Not everyone thinks about resistance these days, but many do. That is true! Looking back at last year's conversations on zemeunvalsts.lv, whether due to the influence of C19, sensing strange winds in the air, or for other reasons, it so happens that topics relevant to this spring and current events have been touched upon. Therefore, here is a brief retelling of historians Inese Dreimane and Zigmārs Turčinskis’ story (1) about the "forest brothers" or national partisans and their resistance.

The 2nd of March has been designated as the Remembrance Day of the Armed Resistance of the National Partisans (2), because on 2 March 1945, the largest battle in the history of the Latvian national partisan war took place in the Stompaki swamp islands of the Viļaka (formerly Abrene) district. At that time, about 350 Latgalian forest brothers fought a fierce battle against the numerical superiority of the attacking Cheka forces, remaining undefeated and retreating in an organised manner, thus avoiding a threatening encirclement and further casualties. (...) in commemorating the 50-year resistance of the Latvian people to the Soviet occupation, it is equally important to appropriately value both the non-violent and the armed resistance.

What (...) does patriotism mean to you both?

Inese Dreimane: ...Right now, as we talk, a patriot is sitting beside me. Zigmārs has been involved in the National Guard since his early youth...

Zigmārs Turčinskis: ...since October 1992.

Inese: Patriotism means "to be"! Even if it seems to some that it is not necessary, that it is just a hobby club, that one shouldn't join the National Guard. Patriotism is doing your job honestly, paying taxes, and what's more, paying them first and only then complaining, for instance, about why Latvia doesn't have the kind of healthcare we see in American TV series. It is patriotic to speak your native language, to raise your voice when necessary about things you don't like or are dissatisfied with; to think for yourself, constantly filtering information, and trying to teach the younger generation to do the same.

Young people, who have fortunately grown up without the great state and the great poster-like equality experienced by their parents, believe: "It would be very beautiful if there were no poor people and everyone were happy." What happens next? That is what the young people don't know – the promise-makers of great happiness and the heralds of a bright future set up a prison camp on the edge of the village or dig a pit for the disobedient nearby.

If Zigmārs is told: "Rise, put on your boots, and head to the borders!", he will do it. If both of us are told: "Dig trenches!", we will dig. If it is clear: "You must go into the forest!", those who feel the strength within themselves and understand that they will be more useful in the forest will go there. I will add: one shouldn't just go into the forest for no reason, so as not to become an unnecessary, burdensome weight for the forest brothers. One can find other ways to resist.

You successfully transitioned to the next question: forest brothers and national partisans. Is there a big difference in what to call them?

Inese: It depends on the place...

Zigmārs: "Forest brothers" is the Latvian term for those people who live in the forest with weapons; this word "comes" from the events of 1905. Since the Great Northern War (1700-1721), no major wars had been experienced in our territory, and suddenly, an uprising began; there were people fighting against the existing power with weapons, they had to be called something, and thus the word "forest brothers" was introduced. I will add that "forest brothers" refers more to Kurzeme, Zemgale, and Vidzeme, not Latgale. 1905 was different in Latgale, and the word "partisans" is used more there.

Inese: ...which, in turn, caught on from the War of Independence (the Latgale Partisan Regiment). After the war ended, in the 1920s, many in Latgale had fathers, older brothers, relatives, or neighbours who had fought in this partisan regiment or were somehow connected to it. That is how the word "continued".

Latgale and Kurzeme are two regions where there is more talk or more knowledge about the post-war resistance. Was the fight against Soviet power more pronounced in these regions, is it related to the wooded nature of the regions, or something else? For instance, people in Zemgale talk little about forest brothers.

Zigmārs: The fact that people talk less about forest brothers in Zemgale is connected to many circumstances. I agree, Zemgale has wider plains, which is why those who went into the forest at that time chose Kurzeme, Vidzeme, or Sēlija. The small amount of information about the resistance movement in Zemgale is also linked to a lack of researchers.

After the war, very active groups of forest brothers operated in Zemgale, based in the forests of Iecava, Garoza, and Zālīte. To put it unscientifically: "Oh my, what groups were there and what tricks they got up to!" In 1946, in order to deal with these forest brothers, an NKVD battalion was stationed in Iecava to fight specifically against the resistance groups in the nearby forests; they operated on this side until about 1950, and the groups' activities were quite extensive – the forest brothers even travelled to Riga. As far as I know, there were several attacks on financial institutions in Riga in search of funds. Once, at the Riga Central Railway Station, the forest brothers shot a Cheka major on the platform who had demanded to see their documents. They were serious men: the Dūmiņš brothers, the Rozentāls brothers, Freimanis, Gudže...

