Winter of 1939 found Estonian native son and freedom fighter, teenager Mihkel Oja seeking refuge from a tempest that would soon engulf all of the world he knew and much of the world in total. Clinging to a sled behind his team of powerful Malamutes and Siberian Huskies, his hunched and bundled frame cleaved the bitter Baltic night. Fleeing across the uncharted recently frozen surface of the Gulf of Finland offered his only hope. He would surely be killed if he stayed in Estonia. Better to make this desperate attempt to cross 50 miles of dark uncertainty and danger to reach Finland and sanctuary. To do otherwise would expose him and, worse, his family to the brutish retribution common to life lived at the cruel crossroads where Nazi Germany and Soviet Russia battled for dominance over a tiny nation alive with individual dreams of freedom.

Certainly at this moment Mihkel harbored no thoughts of a priceless Bugatti unknown to the world and hidden on his father’s rural Estonian farm, but decades later he would.

In Search of the Lost 7^th Royale  (Part 2 – Episode 9 – Priceless Bugatti Lost in the Fog of War)

FINLAND 1940

Distant flashes of artillery fire lit the far horizon. What became known as the “Winter War of 1939 to 1940 had escalated to widespread pitched conflicts producing battlefield bloodbaths across frozen forested terrain. At stake, Russia’s attempt to take control of large swaths of Finland. It pitted a massed and massive Russian armed force of about a million men against a far smaller and largely ill-equipped Finnish military and civilian force intent on defending their homeland.

Warmed by the anxiety born of the distant sounds of war that carried across the great dark expanse of ice, Mihkel tried to concentrate his thoughts solely on reaching Finland. He envied the singular focus of his disciplined dog team. Thoughts crept into his consciousness bringing to mind questions of fight or flight. He allowed himself a half smile, half grimace in recognizing the irony of his apparent fleeing into harm’s way. He quickly snapped to, recognizing that worrying about the myriad things that could go wrong served no purpose. Life would provide answers soon enough. With a hushed “Tchk, Tchk” he spurred on the canine co-conspirators enabling his escape to freedom, he hoped.

A soft moonlight diffused by a gentle mist obscured the sled’s presence without obliterating the celestial beacons by which the young but skilled outdoorsman navigated his escape. Deep into the hollow hours of his silent journey, a thickening fog instilled in Mihkel both hope and trepidation. A significantly reduced visibility forced him to rely on his compass, watch, and estimated speed to orient his whereabouts. He could be close to land but how would he know. In a short time an answer came, abruptly. With startling immediacy his sled bucked high then tipped violently to the right sending both Mihkel and the sled spinning on their sides across the ice. A rock protruding through the ice had caught a sled runner. Without his life on the line, the scene would have been comical. He looked up to see his dogs, apparently unfazed, displaying “well let’s get going” expressions as they stood poised and ready to continue. Checking for damage Mihkel felt relief that the spill harmed neither the sled nor its passenger. With the sled righted and proceeding slowly, Mihkel found himself at the shoreline of a rocky beach. He had reached Finland.

He exhaled in deep relief. Then he heard it, the metallic draw and lock of a bolt action rifle. His body froze. His mind raced. Russian or Finn? His life or the loss thereof would be determined by the answer. Mihkel rolled the dice and spoke up in both Estonian and Finnish declaring his flight from the Russians. A gruff voice responded in Finnish. Mihkel, in translating as best he could understood something like “He’s some crazy, lucky Estonian son-of–a-bitch if he’s telling the truth.” Two more men came out of the woods. One cracked no smile. Clearly in charge, he displayed no intention of believing Mihkel without proof.

In a circle with a campfire and Mihkel at its center, twenty or so unshaven men in white uniforms sat silently as the leader quizzed Mihkel. It helped immeasurably that the leader, Ahti Heikkinen, during time spent in Tallinn had become acquainted with members of the Estonian freedom movement and, now, recognized Mihkel’s name. With Mihkel having been invited to share his story, the tenor of the conversation relaxed considerably. As he tended to his dog team under the respectful eyes of his new Finnish friends, they shared much about the hated invading Russians and the terror and destruction being visited upon their homeland. Mihkel listened intently as his dogs gathered like children at his feet. The Finnish soldiers’ stories inflamed his Estonian freedom fighter’s soul. He would join their fight.

