August 15th, 1985.
Emil Saari gripped the hilt of a vicious looking sissipuukko his late grandfather gave to him – all the time staring through the window to the street below. Through the closed door of his room he could hear his parents fighting. They fought over his fathers‘ drinking, they fought over money (the lack of it), they fought out of despair and helplessness – and usually these fights would end with his mother getting a beating. Since his father lost his job on the assembly line of SAKOs‘ Riihimäki plant, they fought just about anything. Emil had no respect for his father, and since his grandfather passed, he considered himself his mothers‘ last line of defense. His weak mother, that always rejected his help.
Emil nervously welcomed the sight of two VW Type 2s‘ – a blue and a black one – that slowed down to a halt in front of his building block. Emil was already dressed so he slipped out of his room. His mother was standing by the kitchen door, catching his eye but saying nothing. Half way to the apartment door his fathers‘ slurred voice interrupted his escape “Where do you think you‘re going? There‘s a curfew out…” losing his words suddenly as he saw a knife in his sons‘ hand. Emil produced a hateful smile, while motioning a gutting maneuver across the air aimed at his father, before exiting the apartment.
On the street outside a few figures of various ages waited. They were his real family. “Get in, kid.” A tall guy in his forties with short blonde hair motioned Emil towards the van. The guys‘ name was Lauri. Some might consider him a right wing firebrand, but to Emil – Lauri was a direct link to the mystic warrior past his grandfather talked about. To him, Lauri spoke of the times as they were – shed of realpolitik. People like Lauri will eventually lead Finland out of her predicament.
Emil was sitting in the back of the blue Type 2, there were about 7 guys crammed in the back – some of them his high school friends, all nervous like himself. They passed some bad attempt at kilju in a military flask among themselves to lighten the mood and find their sisu. Lauri, sitting in the front seat turned around to face them, he was wearing a vest holding a large puukko with Lapua iconography engraved on its wooden hilt. He put a walkie talkie near his mouth “Listen up my soldiers, you all know your roles, and if you follow them we will finish this quickly. When we arrive at Ronnbacka, and find this place, I want you on your best behavior. I hope you polished your puukos‘ so the hyökkääjät can appreciate them better. You all know what to do, we talked about it this morning… Tonight you are picking up the slack of our corrupt state services, and doing what should have been done to these hyökkä strikebreakers years ago. ” a loud cheer erupted from the back of the van, the same could be heard through the walkies‘ static. The vans continued their cruise through three police checkpoints – unmolested. A police Saab 900 slowly drove away from its parking spot as the two Type 2s drove by their destination – a large apartment block in Ronnbacka. It was already cleared of two police patrols which patrolled the block with their dogs. From the VWs‘ exited 18 men with ski masks which then proceeded in good order to the entrance of the apartment building.
In the early morning hours the denizens of Ronnbacka were woken to the sounds of ambulance and police sirens, to the barking of dogs and wails of mothers and wives as eight bodies lay covered in black plastic in front of an apartment building at Rapakvientie 10.