Inese: Returning to your question – before concluding where there were or weren't forest brothers, one must clarify whether anyone has researched this question specifically in that area. If there is no information, there is a possibility that no one has looked for it, not that it doesn't exist at all.

Zigmārs: Last autumn (in 2020), we travelled to Kurmene, where the people we met were enthusiastic: "Look, someone is finally going to research our side!" ... We are two people doing this, and – which is very important – for us, it is a hobby! Physically, two people, no matter how experienced and knowledgeable, cannot research the entire post-war resistance.

Inese: This year, the exhumation of partisans in Latgale* was covered in the media, and we participated in it as well. It was done for the purpose of professional development and maintaining our qualifications, to understand what we are doing and whether we are doing it correctly.

Zigmārs: If we don't start on or research something, that doesn't mean we aren't interested, but our physical capabilities are what they are. For example, in Lithuania, there is a Genocide and Resistance Research Centre where 149 people work, not counting technical staff. I will repeat, because it is very important: we are two, and for us, this is a hobby. We travel, we talk, we invite locals to both share stories and preserve what they have found out themselves: "Record, write down, note those people who are still able to tell something, who have some information!" If possible, one should mark on a map where that forest edge or ditch mentioned in a story might be. We will gladly explain where in the archives things can be found, what is available, and what can be clarified. But – you do the digging and searching, because there is no one in the country who would do it centrally and purposefully.

Inese: There are very few researchers. In Kurzeme, as far as we know, Rita Kuzņecova is active and the Rubenis Foundation is quite active. In Latvia, there is Reinis Ratnieks, there is Jānis Viļums, but they also try to do it outside of working hours. When speaking about such a small group of enthusiasts, it becomes clear why everything is happening slowly.

Zigmārs: Slowly and outside Riga, and besides, people are acting on their own initiative.

Lithuania and Latvia have a similar history, at least in the last century. Why such differences?

Inese: I have tried to answer this question without populist slogans, but – I truly don't know! It is not clear to me. Perhaps there were fewer red scumbags in power in Lithuania?

Zigmārs: I wonder if there were fewer in Lithuania. One thing is certain: there was no 1959 in Lithuania, when local national-communists were removed from power in Latvia. However, the first president of independent Lithuania was the former communist leader Algirdas Brazauskas. So...

Inese: Speaking about research, its beginning in Latvia (in the 90s) was moving in the right direction: the Centre for Documentation of Totalitarian Consequences (TSDC) was operating, where a small research group for the resistance movement was forming. What happened next? The Cheka files were under the care of the TSDC, which the Constitution Protection Bureau (SAB) collected, incorporating the centre into its structure. Consequently, the TSDC was no longer a public institution that could engage in research. Nothing replaced it. To the extent that Professor Heinrihs Strods managed to educate people or, more accurately, "poison" them with the desire to research, that is how many there are. You are currently talking to two of them. It was like this with Professor H. Strods: either he was liked, or he was deeply disliked. For me, while studying in my second year, I developed a very good connection with him. Later, a commission of historians was formed under the Chancery of the President of Latvia, where Professor Strods also worked. That was a time when the archives really didn't know how to react to the desire to research: to provide files or not, to protect data or not, to provide some information or all of it, what would be better – to research or not research... But if you have a document on President's Chancery letterhead with a stamp, you get everything and can work. That is how I started, too.

What is it that you would definitely like to find in the archives? What kind of folder, what kind of information?

Inese: There are definitely things I want to find. But just as definitely, I know that they are not in Latvia. I want to find the early card catalogue of Cheka agents (the one that existed before the recently published one). The publicly available one starts from the 60s, its content is fixed as of August 1991. In the 60s, as is known, the card catalogue of that time was reviewed, and the cards of "unsuitable" agents were removed, archived, and taken to Russia (or destroyed). I would gladly research this taken-away part, because interesting things would definitely appear there, for example, locals recruited by the USSR intelligence service during the time of independent Latvia.

I would also like to take a look at the navy archive near St. Petersburg (though I don't know its exact name), where there could be information about the Cheka commandant (1940-1941) Yermolayev. The last news about him – is that he was the SMERSH commandant in Tallinn in 1945. I want to find his photo; I am very interested in the names, surnames, and, if possible, photos of local Chekists.

Zigmārs: I would gladly like to find the time for research. That is the hardest part! The rest only requires the desire. There is much that is unresearched in the Latvian archives, but...

