Alks Modris was born on September 20, 1926 in family of the doctor.
In family I was a senior.
The brother Dzintris is 5 years younger, the little sister Laymochka was born in 1935, Andris - in 1937.
To Riga moved in 1934 when the father built the house on Zaubes Street.
The father worked in the 1st hospital of Righi.
On June 17, 1940 I was on the yacht, reached only the bridge in the Lielupe - there came the calm.
Went to Valteri.
There we were waited by the telegram - Russians occupied Latvia.
Hand over the yacht in yacht-club, come back to Riga.
Riga reached about midnight, the curfew is placed there.
At the station square Russian tanks, soldiers.
The joyful mood as well as did not happen, went by the Opera, National theater.
Saw as two in plain clothes conducted the third with the broken head.
The father was at home one.
Soon he from department was dismissed.
And it was left without work.
Mother worked as the school doctor.
Heard that people vanish.
The school was renamed, the director, the inspector, school objects was replaced.
In the morning instead of a prayer - International.
Came on June 14, 1941, we were taken.
Алкс Модрис родился 20 сентября 1926 года в семье врача.
В семье я был старшим.
Брат Дзинтрис на 5 лет младше, сестрёнка Лаймочка родилась в 1935 году, Андрис -в 1937 году.
В Ригу переехали в 1934 году, когда отец построил дом на улице Заубес.
Папа работал в 1-ой больнице Риги.
17 июня 1940 года я был на яхте , дошли только до моста в Лиелупе -наступил штиль.
Сошли в Валтери.
Там нас ждала телеграмма - Русские оккупировали Латвию.
Яхту сдайте в яхт-клуб, сами возвращайтесь в Ригу.
В Ригу добрались около полуночи, там объявлен комендантский час.
На привокзальной площади русские танки, солдаты.
Радостного настроения как и не бывало, шёл мимо Оперы, Национального театра.
Видел как двое в штатском вели третьего с пробитой головой.
Папа был дома один.
Вскоре его из департамента уволили.
И он остался без работы.
Мама работала школьным врачом.
Слышали, что пропадают люди.
Школу переименовали, сменился директор, инспектор, школьные предметы.
Утром вместо молитвы - Интернационал.
Наступило 14 июня 1941 года, нас взяли.
I was born on September 20, 1926. My father was a doctor. I was the oldest child in the family. My brother Dzintris is five years younger, my sister Laima was born in 1935, and my little brother Andris was born in 1937. We moved to Riga in 1934, when a b _:lding in Zaubes Street was built. Papa worked at the No. 1 Hospital.
On June 17,1940,1 was on a yacht. We got to the Lwlupe bridge when the wind stopped. We stepped ashore at Valteri, where there was a telegram: “The Russians are starting to occupy Latvia. Bring the yacht bock to the Lielupe yacht club and return to Riga.” e arrived in Riga around midnight, and there was i curfew. There were Russian tanks and soldiers in the square in front of the railway station. I was not happy anymore, I walked past the Opera, the National . heatre. I saw two men in civilian clothes carrying a mird man, whose head was bleeding.
Papa was alone at home. He was soon sacked ~ ~ his department, and he became unemployed. My mama continued to work as a school doctor. We : si_*d about people disappearing. The school was re-' ed. the director and inspector were replaced, and r: $ objects of study changed. In the morning, instead : * saying a prayer, we sang the “Internationale.”
On Tune 14, 1941, they came to get us. We were p-z in a truck, and we drove down Valdemara Street. I stood up in the truck, and I had a sailor’s cap. Papa was bitter. mama was upset. I thought that an adventure was beginning.
Ar the Skirotava station, we were put nto a train. Mama cut off Laima’s ponytail and gave it to papa as a keepsake. The next morning the fathers stayed in the wagon, but the rest of us were moved to a different one. We were told
that we would meet teach other at the end of the trip. I had an atlas with me. There were more than 40 people in the wagon, we slept like sardines in a can. There was a lavatory in the corner, we covered it with a sheet.
We got to Sverdlovsk, and alongside us was a wagon with Estonian men. They were singing, and it sounded wonderful. I was sent out with a bucket to get lunch. On the platform I met Elza, the wife of my uncle. We found out that my grandmother had also been taken away. Later we learned that she died.
