collapsing and needed aid. Aid only Germany could deliver. As Mannerheim pondered his decision, the pro-German movement in Finland grew stronger. Particularly influential was the new rector of Helsinki University, Ralf Nevenliner. Nevenliner had made his name not in the world of politics, but in mathematics. In the 1920s, he developed what is still known today as Nevenliner theory, a major contribution to function theory, the classical mathematics which emerged from the calculus of Newton and Leibniz. In the first half of the 20th century, he was certainly one of the most famous mathematicians in the world. In the 1930s, Nevenliner's interests turned to politics and nationalism. He supported Lepore. And in Germany, the centre of world mathematics and the country where his mother was born, he looked approvingly at the rise of Hitler and national socialism. Well, he sympathised. He had many relatives in Germany because of his mother. So uncles and so close relatives. And their reports were positive. So I think he was happy to see the rise of Germany. Nevenliner travelled frequently to Germany, supporting academic events and conferences organised by the Nazi government. He became known as a sympathetic friend of the Third Reich, openly praising their achievements and singling out Goering for a special mention. He gave a speech in Finnish radio in the fall of 1940. He praised the German armed forces of their successes in Europe and especially Nazi ideology. Although Nevenliner's enthusiasm for the Nazis wasn't widely shared in Finland, it was extremely influential. It was clear that given a choice between Russian communism and the Nazis, most Finns would choose the Nazis. So Mannerheim did the deal he knew would go down well with his fellow countrymen and women. With his ally, the new Finnish president, Risto Ritti, the Finns would cooperate with Nazi Germany. The result was felt straight away. Ammunition, oil, coal, fertilisers, grain and meat flooded into the country brought in by German troops to enthusiastic receptions from Finns all across the land. Finland had made it clear that the Finns would not be collaborators with the Nazis, but co-belligerents, fighting on the same side against a common enemy, Soviet Russia. But the reality was more complex. There was a price which Finland had to pay for Nazi help. Mannerheim and Ritti had to make several crucial concessions to the Nazis that went way beyond co-belligerency and which stepped over the line to collaboration. They allowed Finnish troops who were fighting the Russians in northern Finland to come under German command. And amongst the 200,000 German troops that now moved into Finland, the Finnish government turned a blind eye to soldiers from the armed wing of the Nazi party, the SS. The SS had been formed in 1925 as a personal protection unit for Adolf Hitler. Under the leadership of Heinrich Himmler, it had grown into one of the largest and most powerful organisations in the Third Reich. SS soldiers swore personal allegiance to Hitler and fought unquestionably for his ideology. They were responsible, too, for many of the atrocities carried out under the Nazi regime. In particular, the Holocaust. There was no Holocaust in Finland. The German SS officers were allowed a pretty free reign to interrogate political radicals and prisoners, especially those who were Jewish. But it was the final concession made by Mannerheim and Ritti to the Nazis that would prove the most troublesome. The Finns agreed to the German request to recruit volunteers to join the Waffen-SS on the Eastern Front. Amongst these volunteers was Konstantin Kandy. I joined the Waffen-SS in October 1941. But by mid-October, we had found out that the German army would be able to serve for about eight years. We didn't know that we would have to join the Waffen-SS. Mannerheim and Ritti realised that providing soldiers like Konstantin Kandy to the Waffen-SS would not only be a great propaganda triumph for the Nazis, it would take them across the line from being co-belligerents, fighting the same enemy, to active collaborators. So they did everything they could to limit the damage and cover their tracks. The Finnish SS battalion could only fight against Russia, not against the other Allies. Their recruitment would be done not by the government, but at arm's length by Finns like mathematician Ralf Nevenliner, known for their Nazi sympathies, and who could be blamed if anything went wrong. And the raw recruits were described not as soldiers, but as industrial workers, when they were sent to SS training schools. Not that the training left any doubt about their role. We had to go to Rintamäki. It was 15th of September 1942. The battalion had been gathered in Avonelijö. Hitler was ordered to light a fire. Once they had sworn their oaths, they were then ready to take part in the Nazis' latest and most daring military plan. Operation Barbarossa. In August 1941, German panzers drove deep into Russia, catching Stalin, their former ally, completely by surprise. The German army was soon well on the way to Leningrad. And there was another surprise for the Russians. Up in Finland, Mannerheim seized his opportunity. He launched his own attack on Russia to regain the land that was lost at the end of the Winter War. With the Red Army preoccupied with the German attack inside Russia, the Finnish troops managed to quickly capture all the territory conceded. Even the battered city of Vipuri. But at the old Russian-Finnish border, Mannerheim stopped his troops and ordered them to go no further. Despite German