So the bottom half of this letter will hurt your eyes. But if you haven't gotten figured it out yet I no longer possess the will to fight over my own words with this website so. Sorry.
February 16, 1946
I've been independent for 28 years today.
I don't apologise for the frankness of my last letter to you, but I do acknowledge it. It was pencilled in a heated moment stricken by grief and resent. I was given a brand-new pencil and a pad of paper as an early birthday present and had the opportunity to write more than coordinates and positions for the first time since '44.
The past two years have been difficult for the pair of us, although I can breathe some sigh of relief that you have been elected to represent a satellite state, and not one of the Soviet republics as I am. It is wholly wrong, that you should have fought so diligently - I've heard stories of you, Poland, assisting in Bletchley Park, joining the RAF before returning to your own land - only to be traded in as a token of war to a nation already brimming with stolen goods.
It is wrong.
I have lost over 100,000 of my people to the unforgiving plains of Siberia since the war ended. What was once a burden of the army's losses has now extended to the common citizens; women, children, the elderly. Librarians and tailors and mail carriers and teachers and artists. I used to vomit blood. I used to weep for them, in the dead of night, deep in the woods where no one would see me clawing at my contused, collapsing chest.
Now there is nothing. Just numbers on a scrap piece of paper, scrawled out in distressed cursive with a dull pencil. Silence.
If you cannot strip man of his nationalism, of himself - for what is there to fear if we are unafraid of death - you strip him of his family. You strip him of the only thing he has to return to. They've taken our heritage, and they've collectivised our lands, they've stripped us of our books and our language and our religion and our very being.
All that is left is to strip us of each other.
We are all of us cattle. Sick, war-weary and depraved of life. A grey, formless mass of starvation leaves my country while the world sleeps, in overcrowded train cars painted with the words воры и проститутки.
It's time I introduce you to my section. There's been talk of organising us into official districts and units, but for now I head a section of 11 men: Aušrinė. The Morning Star.
Some find it peculiar that a captain should head such a minor unit, but I seek intimacy with my citizens, even if I've been warned against it. Their lives are so slight in this fragile state that I might as well search out a place among them. I've sketched out a few pictures of my men as best I can on the back of the page - I'm no artist but I want to remember Kazys' square jaw, Danielius' permanently windswept hair, the odd warmth to Tomas' eyes. I'm writing their stories here, because by the end of this war there will be no one left to recount them.
Simonas Rudkus: second in command
Codename: Gediminas
Occupation: physics professor at Vilnius University
Notes: married with three children; very close friend and ally -
specialises in espionage and strategy, also a good hand at chess
Tomas (Tom) Salinskas: medic/partisan
Codename: Kastytis
Occupation: surgeon in Vilnius
Notes: married; short-statured and short-tempered; can skin a rabbit
in half a minute; rough around the edges but very caring
Danielius (Dan) Lankelis: chaplain
Codename:
Occupation: studying deacon in Kaunas Cathedral Basilica
Notes: has a wonderful laugh; the only man among us with a latin Bible;
once served us Holy Communion with some rye biscuits and vodka
Kazys Dicius: cook/partisan
Codename: Sausainis
Occupation: originally saving up for studies in France, pastry chef
Notes: ruddy cheeks, just like you might imagine a pastry chef to look;
can make almost anything with rye flour and pickled herring
Titas Niaura: scout/partisan
Codename:
Occupation: -
Notes: selective mute; sleeps in the tree boughs; brilliant sharpshooter -
uses his bare hands to fish in the Nemunas
Albertas Krupelis: scout/partisan
Codename:
Occupation: farmer/beekeeper
Notes: married; close friend of Titas; rather loud, but tells incredible folk tales;
doesn't wear shoes in the summer (against his better judgement)
Vejas Marsalka: partisan
Codename:
Occupation: college student
Notes: engaged to be married; publisher in local university newspapers;
wants to be a journalist; owns a dairy cow named Bukaprotis
Vakaris Straskauskas: partisan
Codename:
Occupation: college student
Notes: can speak English, Russian, and Dutch; impeccable memory;
draws out maps and trails; dreams of travelling "anywhere"
Mykolas Vinciunas: partisan
Codename:
Occupation: college student
Notes: quite lovesick - trails after the liaison girls during in-town
trips; very good accordion player, although out of tune
Joris Sepetys: partisan
Codename: Laumė
Occupation: college student
Notes: reads poetry aloud when we have time to rest; dreamy -
much like Latvia; enjoys whittling animal figurines
Jonas Martinka: partisan
Codename:
Occupation: -
Notes: orphaned in '45 (aged 16) youngest in our section along
with Joris; used to play the fiddle; loves dogs
As before, some of my men's names have been changed for the sake of what fragile safety we can lend ourselves.
I pray for them.
Lietuvos.
Your eyes are not mistaking you; most codenames have been left blank because, after a good week of collaboration and inner debate, I have decided that this section of the letter quite possibly would have been left blank to be filled in at a later date. Partisans earn codenames over time and, while they are too crucial to be omitted, I've decided to develop names with the characters themselves.
If you have any suggestions HMU; I would love input. :)
