About Latvian riflemen in the Olaine area

(..) We spent the night near the battlefield in artillery bunkers. In the morning we had to go to "Lapsa", near the Olaine station, where we spent a few days and nights under the open sky, in the forest. When we learned that we would have to stay in place for a few more days, we set about building earthen huts energetically. The doors to the dugouts, due to the lack of boards, were made of spruce branches. Wire for the hinges and bricks for the stoves could be obtained in full at the destroyed Olaine station, where, as our Russian neighbors told us, we could not go because the Germans could see and shoot. After about a week we left "Lapsa" and went to the battalion headquarters, which was located near the Baloži station. (..)

(..)As soon as a German rocket appears, even though their trenches are on the other side of the swamp, we lie down. As morning dawns, we split into a thin chain. Our training team is on the right wing of the chain. Before we reach the German trenches, we have to walk for a long time through small bushes covered with snow, with each touch the snow falls behind our collars, our feet sink into the swamp, and the bag of belongings drags our shoulders. As we walk through the bushes, we have to be careful not to stray from each other. All the time we hear machine gun fire on the left wing of the chain, where our company was located. Our artillery also starts working. Bullets also start whizzing towards us. Some whizz past, some explode in front of us, hitting a tree branch. We don't shoot, because we can't see the enemy, but we just move forward. None of the enemy bullets are hiding either. We can start here too, because the "Fritz" are close. The firing began to intensify. Nearby I hear a long drawn-out groan, which leaves a depressing impression amidst the hiss of bullets. One of our comrades has fallen. We quickly undress him; a small hole is visible in his chest, through which new life is flowing out. The second one also falls. I remember a certain farmer from Tukums County, Mūri, who already believed in Latvia and felt the greatest hatred for the Germans. He had disappeared after the battle. Only the following spring did Russian soldiers find his body. Involuntarily I realize how all those who loved the Latvian people the most have all fallen, starting with Briežis and ending with an unknown, unnoticed rifleman. Yes, they had bright souls. We cross a path cut through the forest. We lie down. Some of the braver ones are standing. The Germans have fallen silent. We asked our commander for permission to attack the German trench, but since our company had not been able to break into the German trenches, we were not allowed to do so. We also had no reinforcements. We were just a thin line. We lay on the rope and watched. Here one of our comrades, a brave Courland man who had fallen in the March battle, fired a shot. We saw a German helmet flying over the small birch trees. With another shot, another comrade killed another German. Both Germans were carrying a box of cartridges. Here I saw something moving in the bushes opposite, I told my comrade next to me how to shoot. We both fired at the same time. Immediately the bushes parted and an old German with a bleeding hand appeared, who with his helmet and spiky beard gave the impression of Mephistopheles. He shouted not to shoot, because there were five children at home. We captured him, but it was unnatural to touch him. He was taken away by Russian soldiers. With my comparison, perhaps I am doing him an injustice, perhaps he was an honest family man, detached from his everyday work, but at that moment he left a bad impression. There was also a time later when I was very indignant about the war, seeing the torment of a seriously wounded enemy. But all such moments could only leave a passing impression, because there was a war...