Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, February 6, 1995 TAG: 9502060081
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: C-1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: KIMBERLY N. MARTIN STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
Living conditions at Estonia's Narva military center were worse than jail. The sinks were at knee level, and the rooms were as cramped as sardine cans.
Yet it was there one cold, windy January night that Virginia Military Institute's Col. Leroy Hammond felt a twinge of jealousy.
It wasn't the conditions he envied, but the attitude of Estonia's servicemen.
``I'm haunted by those 200 soldiers singing their national anthem,'' Hammond said of the border guards, clad in uniforms with camouflage in the shape of tiny Estonias.
``I see in them things we no longer have - pride in community and in country. Maybe we used to have it during the [American] Revolution, but if we asked VMI cadets to sing the national anthem at 7:30 on a Friday night, they'd laugh us out of here,'' he said.
But pride alone could not build a school or a defense.
That's why, three years ago, VMI graduate Bill Cronenberg, then an English professor at the Estonian National Defense and Public Safety Academy in Tallinn, solicited his alma mater's help.
VMI has gone international before. It has established student exchanges with military schools in China and Germany and athletic exchanges with France. But the consulting work that teams from the school are doing in Estonia is new.
``It's kind of daunting. If we screw up...'' Hammond said, shrugging his shoulders. ``But if we do it right, we can really help this country.''
It's a country VMI first got involved with in 1988, when Col. Wayne Thompson, a VMI political science professor, took a group of students to what was then the Soviet Union and the Republic of Estonia. They picked Estonia because it was the cheapest of the 15 Soviet republics.
``We were there for the singing festival. There were thousands of people gathering, singing national songs, running around in national garb,'' said Thompson, who chaperoned that trip. ``We thought, `There's one place we're going back to.' And one cadet put his money where his mouth was.''
Cronenberg was that cadet.
After graduating from VMI and William and Mary Law School, he returned to Estonia.
It was 1990, and the Soviet Union had just pulled out of the country after 50 years of occupation. The National Defense and Public Safety Academy, which trains officers for the police, border guards, military, customs, rescue services and corrections, was getting on its feet. But it had a long way to go because, like the country, the school was then but a shell.
Out of 10 buildings on its campus, only four were suitable for use. The others had broken windows and gutted plumbing - courtesy of its former occupants, the Russians, said VMI Assistant to the Superintendent Col. Edwin Dooley. The buildings the academy now inhabits were the training grounds for Soviet political officers, who taught Marxist-Leninist doctrine in the military.
When the Soviet Union's leaders left the country, maps and books and other teaching tools left with them. The Estonians, who had no police academy or army, had to start from scratch.
There was no curriculum in place for the school. ``Everything had to be new,'' Dooley said.
Even the way they marched.
``They don't want to march like the West, and they're tired of marching like the Soviets,'' said Master Sgt. James Zepko, a VMI junior.
But time is a luxury the academy doesn't have.
Despite the Estonians' pervasive dislike for the military, there is an equally pervasive fear of the country's former rulers, especially since the tiny republic shares a border with Russia and about 30 percent of Estonia's population is Russian, Dooley said.
``The scenario that many fear is that the large Russian minority might protest the treatment, and Russia might come in to defend them,'' Dooley said.
Russians in Estonia are not considered citizens. They do not have the right to vote, nor can they serve in the Estonian army. It's a measure the many-times-conquered Estonians have taken to keep history from repeating itself.
``In 1944, when Russia came in, there wasn't a lot of armed resistence. Russians say Estonians never fought them. So the reputation is that they never put up a fight. But this time they've said they will fight,'' Dooley said.
The academy was created in an effort to protect and prepare the country for such a fight.
But Cronenberg saw two years ago that the academy lacked the structure and leadership of VMI.
To some extent, it still does. There's no honor code and no regulations for boot camp. And, after 50 years of Russian oppression, there's no leadership.
``In the U.S. system, the superior officers say to the lieutenant, `Do something.' In the Russian model, the lieutenant dares not do anything because it might be wrong; and there, if you're wrong, you might get sent to Siberia,'' Hammond said.
That fear to act is still prevalent.
In their visits to Estonia, and Estonians' several visits to Lexington, VMI administrators said they've seen that fear time and time again, especially at their Leadership Reaction Challenge.
Gordon Calkins, VMI Director of Physical Education, and two VMI cadets brought the challenge to Estonia on a November visit.
A frothy rush of water is racing past, and you have to cross it, they challenged. Your only aids are plywood and twine. What do you do?
It's a model Calkins has been using for years to train leaders. The Estonian response, he said, was the strangest one he's ever heard:
Estonia's future leaders opted to do nothing.
``I had to grab a couple of guys and say, `Let's get started,''' Calkins said.
``This is the place where the leaders are going to come from, and I was amazed that they really didn't know what to do,'' said Pvt. Glenn Light, a VMI senior.
Since Light's visit, Estonians have started using VMI's rifle manual and blue book of regulations for barracks conduct. But intangibles such as initiative are still lacking.
``I've been there four times, and what Estonians tell me is that they need to teach their young people to take the initiative, not to stand around and wait for someone to show them,'' Dooley said.
That's part of what Thompson will focus on when he goes to Estonia in September to spend a year teaching at the academy.
``The Estonian students are very comfortable with the Estonian professor lecturing and them taking notes and never asking questions or interacting. And that's not how you train leaders,'' Thompson said.
But the bottom line is: What works for VMI may not work for the academy.
``We aren't some imperialists coming in and telling them what to do,'' Dooley said. ``We tell them that we're just offering suggestions. They have to decide what's best for them.''
by CNB