pleas, attacking Leningrad was a line of collaboration he was not prepared to cross. Mannerheim realised that if the Finns joined in with the German troops who were attacking Leningrad from the south, they would become aggressors. They would no longer be able to claim that Finland was involved in a defensive war, simply to take back Finnish territory. But now there was another unexpected problem that the Finnish government had to deal with. What to do with the Russian prisoners of war and displaced civilians who now came under Finnish control? Unlike the Germans, the Finns treated many of them well. But not all. In the last few years, historians and journalists like Boris Salomon have started investigating what really went on during the period of cooperation with the Nazis. They're uncovering stories which reveal that this cooperation had its dark side, which in Finland has often been denied or forgotten. Such as the treatment of prisoners, displaced civilians and refugees when the Finns took over eastern Karelia. In one camp in the summer of 1942, over 3,000 Russians died of malnutrition. After the war, several prison wardens and officers were tried and found guilty of crimes against humanity. But at the time, nobody cared. Not even Mannerheim, who was focused instead on how well the war was going. Meanwhile, 200 miles south from Mannerheim's Finnish army, now stationary on the Russian border, the Finnish SS volunteers were deep inside Russia, fighting alongside the German army on the eastern front. They proved to be magnificent warriors, often against the odds. They were involved in the savage siege of Leningrad, and they then fought for the oil fields of Grozny as part of Hitler's push to Stalingrad. The Finnish volunteers' bravery earned the division many German medals, but at great personal cost. Over 500 of them were wounded. 200 lost their lives. The commander fell by my side, and he shot us through. I couldn't get him out of there, and he stayed on the enemy side. Obergeführer Repp, his name was, Alanne, died at Christmas. Pentti Koivisto, died at Christmas. But although they were part of the SS, the Finnish survivors claim to this day that they never took part in any atrocities or war crimes, and certainly not in the SS leader Heinrich Himmler's most murderous policy, the Holocaust. And this has been the accepted opinion in Finland for the last 50 years. But now these accounts are being questioned too. The Finnish government is not the only one The Finnish soldiers were, after all, fully part of the Waffen-SS. It can be proven that the Finns, who fought in the Caucasus, certainly took part in the killings. By killings, I mean civilians. Boris Salomon says that in at least one fully documented case, in Poland in June 1941, a Finnish SS soldier witnessed an execution of Jews. He thinks there may well be other cases. But this is strongly denied by the SS veterans still alive today. They say they neither witnessed nor participated in any such crime, nor did any Finn they knew. There was one man, though, who gradually realized the potential for disaster the Finnish SS division might prove. In Finland today, you can't escape tributes to Carl Gustaf Mannerheim. Not only does his statue dominate downtown Helsinki, the most important street in the capital is named after him. And in the house where he once lived, alongside his preserved furniture, you can now buy your very own Mannerheim bust. A bargain at 25 euros. But one event that is not recorded here is Mannerheim's 75th birthday in August 1942, when he received a very famous, although not entirely welcome, last-minute visitor. He was never a friend of Hitler, and he didn't want to make close friendship with him. But at the time, the Fuhrer certainly wanted to be friends with Mannerheim, or at least make sure the rest of the world saw him as a friend. So Hitler insisted his film unit recorded every step of his trip to give Mannerheim his birthday wishes. But the Fuhrer wasn't here just for a birthday party. There were one or two key problems with the German-Finnish cooperation on Hitler's mind, which was the real reason he made the trip. He needed a deal. A deal which involved Mannerheim agreeing to move the Finnish army into Russia, helping the German army secure Leningrad. And a deal which enabled him to keep the Finnish SS volunteers fighting with the German army in Russia, and not recall them home. Mannerheim relished his moment of power, even doing something people rarely did in front of the Fuhrer. Hitler hated smoking. After the lunch, he lit his cigar and all the officers of the Hitler companions, they were quite pale when they saw that, but they couldn't say anything, and Hitler did not say anything. Mannerheim could sense that the war was on the turn, and that things were beginning to slip away from Germany. He wanted out. So he insisted that despite Hitler's wishes, the Finnish SS volunteers should be recalled from Russia, and the men integrated into the regular Finnish army on the Russian border. That didn't please the Germans at all. They turned to an old Finnish friend. With German approval, Professor Rolf Nevenliner became chair of a new committee designed to win public support for the Finnish SS. He had regular meetings with the volunteers, made frequent visits to Berlin, and lobbied hard. But Mannerheim wouldn't give way, and eventually the head of the SS, Heinrich Himmler, recognised defeat. Today, I release you from the service to the Waffen-SS. I thank you for your courageous service, that you have provided to the glory and honour of your