TODAY I joined the crowds in Parnu to watch the assembled might of the Estonian military take part in a parade to mark 90 years since the first independent Estonia was declared.

Estonia’s army might not be the largest or have the most modern equipment, but I wouldn’t take them on. A fine body of men indeed (they breed ‘em big up there) and very smartly turned out.

The streets of the pretty port town were full and everyone had a flag (if you weren’t displaying one, teams of flag dispensers soon ensured you did) yet I was struck by the fact that even though this was a flag-waving national day, the mood was far from nationalistic. In fact it was fairly restrained.

Yet nor was it sentimental or inconsequential. Estonians seem to have a very healthy attitude to their statehood – matter-of-fact but not taken for granted. Compared to the extremes of emotion displayed on Latvian national days which range from bleary-eyed idealism to shrugging couldn’t-give-a-damn (I’ve yet to experience a Lithuanian equivalent) it was very refreshing.

It’s a stereotype, but it seemed once again that the Estonian approach had a decidedly Scandinavian feel to it.

Walking into the centre of Parnu, we passed the various battalions forming up and getting a final inspection from their commanders. On one side was the infantry in green battledress, on the other, the navy in rather elegant black pea coats with brass buttons. But to anyone over the age of thirty, the most exciting sight was the winter warfare brigade in their white coveralls looking like they had wandered straight off the set of Where Eagles Dare, an impression reinforced by the bright spring sunshine, blue skies and complete lack of snow.

A couple of things did make me laugh though. First, there was President Toomas Hendrik Ilves’ ‘theme music’. Various formations took up positions around a large central square. The band started playing a jaunty little march in the Colonel Bogey mode, at which Ilves and his little helpers started off on a circuit. At each troop he would stop, and the music would abruptly stop with him. There would be a few seconds of silence, during which I assume Ilves asked them if they were ready to defend Estonia, then the troop he was inspecting would shout out something along the lines of “YES, PRESIDENT!”

Question answered, the President set off for the next troop with the jolly little refrain accompanying him.

But it was a big square, and it was taking Ilves a long time to work his way around it. The stop-start-stop-start of the music became increasingly comical, as if it formed part of a circus act.

It was impossible to hear exactly what he was saying, but I started to wonder. He must surely get bored repeating the same question time and again. It wouldn’t surprise me if, after a couple of rounds of “Are you ready to defend the nation?” or “Have your commanders prepared you for battle?” It must be tempting to try something new.

Maybe: “Do you like my new coat?” YES PRESIDENT!

“Am I bigger than I look on the telly?” YES PRESIDENT!

“Do you think I’m sexy?” YES PRESIDENT!

Once Ilves had been round the block, the civilians thronging the streets edged forward to watch the start of the parade. Unfortunately they had to edge back again a few minutes later when the Defence Minister launched into an interminable speech not helped by the fact that it was delivered with all the emotional depth of a constipated dalek.

It dragged on and on so I wandered off to look at the minesweeper moored in the harbour, narrowly avoiding being run over by the Estonian Quad Bike Assault Squad. As I walked though a park back towards the centre, three spindly helicopters flew overhead, doing a good job of holding formation in high winds, though it was clearly quite an effort.

They were just the hors d’oeuvre. Soon afterwards, two NATO jets whistled overhead. I watched them head for the horizon, then bear right and loop around to perform a second, louder and more spectacular flypast. Within seconds, an old fellow was rushing towards me, waving his hands in the air.

I don’t speak a word of Estonian, but I swear I understood every word he was saying from the half-amused, half-exasperated look on his face.

“Don’t think that was four planes,” he said, “that was the same two planes as before! They just did it twice to look good!”

This entry was posted on Saturday, February 23rd, 2008 at 9:51 pm and is filed under Estonia. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.