ear
of 1905, Estonia near Tallinn
The horse drawn hay sled skidded
along the rutted path. The desperate blizzard intensified as if simple
snow flakes could put out the flame of insult to the people of this land.
The turn of the century has not been good for the little country of Estonia.
Once again invaded and forced to bear the yoke of foreign rulers, the Estonians
withdrew into themselves, the only defense left.
The floor of the hay sled was heavily
caked with snow and ice mingled with straw and mud. Thick pine fence posts
had been used to restrain the prisoners and yet allow them to be herded
like cattle. The poles were laid horizontally up against their backs and
their arms looped around them and secured with rope. The bondage rendered
the arms useless except to scratch their bony ribs. They had even bound
up the proud, crinkle faced old woman with the large straight nose, glittering
gray eyes, and the colorful shawl, perhaps a romantic at heart. Five brazen
young Russian soldiers armed with guns and aggression, and five placid
Estonian prisoners with naught.
None of the prisoners, said anything
as they were shoved into the sled which was typical of this stoic nation,
after all, there were strangers amongst them. However the armed men were
bursting with loud threats and delighted in making, what they though must
surely be inferior, people bend to foreign tongue lashings.
Both German and Russian soldiers
in a cooperative movement against the Estonians, were going from farm to
farm and village collecting captives. Anywhere there had been a disturbance,
a circle was laid out about a kilometer radius, all persons within that
circle were to be burned at the stake in the capitol square as an example.
In some cases they had gathered the few people living and traveling in
this area on the pretense of issuing a new edict, and were interviewing
people one at a time, then they were seized and bound. When the soldiers
had everyone bound up, they announced that the people would all burn at
the stake before nightfall.
Jaany, a young man, very short for
his age but very sturdy, focused on the rough wooden railing that had been
rounded and smoothed from years of hard work. He silently cursed himself
for allowing capture and was swearing at the situation, a typical Estonian
reaction to trouble.
The heavy blizzard reminded Jaan
how he was one of the two boys and three girls who survived after scarlet
fever had swept his family when he was in his early teens. He hadn't grown
an inch since then and was often taken for a young boy. Their Papa had
gone for the doctor in a similar blizzard as this, and it took him many
days to return, by then six of his children had already died. He did not
bear his grief well, Jaan still remembered him shouting at his wife, "You
let them die, you let them die". And now, after all that, it was Jaan's
turn to die for a far more foolish reason.
"Courrat, this cannot be the
end. for my life still flows strongly, I can feel it, It's not my time,
not yet. Gotdamn, gotdamn!".
But he stood there erect, calmly
almost blandly, only another Estonian could see his anguish, the galvanizing
look in the eyes over the traditional straight nose of Esto.
His thoughts strayed to the night
of folly. Dark threatening clouds masked the night air, a half moon struggled
to rise in the eastern sky as the wind picked up and hurled itself into
bushes and trees. Several confused shadows sped along through the dappled
patches of grey, black and white. At last they stood still, their hot breath
misting in the cool night air, young men on the verge of manhood ready
to make a violent political statement. Their peril was indeed serious,
for it endangered their friends, their family and many Estonians that were
not even aware of the young men and their intention.
They had chosen to participate in
Red Sunday, the well organized secret national protest against the illegal
and internationally uncontested take over of Estonia by the Russians. This
was the apex of many harassment strikes by several small bands of Estonians.
They had chosen the castle of a foreign nobleman as their target, a raid.
The noblemans cruelty toward Eesti was well known, a few Estonians fathers
had even gone to the Russians to issue complaint but they were shipped
off to the interior of Russia and the nobleman continued as before. Tonight,
that would change.
Jaan carried a hoe handle as his
weapon of destruction, he had led them to the boundary of the castle, it
was decided that a surprise attack with a great deal of noise and fast
activity was the best hope of making a mark with the least potential for
anyone to get hurt. Each had a job to do, but the noise and activity was
more a distraction from the real job of setting fire to the castle in the
hopes of destroying his wealth and therefore, his power. They had decided
to call their little band, the Forest Brothers. Another generation would
once again use that name, "The Forest Brothers" in the fight
against foreign rule.
