Vytas Staskevicius’s mother was a schoolteacher in Saransk when his father met her before the start of World War One. The town and garrison were in Russia’s Penza, 400 miles southeast of Moscow. Antanas Staskevicius, a Lithuanian, was an officer in the Russian Imperial Army.
Saransk later became the capital city of the Republic of Soviet Monrovia, but long before that happened Antanas Staskevicius had returned to Lithuania.
Saransk was founded as a fortress, on the left bank of the river Isar, on the crossroads of Moscow and the Crimea. Before WWI its commercial life revolved around leather, meat, and honey. After the war its factories were closed for more than ten years when there weren’t any fuels or raw materials.
“My father was trained as an officer and sent to serve there with an infantry regiment,” said Vytas Staskevicius. “It was a hard post for him, because back then they used to say drinkers go to the navy and dimwits to the infantry.
“He courted my mother, Antonina, who was Russian, and they got married. They had my older sister, Eugenia, in 1917. We always called Eugenia by the name Genute. My sister Gaile was born the next year.”
Vytas was born six years later, in 1924, in Siauliai. “My father named me after King Vytautas the Great.” His mother and sisters called him Vytas.
Siauliai is home to the Hill of Crosses, a hill where there had been an old fort less than ten miles from the town. Even today it is covered with tens of thousands of crosses, crucifixes, and statues. It was after Czarist forces crushed the November Uprising of 1831 when the first crosses appeared.
By 1918 Lithuania had been missing from the map for more than one hundred years, having been disappeared after the Partition of Poland. Since that time it had been under the rule of the Russian Empire. In late 1919 , when Russia was being consumed by its own revolution, Antanas Staskevicius went home.
“Lithuania didn’t have many officers when they formed their own army,” said Vytas Staskevicius. “Most of them were men who had been conscripted into the Imperial Army before the war. My father fought in the post-war battles around Klaipeda and after that he served in the secret service in Kaunas, which was the capital.”
Lithuania declared independence in February 1918 and for almost three years fought Soviets, West Russians, and Poles. Finally, in 1920 they formed their own government, although they later lost Vilnius to the Poles, with whom they remained officially at war until the start of World War Two.
“After the fighting my father got some land for serving his country, near Siauliai. We lived on a farm.”
During WWI most of Siauliai’s buildings were destroyed and the city center was effectively obliterated. Since its founding in the 13th century Siauliai had burned down seven times, was struck by plague seven times, and WWII was the seventh war that wrecked the town.
“We lived in Siauliai for several years, but then my father became the governor of the Panevezys district and we moved to the city there.”
Panevezys, a royal town founded in the early 16th century, is on the plain of the Nevezis River, about 50 miles east of Siauliai. During the interwar years Lithuania was divided into 24 districts and each district had its own governor.
“My father was the governor of Panevezys until 1938.”
Vytas Staskevicius went to grade school and high school in Panevezys, but then his father was transferred to Zerasai, a place that was a summer resort. In 1834 Zerasai had burned down and been rebuilt. Two years later it was renamed Novoalexandrovsk, in honor of Czar Alexander’s son, but after WWI the name was expunged.
“When my father became the governor of Zerasai, my mother didn’t want to move there, since it was more than 75 miles east of where we lived, so I stayed with her.
“But, I didn’t get along with the students at the high school in Panevezys. It was a very strict school and everyone had to dress nice. On my first day of classes I was dressed up too nice, like I was going to a party, with a tie and everything, and everybody laughed at me. Where are you from, they said? So, I didn’t make any friends there. I said, I’m going to Zerasai.”
He moved there in 1939 and lived with his father.
“We had always needed to study a second language in school, and since my mother was Russian, studying Russian was easy for me. But, when I got to Zerasai I found out they only had English as a second language, no Russian. My father had to hire a tutor to help me.”
In 1940 the Lithuanian world completely changed. Father and son moved back to Siauliai.
“The Russians came in 1940. All the high officials were let go and the Russians selected new people they wanted to run the country. They said they didn’t run the country themselves, the Lithuanians did, but it was the Lithuanian Communists who were in charge, so it was actually the Russians.”
The Staskevicius family returned to their farm, renting a house in Siauliai, dividing their time between town and country.
“It was only a few miles from our farmhouse to town. I used to walk or bicycle to Siauliai. But, the mood was bad. Everybody thought something terrible was going to happen.”
The Russian annexation of Lithuania was completed by the late summer of 1940. Businesses were nationalized and collectivization of land began. As the Russian presence expanded the family discussed leaving the Baltics.
