大象传媒

My Father was born in Latvia in 1922.He was parted from his family and forced to fight for the Germans, against the Russians in 1944.In 1945, he had no choice and he was sent to Britain, as a displaced person and placed in a camp in Swineshaed, Lincolnshire. There, he met my mother, Vera, who lived in the village. He spent the rest of his life, happily in Britain, eventually living in Derby.

After his sad death in 2002, myself, my sister and my brother discovered his personal diary from the war. It is written in Latvian, on German toilet paper and bound in a hand made cardboard case. We are in the process of translation and we hope you enjoy the following extracts. These are from the opening pages, of which there will be approx. 400 in total that we have.

January 22nd. The armaments arrive today. Velme and Brunis go to fetch them from Studnuz and in the evening we journey to the frontline. The feeling is quite strange, but it should pass, the older soldiers say. The boys are preparing and discussing hectically. Some already taste crispbread from their iron portions, because many see and eat it for the first time. I must admit I myself have a great temptation to check whether it has not gone bad.
Alberts has come back from Sofienwald. Now there is at least one decent buddy, as others are still strangers to me, with the exception of Brunis, but he too has alianated and poses himself as very knowledgeable - at least in the matters of radio operation. The darned kohlrabi for lunch. Having gotten the rifles we leave for the once discused hike. The destination is not known, just the direction makes me and Albert conclude that we are making for East Prussia. So - Just in case - Farewell Latvia, we will not see you ever again. Should Latvian mothers have raised their sons so that they just loose their lives pointlessy in a foreign country? But yes, such is our fate and while treading the snow covered path I may reflect silently upon all things, I may recall my dear ones and my beloved girl who perhaps is not even among the living any longer. I even shrug when Brunis touches my shoulder saying that we have arrived in Sofienwald. We expect to be put on a train, but alas, we continue to march, the backpacks crushing our shoulders and we cannot put them into the carts as those carry the communications gear, Vipulis and foostuffs. We have to carry our load.
Fortunately it is not very cold, otherwise we would freeze wearing these thin little coats made from potato plant stems. It is promised that we would somehow receive warm clothing. We march and march, everyone anticipates hearing the shout for repose, which is a pleasant thing after all, even if it makes one feel colder, we can relax our aching shoulders by leaning our backs aginst he carts. We pass on village, then another, just on and on. Already past Zalisa, it suddenly occurs that we may be marching to the division headquarters where warm trousers, jackets and caps as well as other missing items would be handed out. Morale seems to improve, we are going to get something. We march and march. Finally 3 kilometres past Zalia we hear the wonderful word "halt". We stand but there is no sign of warm clothing, things turn even worse. The baggage train (the carts) is going to stay here and we will have to carry the cmmunications gear and the weaponry on our hurting backs. Hot coffee is handed out, it tastes wonderful when standing on the road and being cold. I warm myself against the field hospital cart that is heated by a little stove. Machines! Finally we hear this very uplifting shout and that is correct, we will be further transported on vehicles. We toss all our bags and packs and hand grenades and things into the vehicle. Battalion staff including Uztics and our "sirs" as well as our boys crowd themselves in, however Alberts and I cannot get in. There is no room left. The machine leaves helter-skelter, and both of us remain standing there agape. We run to seek another car, because it is not fun to be on foot. We have had quite a stroll past all those little villags, such as Sofienwald, Lindberg, Sabisch etc.
Alfons sits in one of the vehicles, but even that one is stuffed like a fishnet. We rush further , until we manage to throw ourselves into one of the lorries, in which we leave for God knows where. During the trip the wind whistles past our ears, and it is cold. We observe the surrounding area, namely it is dawn hour already. Some who are better informed speak about familiar places where they have been or walked through.
We are driven through Raduna, Brusa and so on. Alberts and I press our backs together - thus we can be warmer indeed, and we curse and swear about "Gerry" who has given superb clothing to his own soldiers, but not a scrap to Latvians this time.
Arival in Konitz. We are supposed to get out of the machines, they will not drive us further. We descend on the road and look around while inquiring about the whereabouts of our headquarters. We find out that it is located in former caserns. We walk up there and ask. The caserns are huge, and the variuos buildings have distinct names, such as: Koln, Danzig, Westpreussen, etc, In one of these caserns we encounter our signallers, and our belongings have also been brought in there. Feeling hungry. Alberts and I crunch the ready meals (combat rations). The boys have already hit on where coffee is distributed. I must say, living in half starvation has taught all of us to take hold of anything that comes within reach. We dash from one kitchen to another, there are many of them. We get milk soup, pea soup, plain potatoes and goulash, all of which end up in our hungry bellies amazingly quickly.
We are very tired, having eaten we lie down on the floor and sleep. But prior to that, Alfons and I have a smoke from Alberts' canteen, which he got in Sofienwald. Our canteen vanished because of the hurried departure. I also give Alfons some tobacco and some of Aberts' cigarettes because he has used up all 3 packs of tobacco of his own. Thus the 2 of us were smoking and not for a single moment would it come to my mind that this is our last encounter.