"Go!" the Estonians broke
through the gate rattling pans and shouting as they ran into the darkened
grounds of the estate. One group went to the right, a few to the left and
the most noisy crashed through the garden entrance which were glass doors.
They were shouting in Estonian then Russian "Everyone get out by order
of the Estonian Forest Brothers!", the panicked servants fled but
up on the second floor, in a darkened hallway unnoticed, the nobleman with
a wicked face and a large belly unsheathed a saber and slipped into his
private study.
Jaan found himself upstairs in the
large room with a massive desk and many shelves with books. He could smell
smoke and knew he had to hurry. They must have some proof, something valuable,
something appropriate, paintings were all over the wall, then he spied
a glass case between two heroic paintings, inside lay a treasured double
edged dagger, gold and silver braids with several precious jewels in the
hilt and butt end. In the glass there was a movement that puzzled him for
a moment. Jaan heard effort and a whistling sound as he ducked as the blade
smashed into the daggers case with a mighty crash of glass. He rotated
under the nobelman's slice and smoothly swung his pathetic hoe handle from
down low as the man still whirled out of control from his missed thrust.
There was a loud crack as Jaan's hoe handle caught the nobleman squarely
in the back of the ear knocking him face first into the shattered glass
case. The nobleman went limp as he bounced lifelessly off of the wall slightly
and the settled back, his head looked strangely askew. Blood spattering
and drenching the richly textured wall as he slid to the floor.
Thick black smoke was billowing into the room, Jaan started to run out, then hesitated and started coughing, he ran back in to the room and seized the back of the limp Nobleman's collar and dragged him bumping along behind.
Jaan found himself standing outside
and wondered how he had got here, he looked at his hand which held the
dagger, a classic 'T' shape with a thin tapered blade with sharpened edges
both top and bottom. It's beauty did not please him, the jewels and gold
crown glowed a grotesque bright red color in the glare of the burning mansion,
it had indeed been a red Sunday.
Jaan's thoughts turned to worry
whether or not he had hidden the dagger thoroughly enough. He retraced
the steps he made back at his families farm. He remembered stopping within
sight of the back door still clutching the dagger. He had gone to the barn
and found a strip of deerskin and soaked it in bear grease. He carefully
wrapped the dagger up and tied it fast with leather tongs. He then got
a shovel and proceeded into the forest, too close to his families farm
he now thought, much too close.
He wondered if the nobleman had
recovered, no news to confirm that one way or the other yet, he hadn't
told anyone and vowed to himself that he never would, ever. He went outside
to work on his families farm. His cousin came running up and stopped him
just outside.
"Jaany, Jaany! They're burning
people in the Tallin town square because of Red Sunday! His friend towered
over Jaan, but it didn't seem to matter, they all looked to Jaan as the
leader. The boy in massive mans body put his huge paws on Jaan's shoulders,
"You've got to go save him, their gon'na kill him, burn him at the
stake. You just got to do something!"
Jaan turned from his internal turmoil
and focused, "Okay, okay, go get the twins, and I'll get our other
brothers and we'll meet at the square as fast as we can." yet another
burden was laid on his shoulders heavier than his friends hands.
As they rounded the corner, they
saw it was hopeless, the streets were filled with armed soldiers. A girl
ran up to them as the flames leaped up from the pyre, "Jaany, they
have, Pri- one of the Forest Brothers who lived near the castle. He had
just told all! Names everything! You have to get away from here!"
Jaan stuttered "What"
he was having trouble pulling his attention away from his friend to listen
to her.
She continued urgently, "It's
worse, much worse" Jaan urged her to keep her voice down. "But
it's worse! They know who you are, there's a price on your head Jaan Tomingas,"
she hissed, "a big one, that General over there just announced it,
he wants the leader caught and a particular example made of him, you!"
