Uprooted: The Ralph Kand Story, Part Seven. The Last Boat

With the checkpoint behind him, when he crossed the next rise. Tallinn and the Baltic Sea lay ahead of him below. Ralph raced toward town on the motorbike. Where were all the people? The narrow streets were deserted. Fishing was a major industry here, but the boats were gone. Was he too late? Estonia's thriving commercial city had become a ghost town.

As he rode past the empty docks, the truth settled over him. While he had been away on the Eastern Front, he had missed the exodus. Fear knotted his stomach.

Estonian refugees on a crowded fishing boat, 
Septmber 1944

He headed toward the warehouse district on the northwest promontory. Then, in the distance, he saw it—a fair-sized fishing boat still moored at a dock. He raced toward it. Warehouses and small shacks lined the waterfront. Ralph ditched the motorbike behind a shed and limped toward the boat.

"Anybody there?" he shouted. "We have to get out of here. They're coming."

"What are you doing?" The voice came from somewhere inside the boat. Ralph moved closer.

"We have to leave. Now."

"Everyone's inside the warehouse. I'm here to make sure no one steals the last boat. Find the door with scuffs and dents along the bottom."

Ralph turned and hurried toward the warehouse. It was a large building with shipping docks and rows of doors, all of them apparently abandoned. The office entrance was locked. He tried another door. Locked. Then he found a grey metal door with scuffs along the bottom and dents where someone had apparently struck it with a hammer.

He pounded with his fist. "Open up!"

The door cracked open. A grim-faced man peered through, saw Ralph's Estonian uniform and pulled him inside. "Quiet."

The warehouse was dark. Thin slats of light filtered through windows high above. It took several moments for Ralph's eyes to adjust. Then he saw them. Dozens of people, perhaps too many for the one boat. They were young and old, some clustered together as families, others sitting alone on sacks and crates. Nearly everyone had luggage or bags containing whatever pieces of their lives they had been able to carry.

A little dog sat between the feet of one family. A few cigarettes glowed in the darkness.

A man approached Ralph. "You'll have to get out of that uniform. You'll be the first one they shoot."

"I know. Is the captain here?"

"Upstairs. Watching the weather and the harbor."

"Can you help me find some clothes?"

They walked between stacks of stored goods looking for someone roughly Ralph's size.

Near a fifty-five-gallon drum they stopped beside a man and woman. "Do you have any extra clothing?" Ralph's companion asked. "He has to get rid of that uniform."

The man looked Ralph over. "Why isn't he fighting? He's a soldier."

"The Germans are abandoning us," Ralph said. "It's finished."

The man stared at him.

"The Red Army will be here soon. I'm grateful there's even one boat left."

"We're still here because of the submarines," the man said. "The captain says we have to wait until morning. This is a fishing boat. He wants it to look like we're going fishing."

"Henry," the woman said sharply. "You have extra clothes. Help him."

She had noticed Ralph's limp and the raised heel of his boot.

Henry reluctantly opened a sack and rummaged through it, producing a pair of slacks and a flannel shirt.

"I only have one jacket."

"Thank you."

Ralph found an isolated corner of the warehouse and changed. The pants were tight, but the shirt fit well enough. After putting his boots back on, he folded his uniform carefully and pushed it beneath several sacks of potatoes.

He wondered who would find it.

---

No one wanted to sleep.

No one wanted to awaken and discover that the boat had gone without them. Ralph spent the night alternating between pacing and sitting. He refused to lie down. Before dawn the captain came downstairs and tapped the top of a barrel. Everyone stirred.

"It's time."

They gathered around him.

"There may be too many of us," he said. "Think carefully. The Germans have submarines in these waters. So do the Soviets. And we don't know whether there is safety where we're going. This is your last chance to stay."

No one moved.

The captain looked around the room.

"All right."

They gathered their belongings and filed quietly toward the dock.

There was no possibility now of making the voyage look like an ordinary fishing expedition. People crowded every available space. The boat sat low in the water as the captain started the engine.

A puff of smoke drifted from the stern. The ropes were cast loose, and slowly the fishing boat pulled away from the dock.

There were no cheers. Behind them, the city began to recede.

Ralph stood near at the rail on the port side of the deck, watching the shoreline. Dawn was beginning to lighten the eastern sky. For the first time in hours he allowed himself to think they might actually escape.

