August 2, 1944

Dear Poland,

I hope you don't expect a letter every day. I cannot maintain such a trivial activity on a daily basis. In any case, life is far too monotonous for me to share the fine details. You would quickly grow bored of my descriptions of the same forest trails and the same sky and the same meals.

I still tread through the Dainavos region, but I cannot tell you any more of my whereabouts, in the event that I am captured. The stakes are high. We are given the orders to prevent ourselves from being captured alive - at any cost. Just this morning, we walked into a nearby village and found the bodies of two brothers laid out on display there. Their faces were gone.

Singing adds a bit of colour to every evening, and lifts our spirits. I have decided to copy down one of our favourites, AlytÄ—, in English:

Soldiers are stepping, row after row,
To defend our dear land,
The Lithuanian country.
A flock of birds, dressing the sky,
Sing and fly overhead.

Leaving, the son comforted his mother:
Please don't be sad while I am gone.
Goodbye, dear mother, goodbye, dearest,
Maybe we will see each other again
after the cruel war.

Near my father's grave, there,
next to the chapel,
I gave an oath to be a son of Lithuania.
Once vowed, will not repeat again -
I will fight to defend our dear land,
the Lithuanian country.

My love will not visit my grave,
She won't deck my grave with flower blossoms,
Steel bullets will visit my grave,
Will comfort me forever lying in the ground.

It both gladdens and wrenches my heart to hear these men - not my brothers but my sons - utter these words with such conviction.

I fear for each of them.

Sincerely,
Lietuvos.