Ännu en gång - One More Time

"As long as there have been wars, soldiers have claimed having seen strange things, even impossible things. Balls of light dancing in the sky, saints and angels coming down from the Heaven to support a losing army on the battlefield."
"In 1944 on the Isthmus I didn't see balls of light nor saints or angels, neither did my brothers around me as we fled towards Viipuri."
"I remember it as if it happened just yesterday, it was an unusually cold night for June, but we thought nothing of it, we were too tired to think of anything but getting to the VT line."
"The enemy was right on our heels, the delaying action wasn't delaying them much, I think we all thought of fixing bayonets if we had them & if not grabbing an axe or a shovel, turning around & charging at the enemy just so the exhaustion would end."
"As I was thinking these thoughts I thought I heard a voice shout out in Swedish, looking around me to see where the voice came from I saw others looking around as well, and then we saw it."
"A column of soldiers with blue uniforms like those in the movies about Charles XII with muskets on their shoulders marching past us towards the delaying action, all of them had bloody clothes & some were missing an arm, an eye or a half of their head, but they all marched as if they were in perfect health."
"As we watched them march we came to a stop, then when we started seeing muzzle flashes in the direction of our delaying action a voice shouted in Swedish, the ghastly column formed a line & started loading their muskets."
"Our officers told us to ignore what we were seeing & ordered us to keep marching, so we did. Not a minute later we heard a volley, then a second one followed by a thousand men screaming at the top of their lungs as they charged at the ruskis, once we reached our own lines it took half a day before the first ruski scouts were spotted, all white as sheets."
"Everyone I have ever told this has thought I am crazy, but I know what I saw that night."

"How did that one poem go?
'But grey fathers from their graves riding ghost mounts;
with bear spears in their hands rush to the border.
Spirits of hallowed forefathers, hear your son's words --
should I betray them, arrive as an army of vengeance--:

The iron boot of the enemy
shall not desecrate
you heroes' resting place
I will protect my country's border!

Strangers will never take
your dear heritage.
Let them come like hounds from their taiga!
There's room for them in our soil.

With the strength of a bear
I charge at the lances
defending woman's spinning wheel
and crib of children!

As a chasm the border opens
In front Asia, East.
Behind West and Europe;
protecting it, a guardian, I am.'

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mo3cd1Rjsz4