MOLSHIEM, FRANCE 1939

Earlier in 1939, British automotive journalist John Daley could not quite get his hands around a haunting story of a very special Bugatti alluded to in hushed exchanges he overheard while visiting the Bugatti factory in Molsheim.

Daley, a writer for the widely respected British publication, The Autocar had come to Europe in the summer of 1939 to cover an extraordinary event. British sports car maker MG had boldly come to Germany to set land speed records with a special aerodynamic, supercharged 200 mph MG. After the successful event and before returning home to Britain, Daley had taken a side trip to visit his friend Jean Bugatti at Bugatti’s Molsheim headquarters. Always possessing a good feel for a great story, and a working knowledge of French, Daley while sharing a cup of coffee on the Bugatti factory floor overheard workers referencing a special Royale. Employing a perfect poker face and trained ear he listened for more, to no avail. With his interest piqued, Daley brought it up to Jean Bugatti in conversation. Bugatti acknowledge that in 1939 a Royale had been fitted with a new body for a French politician. Bugatti then abruptly changed the subject and said no more. Having fabricated the Royale re-body story as a cover for the Antonescu special project, Bugatti had no desire to continue the discussion.

When Daley, as a naturally curious journalist followed up with the French politician, the politician denied ever owning a Bugatti much less a Royale. For Daley, this whetted his appetite for more information. Sadly for him, this hunger would never be satiated. In one final effort Daley reached out to the Bugatti main office and spoke with Accounts Manager Yvonne Smirnov. She had no information to offer. She had been well compensated to ensure her silence even though she had never actually seen the car. However, Daley’s interest and persistence always struck her as curious. As, frankly, did the hush money. The intensity of Daley’s interest, though, would remain with her for the rest of her life. As to Daley, with Jean Bugatti’s tragic death occurring weeks later, he lost interest and never chose to pursue the matter again.

ESTONIA 1940

A bitter cold wind rattled Jaak Oja’s house. Startled by a knock at the door, Jack’s wife Ann opened it to see the white breath and red face of their closest neighbor Endel. Good neighbor that he was, he had stopped to share some of his catch from ice fishing. Ann sat him down and went about fixing a cup of tea and some still warm freshly baked bread and jam. The three sat around the table catching up. Endel seemed slightly disturbed by an encounter by the lake with a very self-important young Soviet officer, a lieutenant Petrov. The fact that Soviet Russian soldiers had established camp in the Estonian forest caused sufficient concern. Worse, this young officer started questioning him about some warehouse or garage with car parts discovered in the nearby woods. Endel thought the officer must be crazy. Totally bewildered, Endel confessed that he had no idea what a Bugatti was. Jaak’s heart sunk. Ann’s tea cup clattered to the table as she momentarily lost her grip. Recovering quickly she apologized for her clumsiness and wiped up the spill. The conversation carried on drifting from topic to topic, though Jaak and Ann could not dispel the chilling fear that, for both, gripped their very being. Feeling warm and reinvigorated Endel rose to leave and head home. With thanks offered and hugs shared Endel departed through the cold and windswept farm yard. The shutting front door sealed out the blustery wind. Jaak exhaled deeply and looked to the heavens. Turning to Ann he embraced his visibly shaken wife.

FINLAND 1940

Mihkel had earned the warm acceptance of his Finnish comrades thanks to his passionate commitment to their cause. Mihkel and his dog team, armed with a Finnish creation called the “Molotov Cocktail,” quickly gained stature as a uniquely potent weapon that the badly outgunned and out-manned Finns could deploy against Soviet tanks.

The etymology of the homemade incendiary device called the “Molotov Cocktail”, traced back to the “Winter War” of 1939.  Vyacheslav Molotov, a particularly despised Soviet official of the time found his name attached to a very simple yet potent anti-Soviet tank weapon. A device that Mihkel employed with devastating and deadly skill.

A stealthy outdoorsman, Mihkel would work his way close to one of the lumbering Soviet T-26 and T-28 tanks pinned to the few passable roads by the dense surrounding Finnish forest. Once in close range he would set the tank ablaze by smashing the Molotov Cocktail’s flaming glass bottle against the tank’s vulnerable fuel tank or engine compartment. By the time his presence became know, he had fled the area behind his silent and powerful dog team. Honoring his speed, his silence and his savvy tactics, the Finns nickname him, “Naali,” which meant Arctic Fox.