Speaking about Northern Latgale, how did you get on with eyewitnesses, how many were still around, have they scattered across Latvia?

Zigmārs: Few. Scattered across Latvia and, of course, there are fewer each year.

Inese: In 2001, when we started this work, there were still quite a few eyewitnesses of post-war events in Northern Latgale. But! While working in parallel with documents to understand where to head, where to go, who to ask, time passes, and someone has already passed away. If you don't have clarity, it can happen that during a meeting you don't understand what the person is saying or are unable to analyse it, or... Looking at the collection of material after some time, you realise that something very valuable was mentioned in the previously seemingly uninteresting conversation and you should quickly, quickly try to meet this person again, if it is still possible.

Zigmārs: That our post-war generation is passing away very rapidly and will "end" any moment now, I realised around 2015. That year, we lived in a Balvi hotel for a week; I interviewed the very knowledgeable local historian Zigfrīds Berķis. He truly had a lot of information; I tried to learn as much as possible from him, and besides that, we drove to visit all the people he knew about: "That person has something to say." It was serious work and a very interesting time; as a result, very valuable material has been accumulated.

Inese: Yes, that was the moment when we were already clear about what and with whom to talk. Before that, it was a hope for luck. You talk to someone who says: "Drop by my neighbour's, he will know better."

You two are never at a loss for words. What was the responsiveness of people to conversations, as many speak reluctantly?

Zigmārs: Very different. There are people who do not speak and do not want to speak. There are people who create the feeling that they have been waiting a long, long time for someone to come and talk to them. It has also happened like this: you arrive, you inquire, but you are a stranger to the person you are talking to. Post-war years and partisans are heavy and painful topics and memories. For example, we spoke to an elderly lady; she answered reluctantly, even though it was clearly visible she knew a lot. After struggling like that for a while, we said goodbye, got into the car, and the lady started to speak... For an hour without interruption.

Inese: There are people who want to remain anonymous. We have experienced situations like the one Zigmārs described – before the final handshake, the "Big Story" begins.

Zigmārs: It is good if the researcher knows local historians, for example, the aforementioned Zigfrīds Berķis or Jānis Mājnieks in Piebalga, or... They, in turn, know the local people; if you go for a serious conversation with someone known, the conversation flows easier. If a local has recommended you for a talk, the attitude is different.

Inese: These people have experienced a lot in their lives. Trust is important. For the most part, we have obtained information; opposing cases could be described briefly: either the person knows nothing, or they won't say a word.

What about stories and possible errors in them?

Zigmārs: Not too many...

Inese: Not many. Of course, if a person mentions the year 1945, you have to check whether it isn't 1946 or 1947. In times when there were no voice recorders and I stenographed by writing by hand, one always had to check whether you had heard and written down everything correctly, and whether you had transcribed what was written correctly. No one has told us deliberate nonsense.

Zigmārs: If we go to visit a person, usually they don't know we are arriving. They haven't had time to prepare and invent something, if such a thought could have even existed. We "take" what he knows. The best memories are those told by people in remote places, deep in the countryside, away from active life, away from politics; these are people with their own (even pure) memories and a certain self-sufficiency. It is harder with those who actively participate in local and public life, because then, sometimes, fairy tales begin...

Inese: It happens that people tend to retell what they have heard or read somewhere... Once Zigmārs said: "Today I heard my own memories, because the person I was talking to had recently read my book about the forest brothers of Northern Vidzeme."

Doesn't a read book or interview also stir up personal memories? And then they call you and say: "I read it, and I have something to say about this.".

Zigmārs: There are people who, after the book is published, call and gladly tell something.

Inese: It happens, it is good and normal. After the exhibition at the Corner House, which was dedicated to the Latvian residents murdered in the Central Prison, I was asked: "Why didn't you mention our uncle, he was also among them..." In the conversation, we clarified that the uncle had been arrested earlier and shot elsewhere, but an incorrect story about the Central Prison had taken root in the family. Feedback and even such errors are very good: it also helps us, it helps the relatives.

The impression has arisen that Latgale is the most researched in terms of the resistance movement. Is that so?

Zigmārs: No, that's not true! What has actually been researched in Latvia about post-war resistance? If we look at the regions, in my book about Northern Vidzeme ("The Forest Brothers of Northern Vidzeme, 1944-1953: The Fights of the Latvian National Partisans in the Valka District and the Western Part of the Alūksne District"), it seems, everything available about this region is there; there is nothing to add. Sēlija has been well-researched; Gunārs Blūzma and Haralds Bruņinieks worked there. Elīna Kalniņa has researched the Cēsis area; currently in Renda, that is in Kurzeme, Rita Kuzņecova has done a good job. The Valmiera area is currently being researched by Reinis Ratnieks as a doctoral student at the University of Latvia. But there are still large white spots on the map of Latvia. I have a book prepared about Northern Latgale, the Grīva forests (Tilža and Nautrēni). The Stompaki swamp has been researched.

