The Mascot (9 page)

“My attitude toward him changed for a moment. I was captivated, as if we shared a special bond. It felt nice. I can't find another word for it, just nice to be there on his lap feeling the warmth of his hug.

“Then he reached across for a piece of paper and wrote something down on it. Still cradling me on his lap, he pointed at what he'd written and said, ‘Kurzemnieks.' He put the pencil into my hand, but I didn't know how to hold it. I'd never been to school, never learned to read or write. Commander Lobe was surprisingly gentle with me: he positioned the pencil in my hand and wrapped his hand around mine, trying to guide it to copy my name. He was patient with my clumsiness as I slowly began to master the first few letters.

“Then he indicated that I should try it by myself. I occupied myself with this—full of a desire to see both men pleased with my efforts and mastery—while they talked across me.

“As their conversation continued, I could tell that it had become serious and urgent. I kept my ears pricked, and even though it was in Latvian I got the gist of it; the sergeant was trying to convince Commander Lobe that I should stay with his troop.

“The commander listened closely to Sergeant Kulis's words. Sometimes his face looked doubtful, and at other times he smiled, nodding in agreement. Occasionally I could feel him staring into the back of my head, again coldly appraising me.

“Suddenly the commander slapped his thighs and gave me a tight squeeze around the waist. I sensed the sergeant's relief. Then the commander got up, and Sergeant Kulis indicated that I should salute again. I jumped to attention, determined to be the perfect soldier.

“The commander dismissed us from the room, and in my last glimpse of him that day I saw him reaching for the telephone on his desk with an absorbed look on his face.

“When we got outside, the sergeant lifted me onto his shoulders and galloped around the yard like a horse so that the other soldiers there also joined in making whooping noises until it reached a crescendo.

“I laughed out loud. I knew that something momentous had been decided—they were not going to line me up and shoot me—that Sergeant Kulis had been planning something for me and Commander Lobe had agreed to it. But at that stage I had no idea what it was that lay in store for me.”

I
screamed the place down. The corporal—he was called Rozes—had lifted me into a metal tub full of icy-cold water and was trying to get my underpants off. I gripped them for dear life and firmly stood my ground, fending him off. I couldn't get Sergeant Kulis's warning out of my head. I went wild so that there was water splashed everywhere. I hated water. In the months in the forest I'd got used to living in my own filth. It made me feel secure”—he chuckled to himself—“and there was no way I was going to give up that little comfort. Eventually he got fed up with my antics. ‘Very well,' he said. ‘Have it your way. Leave them on!'”

My father was explaining an incident that had happened after Commander Lobe had decided to let him stay with the soldiers. His story had begun to take on momentum and I remained largely silent.

“I was covered in soap and shivering,” he continued. “The corporal knelt beside the tub with his shirtsleeves rolled up and attempted to scrub me.

“Suddenly the door to the washroom flew open and Sergeant Kulis stormed in. ‘Quiet down!' he snapped at me. ‘The entire barracks can hear you.' Sergeant Kulis then dismissed Corporal Rozes, who seemed pleased not to be responsible for me anymore, and drew up a stool next to the washtub.

“I was still grimly gripping my wet underpants. He gave me a broad smile and then said, ‘Good.'

“He lifted me out of the tub and began to dry me vigorously with a towel. I liked that. My body felt alive and tingling, just as when my mother dried me. For a moment I forgot everything, all the misery I'd experienced.

“Sergeant Kulis was happy and laughing, too, as he rubbed me down. Then he wrapped the towel around me.

“At that precise moment Commander Lobe entered. I hadn't seen him since the day he'd agreed to let me stay with the soldiers. He instantly noted my wet underpants. For a moment he seemed perplexed by the sight of me: he looked me up and down and was on the point of saying something when Sergeant Kulis suddenly leaped to attention in a very exaggerated way.

“I knew that the sergeant was trying to distract him, and it did the trick because Commander Lobe seemed to have a change of heart about me: he gave the sergeant a curious look, telling him to relax, and then turned to me. He gave me a broad smile and looked genuinely pleased to see me.

“The commander had a parcel under his arm. He told me that it was a gift for me. I followed him into the next room, where he set the package down.

“I removed the wrapping, then the lid. It was a pale blue jacket. Then it dawned on me that it was a uniform just like the soldiers' but in miniature. It was in the same color blue as theirs, with all the same flashes, buttons, and badges. Underneath it were shiny black boots and jodhpurs as well.