We were taken to Novosibirsk. Nature was colourful there. A big barge was attached to a ship. We were put onto the barge, all of us together. We travelled down the Ob river for several days. We were given burned oatmeal which we couldn’t eat and threw overboard. Many people fell ill, including me. Finally we stopped at a factory which manufactured railroad ties. The village had the same name as the factory. We were put ashore. There were other deportees there ahead of us — Mordovians and Russians from the Altai. They had already established their lives there, they had small houses, each with two families. Old Siberian villages were nearby, all of those people knew how to hunt and fish.
Mama and the four children — we were housed by the Shalagin family. The next morning we were sent to work at what the local called the “workshop of suffering”. Women were put to sewing, men were sent to do construction work. I was made a cobbler’s apprentice. We didn’t work there very long. We were ordered to contribute our wages to the army. I received 67 roubles for six months of work.
Mama was sent to the railroad tie factory, where she had to saw firewood. I had to go 16 kilometres up the river
to pick briar berries. That was where the village of Altayeva was found. The river was very swift. It was January, and the temperature was minus 35 degrees Celsius. There were three of us - Dodik, who was Jewish and 17 years old, Timofey from Ukraine, who was also 17, and me (I was 15). I was wearing my father’s home guard coat and padded boots with rubber soles. Each of us had half a loaf of bread and some salted fish with the scales. We ate the fish and went to look for a place to spend the night. On the first night someone stole our bread. We also had skis, but we didn’t have ropes to attach them to our feet. We had to walk.
In the evening, when we were sitting down to eat, some women brought us some milk. They said that they wanted to learn about their husbands, who were fighting in the war. They thought that we were from the front lines, and they were disappointed to learn that this was not so. We continued our way to the island and stuck our skis in the snow. The bread froze in our pockets. The snow was up to our waists, we fell a lot. It got dark early, and there were few berries - we collected just three handfuls in three days. Someone produced some wide hunting skis for us, sent two
women to help us. We suffered for two days. Then we went back home and said that there was nothing to do there. My boss, who was a deportee, ordered me to sign a document of evidence. I pretended that I didn’t speak Russian. He accused us of having stolen food and being away from work without permission. He would submit the case to the people’s court. I said that I would not sign anything, that I was a minor and that I was there to learn a trade. He said that I would rot in prison. I went out, slammed the door and went straight to the commandant. He was a Roma, very much respected. I asked him what I should do - steal things or starve to death? The next day mama had to go to check in, and she brought back a note from the commandant, who allowed me to start work at the factory. That was on February 10, 1942. That was the first record in my work book.
We were given half a house, and there were 13 people there - we four, Guna Balode, the Laci family (two people), and others. We slept on bunk beds. The snow came through gaps in the floor. We had a stove and enough firewood, but in the mornings the water would be frozen. I came down with pneumonia. I was taken to hospital and cured. I went back,
and mama had arranged for a room in rhe home of the Volkov family. It was a log building without foundations, and it was sinking into the ground. We were given a room on the second floor. There was a little stove where we could cook — Laima, who was 17 years old, did that.
Misfortune found us, though. All four of us came down with the measles. I had single pneumonia, but Laima had double pneumonia. She didn’t survive, and she left us on Christmas Day in 1942. The great tragedy was that mama was a doctor, but she could do nothing, because there were no medications. Even the hospital had nothing other than streptocide and some compresses.
When we learned that a woman and her children were leaving, mama started to ask about the half of a house which she owned. We could have it, but we didn’t have any money. Mama sold Laima’s clothes and bedclothes, and the mortgage to the house was signed over to me. That’s how we got our home. We bought an axe which could also be used as a saw. There were 600 square metres of land with each house. In the spring we ploughed the earth, we ate chickweed. During the summer it was better for us. We had turnips and rutabagas, we planted seeds and potato skins.
Someone was selling a boat for 10 roubles. We bought it and fixed it up so that we had our own ship. We sailed down the Ob river. Fishing was not banned, so I made some hooks. We caught perch and pike. Mama made fish oil.
I do have to admit to a bad deed. There was an old lady whose calf died. I skinned it and hauled it home. Mama made jellied meat and stored it in pots in the basement. We were very hungry and ate it all up.
We had enough potatoes, we ate four a day. We sold my father’s watch for a sack of rye flour. That r.elped, and our lives got better.