When Andrejs Ķeizars was creating a resistance movement museum in Renda, he had a good idea – to create a map where partisan battles would be marked. We prepare the map and look: Northern Latgale, Northern Vidzeme, Sēlija, Kurzeme and... a lot of emptiness. What is this? The map shows not the resistance movement and its spread after the war, but the level of research of this movement today. The map shows where it has and hasn't been researched.

Inese: That is what we were talking about earlier. If someone in a region of Latvia sighs: "There was no resistance here after the war," one must first look at whether there have been any studies about the relevant place. Resistance existed almost everywhere, perhaps with the exception of very Russian-populated parishes...

Studies in Northern Vidzeme and Northern Latgale. A long way from Zemgale

Zigmārs: True, I live in Zemgale myself; I am a Jelgava resident in the fifth generation. I latched onto Northern Vidzeme because my mother's family roots are in Palsmane. Now I know that my grandmother's cousin and her father were shot in the forest as forest brothers in August 1949. I started the research in 1989 when I was creating a family tree and still met the generation that could tell about the end of the 18th century. The stories were bright, interesting, but, arriving at my grandmother's cousin, they broke off. "They were cowardly, they went into the forest, and they were shot there." That's it.

In the mid-90s, when I was studying at the Faculty of History and Philosophy at the University of Latvia, Professor H. Strods published the book "The War of the National Partisans". An elective course about the national resistance movement appeared.

Inese: That was the only elective course about which I said: "Finally!"

Zigmārs: At the end of the elective course, every listener had to write a small report. I remembered this family story about the "cowardly relatives", I went to the archive, where I found the card catalogue of Cheka files. All three relatives were registered there: Helmuts Eiklons, Aina Eiklone, Ludolfs Eiklons. About Helmuts Eiklons, I read: "Leader of an 11-person gang, killed in the forest on 2 August 1949." So much for the "cowardly" relative! The commander of a quite sizeable partisan group.

Personal interest in my family and its path turned into a deeper and more serious interest in the path of the Northern Vidzeme partisans. During these studies, my master's thesis was created, which exceeded the volume of a "normal" master's thesis. I later published it as a monograph. What next? I knew that at one time the Latvian National Partisan Association had been founded in the Stompaki forests between Balvi and Viļaka. Logically, I decided to continue the research; I thought that my life's task would be to research the activities of the Latvian National Partisan Association in all regions where it operated. The next region was Northern Latgale. That is how it started, and then I also met the Balvi local historian Zigfrīds Berķis.

Inese: Our first meeting with Z. Berķis is an interesting event. In 2002, a film crew from Hungary was preparing to head from Riga to the Stompaki swamp. We were both informed about this fact; our daughter was three months old at the time. The decision was made quickly – in 10 minutes we found someone to leave the child with, and literally raced to Stompaki, where we met Z. Berķis. As I mentioned before, he also questioned us at first, even interrogated us, trying to understand whether it was worth talking to "these ones" more seriously. So, little by little... Every year in July, we tried, though it didn't always succeed, to set aside a week for similar expeditions: to go to parishes and villages, to talk, to survey, to write down, to record. Working only in Riga, only in the archive, and not being on the spot is not really right. One has to step into the forest, find the paths, pick raspberries, understand – it is important for the study and the researcher! We stayed in the former collective farm "Putj Iļjiča (Lenin's Way)" office, which was already empty and abandoned at the time (2001-2003).

Zigmārs: We set up a tent on the floor in the office building. We had our own headquarters.

Inese: Yes, there were still some beds from the old days there, which one didn't want to use. There were "remnants" of electricity; an aunt from a nearby house brought a kettle. You wake up in the morning, go out, and step into the dew... That is how we lived for several summers, until the time came when... "How about staying in a hotel?"

Zigmārs: Eventually, after several years, arriving at the Balvi hotel and giving my surname, I was asked: "Would you like your usual room?" We were already known.

You both write books. Inese likes to harshly criticise crooked historical articles and literary works. A lot has been said about that. If in childhood one read various literary compositions quite deftly (for example, Vilis Lācis' works), yet at that time it didn't occur to one that we were reading memories or a true reflection of events. What has happened in these times? Has the novel suddenly become something very trustworthy and the historian must be like a watchdog, who from time to time says: "This and that is not true. Read it, but it is fiction!"