“The commander ordered me to put on the outfit there and then. It had been made especially for me and fitted perfectly.

“We struggled a little to get my swollen feet into the shiny black boots, but eventually we succeeded. I looked sleek and elegant. I was no longer a clown in my oversized boots and my overcoat. I had become a miniature version of Commander Lobe.

“Then the commander produced something else for me. It was a thick leather belt. He buckled it around my waist, and from his jacket he drew out a small, glistening pistol. He made a great show of placing it in a holster that was attached to my new belt. Then he stepped back from me, appraising me. I felt proud, but I was also uneasy about what he had turned me into. Deep down, I knew this was not me. The commander was pleased with what he saw and saluted me formally. When I tried to return the salute, I stumbled in the heavy uniform, belt, and pistol, which all together probably weighed more than I did. I felt like the awkward, clumsy boy I was and not the strong soldier I was pretending to be.

“Sergeant Kulis watched us from the doorway and as the commander led me over to a full-length mirror. I barely recognized myself. In fact, I had no memory of ever having seen my reflection before.

“The commander took a box camera from his military holdall and positioned me against the opposite wall. He made me pull my shoulders back and thrust my jaw forward into the air. I had to hold the pose while the camera clicked over and over. There was no satisfying him. ‘Turn this way,' he told me, ‘now turn that way.' The camera clicked some more. ‘Take the gun out!' he ordered. ‘Point it there! Stand nice and still!' More clicks! I was exhausted after all this.

“That night the soldiers took over a small café in a town nearby for a celebration. I was the guest of honor.

“I sat at the head of a long table on Sergeant Kulis's knee. The table was overflowing with food and drink, and the soldiers made sure that I had enough of everything I desired. Needless to say they all got drunk and high-spirited very quickly. They were singing patriotic songs—some nonsense about wild eagles flying over Latvia and the bears in the forest—and clapping and cheering loudly, disturbing the other customers.”

“So on the one hand you loved being with these men, but on the other hand you thought they were fools?” I asked.

“Well, not fools then, just very strange. They weren't like any people I'd known before. They were…” My father raised his eyes to the ceiling as he sought out the word that would satisfy him. Then his face brightened. “Oafs. That's it! They were clumsy oafs.

“You say I loved being with them. That's not correct, either. I was grateful to them, and I had to be sure that they could see how grateful I was. I laughed and clapped with them.

“Commander Lobe arrived later and immediately snatched me off the sergeant and stood me up on the table. He made a toast to me, and the soldiers raised their glasses. They all looked up at me as if I were the most important person in their lives.” My father broke into a smile. “So I did a little jig there and then on the tabletop, to please them. They clapped for me wildly, as if I were a star.

“Then the commander must have noticed that a customer at a neighboring table was watching me out of the corner of his eye. Not surprising, if you picture me there on the table dancing in my blue uniform. The commander said something harsh to the man, and the man quickly got up to leave. As he passed our table, the commander ordered him to stop and bow to me before letting the frightened man scurry away. I felt terrible—the commander's attitude was wrong. I knew that. But of course I couldn't utter a single word of protest.

“I clambered down off the table. The soldiers had been feeding me capfuls of vodka and I must've fallen asleep because the next thing I recall was the sergeant tucking me, still in uniform, into my bunk in the barracks.

“I woke early the next morning with a terrible hangover. I wanted to stay in my bunk and not move a muscle, but one of the soldiers came to drag me out of it. On the way to the mess hall he joked that I'd have to learn to hold my liquor if I was going to be a soldier. Fortunately, the tasteless breakfast gruel and the strong black tea fortified me.

“Later that morning we set off on patrol. We trudged on and on in the forest without a break. It was tough going and gradually I lagged behind. At one point the sergeant dropped back next to me and took me by the hand. ‘Keep up,' he told me. ‘Behave like a proper little soldier. Look at the special uniform you've been given.'

“I nodded enthusiastically. I didn't want to make any of the soldiers fly off the handle at me. In the short time I'd been with them I'd quickly learned not to do anything that would make them irate.”

“What sort of things made them angry?” I asked.

“I couldn't predict. More often than not they lashed out when they were drunk, but I had to be on the alert always. I was forever telling myself to stay out of their way.”

He continued, “By the middle of the day we'd reached a railway siding. A goods train with supplies bound for the front line was gearing up to go.

“Sergeant Kulis explained that our job was to keep a lookout for
partizani
and stop them from blowing up the train. I was immediately anxious. I didn't know what
partizani
looked like. They could have been anybody.

