The departure of the warship President Smetona from Klaipėda in 1939.

The twenty-third of March is a day of sad and painful memories for every Lithuanian, especially for those who had to leave Klaipėda in 1939 and thus become the first "exiled" 13 years ago.

At that time in Klaipėda, both on the military and on our merchant ships, nothing was known about Hitler's ultimatum to Lithuania — to hand over Klaipėda to Germany. However, already on the evening before March 23, some concern could be felt on our warship, when one of the officers, upon returning from the city, told the ship's commander that at the railway station, uniformed SA men had pushed Jews who were hurrying with bundles to the evening train to Kaunas. However, the ship's commander noticed that if there had been any important events — the Army Headquarters or the Governorate would have informed the ship's command.

The next morning, March 23, at 8 a.m., while raising the Lithuanian military flag on the ship, sirens suddenly sounded in the city, and red flags with a Nazi swastika were raised on a whole row of ships and houses. The ship's captain Kaškelis immediately rushed to the telephone, and the captain's assistant Labanauskas ordered to give a signal: "Danger! Crew to their places!" Major Engineer Darginavičius ordered to build boilers and prepare the ship's engines. We were skilled, when we heard the alarm signal, to appear at the guns within about one minute. It took about half an hour to build a ship for a march.

Having stopped at our places, we received an order to remain calm and not show any excitement. The ship's commander's face showed concern: he could not contact Kaunas due to the overloaded telephone lines. The assistant commander then said out loud that he had foreseen just such a case, that he had previously written to Kaunas to assign more people to the ship; now there were no services to close the port or protect government ships. We understood his concern when a detachment of SA in black uniforms entered the port and seized the icebreaker "Perkūnas", the submarine "Jūras" and other port excavation and dredging ships. Another detachment of them approached the warship ... Seeing us, stopped at the machine guns and automatic guns, the SA men stopped a few dozen meters away, on the quay, between the training ship and the port authority ships. As far as I remember, after about half an hour, our high-ranking officer arrived from Kaunas, from the Military Technical Headquarters. We heard that a squadron of German warships was arriving in Klaipėda at about 10 a.m. with Hitler himself on the cruiser “Deutschland” . . .

We each experienced a variety of feelings: we were worried about what would happen to the families left behind, because we could not contact them by phone or in any other way, standing guard with our weapons at the ready; we were worried about what the ship's command would do; whether we would have to shoot each other; where would we sail; what would our future be? The ship was already shaking from the machines being tested, and the more important items from the storehouse and headquarters were being loaded onto it.

In the port near Dangė, there were also coastal police ships. There was also a sense of excitement in them. The commander of the “Partizan” Tamašauskas, the senior officers of the “Savanoris”, “Vėjo”, “Vilnies” and other boats had gathered on the warship and were discussing what to do. After that, as far as I remember, a couple of German-born marine policemen stayed on shore and refused to sail, the police ships started their engines and headed out into the lagoon, towards the sea.

The departure of our ship was exciting. On the shore near the ships, uniformed Germans and a few relatives were gathered, standing silently, not knowing what to do. After a quick exchange of a few words with them, the retreat from the quay began, where so much had been worked, studied, created, from where so many people had been taken to the seas in the summers, to be introduced to the training work of a warship and future plans, to properly position Lithuania among the maritime states.

The whistle and the ship's officers' commands did not allow us to think for long. Once in the lagoon, we looked at the embankment and the city... Another scarf was still waving on the embankment. Black uniforms were already visible on the ships in the port. From the quays of the commercial port, the "Panevėžys" led by Captain Monkevičius, of course, Krištupaitis' "Kaunas", Kaminskas' "Mariampolė", "Šiauliai", under the command of Marcinkus, and other ships were moving towards the sea. I remember standing at the helm. In the combined current of the Curonian Lagoon and the Nemunas, our warship was waiting for the merchant ships to go out to sea. Finally, the white-bearded sea captain Kaškelis ordered to give the signal to launch both machines forward: the "President Smetona" shuddered and moved towards the port opening.

I asked Labanauskas, the ship's assistant captain, who was standing nearby: "What course are we heading after we go out to sea?" "To the north!" he replied thoughtfully. A little later, in a calm, convincing voice, he added: "We will still come back here one day. .."

Warming up and wiping away his sweat, the ship's engineer, Major Darginavičius, then appeared on the bridge.

"Where are we going?" he asked the commander.

"Let's see..." said the ship's captain, Kaškelis, after taking his pipe out of his mouth.

What happened next with this ship without a harbor — we'll remember next time.