Jaan was taken aback somewhat in
shock, in a rush of understanding he realized that his life here was over,
it was only a matter of time. A calm acceptance came over him, "Meis
geus gahs". The girl fled. It started snowing.
From above the town square it looked
as though the whole bloody German aristocracy all turned out dressed for
an occasion and were drunk and laughing from the balconies. They seemed
to think of it as some grand Roman party!
They saw their friends hair catch on fire, the smell of burning flesh filled the thick air. Then from a distance behind them a Russian officer notice the little band of friends carrying sticks. "Courrat! Esti, say das vadania to your vile friends and your lives too!" He began to run toward them fumbling for his pistol and shouting in German to get the attention of the Germans.
The General standing above the crowd
whirled around and also saw them, "Acht, Gott en Himmel, there's more
behind us! Mach schnell."
"Run, scatter!" barked
Jaan as more soldiers were rallied to attack, leveling rifles. He hurled
his hoe handle at the Russian just as the Officer got within pistol range,
and incredibly, it smacked him square in the forehead knocking his hat
off and staggering him at first, then the Russian calmly collapsed against
a wall.
Shots rang through the city, dodged
more troops by running through two houses to get to some back streets,
and finally to the out skirts of town along the farms. Jaan ran followed
by his big friend they finally paused for breath.
Jaan said, "We've got to get
off the streets, sooner or later we'll run into them."
Jaan didn't know what to do, what
about his family. He thought they would not round up innocents indiscriminately
and kill them, they were running out of strength from the long chase. He
placed his ear on the ground, "Horses, lots of them, coming fast,
we're aren't going to make it to the forest".
The big man beside him was in tears,
"I think I could see his eyelids burn away, he started screaming.
I can't get the stench out of my" he stopped abruptly and turned green.
To Jaan's alarm, his cousin retched right on the spot. Then he continued
but with more of a burbling sound. "What are we going to do!"
Then Jaan had an idea, there was
a Church in a small community within sight and would likely be the safest
place until night fall, the farms are certain to be searched and too much
open territory to go through. "Running in the open is too dangerous,
we've got to make it to the church and wait for the cover of darkness".
The horsemen came into sight, just as they rushed into the church.
There was a service going on, and
they found seats. But his friend could not sit still. " I can't stand
this, I'm going to the glen and hide out in the forest, I'm going to the
forest glen" and he bolted out of the side door to the Church, a few
people turned and stared for a moment but then went back to prayer. Jaan's
lungs ached, his heart ached.
Almost immediately through the open
door, he saw Russian soldiers coming, "Keep calm" he had thought
it would just be questions, they surrounded the little church. As he sat
there, he decided a Russian Orthodox Church might have been a better idea.
Actually he concluded, any church or gathering place was probably a dumb
idea. As he secretly expected but had hoped against, the soldiers did not
respect the sanctity of the church, they marched in, guns leveled at the
parishners, and ordered them out one at a time. Jaan grimly thought "Oh
folly of follies, what have I done".
While he was taken prisoner, it
became obvious the Russians didn't know who he was, but that was little
comfort if his destiny was the stake either way. A group of them were led
over to a nearby farm where they were put on the sled, the sled made it's
way into the forest to gather more prisoners before heading back to the
town square of Tallinn.
A lurch from the sled sent the old
woman into him and shook him out of his revere, it had become evening,
she whispered reproachfully "Missa mutlat!". Jaan blinked and
said "Missonne?" The butt of a rifle against his head ended the
conversation. A blanket of gray concealed the far terrain while the thick
falling fluffs of snow blurred the nearby features.
They eased down a steep slope into
a creek bed long since frozen over. Steam rose from the backs and white
frosted nostrils of the horses as they strained in powerful surges to pull
the heavy sled up the opposing side. They were nearly out of the forest
and that meant that Tallinn and a deadly fate wasn't very far away.