Then the murmuring aboard the boat stopped. Everyone became still. Someone pointed. Ralph followed the man's finger. A white line was cutting across the water. For a moment he didn't understand what he was seeing.

"Torpedo."

It came directly toward them. No one screamed; there wasn't time. Ralph gripped the rail as the wake rushed closer.

When the torpedo swept past, disappearing into the grey water beyond, Ralph realized he had stopped breathing.

The engine continued its steady putter. No one spoke. They all understood now. A submarine had found them.

The fishing boat kept moving.

"There!"

Another man pointed. A second wake appeared. Again the passengers watched helplessly as the torpedo raced toward them. This one passed on the other side and for one extraordinary second Ralph felt relief.

Then he understood, as did everyone else. The first had passed on one side. The second on the other. The third would come between them. Ralph covered his face with his hands.

He thought of his mother standing beside the cart on the gravel road. He thought of his brother, taken away by the Soviets before the Germans came.

The boat puttered on, everyone waiting for the third torpedo.

CONTINUED

RELATED

UPROOTED: Intro and Part One

UPROOTED: Part Two

UPROOTED: Part Three
UPROOTED: Part Four
UPROOTED: Part Five
UPROOTED: Part Six

Uprooted is a story about a man with a singular quest: Freedom. It is one of the primary reasons people leave their homelands, often at great personal sacrifice.

Uprooted: The Ralph Kand Story, Part Six -- More Close Calls

Ralph knew it was dangerous to ride the German officer's motorcycle on the open road. While his mother drove the horse and wagon toward Tallinn, he followed trails through the woods alongside her route.

After a few miles, he saw that the wagon had stopped. His mother was crying. Ralph left the motorcycle in the weeds and went to her.

“I cannot go,” Ida said. “This is not something I can do.”

Ralph knew she had made her decision. They embraced and both began to cry. Ralph believed he would never see his mother again.

He took a small pack containing some of his personal belongings—photographs, letters and a book—and gave it to her for safekeeping. As he returned to the motorcycle, Ida turned back toward home and Ralph continued toward Tallinn.

As he approached the city, the woods thinned and Ralph had little choice but to use the road. Ahead he could see a two-story German checkpoint. Then the motorcycle stalled. Ralph tried to start it.

Nothing.

He tried again. Still nothing.

The road was empty. Behind him was a low hill. Ahead, perhaps half a mile away, stood the German checkpoint. Ralph pushed the motorcycle down a light grade and tried again to start it. Still nothing.

He could feel the ground shaking. Tanks were approaching.

A man came over the hill on a bicycle. “They are just over that hill!” he shouted as he passed. Ralph knew who he meant. The Red Army.

Ralph pulled out his pistol and put it to his temple. Before pulling the trigger, he decided to try the motorcycle once more. He kicked the starter. The engine sputtered, and it caught. Ralph put the motorcycle in gear and headed for the German checkpoint.

Now he had another problem. He was wearing an Estonian National Guard uniform and riding a German officer's motorcycle. He couldn't go back--the Russians were coming from that direction--so he kept going.

As he approached the checkpoint, two German soldiers stepped into the road with their rifles raised. Ralph stopped but left the engine running. “The Russians,” he told them in German. “They are just over that hill. I could hear them. We have to go.”

The soldiers were very young. Ralph thought they might have been fifteen or sixteen. “Turn it off,” the taller one ordered.

Ralph shut off the engine.

The other soldier pushed him away from the motorcycle and leaned it against the concrete wall.

“The Red Army is just over that hill!” Ralph said again.

“Go inside.”

Both soldiers had their rifles pointed at him.

Inside were three more German soldiers. One sat behind a desk while two others stood nearby sharing a cigarette. Two were young. The third, who appeared to be an officer, was older. One of the soldiers from outside spoke quietly to him. The officer turned to Ralph.

“You have to stay and fight.”

Ralph understood what he was saying but did not have enough German to explain that staying there against the approaching Soviet force made no sense. “This is insane,” Ralph said.

“Take him upstairs.”

Ralph turned toward the stairs. A rifle stock struck him from the side. “Up!”

As Ralph started climbing, the officer noticed the raised heel on his left shoe and the way he walked.

“These Estonians have no heart for fighting,” Ralph remembered him saying. The Germans laughed.