“Why don’t we go to Germany?” asked his mother Antonina.
“There was a chance to leave the country then and go somewhere else. My mother wanted to go. We talked about it often, about going to Germany.”
But, his father didn’t want to leave Lithuania.
“I didn’t do anything wrong that they would put me in jail,” he told his family. “I was good to the people. They aren’t going to put me in jail.”
In the fall of 1940 a passing troop of Soviet infantry commandeered their farm for several days.
“They didn’t do anything bad, but they hadn’t washed in months, and they rolled their tobacco in newspaper. They smoked all the time. It took a week to air out the house.”
The family stayed on their farm through the winter. Then, as the mass arrests and deportations of more than 15,000 Lithuanian policemen and politicians, dissidents, and Catholics began in June 1941 Antanas Staskevicius was picked up by NKVD plainclothesmen.
“He was gardening in our yard, wearing a shirt, trousers, and slippers when they drove up, a carload of Russians, and stopped, saying there was something wrong with their engine. I’ll help you out, he said. He walked over to the car with them and never came back. They shoved him into their car and drove him to jail.”
Vytas Staskevicius was in school in Siauliai taking his final exams that morning.
“My mother called the school and told me my father had been taken. I ran out and went home right away on my bike.”
His mother packed clothes, socks and shoes, and soap for her husband. She went to see him the next day.
“The man who was running the jail was a Jewish fellow. He had grown up with us and was a friend of our family, but when my mother asked him to help us he said the times have changed.
“He was a Communist and had been in and out of jail because of his political activities. He was always in trouble. My father usually let him go, telling him to not get involved in politics anymore. Just be a nice boy, he would tell him, but then the next thing we knew he would be in jail again. He wouldn’t help my father when he was arrested. Everything’s new now, he said. Times have changed. Everybody is looking out for themselves, only themselves.
“They didn’t let my mother talk to my father. We went to the jail several times, but they never let us see him. We never saw him again.”
Antanas Staskevicius was taken to Naujoji Vilnia and loaded on a boxcar. The train left Lithuania on June 19, 1941. Four days later, between June 23 and 27, at the Battle of Raseiniai, the 4th Panzer Group, part of the first phase of Operation Barbarossa, the German invasion of Russia, finished the almost complete destruction of Russian armored forces in Lithuania.
Within a week Nazi Germany seized Lithuania.
Antanas Staskevicius was transported to Russia’s far east to a labor camp near Krasnojarsk in Siberia. He worked logging in the thick forests and starved to death in the winter of 1942. Anton Chekhov, a noted Russian short story writer, once wrote that Krasnojarsk was the most beautiful city in Siberia.
“The morning after my father was arrested I drove our horse and wagon to school to finish my exams. I had to deliver milk to my teacher’s family, too. But, when I stopped at his house, he came out with his family and said, help take us to the railroad station. I said OK and they all got into my wagon, he and his wife and their two children. I took them to the station. After that day I never found out what happened to them.
“The next day one of our neighbors told me the Russians had come to their house that same afternoon looking for him. Teachers, lawyers, anybody from an educated family, the Russians were worried about all of them. They were afraid high-class people were against them. “
When Russian NKVD men began their mass arrests of Lithuanians, Soviet officials seized property, and there was widespread looting by Lithuanians among themselves.
“If you were a Communist then you were all right. The father of one of my friends was a metal worker. He didn’t even know how to read, but the Russians made him the mayor of Siauliai because he was a Communist.”
His mother, sister Genute, and Vytas stayed on the farm after his father’s arrest. His sister Gaile was living in Vilnius. When the mass arrests intensified they became alarmed.
“We were determined to leave the farm. We all went into the forest. But, then my mother told me to go to Vilnius and tell Gaile that our father had been arrested. She wanted her to be very careful. I took a train to Vilnius, but as soon as I got there I got a phone call saying my mother had been arrested.
“When I got back to Siauliai I was told she was being deported. Somebody probably complained and informed on her. We had land, 160 acres, so we were considered capitalists. We weren’t rich, but we weren’t poor, either. There was no real reason that I ever found out about for why they took her. I went to the train station, but didn’t see her anywhere. She was sent to a prison camp.”
His mother was released from the Gulag in 1956, after Stalin’s death, but not allowed to return to her home in Siauliai.
“My God, you’ve gotten older,” was the first thing Antonina Staskevicius said when she saw her son Vytas again in 1979, thirty-eight years after being transported to Siberia.