Not able to grasp onto anything
with their arms bound up everyone, except Jaan and the old woman, were
having a great deal of trouble standing, it made Jaan wonder why she had
fallen into him. Even the soldiers were having a hard time keeping an eye
on them and avoiding being pitched off the sled. Jaan knew why he could
stand, it was like being on the deck of a boat in heavy seas, but how did
the old woman manage it he wondered.
As the mighty horses jerked at their
harnesses, clambering for the top of the rise, a young boy slipped and
went down, he came up yowling with a bloody nose. The old woman took the
opportunity to look knowingly at Jan, telling him something with her eyes,
then she tossed a glance up and to the right. she knew this place, then
it dawned on him, this was her sled, her horses, she had probably driven
them along this route many times, but what was she telling him.
She moved between the guard on the
right side of the sled and Jaan. They crested the barren ridge and he could
see lights of Tallinn below, they started accelerating down into a heavily
forested canyon area, the woman grunted and tossed her head to the right
while holding Jaan fast with her steely eyes, then she smiled as the sled
suddenly lurched down to the right in a deep mud hole. The old woman fell
into the guard, the pole smacking him squarely in the face. Jaan placed
his foot on the rail as the sled bottomed out in the rut and bounded over
the railing, aided by the thrust of the rocking sled wrenching up out of
the hole. Landing at a dead run on top of a big drift, his face plowed
through the snow as his legs kicked at the ground trying to get the rest
of the body up, snow packed into his nose and mouth as muffled thumping
gasping sounds surrounded him. Then the impact with a snow covered log
bounced Jaan's upper torso into an upright position. He thought that the
lack of planning, at least on his part, just may be an advantage.
Trees flashed by, dead lower branches
whipping his wet face. A shot exploded nearly drowning out the thundering
of his heart followed by a strange sickening thunk as it sunk into a nearby
tree. But the next crack of powdery hot molten lead, bored through Jaan's
body.
Bursting with adrenaline as only
the fear of a premature death giving chase can bring, he at first thought
that he had just stumbled, but he kept stumbling. It finally occurred to
him that his leg had a bullet hole in it, but rather than dampening his
spirit, it made his anger rise and he put more energy into running.
The log restraining his arms made
it impossible to protect his face as he ran through the dense bramble of
winter barren choke cherry thickets, Tomingas bushes. He was nearly out
of sight, partially hidden by the heavy wet snow dumping on the forest.
But the blood, they could easily follow the tracks even in this heavy blizzard
with bright red blood on white snow pointing directly to him, he couldn't
go on forever running on a bad leg from healthy men with guns.
He felt himself weakening from the
blood loss, the cold air hurt his lungs as he pumped in gallons. Delirium
was approaching from sheer exhaustion when he staggered to far to his right
and nearly fell into the deep gaping gorge that paralleled his path . In
his daze, he nearly ran right off the cliff, careening wildly, slipping
and stumbling, but managing to stay upright, he stood swaying on the precipice.
Suddenly, someone shoved him from
behind, sending him skittering off the edge into the steep canyon, he tried
to run, desperately trying to get control back, but the strides became
further apart and finally his downward momentum outran him and the weakened
leg crumpled. He plunged headlong down the slope, curled into a ball and
bounced high into the air.
A white spinning blur was all he
could see as he bounced and bounced yet again down the treacherous cliff
toward the rock filled river. He began to wonder if he would ever stop
bouncing.
It was a very long time in coming,
but, the quiet was steadily gaining around him, and finally, he stopped
spinning and tried to concentrate on what happened and where he was. Everything
was white, brilliantly, wonderfully white, a depth of glowing white that
he did not know existed. The fascination with the sparkling color white
kept his mind from focusing on the obvious conclusion.
But then he saw a speck of black,
no two, three black spots, patterns. One black thing was more black greenish,
no it was a hole. He could see into another world, then he remembered.
On the verge of total collapse, he held his breath as long as possible,
and listened very carefully, he was deaf. Finally his aching lungs coughed
and shattered his snow shelter, but with a surge of joy he had heard the
cough. He jabbed at his snow filled ears and listened again, just the river
sounds, no sounds of running, or shouts of anger.