Upstairs, Ralph was put into a small room containing a chair and a cot. There was also a window. It had no bars. Ralph went to it and looked down. Climbing onto the sill, he lowered himself over the edge and hung for a moment before letting go. He hit the ground and rolled, then got up and went straight for the motorcycle. He kicked the starter. The engine fired up on the first try. Ralph put it into gear and took off.

Someone shouted behind him. Then came a gunshot.

Ralph didn't look back. When he crossed the next rise, Tallinn and the Baltic Sea lay before him.

 

CONTINUED

RELATED

UPROOTED: Intro and Part One

UPROOTED: Part Two

UPROOTED: Part Three
UPROOTED: Part Four

UPROOTED: Part Five

Throwback Thursday: Chicken Soup for the Ripped Off Person's Soul

ORIGINALLY POSTED ARIL 2008

He blew into town with the media winds at his back, a big smile on his face and the promise of riches for all. His name was Mark Victor Hansen, co-author of the highly successful Chicken Soup series of books. Though it was purportedly a leadership seminar, he was actually promoting his newest book, The One Minute Millionaire. Yes, you can have it all.

The following article first appeared in Duluth's Reader Weekly, November 7, 2002. It was my take on a motivational speaker whom I would tar as a scam artist. But what is motivating me to reprint it here is a statement he made while flapping his gums about the greatness of mankind and what we can achieve if we pull together and put our minds to it. He said one project he was organizing, that would amaze the world, would be painting the Great Wall of China by 2008. He pointed out that the Great Wall was the only man made structure on earth visible from outer space. It would be a huge undertaking to paint this but it would be accomplished because, golly gee whiz, we're so great we can do anything.

Well, I've been waiting. So far, gathering an army of people to paint the Great Wall of China has not yet made the news, and I have a feeling that if Hansen is talking about it at all, it will be something he tells his audiences will happen in 2015. He would likely be surprised that someone in his Duluth audience actually took notes to hold him accountable for what he says.

I realize that some people will feel I'm being harsh when I say these things. Hansen's books have encouraged and entertained a lot of people. Frankly, it could be argued that the money-changers in the Temple in New Testament times were helping people, too.

Anyways, here's my story.... a bit long for blogging, I know. I'll try not to make a habit of it.

CHICKEN SOUP FOR THE RIPPED OFF PERSON’S SOUL

By Ed Newman

In October 2002 I had the privilege of witnessing the most audacious display of shameless hucksterism. In case you missed it, Mark Victor Hansen was in town, guest lecturer for the Leadership Series of The College of St. Scholastica. For those unfamiliar with Mr. Hansen, he is co-author of the spectacularly successful Chicken Soup for the Soul series.

The three hour talk purported to be a success seminar for entrepreneurs and leaders. In actuality, it was little more than a three hour sales pitch a la Simon Sez. Half the audience appeared to be happily under his spell.

Affable and boisterous, he laughed almost continuously. He peppered his remarks with fragments of actual information, though he seldom cited sources and seemed utterly unconcerned about whether any of the pieces hung together.

On one level, the talk was a fast paced jabber of name dropping and braggadocio. If being rich is good because you can help others, being super-rich is even better because you can brag about it. His lifestyle requires him to earn two million dollars a year, he told us. He also let us know how he and his partner Jack Canfield are in the Guinness Book of World Records for the speed at which they produce and sell books.

The guy’s technique was typical of the standard flim flam con artist. How many times did he “almost” tell the price of these books that were supposedly worth $167 dollars? But hold on a second! He told us his signature will be worth more than the price we pay for the books because his good buddy Red Skelton said his autograph is worth eight hundred dollars, and “I’m going to be more famous than Red,” he implied. Do the math. Pay one hundred today, get the guy’s signature because he’s in town, and we walk away more than seven hundred dollars ahead. Plus we get to keep the books!

In twenty years of attending professional seminars, I can’t think of a single one where you pay nearly seventy dollars to attend and get no written materials, no notebook, nothing. That’s because this guy was not interested in giving anything. That would be an expense. The lesson is that to get rich you eliminate expenses and just take the money.

Wait, he did give us something. It was a thirty day tattoo which we could wear to promote his books. Hmmm. (Tap someone on the arm and say, “Got it?”)