In 1943 I became a stoker.
Local women had concentration camp addresses. Mama started to write letters, and we got a letter from the camp at Solyikamsk which said that our father had been sentenced to eight years with the right to send two letters a year. That was wonderful, soon we got a letter trom him. I think that papa was saved by his profession. They needed a surgeon’s assistant, and that’s what he ; ecame. Later he became a surgeon himself.
Mama became disabled, and she did not get her tread ration anymore. Mine was two times bigger. A e all slept in a row on the stove, we contracted lice.
There was nowhere to boil our clothes. There were countless mosquitoes, but we had no netting. We had pitch from birch bark which we rubbed on ourselves. We made our own footwear from flax waste and wore it with several pairs of socks.
In the autumn of 1944 I felt that something bad would happen, and sure enough, mama was arrested and taken away on September 19. I remember how shortly before then a man called Osvalds Ronis came to visit us with his wife and daughter. He asked for a pair of small pincers and then asked mama what she thought about the future — would the British rescue us? It was clear that he came specially, and right afterward he got a job as a bookkeeper. Mama was sentenced to 10 years in prison. Other Latvian women testified in court about things that had happened and things that did not happen at all. I met mama one more time before she was sent away. She gave me her wedding ring, and I put it on my pinkie. We said good-bye.
We corresponded with mama as much as we were allowed to do. She was sent to a strict labour camp in Irkutsk, but she could work in her profession there — she worked as a doctor in the kindergarten of the camp. She was released two months early.
Papa had been released and was living in Severoy-eniseysk, a gold mining village. He summoned us. Dzintris arrived with a clean passport. He and Andris finished their higher education in Krasnoyarsk and were graduated with honours.
I worked at a factory for nearly 17 years. Initially I cut firewood, then I learned to be a stoker, and in 1944 I became a machine operator. I worked until the end of the war. It was not easy. Men started to return after the war, and I was sent to operate a lathe, and then, later, to load barges. When a tractor appeared, I was sent to work with it. For a month or two months I transported logs, even though I didn’t have my driver’s license. Then I passed the exam.
Once every three years we got additional holiday time. I had many months stored up. In 1957, I was given permission to go to Severoyeniseysk. I took two airplanes and a train. My parents were there at the airport. Papa asked whether I had a passport, and I said that I had a dog’s passport.
We ate lunch and then went to see the prosecutor. It turned out that papa had operated on the prosecutor. My father said: “My son is without a passport.” The prosecutor promised to take care of that, and three days later I had my passport.
Then there was just one road - back home.
lieta Nr. 15703,
izs. adr. Rīgas apr., Rīga, Zaubes iela 2-1 ,
nometin. vieta Novosibirskas apg., Parabeļas raj.,
atbrīvoš. dat. 1957.03.02
Дети Сибири ( том 1 , страница 38 ):
мы должны были об этом рассказать... :
воспоминания детей, вывезенных из Латвии в Сибирь в 1941 году :
724 детей Сибири Дзинтра Гека и Айварс Лубаниетис интервьюировали в период с 2000 по 2007 год /
[обобщила Дзинтра Гека ; интервью: Дзинтра Гека, Айварс Лубаниетис ;
интервью расшифровали и правили: Юта Брауна, Леа Лиепиня, Айя Озолиня ... [и др.] ;
перевод на русский язык, редактор Жанна Эзите ;
предисловие дала президент Латвии Вайра Вике-Фрейберга, Дзинтра Гека ;
художник Индулис Мартинсонс ;
обложка Линда Лусе]. Т. 1. А-Л.
Точный год издания не указан (примерно в 2015 году)
Место издания не известно и тираж не опубликован.
- Oriģ. nos.: Sibīrijas bērni.
The Occupation of Latvia [videoieraksts] = Оккупация Латвии :
(1917-1940 годы) : видеофильм / реж. Дзинтра Гека ; авт. Андрис Колбергс.
Точный год издания не указан
[Диск включает 3 части: 1 ч.: 1917-1940 годы ; 2 ч.: 1941-1945 годы. ; 3 ч.: 1946-1953 годы]На обложке ошибочно указан исторический период: (1917-1940 годы), относящийся только к первой части.
Весь рассматриваемый период: 1917-1953 годы