He eyes drifted down to his wounded
leg, nothing, it wasn't there, his groggy thoughts tried to deal with the
evidence, "Where did it go, did it break off in the fall?" Then
it was all white again. He dug around in the white snow and found it, some
blood, not much. THE BOOTS! Those wonderful high sturdy boots, all the
blood had drained into the boots, none on the ground, no obvious trail
of red. He laid still for a moment watching his steamy breath rise, wondering
why his pursuers had not found him, then he remembered the snow shell that
was around him when he awoke.
How long had it been, are they still
looking? His thoughts were coming into order and he noticed the leg was
getting cold, not a good sign. Could it be true, had he really escaped
the henchman's clutches? No, someone, or something, had shoved him off
the cliff, maybe they thought he was dead. He noticed that the moon shone
though a patch in the clouds making ice crystals in the air and on the
snow dance in brilliant colors, somehow it felt safe, quiet and very private.
He looked back up the cliff wall,
his breath was coming in shuddering gasps. It was a steep cliff, and he
had fallen right through a small cornice which had covered him up, he could
not have done it better on purpose he marveled.
He carefully reached down to tend
his bloody leg. He was afraid to make sudden movements or he might wake
from a fragile dream and still find himself on the death sled. He also
was knew that movement is what betrays hunted animals.
Jaan broke out in an ironic smirk
as he noticed that with the fear and all the power it creates, he had broken
the sturdy stick in two freeing up his arms which is why he didn't break
his neck in the fall. He was impressed, he didn't think he was that strong,
this pole was thicker than a mans arm and still green. He gazed at the
ends of the pole, dangling from the rope still lashed to his wrists. Where
it had broken, he noticed something odd about the break. He turned one
tip up where he could examine it in detail. There was a smooth dent about
the size of his finger on the end.
A cold thought began to form in
his mind that made the hair on his back stand on end. A hasty look at the
other broken piece confirmed the story of a well placed bullet. A bullet
intended for his back had hit the stick instead. Was the leg his only wound?
Maybe he was dead after all.
Of course, the impact of the bullet,
that's what had shoved him off the cliff. A mad scramble ensued in an attempt
to find a bullet hole in his back. The revelations that came in these brief
moments cemented a humility in regards to life and mankind's feeble dealings
with it, the bullet had not reached his back.
He and his cousin found each other,
they stayed in a tree house they constructed in the middle of the forest
through the entire winter, now they really were, Forest Brothers.
At one point they were nearly frozen
to death because they had become so thin. Slowly starving, cloths in rags,
the winter was too harsh to continue this way. They made their way toward
civilization and came upon a lonely Russian Orthodox church in the woods.
There were people bringing in packages
and food. It was evident that there was going to be a celebration of some
sort. He waited as some ceremony was performed, and then when the group
all went down to the river bank, they dashed for the back window.
The window did not have a lock,
so he scrambled in. He took a table cloth and filled it with all the food
he could, even in his haste he tried not to mess the setting up too much,
it would be disappointment enough for them when they got back and discovered
the missing treats.
He ate until he was nearly sick, and then carefully hid the rest in the makeshift tree house.
When spring came, they were at a
point where they could not continue and decided to try to go into the city,
and try to get aboard one of the vessels going to Sweden. Abruptly around
a corner a policeman stopped them, shouting, "Kula Boise! Oastsen
Valez". They looked hopelessly at each other, then realized he was
pointing at their pants, Jaan's in particular, ragged pants, particularly
at the crotch, "Hold it boys, your in is out!".
They made their way to Sweden and took up new lives, new professions, the cousin became a doctor and Jaan took up carpentry, a more private endeavor he thought, less people to deal with who might be too curious about his past. When the both came to North America, Jaan's nervousness must have rubbed off on his cousin, he changed his name. There were large Estonian communities in Boston and Canada that provided support and friendship and the cousins drifted apart.