Note: If you are following this series closely, please go and read the ninth installment first, which I had forgotten to schedule for September 22nd. It is up now though, so go there before reading this one!

Tenth installment from the diary of my great-grandfather’s sister Alise, written during the First World War. When the diary starts, she is living just a few miles from the front lines of the Eastern Front, and is then forced to flee with her husband and two young daughters to her family’s house near Limbaži as the war moves even closer. For the background, see here.

October 4

Today is Sunday, it is lunch time, and I am preparing dinner for father and the children – are there devils about, looking to take our home?

Refugees are still coming. The sorrows and heartfelt pain are undescribable. Unhappy people, who were born in this era. Also our dear sweethearts – TrÅ«tiņa especially will be affected by this her whole life. She was used to all sorts of comforts, and now has to throw them out of her memory. A knowledgable poem has started to appear in VÄ“stnesis [name of a newspaper] – “Along the shadowed forest path, through Vidzeme’s spruce groves, I wander and my mind wanders to my Kurzeme. Where in other times fields blossomed, across the vast counties. War terrors pass through, with ferocious battles, where grey legendary castles give memories of our ancestors, there cannons fire, sounds ring out and walls fall. Where the people of God’s land live in beautiful fields. Devils are now everywhere, taking these homes. My heart is so full of sorrows, and I sigh terribly. We hear from afar, the sharp sounds in the morning (?). By the great shores of the Daugava, for the benefit of the enemy (?). A maelstrom of fire swirls, destroying the battlements of the citadel. The sun flees with gold wings, the saviour of refugees. In the outdoors of Kurzeme and Vidzeme, the tears dried. Dear mother Daugava, save us from the enemy. Far in the depths, he will not rise in health. And the people with spears in their hands, stand as guards there. Destroy this enemy, chop, hack, and stab.

To war! To war!
The Imanta battalion!
The Latvian people by the Daugava
Under the flag of freedom

Ninth installment from the diary of my great-grandfather’s sister Alise, written during the First World War. When the diary starts, she is living just a few miles from the front lines of the Eastern Front, and is then forced to flee with her husband and two young daughters to her family’s house near Limbaži as the war moves even closer. For the background, see here.

September 22

Yesterday at 2am in the dark and the rain our Papa came back from Jumprava. The journey was mad. He escorted brother Bruno to the rally point. He was very crushed that he had to leave his home and go to war. Oh how thousands of families have this same story. From our dear Jumprava – bad news. In the evening dusk Papa was able to enter the old castle and meet the officers, who gave him a soldier escort to our home. They both crept along the fences and trees, and crawled in through the dining room windows – the sight was terrible, everything was destroyed and desecrated. The mirror from the toilet was removed and taken away, our wall clock with such sweet memories was gone, my palm and rubber trees, both dead and dried out, everything from the kitchen – gone. In the basement, where all of our best things had been kept, opened to a horrible sight. The covers were removed from our new furniture, the cloth was cut off the furniture, left were only wires and varnish (?). Our box of dishes – where we had put our serving plates and lots of dishes, our precious items worth 200 rubles, emptied, left were only two containers (?) and knife holders. All of our expensive books, TrÅ«de’s doll, Daga’s wagon and bath nowhere to be seen. The big mirror, whose glass cost 22 rubles alone, shattered in pieces. I’m sorry for our photo collection – only frames remaining, pictures are gone. I’m particularly sad about the picture of TrÅ«de which was life-size and had turned out very well – the picture alone cost 15 rubles.

Oh – I feel sad for everything, for the onions, cabbages, carrots, everything was ripped up, sorry also for the beehives, which we had cared for so carefully, everything stolen and destroyed. I’m sorry for the pigs, which are now so expensive and a pood already costs 16 rubles, and we lost four for nothing, sorry also for the chickens and chicks and so on and so on… the master of the estate promised to replace everything after the war, which would be very nice, but it would not be the same things as before, the things that have such dear memories with them. The landlady’s expensive piano was thrown into the shed, all of the wagons and other expensive equipment taken away. Papa was shot at while he was in the basement, because our basement doors open almost on the banks of the Daugava, and the Germans on the other side can see every movement. Our life there destroyed, it was short, but very happy and full, and now it is so far far away…

Eighth installment from the diary of my great-grandfather’s sister Alise, written during the First World War. When the diary starts, she is living just a few miles from the front lines of the Eastern Front, and is then forced to flee with her husband and two young daughters to her family’s house near Limbaži as the war moves even closer. For the background, see here.

September 20, 1915

Autumn in the hills, valleys, it also lives in the heart. We are guests here. Papa left with brother Bruno to take him to the war, until CÄ“sis, from where he wants to try to get to Jumprava by the side roads. Just to take a look, and to be sure, that there is nothing there for us anymore. Then to try and find new things, start life again. It will be time for that. Now I am nervous for him, he’s been away a whole week with no news. Surely dear God will protect our good Papa and provider. My soul waits, God is our Master, everything is as He wishes and under his protection, the soul does not wait, just ask for your Saviour!

Seventh installment from the diary of my great-grandfather’s sister Alise, written during the First World War. When the diary starts, she is living just a few miles from the front lines of the Eastern Front, and is then forced to flee with her husband and two young daughters to her family’s house near Limbaži as the war moves even closer. For the background, see here.

August 25, 1915

We are getting many visitors at Kroņi [family farm], most of them are curious, and want to know the fortunes of refugees. The story of the future is becoming even more crazy. People from LÄ“durga [local parish] are leaving for Velikiye Luki [Russian city approximately 450km to the southeast]. Limbaži is full of Cossacks, and every now and again one can hear cannons in the distance. How long has it been decided that we must stay here? And then where, in the autumn fog and frost… when will we stand, when will we go home, the Daugava moans as it flows, the enemy laughs at its shores…