Inese: A very good question! I also think about it and wonder...

Zigmārs: In my opinion, it is not much of a wonder, because that generation, which is currently active and in its mature years, does not have, for example, the experience of resistance (personally experienced or felt). We have collaboration, humiliation, cooperation, servitude. If we talk about resistance, for a very large part of the people, it causes hatred and disgust. That is a normal and natural reaction, and it is no wonder that people try to impose their story on others: "We were good and kind, we had to join the Komsomol, join the collective farm, which had an excellent chairman – a truly honourable man, etc." This collaboration element creeps and creeps into people's stories. It is ghostly, though, that it has appeared and activated now. In the 90s, when the generation that had felt and experienced all of this was safe and sound, such thoughts were not expressed so actively. The appearance of similar content 30 years later in an independent country, I admit, is caused by psychological motives. Currently, if one can say so, the experience gained in the 70s-80s is coming out; in short, the Soviet propaganda absorbed and lodged in the memory during youth is being told.

Inese: It comes out in combination with the fact that many eyewitnesses of events are no longer here. What was known no longer "comes" from the person who experienced the situations or events, but in retellings: "I was two or three years old, but I was told that..."

Speaking about what Zigmārs said, it is worrying and makes one angry not only because of the propaganda but because of the crookedly formed perceptions about many events, for example, deportations. Deportations were a top-secret operation. I emphasise: top-secret! What do we hear? "Why did the collective farm chairman tell us that we had been on the lists?" Most likely, it is about the so-called "kulak" (rich farmer) lists, in order to know who had what level of levies imposed on them. These lists were created on the spot! Meanwhile, the "Cheka" was not interested in these documents. "Why did neighbours come to us during the Awakening years and, crying, apologise, saying, we put you on the lists?" Who came? On which lists? Currently, there is no one left to ask, but to understand the situation, a person won't go to the archive himself, won't look at the family deportation file. "I have enough with what grandfather said! You, historian, be quiet!"

Zigmārs: "I don't need your or the archive's papers; I know better, because my grandfather told me."

Inese: Often, in conversations, it becomes clear that grandfather had been two years old at the time... "But he was there and participated!"

Why is it so important right now for someone or some people to emphasise local involvement in the actions of the Soviet regime?

Zigmārs: Because many have the experience of collaboration and humiliation, which they want to impose on others. "Everyone did that, it was good, it's nothing terrible."

Inese: "If we have done so and acted so, and are alive, maybe..." I also see a problem in the lack of control over the fine arts. Sometimes (sometimes!!!!) I am for the idea that "Glavlit" (the censorship body) should be restored, and every trifle and "rubbish" should be passed through a certain sieve to sift out that which definitely shouldn't reach the public sphere. "The artistic truth is more important than the real truth..." Wait, if the composition is complete nonsense, which also contains personal problems. I wait with horror for the moment when someone will write poetry where a forest brother commander writes angry letters to a destroyer commander and a love triangle forms, because both love the party organiser. ...

Zigmārs: That is the moment when history becomes a part of everyday life. There are many layers, and the historian's task is to be evil, nasty, disgusting, and to tear all these layers off, so that only facts remain. A historian must want and be ready to be disliked.

Inese: If a historian wants to work and perform their work qualitatively, they must be ready for the dislike shown by others. It happens that even colleagues in the profession shout at the historian: "Too many facts and too little interpretation!" What, for heaven's sake, does that mean? If one can say so... (...)

You, Zigmārs, have recently had a book published

Zigmārs: "The Northern Latgale Independence Unit. Resistance to Soviet Occupation 1946-1954" is about the events in the Grīva forests near Tilža and, accordingly, the parishes that surround these forests. A partisan group operated there, which formed in 1947. In Nautrēni and Rugāji, meanwhile, at that time there were two student resistance groups. The story is about all of this as well.
1. First publication of the interview: https://www.zemeunvalsts.lv/-vai-dienin-kadas-zemgale-bija-mezabralu-grupas-un-kadus-pigorus-tas-taisija-intervija-ar-vesturnieci-inesi-dreimani-un-vesturnieku-un-lauksaimnieku-zigmaru-turcinski
2. https://lvportals.lv/skaidrojumi/330091-kalendara-ieklauj-jaunas-atceres-dienas-2021
Photographs of Inese Dreimane and Zigmārs Turčinskis, as well as zemeunvalsts.lv, taken at the National Resistance Movement Museum in Renda, have been used