My Life and Times · Chapter 9 of 10

Refugees in Germany

But in the meantime, we are still in Germany. A large truck took us to a country school, where we were placed in a large room with a straw-covered floor. The room already contained refugees from Latvia as well as Estonia. We formed a sort of rectangular private area with our suitcases. Close to me lay an old Estonian lady, who died during the night. No one noticed anything until the next morning, when it was apparent she was not breathing. These refugees were later found by the Russians, because when the Germans retreated, they were left behind the front lines. But not us. Both of our men were restless and worried. From the nearest town, a train was available that went south to Berlin and further. At that time (1944), the trains were still running regularly. We bought tickets and rode the train to Bavaria, near Regensburg, where we checked in at a refugee processing point. They assigned us to various farmers. We as a family, I, Papa, Māte and Pēteris, were kept together. We were given a room with two beds. It was so cold at night that water we kept in a bowl froze over. During the day we sat downstairs. The master of the house owned a tavern as well as an eatery. Pēteris uninterruptedly walked back and forth along a wooden bench. The owner’s mother and daughter reminded me of witches. When we first opened the door, my heart almost stopped from fear because I saw the old woman first. Papa was employablt as a laborer, but we women and Pēteris were unneeded and superfluous. So, they took us to a neighbor’s house. They also did not need us, but apparently they were very upright people who would not turn away refugees. It was Christmas time. One time, we went for a walk and passed a house that had an open door with a nicely decorated Christmas tree visible. Pēteris quickly ran inside and, pointing to the tree, yelled “eglīte, eglīte” (“Christmas tree, Christmas tree”). The owner was a schoolteacher’s wife (husband was in the army) with two small daughters. I thought they might invite us to visit for a while, but no…she hurriedly closed the door on us. Pēteris and I got officially placed with the generous farmer (Māte stayed with Papa). They did not do anything bad to us, but we were tormented by boredom and the desire to all be together. One day, Papa and I left Pēteris with Mate and we marched down to the local agricultural agent’s office. He promised us a new place about 20 km away. He was angry at both the mother and daughter (in the old place) and berated them both in Bavarian.

At the generous farmer’s place, my job was to turn the butter churn to separate out the cream. Butter was a rare commodity and delicacy, so occasionally I popped a piece into my mouth. Pēteris saw me and in a loud voice asked “What are you eating? Then even louder, he said “You’re eating BUTTER!” It’s a good thing those farmers did not understand Latvian.

Then one day, we headed to the newly assigned place. We had to walk to the railroad station. Pēteris was a healthy 2-year old and could walk quite well; however, he was fussy and wanted to be carried. Moreover, he would not be carried by me, but only by Māte. Māte wrapped him in a blanket and slung him over her shoulder like a bag, the load almost dragging on the ground. So we got to the station and took the train to the next place. Our new boss was a well to do farmer with seven children. He had a house with the barn and stalls attached to it, which we considered strange and not very aesthetic or sanitary, but that was the custom throughout Bavaria. In front of the house was a path to get from one end to the other and passed by a hole that was used for storing manure. However, the smell was tolerable because cow manure is not that smelly. Papa and Māte had to go help with the farm work. Māte was still strong and had no problem doing her work. Papa had to work the fields with horses and oxen. I as a mother of a small child got freed from work duties. In the mornings, Pēteris and I would sit by the window and watch as the farmer or a foreman would order workers to their jobs. There were three other rooms besides ours. In one lived a German woman with a son about Pēteris’ age. He and Pēteris would often sit together on the windowsill, look at each other and laugh. There were no toys and they did not understand each others’ language. There were also two Russian women, with whom we often associated, a older man and a young boy (too young for the army). Later it turned out that one of the Russian women had contacts with the Russian army. One day she came to us and asked for some bread – she wanted to take it to a Russian soldier who had hidden in a hole that Papa had dug in the forest as a shelter for us for us in case the Russians started to bomb the place. At that time, Rūta happened to be visiting us. She and Vitolds had been assigned to a place about 30 min train ride from us. All three of us went to the forest. There was a bench on which we sat while the Russian woman was conferring with her comrade.

In the spring, we managed to borrow a horse and wagon from the farmer to go to Regensburg so that Vitolds and Rūta could get married. However, there were complications, because it was forbidden for foreign war workers to marry. In the end, they were married but I don’t remember exactly how. What I do remember is that Papa (he was the driver) had difficulty in controlling the horses. The harnesses were on one side of the horse, not on both sides as in Latvia. Thus, it was hard for both the driver and the horse to understand each other, but somehow we eventually got home. In the spring when the Germans had lost he war and peace was proclaimed, the Russian women refused to do any more work because they thought they belonged to the victors and were expecting news that they would soon be free to leave. However, we tried to maintain good relations with the farmer and so the Russians started to behave distrustfully and badly toward us. Once Vitolds got the farmer out of some potential trouble. A group of foreign workers had wandered into the farm (among them a few Latvians also) and wanted to start looting the place. Vitolds spoke some Polish and started a conversation with them. The would-be looters agreed not to harm anyone if they were given meat, butter and other food. They were given the food and left. So the farmer got through this experience with only a good scare. Thus, Latvian refugees helped out a German farmer. The farmer gave us milk, and to get other food items we needed, I would ride a bicycle to Regensburg. One time, I got to spend some time in a bomb shelter because Russian planes were bombing Regensburg. Papa and the rest of the folks had taken refuge in the forest hole that he had dug. We got through all that intact. Papa was good at picking berries. While resting the horses during fieldwork, he picked some raspberries which we were able to trade for some lard. We then used the lard to bake some cakes. In the spring when the Germans surrendered and peace came, Papa continued to work the fields as usual with the oxen and horses, although as I mentioned, the Russians quit working and no longer looked on us as friends, even the woman to whom I had given the bread. One day they were all taken away. We also did not stay too long after that. We heard that a Latvian refugee camp had been formed in the village of Haunstetten near Augsburg. This village had relatively new houses with modern fixtures that had been intended for German workers (of the Messerschmitt airplane factory). The Americans put these workers out of the houses and placed Latvian refugees there. Since we counted as 2 families with Māte, we received a 3 bedroom apartment with kitchen and bathroom. In the basement were laundry facilities and a shower (for the entire building of 5 apartments).