“There were about ten of us soldiers, and most of them had already perched themselves on the roofs of carriages. Sergeant Kulis hoisted me onto his shoulders and then into the grasp of another soldier who was up there.

“The soldier tied me to his waist with a rope, so I wouldn't fall. Then he thrust a rifle toward me—it was almost larger and heavier than me—and told me to take charge of it. It was ridiculous: how on earth could a child hold it up, let alone fire it? Besides, I didn't have any idea how to use it. When he realized this, the soldier positioned me between his knees and, holding the rifle up for me, showed me how to take aim. Then he pulled the trigger himself.

“The force of the shot was like somebody had kicked me in the shoulder. I panicked at the explosive sound—it reminded me of that day in my village. For an instant I had the strength of Samson. I broke the soldier's grip and, still on my leash, I tried to scramble away on all fours. If I hadn't been tied to him I would've jumped off the roof—I wouldn't have cared whether I broke every bone in my body—and then escaped into the forest. They wouldn't have caught me there. I knew the forest better than they did—it had been my home. But I couldn't. I was trapped, tied to the soldier like a dog on a leash, and there was nothing I could do. The soldier reined me in, laughing derisively and mocking the terrified expression on my face. When I was back wedged between his knees he gave me a clip across my ear for good measure.

“He had no inkling of what had unnerved me.

“The train gathered speed and I held on for dear life, as they say. We must have been traveling like that for at least two hours, and we never came across a single
partizani.
Then the train came to a halt in another town.”

“Do you remember the name of the town?”

My father shook his head briefly. “My first impression was that it was larger than ‘S.' There were many more soldiers milling around the station. Some of them noticed me and gathered just below my carriage; they were curious about me, and when they caught sight of the rope still tied around me they laughed. I was humiliated and tried desperately to release myself, but to no avail.

“I had to wait until my captor untied the rope. When I was on the ground, I heard somebody call out, ‘What's your name, soldier?' For a moment I was stumped—perhaps because of shock. I looked across at Sergeant Kulis, who called back to the crowd, ‘Private Uldis Kurzemnieks. Latvian police brigade.'

“At that, many of the soldiers surrounded me, wanting to shake my hand or take their photos with me. You see, there was a man there with a tripod and a large camera for some reason. Perhaps he was an official army photographer.

“In any case, he set up the camera and then positioned me in front of it. Somebody slung a rifle over my shoulder. Things became a bit unruly as the soldiers scrapped with each other to pose with me. One group of soldiers formed a half-circle around me, posing proudly. I remember that one of them thrust his pistol into my belt and put his arm around me. Once a photo had been taken, they were ordered into town and another group took their place. This went on for quite a while. I didn't mind. In fact, I enjoyed being the center of attention.

“Eventually Kulis called a halt to the photos. He crouched down to my level, staring into my face with a serious expression. He said
‘partizani'
again. Then he took me by the hand and we started to march into the town. Other soldiers were also heading in the same direction. I knew something was up because they were passing flasks between each other, gulping down
samagonka
as they swaggered along. There was no discipline.

“It was eerie because the soldiers were noisy, yet underneath this noise it seemed to be deadly quiet. There wasn't a single soul about. The townspeople had retreated inside their homes. I saw curtains in windows twitch slightly as we passed by.

“I was frightened by then and didn't want to be at the front with Sergeant Kulis. I let go of his hand. He didn't seem to notice. He was so intent on what lay ahead.

“I let myself fall behind until I found myself at the rear of the troops.

“Eventually we reached a crossroads. I peered through the forest of soldiers' legs. On the opposite side there was a building set back a little from the road. It was taller and wider than any building I'd ever seen before—it may have been two or even three stories high.

“There were hundreds of people waiting outside—old people, women, and children huddled together. I could just make out some of their faces. They reminded me of people I'd known in my own village. Worse than that, they wore the same expression of fear that I'd seen on the day of the killings. That petrified me even more, but I was confused, too, because Kulis had called them partisans.

“I edged away slowly and was about to turn on my heels and flee when a soldier guarding the rear caught sight of me. He called me over, and when I reached him he gripped me by the shoulders and spun me around in front of him so that I was facing forward again.

“I was too frightened to close my eyes and get in trouble again. I tried as much as I could not to see anything, pretending that the sun was blinding me and squinting my eyes. I couldn't avoid glimpses of what was going on. Soldiers were prodding people into the building while others were hammering big planks of wood across the windows.