FIGHTERS FOR FREEDOM Lithuanian Partisans Versus the U.S.S.R. by Juozas Daumantas This is a factual, first-hand account of the activities of the armed resistance movement in Lithuania during the first three years of Russian occupation (1944-47) and of the desperate conditions which brought it about. The author, a leading figure in the movement, vividly describes how he and countless other young Lithuanian men and women were forced by relentless Soviet persecutions to abandon their everyday activities and take up arms against their nation’s oppressors. Living as virtual outlaws, hiding in forests, knowing that at any moment they might be hunted down and killed like so many wild animals, these young freedom fighters were nonetheless determined to strike back with every resource at their command. We see them risking their lives to protect Lithuanian farmers against Red Army marauders, publishing underground news­ papers to combat the vast Communist propaganda machine, even pitting their meager forces against the dreaded NKVD and MGB. JUOZAS DAUMANTAS FIGHTERS FOR FREEDOM LITHUANIAN PARTISANS VERSUS THE U.S.S.R. (1944-1947) Translated from the Lithuanian by E. J. Harrison and Manyland Books SECOND EDITION FIGHTERS FOR FREEDOM Copyright © 1975 by Nijole Brazenas-Paronetto Published by The Lithuanian Canadian Committee for Human Rights, 1988 1011 College Street, Toronto, Ontario, M6H 1A8 Library of Congress Catalog Card No.: 74-33547 ISBN 0-87141-049-4 CONTENTS Page Prelude: July, 1944 5 Another “Liberation” 10 The Story of the Red Army Soldier, Vasili 14 What’s Yours Is Mine 20 To Arms: For Or Against Slavery 27 Repressed Scholars and Reluctant Spies 37 He Who Hesitates Is Lost 41 When Men Begin to Fear Their Own Shadows 45 “The Right to Rest” 52 Fight Against Prison Famine 56 The Growth of Secret Organizations 66 Armed Resistance 70 Provocation Rampant 78 What Does the Atom Bomb Promise? 83 “Amnesty” for the Partisans 88 Tragedy of Agrarian Reform 93 A Partisan’s Christmas 100 Election Preparations 104 The “Most Democratic Elections In the World” 110 We Cannot Wait With Folded Arms 116 Deportation 119 Graves Are Also Defended 124 Hunted Animals Bite 129 A Storm Cannot Topple All the Trees 136 Despoiling the Egyptians 142 When the Dead Are Resurrected 146 Journey By Train 150 Tell Me, Are You Acquainted With the Sun? 155 A Partisan “Engagement” 162 Aftermath 173 On the Road to the West 178 We Break Through the Iron Curtain For the First Time 183 Among Our Own People In a Foreign Land 185 Getting Back Inside the Iron Curtain 187 Danger Among Our Own Kind 193 Lithuanians Help Starving Germans 197 CONTENTS Nightmare Becomes Reality 200 Fight Against Thousands 205 Armed Resistance Prepares Cadres 209 Underground of Death 216 “Devil’s Dozen” Saves Situation 220 “Stand Not Upon the Order of Your Going” 224 Journey to Rouse the West 228 “Abomination of Desolation” 232 Blood Flows at the Iron Curtain 239 Armed Greetings for Polish Communists 244 Christmas In Stable Straw 249 Epilogue 253 Glossary 279 5 PRELUDE: JULY, 1944 It is dinner time on a muggy Sunday afternoon in late July, and we are gathered around the table as usual. Father sits at the head, with mother on his right and our maid-servant, Ona, beside her. My four brothers and I are seated around them, filling up whatever places are left. Wordlessly, father picks up a spoon and starts sipping his cold buttermilk-beet soup. We imitate his example without really wanting to do so. It is too hot and too noisy. Mortar shells destined for distant targets whine and whistle high in the air above our roof. Sometimes their targets are not so distant, and then the resulting explosions shake the walls and rattle the windowpanes. We are anxious and tense as we wait for the inevitable to happen. And we dread it so much the more because we know that it is inevitable. We can sense its presence in each other’s eyes, feel it all around us in the room, in the house, everywhere. Half-way through dinner we are startled by the tread of heavy military boots nearby, and look up to see a handful of German soldiers striding into our dining room. Hunger, fatigue, and the same kind of anxiety which has been plaguing us all day are written on their faces. “Essen,” one of them whispers and starts to push his way towards the table. His comrades crowd in close beside him, leaving us little choice. We get up and let the Germans finish what remains of our meal. There is not nearly enough to satisfy the hunger of a tow-headed young private, who pulls out his automatic and orders