It was a real twilight hour already when we were woken up. We must travel further. This time all of us are in one vehicle. We have to stand on our feet and the vehicle has an open platform. This is shitty, we are cold, but the "sirs" have arranged for quite a comfort for themselves.
I ponder where I could have noticed one Lieutenant from the headquarters who is now in our vehicle. Then I remember: Bosse, ordinants offizier, the main commander (together with Lance Corporal Uztics) of the small men at the headqurters. A German from the Baltics, with the usual pronounciation; when he speaks in Latvian it is a very unpleasant reminder of the old feudal times. And arent we even now helping ourselves recklessly into our execution? It is a cursed situation, but what can we do, the "little ones", to impact the big political matters of the world? We have to endure and to fight because we hope that all that we are doing does also benefit our mother land. At times you had to bite your tongue when a German was accusing you for no good reason; in the same way, Bose's pronunciation will have to be put up with. The only nasty thing is that the whole war time will have to be spent with such a person because he is set up as our administrative "lord and master" on top of Vipulis. Even now he is doing just fine, sitting there in the warm place next to the driver, while we are freezing up here on the platform. The vehicle is old and not functioning properly and we lag behind others. As a final point, we loose the way, and Bose has to ask for directions. It appears we have made a detour of about 12 kilometers and we must go back by the same way. The trip takes us through Jakobov, Grimov, Zempelburg and Bose asks the way again and again. Up here (on the platform), we swear about the frost. Alberts and Hauks have piled themselves into a box where firewood for the genertor is stored. They both say that it feels quite alright in that box, but unfortuntaly there is no more room in there.
Arrival in Wandsburg. Even if there is actually little distance left to cover the plan is to stay overnight here. The division headquarters two are located here. That means that the front line must be quite close. In the street we encounter Latvians from the Torun Free Battalin. Of whom some have even been taken prisoners by Russians, but then again freed by Germans in a surprise attack. As they were just unarmed ditch diggers, the Russian tanks gave them quite thrashing whilst on the road and pushing for Bromberg.
Now some news start arriving from the front line area, we hear a few place names; the hatred against Russians intensivies.
We hear the phrase: "Watch out Ivan we Latvian boys will show you the hell fire". Everyone feels very couragous, as we do not know a thing about war (yet). We station ourselves in a big building where there is the division headquarters on the lower floor. Now our battalion headquarters is located here too. In the darkness, the outline of another big ediface is seen looming nearby; it is said to be a monastery housing actual and live nuns.
Some four or five of us get to the upper floor. All the roms have been taken; there has been, or still is, a military hospital in this building. Uztics gets a little room for himself, for other men of the headquarters and for Vipulis, while we stretch out on the corridor floor and go to sleep.
Morning Januay 24th. We are woken up by a call to receive provisions. That comes right on time, because all has been consumed, and there is a great appitite. We each get one half of a bread loaf, some cheese, margarine and marmalade and have a meal. Uztics has arranged for freshly baked wheat bread for his men, but we do not feel particularly tantalised by it as we already have enough food. We eat up the food, but start wanting more. I go outside and look around for something to snatch at; then I see nuns who hand out apples. I too get a handfull of apples, and they taste very good, because it has been more that a year since I last ate an apple.
At dusk hour we get into the vehicle to continue the voyage. This is going to be the final stage of our journey. While travellng we have to sing as ordered by Viulis. The other boys of the company sing too. They have gotten white camouflage clothing to be worn over the caps and chest; thus they look a little bit like some kind of northern people, but for me they resemble the participants of a skiing contest in Sigulda.
The road takes us through Immenheim; in the distance we can already perceive quite loud artillery bangs that are a lot stronger than the whirring of the automobile. We feel that we are close now to our destination and indeed, soon we halt in a village where there is also our artillery at whose blasts we shudder and watch the fiery reflections against the bleak dusk. It must be around eight in the evening.
This is going to be the location of our regiments headquarters and the battalion 1 has been brought in and assigned to the 34th regiment, with Colonal Viksna. Corporal Dzitars' order propels me, Ronis, Kachars and Dors out of the vehicle. We have to stay in the regiments headquarters nd maintain the radio communication with the battalion headquarters. The others are driven further. The name of this place is not known to me, but I learn that in the vacinity there is someplace called Hochenberg.
Deputy Adjutant Teraudins allocates us a room in the headquarters and we mount the equipment. While they are establishing communication on the agreed frequency, I tear some sticks off the fence for fuelling the stove, as its crisply cold in the room. There are no civilians. Colonal Viksna is seen discusing with the officers in the adjacent room. We heat the stove. Outside the door there is a stack of bread and margarine and a heap of tobacco cartons. I do not think twice, take a loaf of bread, margarine and some tobacco and in seclusion have a hefty supper.
Ronis has already established communication and exchanges transmissions with the battalion headquarters, through which all the orders are passed to Companies. Our companies have already reached the intended part of the front line and engaged in battle. For the many Latvian boys the baptism of fire has begun............

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