Correspondent Tom Wilmer recounts a most memorable morning in Finland at a Frontier Guard station on the Russian border near the town on Joensuu.
The Land Rover rumbles and groans along the dusty pock marked, dirt road as we approach the Russian border. Although, we would never actually see the Russian side of the line as a broad "Frontier" no-man’s-land separates the Finns from the Russians.
Our driver, Jusi, a scrub-faced 24-year-old Finn, parks the Land Rover across the road from the Frontier Guard Station (the Finnish Army maintains a cadre of Guard stations at strategic points along the Russian border).
The ever-vigilant Finns have lived through centuries of invasions by the Russians to the East and the Swedes to the West. The 1939-40 Winter War between the Finns and Russians in the early days of WW II was exceptionally brutal and deadly for the Finnish Army.
Many reminders of those dark days in Finnish history remain evident as one travels through the forests along the Russian border. Rows of tall boulders interlace a dark forest of birch and conifers.
One might mistake the mammoth rocks for an ancient farm fence, but the multi-ton stones were painstakingly placed there as tank traps. There are remarkably well preserved, hand-dug trenches reinforced with wooden planks, and networks of defensive caves that served as troop hideouts and emergency field hospitals.
Jusi, dressed in combat fatigues, accented with a hammer and sickle emblazoned Soviet Army belt, hops out of the truck and lights up a cigarette as we amble over to check out the border gate--complete with a yellow-striped horizontal wooden-pole, and an adjacent sign highlighted with a bright-red slashed circle and accompanying litany of verboten activities.
Jusi admonishes, "Not to even think about ducking under barrier—not advised to even put fingers on far side of pole."
After milling around and posing for pictures next to the sign delineating the terminus of the “Free World” we start back toward the Land Rover. That's when Bruce, a fellow Journalist from Toronto notices the Finnish Frontier Army Guard Station's obstacle course set in a clearing just off the roadway.
The barracks and ancillary buildings (reminiscent of a U. S. National Park ranger station) are situated in a clearing on the opposite side of the road. A group of soldiers in brown combat fatigues mill around in the shadows of a machine shed at the rear of the facility.
They appear to be on their coffee break but all eyes are discretely fixed on us, especially on Bruce, and Zelda who has followed in Bruce's footsteps to check out the soldiers’ obstacle training course.
There is something remarkably innocent and yet intently curious about the soldiers' stares. Their expressions are reminiscent of the inquisitive, semi-perplexed gaze of a deer family when they spot a human.
Cooped up in the Land Rover, bounding through the Finnish wilderness, for most of the morning, Bruce and Zelda just cannot resist the urge to run the obstacle course.
After successfully completing the first set of obstacles that includes short hurdles, tunnels, and low-lying barriers, Bruce and Zelda give each other high-fives and then look our way with Olympic winner, up-raised arms and proud smiles of accomplishment.
As they ran the course, I noticed that the hurdles, tunnels and other obstacles were substantially shorter and smaller than I remembered from my military basic training, but I assumed that there was an appropriate explanation for the low profile attributes of the hurdles, ramps and catwalks.
We gaze over toward the Finnish soldiers and notice that they were all pointing at Bruce and Zelda, slapping their thighs and laughing hysterically.
I asked, "Jusi, Why are the soldiers laughing at Bruce and Zelda?"
"Oh, I think they have never seen such a sight before. “Obstacle course not for humans. Thees course for dog training only!"
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