mother to show him the way to the larder. A few minutes later he returns with a huge chunk of smoked bacon which he starts to devour as though it were some kind of prize. The highest ranking of our uninvited guests has usurped father’s place at the head of the table. We cannot help staring at him: for some reason, he has shaved only one half of his chin. “Those damned Russians!” he grumbles. “They’ve been hot on our heels all day. The devils didn’t even give me time to 6 FIGHTERS FOR FREEDOM get a decent shave!” But then his anger suddenly gives way to resignation, and he concludes with a sigh. “Oh, well. What does it matter? It’s all over, anyway: with us and with Germany.” Such were the last words of the last German to set foot on our land. * The whining of mortar gradually subsides as the scattered German troops retreat farther westward. Sporadic bursts of gunfire continue to be heard for a while; but they, too, are eventually silenced by distance. A lone Red Army trooper appears and turns his hard-ridden nag into our yard. The animal is unencumbered by either saddle or bridle—a length of rope coiled around its neck apparently serving the purpose of both. The rider’s equipment, equally spartan, consists of nothing more than a tattered tent which he carries slung over his back. He is absolutely filthy, and so emaciated that he looks more like a skeleton than an advance army scout. He greets us cordially enough: “Well, Comrades! The Germans have left you at last! But haven’t you grown tired of waiting so long to be liberated?” After exchanging a few more pleasantries, he asks us for something to drink. Ona promptly brings out a jug of milk which he drains greedily. He cannot suppress his amazement. “So there really are places where one can still get milk!” He thanks us, then nudges the flanks of his horse with his heels and rides away. We see no more Russians for a while. However, we know that several are wandering about in our rye field because we can hear them calling to each other every now and again. They have apparently become separated from their weapons. “Sasha! Sasha!” shouts one of the lot. “Have you any idea where our cannon is at?” We feel ourselves beginning to relax a little. So it had become an accomplished fact, after all; this thing that we dreaded and hoped against hope would not happen. Our land was once again in the grip of the barbarians Prelude 7 from the east. They had clawed their way back slowly but relentlessly, in spite of our opposition and against our will. And now that they were finally here, we could do nothing but accept it. * From the very first moment that the Russian and German armies clashed with each other over the possession of our peaceful fields, more than three million Lithuanians realized that they would have to make a choice: should they remain in Lithuania or should they seek refuge among the democracies of the West? For a long time the people weighed these alternatives. Their hearts were heavy. They tried to put off having to make up their minds. Those who decided that their interests would be served best by fleeing waited to do so until the very last minute. Some waited too long and found themselves trapped, the victims of circumstances. But many more decided to stay voluntarily —as was the case with my family and myself. It had not been an easy decision for any of us to make. There seemed to be a complete dearth of objective information. The links with the resistance movement had been broken; and the underground press, which had kept the Lithuanian people so well informed during the Nazi occupation, had inexplicably grown silent of late. Nearly everyone we spoke to seemed so terrified by the approach of the Russians that all they could think of was getting away. Nor were their fears groundless. The Russian armies had already reached the very heart of Lithuania. Although the Nemunas River had provided a natural barrier for a while, the German lines there were comparatively weak, and everyone knew that it would only be a matter of time before the Russians managed to push their way through. As a matter of fact, they had already succeeded in bridging the Nemunas at Rumšiškė. and had sent some of their tank and infantry units to the western bank. This bridge the Germans had promptly destroyed, along with the troops which had filtered across it. The clumsy Soviet tanks proved easy prey for the German “tigers”; even the infantry units were wiped out to a man although they put up a tremendous struggle. But the Russians 8 FIGHTERS FOR FREEDOM refused to quit.