It's 1963. A group of men are gathered in a private room in a restaurant. As the evening wears on, toasts are drunk in honour of friends not there. Inevitably, as the memories and emotions come flooding in, the drink opens up old wounds and yet suitably numbs the senses at the same time. Drunkenness and overindulgence ensues. This same scenario is still repeated today, wherever soldier gather. WWII was a time where ordinary men and women found themselves in situations where life was fragile, killing meant survival and an act of mercy or humanity could, and sometimes did cost the lives of their comrades, let alone risk their own. The uncertainty of war undermined many peoples trust of there being a tomorrow. For many, the only choice worth making was to live life to its fullest, while it was still there to be had. This is such a story. It does not attempt to glorify, glamourise or gloss over merely in order to entertain. It is an attempt at letting the extraordinary circumstances of war tell it's own morally twisting tale. When the war finally ended and soldiers would return home to try and return to a "normal" life, normality had become a strange concept. It turned out that for many, the guilt, bitterness and horrors of war had no armistice. It is no wonder many soldiers would never speak of their experiences to even family members, let alone an outsider. There certainly wasn't the mental health and social services we enjoy today. In Finland in 1963, the only people who seemed to understand an old soldier's pain and confusion were the war comrades who would gather once a year to drink a toast or two for friends not there.