beautiful motherland in a German soldier's uniform. You have just as much contributed to the victory against your and our age-old enemy Russia, and against Bolshevism, as your German SS comrades. By the summer of 1943, most of the Finnish SS battalion had been recalled, although over a hundred did volunteer to stay on, and fight as part of German units. Many of the battalion that made their way home joined the regular Finnish army under Mannerheim, now in stalemate with the resurgent Russians. But extracting Finland from the SS was relatively easy. Much more difficult was bringing an end to the war against Russia, not least because there were still hundreds of thousands of German troops on Finnish soil. Yet it was clear that this collaboration with the Nazis had to stop if Finland wasn't to find itself on the losing side at the end of the war. As the Nazis started experiencing a series of defeats and setbacks, so the Finns began slowly winding down their confrontations with the Russians in the north. By the end of 1943, they were refusing to take part in any offensive military operations that might help Germany. The trouble was, the Russians had another agenda. As they drove the Nazis out of Russia, so the Red Army targeted the Finnish front as part of a new initiative against Germany, called Operation Bagration. Within days, the Russians had pushed the Finnish army back and were heading towards Vipuri. Soon the Finns would be steamrolled by the Nazis. Once more, the Finns needed help, and the only possible help was the friend that Ritti and Mannerheim were trying to get away from, Nazi Germany. So they hatched a daring plan. In return for Nazi support, President Ritti gave a personal undertaking not to pursue a separate peace with Russia. But what Mannerheim and Ritti knew well, was that this presidential agreement, while perfectly lawful in Nazi Germany, was illegal in Finland, because it hadn't been approved by the Finnish parliament. Mannerheim and Ritti tricked the Nazis into signing an accord which they could get out of, any time they wanted. The Germans rushed troops and anti-tank weapons to the rescue of the Finns. And in June and July 1944, Finland fought one last epic battle with Russia. 150,000 Russians faced 50,000 Finns. In an area spanning 40 square miles, the two sides' artillery pounded each other relentlessly. The Finns were fighting for their country's very survival. 600 Russian tanks were destroyed, many with German-supplied weapons. Up to 20,000 Russian troops were killed. The battle was hugely important. The Finns had proved to the Russians they were a force to be reckoned with. They would fiercely resist all attempts by the Red Army to conquer them, and they had shown that the price of capturing Finland would be far too high. Most crucially, the Finns had forced Stalin to revise his policy. He opted for a separate armistice with Finland, a unique concession that no other former German ally would receive. None of this would have been possible without German support. The deal with Germany had secured Finland's future. And now the Finns would repay the Germans by going back on what they had promised. They claimed that they weren't bound by President Risto Ryti's personal agreement not to agree a separate peace with Russia, because Ryti hadn't got Parliament's support, and so had acted illegally. Ryti resigned. Mannerheim took over as president, and was able to negotiate a separate peace between Finland and Russia without reference to Germany. Just as Mannerheim and Ryti had planned months before, the Nazis were now out in the cold. Finland may have lost the war, but it had survived. True, the Russians did insist on keeping all the territory they had won in the Winter War, including Vipuri, Finland's second city, now known as the Russian city of Vyborg. But Finland, unlike the other Baltic states, remained free of communism. There was, however, a price to pay. In Helsinki today, there is a memorial for President Risto Ryti, who is now seen as a hero. But in 1946, he was the fall guy. A liberal economist who was a great admirer of Britain and America, Ryti was imprisoned by the Allies for ten years in the trials which Russia demanded as a price of peace. His health never recovered. The operators were much more fortunate. The mathematician and Nazi sympathiser Rolf Neven Lehner had to resign as rector of Helsinki University. But then, like the other Finnish intellectuals who backed the Nazis, he was left alone by the Russians. He took up a lucrative professorship in Switzerland, and in the 1950s became one of Finland's most revered public figures. His reputation remains virtually unblemished today. The reputation of Karl Gustav Mannheim has, if anything, increased. Although just as guilty as Ryti in cooperating with the Nazis, his national popularity meant that it was too difficult for the Russians to put him on trial. He escaped any retribution whatsoever. After resigning as president, he took another even more rewarded retirement, which this time didn't involve shooting tigers. He was buried with full honours in 1951, and in 2004 was voted the greatest Finn. Finland itself came out of its association with Nazi Germany remarkably unscathed. It remains proud of the Finns who served in German uniforms. Although most Finns would still rather forget the darker moments of Nazi collaboration. Few countries can claim their relationship with Nazi Germany was a success. Finland, however, is the exception. Even if it meant collaborating with some of the most vicious war criminals the world has ever seen.