After his mother’s arrest and exile Vytas Staskevicius, not yet 17-years-old, left Siauliai and moved to Vilnius, staying with his sister Gaile and her husband. At the time almost everyone living in Vilnius was Polish. Lithuanians in the former capital city of Vilnius were strangers in their own land.
“The day the Russians left and before the Germans came everybody rushed to the food warehouses and broke into them. It wasn’t that we were robbing them, but everybody was doing it, since there was no food. Gaile and I went, too. We filled up our bags with bread and food, all kinds of food, and took everything home. When the Germans arrived they put a stop to it.”
He stayed in Vilnius for several months, but then decided to go home before the end of summer The family farm had to be cared for, but, first, he had to get a travel permit.
“I couldn’t get in to see a single German to apply, but finally I talked to someone who had known my father, and got an appointment. The officer told me they weren’t issuing any permits and to come back, but after we talked about my father a little, he said OK, and wrote one out for me.”
He took a train back to Siauliai and walked home, but when he got there he discovered a company of Wehrmacht had taken over the farm.
“They were there about three weeks, more than seventy of them. I couldn’t even get into our house since the officers had taken it over. But, those Germans were very nice. They didn’t do our farm any harm. They had their own quarters and their own mess. I made friends with some of them. We drank wine together at night.”
His father’s business practice had been to have a foreman run the farm. The foreman hired three men and three women every spring. Although the farm had chickens and pigs, and horses to do the heavy work, it was mostly a dairy farm with more than twenty cows.
“It was a model farm,” said Vytas Staskevicius. “Every summer students from the agricultural academy would tour our farm. When I came back Genute was there, but she wasn’t interested, so she didn’t do any work.
“I started taking care of things, even though I didn’t know anything, nothing. I knew the cows had to be milked and the milk had to go to the dairy. But, about growing crops, and the fields, I didn’t know anything.
“But, I worked as though I knew what I was doing.”
That fall he sent his farmhands out to till the ground in a nearby field. When his nearest neighbor saw them working he ran across the road to him.
“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled.
“I told him we were preparing the ground for next year. He said, you’re ruining this year’s seed and you won’t have any grass next year. We stopped right away. I learned what to do.”
A year later he was on a horse drawn mower cutting hay when he saw storm clouds gathering. He thought he would be better served walking the horses, so they could pull the mower faster, and jumped down from his seat.
“As I hopped down I stumbled and fell right on the blades of the mower. The horses stopped dead. My hand was almost cut off. The boy who was helping me ran over. When he saw what happened, and my injured hand, he passed out.
As the war dragged on he had problems keeping the farm going. He had only partial use of his injured hand and farmhands were deserting the land.
“I went to the prisoner-of-war camp where I knew they used to give Russians out. They gave me five of them. They were nice guys, worked hard, and sang at night. One morning after a month I woke up and there wasn’t one of them left. They were gone.
“I had to go back to the Germans and ask for five more. My God, how they yelled about it. One officer shouted that I hadn’t looked after them, shouted that I needed to lock them up at night, and shouted that they weren’t going to give me anymore. In the end I said, I need five more, so they gave me five more. I kept them locked up after that and they were there until the Russians came back.”
In 1944 the Red Army stormed into Lithuania. Vytas Staskevicius escaped with a company of Wehrmacht, whisked up by them as they passed. They had been stationed near the prisoner-of-war camp. He had ten minutes to decide whether or not he was going with them as they retreated.
“They told me the Russians were on the other side of the Hill of Crosses. They were in a hurry. I only had time to fill a bag with a few clothes, a little money, and photographs of my parents.”
His elder sister Genute, not at the farm that day, escaped separately. His other sister, Gaile, was not able to flee Lithuania in time.
“She had a problem at the border and didn’t make it. The Russians had taken that area, so Gaile was forced to stop in a little town there. She had her daughter and her husband’s mother with her. In the end the three of them stayed there.
“She finished school, became a nurse, and never told anyone where she was from. The Russians never found out anything about her.”
In July the Red Army captured Panevezys. Later that month they took Siauliai, inflicting heavy damage on the city. Two months later the 3rd Panzer Army was destroyed and for the next nearly fifty years Lithuania became part of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.
“I was glad to get out of Siauliai in 1944, very glad,” said Vytas Staskevicius.
147 Stanley Street (short stories and non-fiction). If you enjoyed this story, please consider your support of the writing by clicking here to donate.
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