22 Time April 25/May 2, 2022
The ambush came aT dawn. momenTs before, The
only sound in the frigid forest of Klooga, 40 km west of the
Estonian capital Tallinn, had been light snoring coming
from beneath a handful of camouflaged tarps. But seconds
after machine-gun fire broke their sleep, several fighters
erupted from their makeshift shelters and began return-
ing fire. Flashes from their rifles illuminated the still dark
woods, while blue smoke poured from a bomb intended to
obscure the enemy’s path.
Within minutes, the battle was over. Although the out-
numbered fighters did not manage to vanquish the oppos-
ing force, Kaia, an accountant who had left her baby at home
that weekend in order to train them, was pleased with the
training exercise. “They did pretty well,” she said of the vol-
unteers in the Estonian Defence League (EDL) she was help-
ing instruct. “They stayed calm, and they held their ground.”
The Baltic states of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania have
been preparing to do the same. A shared border with Rus-
sia, and a painful history of Soviet occupation that began
in the 1940s and saw the deportation and imprisonment
of hundreds of thousands of citizens, spurred all three na-
tions to join NATO once they regained independence in the
1990s. It has also led them to adopt a broad, society-wide
approach to defense that has proved especially relevant
more recently, as Russia has ramped up disinformation ef-
forts in the region. Nowhere is that more evident than in
Estonia, where 15,000 ordinary citizens like Kaia spend
several weekends each year training in guerrilla warfare
as part of the EDL. And since Russia invaded Ukraine in
February, heightened fears that the Baltics could be the
Kremlin’s next target have spurred
thousands more to sign up.
“We are not conscripts. We are not
regular army,” said Henri, 20, a par-
ticipant in the Klooga “ambush” who
works in sales. (Most members speak-
ing with TIME preferred not to give
their last names as a security precau-
tion.) “We are ordinary Estonian men
and women ready to put our blood on
the line for every inch a possible occu-
pier would want to gain of our land.”Estonia takEs protEcting its
population of 1.3 million seriously. Its
defense budget is proportionately the
third highest among NATO countries,
and while there are only 7,000 active-
duty soldiers in its military, it bulks up
its defense and deterrence capabilities
with reservists and with the EDL,
which is the region’s largest volunteer
force. At the start of 2022, it counted
some 15,000 members, plus 10,700 in
youth groups and a women’s defense
organization that provides support to
the fighting units. That already added
up to nearly 2% of the population,
and since Russia invaded Ukraine on
Feb. 24, the organization has received
roughly 2,000 new applications for
membership.
Most members are unpaid, though
the Ministry of Defence funds their
training and supplies weapons. “I truly
believe that Estonians will grab a
weapon or a tool against the Russian in-
vaders,” says Lauri Abel, the ministry’s
Under Secretary for Defence Readi-
ness. A former commander of the Tal-
linn EDL, Abel sees the corps’ civilian
status as crucial to its success. “They’re
the link between the armed forces and
society. They are everywhere, working
in different companies. They carry the
defense spirit to society.”
Even before the war in Ukraine, a
full 57% of Estonians said they would
be willing to participate in their coun-
try’s defense; some 80% approve of
the EDL. It helps explain what induced
Katlin, a 36-year-old who works in the
financial sector, to spend a below-zero◁
Women at the Estonian Defence League
firing range in Manniku on March 27‘We are
ready to
put our
blood on
the line.’
HENRI, 20,
AN ESTONIAN
VOLUNTEERDISPATCH
Estonian civilians prepare
to defend themselves
BY LISA ABEND/KLOOGA, ESTONIA