Army presence in Mangalsala

“(..) We cross the Daugava branch dam, where the arrested district begins. The road bends in the forest. Can't see any pedestrians. Silence. The forest of mixed trees smells so primitive intoxicating that you want to breathe deeply, deeply. We turn along a small, overgrown path. What a strange, low, massive building here - in the middle of the forest! - It was built by the Sapper Regiment. I am surrounded by this small fortress and this is what it is about. AI comes to mind. Green's masterful story "Block House". It remains a strange, fearful feeling. A little further we pass across the road. Old forts. Their gray surfaces resemble wide giant backs. Surrounded by light birch greenery, red alder and dark green crests of pine. And strangely - walking in the ruins of old castles, climbing old towers - nowhere have I had the feeling of standing by these, not very high, heavy giants in the middle of the forest. It seems that you should not speak loudly and laugh here - you should come here quietly, look here and leave quietly again. Well, we are not far from the camps anymore. At the next fort we meet soldiers. Guard. Tarpaulins (cannons covered with covers, as if another small country with its own laws, rules and procedures begins. Now we often find war men, both in groups and one by one. tan - here would be the real "balm". Next, two guys come from the sea, both brown and like coffee beans: "It hurt to not live on the edge of a big forest ..." The smiling hostess - like the good spirit of the kitchen - is stirring a great cook. also gives a pleasant impression of the painted stones and the representation of the battalion's meanings formed by cement casting. They are already a kind of work of art. Outside the rows of tents, there are several small houses, where officers and instructors with their families live. At some cottages even a small bright small garden and gazebo. The white-covered tables show that the inhabitants of these small summer houses are used to keeping azides in the open air. Great life in the camp. Visitors come. An old mother is sitting next to a blue-colored giant. She brought a village bribe - strawberries. With her gray head tilted, she listens to her grandson's riding tongue. Probably he tells) what good, because they both laugh at the laughs. A piece further, in the shade - a family idyll. A little boy and his mother have come to Dad's village. The son climbed into dad's lap. He taps his finger on the insignia and counts the stripes: "One, two ..." Dad ii * two stripes. At times he pushes a cheek on his father's cheek, but then he studies the insignia again ... Even further - for a soldier - two visitors. Both of them are equally beautiful and fun. He sat between the two and did not know which to watch more often. Oh, sometimes it's not good that happiness is too much! We have to ask for a little information, and we turn to the next soldier. For him - blue eyes and a wide, kind smile. He speaks the language in the Latgalian dialect. Son of Ezerzeme. He speaks slowly and smiles wide and a little mulsi all the time. A real street with a sidewalk leads along the accommodation. There's a chef's white hat and apron in the door of a house. Somewhere, behind the grove, new voices are sung: "Where you grow up, beautiful daughter ..." Voices run like hawks to the tops of trees, but we do not see the singers themselves. Opposite is a slender soldier holding hands with a blond girl. They don't say a word, they just smile at each other and - apparently - they understand wonderfully. Let someone else say that the eyes do not have their own language; especially if the owners of these eyes are young. We have arrived at the bus stop, here a straw-shaped mushroom was built for the bus waiters in rainy weather. The orchard, arranged in beautiful, straight rows across the road, delights the eyes. Then we hear the bus engine roar. Already five beautiful hours have flown here - in the breath of the sea, in the roar of the trees - watching a flourishing, powerful youth. Gatherers and stayers gather. There is much more to be said and told to them. "Excavations, definitely excavations - I'll wait," the Twitter girl. The soldier counts the days at his fingertips. "By Wednesday at the latest, you will have a letter!" - Long hand babysitter hand. It's hard for them to divorce. A blond-haired nobleman, with bright insignia, accompanies his mother.- "Greet father and brother - see you next Sunday!" The bus is almost full. The slender soldier also brings his blond hair. Again, they say almost nothing. A few quiet words. Fearfully, he ran away from the slender fingers at the touch of his lips. The bus is already running. The blond girl just manages to get on. At the small, round cashier, she looks at her angrily and sneezes: "You had enough time to say goodbye!" The blonde says nothing. She still has a smile on her lips. She says goodbye. She has beautiful blue eyes, a quiet, self-directed view. On the ring finger of the right hand - a fine ring with a ruby, - an engagement ring. Is it any wonder that saying goodbye is not so easy and the earner's sharp note slips into his ears? Also the little boy seen in the camp with his mother on the bus. The little boy has so much to ask that it is difficult for the mother to cope with his great curiosity. "Papa shoots: puff!" - I hear from the end of the bus. The boys are flushed to the boy like a pink apple. The little cashier starts charging money. She is almost still childish, but plays a "real lady". She throws up her lips, she confidently hands us the tickets, arranging a naughty curl on her forehead with her other hand. Everything is going perfectly, and her fingers, pink varnished, hand out tickets and reach for money. But then - an unpleasant incident with some older soldiers - knights of the Lāčplēsis War Order. It turns out that the cashier does not know the Lāčplēsis War Order, although it stretches and quarrels over the mentioned soldiers, drawing the attention of all riders. We are all uncomfortable with the big mouth of the little "lady". The bus runs and swings easily like in a swing. Pavīds Ziemeļblāzma ... Sarkandaugava ... Soon we are driving on the straight, "steep R3" streets. I would like to raise my hand for a greeting - send greetings to them - in a city full of tents and sea breath! (..) ”