The character of Mihkel and his dog team dovetailed seamlessly with the undermanned Finnish strategy designed to leverage the Finns’ few advantages against the outsized Soviet troop strength. The strengths the Finns did have, they maximized. Their familiarity with the forested and rugged landscape as well as their skill as adept skiers provided huge benefits. Unlike the Russians, the Finns outfitted in white uniforms, could move largely unseen with deadly speed and silence while seemingly immune to the bitter winter conditions. Their mobility and cunning when applied with stunningly shrewd hit-and-run tactics equipped them to carve up larger and ineptly commanded Soviet troop formations with devastating results.

Found to be invaluable as well for transportation of needed supplies, reconnaissance and evacuation of wounded, Mihkel and his team’s performance elevated Finnish troop respect for dog teams. One especially dangerous rescue would have a profound impact on Mihkel’s life.

In the years just prior to WWII, a group of Americans had volunteered to fly with Britain’s RAF against the Nazi’s. A much smaller number chose to come to Finland to fight the Soviets. Upon arriving many volunteers found it most disconcerting that all Finnish aircraft wore a blue swastika. The Finns made this  unfortunate choice in 1918 well before it became the eternal emblem of Nazi evil. The Finns feeling that they had adopted the swastika first would continue its use into the early 21^st century.

One American volunteer, Ed Sikes arrived in Finland as a self confident rawboned cocky kid and a gifted flyer since his early teens. Though still a teenager Ed lied about his age and with money from his wealthy and adventurous father came to fly for Finland. And fly he did, like a bat out of hell.

Admired by comrades and feared by foes. Ed had acquired the sobriquet “Wonderfalk’ courtesy of a German pilot who witnessed the American’s daring “dog fighting” tactics. In English the German word “Wanderfalk” translated into “Peregrine Falcon,” the world’s fastest bird known to dive on its prey at speeds up to 240 mph. Fearful Soviet pilots simply referred to Ed as “death from above.”

War hardened Finns, even other pilots shook their heads at Ed’s exploits in a Gloster Gladiator biplane. They marveled at the things he got away with. Until the day that all changed.

Flying above enemy troop encampments and gun placements in Soviet occupied Finland south of the Mannerheim battle line, enemy ground fire brought Ed down in an isolated expanse of densely forested land. Ed’s wingman reported seeing him climb out of the smoldering wreck and wave. Upon hearing the wingman’s account Mihkel harnessed his team. He would find the downed flier before the Soviets did. Blessed with a rising full moon Mihkel set out immediately. He knew the area well enough. Certainly better than the Russians.

Surely brazen. In a different situation, probably stupid. But for Ed in the sub freezing arctic cold, the fire delivered life sustaining warmth. Even better it provided a beacon that brought 12 eager dogs and an Estonian teenager to his rescue. The little English Mihkel had acquired in school together with Ed’s stumbling Finnish supplemented by their shared skill at gesturing provided all they needed to bond as a team on a mission.

The camp exploded in cheers as the dawn brought the return of Ed and Mihkel, very possibly two of Finland’s favorite foreign sons. Sitting near a roaring fire Ed expressed his warmest gratitude in this the coldest damn place. Upon hearing this Mihkel’s nickname of Naali, the Arctic Fox, Ed coined his rescuers the “Fox and Hounds.”

The coming weeks found that, with new and better Soviet leadership commanding fresh troops, the tide of war had begun to turn. The Finns signed a negotiated peace with the Soviets that cost them land but preserved their freedom. Both Mihkel and Ed sensed the time had arrived for them to go. Tomorrow they would plan their escape. The following morning the “Fox and Hounds” and “Wonderfalk” would retreat through a frozen hell in hopes of reaching neutral Sweden.

Having lovingly tended his team, Mihkel found his hopeful thoughts for better days ahead to be interrupted by aching memories of the father, mother, friends and country he loved and left behind in a time that seemed like forever in the past. He exhaled deeply. His dogs gathered by his feet.