Hansen’s fast talking style was straight from the carnival. He made outrageous statements with such rapidity that your mind couldn’t keep up to analyze them. At one point he said that for every one hundred dollars that we sent to his amazing money machine (in the form of buying his books) his organization would send $250 to eliminate third world hunger.

Someone asked why they don’t end poverty here in America first and he mocked her. That’s right. He made a face and belittled her. It was embarrassing and shameful.

He could do that because the crowd was on his side, the side of truth and illumination. But wait, not only was the crowd on his side, God was on his side, too. God wants us all to be shamelessly rich. The Bible says so, Hansen said. Look at Jesus. Why would the first disciple he converted be a tax collector if Jesus didn’t have money? Jesus was rich like Mr. Hansen, right? Jesus needed an accountant. 

BOTTOM LINE

In other words, this whole Leadership event was a big scam. What’s unfortunate is that a lot of innocent believing people are left in the wake of jokers like this, still hurting, confused by what they experienced because much of what he said was not entirely bad. But how do you apply it? The message doesn’t hold up to critical analysis.

In the past I have written about the gullibility of our times and American superficiality. This guy plays it like a master. The more I thought about it, the more stewed I got because a lot of earnest, trusting people paid hard earned cash to be there. 225 paid attendees times $69.... That’s over fifteen thousand dollars for three hours work. No wonder he was laughing continuously.

The next day I was curious how the sponsors of the event felt. Did Marcia Doty feel used because he took some personal information about her and stroked her in front of the whole crowd as part of the pitch he was putting on? Did the other media people feel they had been taken?

That’s how good this guy was. He completely sold out of his books. And everyone seemed happy. That just never happened before, I was told. He’s turning the whole world into One Minute Millionaires. Hallelujah.

In the old days these snake oil salesmen were tarred and feathered.

Ernest Hemingway once wrote, “The writer who laughs all the way to the bank is crying inside.” This guy is laughing all the way to the bank, for sure. And it appears he’s not crying inside, which means he is either (a) not a writer, or (b) absolutely devoid of conscience.

Somehow, I can’t escape the feeling that we were witnesses to a tragedy and didn’t even know it.

POSTSCRIPT

If your thoughts and feelings were similar to those expressed in this article, please email them to ennyman3@gmail.com. If we gather 101 stories, we will publish a book. The profits will be shared with the authors.

7 Inspirational Quotes for Mid-September

This afternoon, I was sifting through 19 years of blog posts to assemble all those that mustered groups of quotes on various topics -- friends, design, writing, advertising, loneliness, purpose, etc.-- or by various people -- Twain, Goethe, Dave Barry, etc.  

I came across a few sets that I've yet to publish, hence the seven pearls you can ponder here.

"What you get by achieving your goals is not as important as what you become by achieving your goals."
– Goethe

“Being defeated is often a temporary condition. Giving up is what makes it permanent.”
— Marilyn Vos Savant

“If you want your life to be a magnificent story, then begin by realizing that you are the author and everyday you have the opportunity to write a new page.”
– Mark Houlahan

“The harder you work, the luckier you get.”
-- Gary Player

"Obstacles are those frightful things you see when you take your eyes off your goal."
– Henry Ford

"Even if you’re on the right track, you’ll get run over if you just sit there."
– Will Rogers

"When I hear somebody sigh, ‘Life is hard,’ I am always tempted to ask, ‘Compared to what?'"
-- Sydney Harris

* * * 

Uprooted: Part Five -- After Nazi Liberation, The Soviets Return

The tension had been continuous during that period of hell under the Soviet occupation. Though the Western powers never recognized Soviet authority over the Baltic states, the peoples themselves were powerless to do anything about it; so, too, the rest of Europe. In the summer of 1941 the German Reich flexed its muscles. Hitler made Stalin his target and sent the German army marching East. The United States remained neutral, and watched idly from the distance.

While Estonia had been under Soviet control, arrests, disappearances and deportations had changed the country. Then the war took a new turn. On June 22, 1941, Germany invaded the Soviet Union. The German offensive, called Operation Barbarossa, extended from the Baltic Sea to the Black Sea. Estonia lay directly in its path.

 

Only a few weeks earlier Soviet authorities had carried out their mass deportations throughout Estonia. Against that background, many Estonians initially welcomed the approaching Germans. After a year of Soviet rule, they saw Germany's arrival as a restoration of Estonian independence.

 

Fighting had already begun inside the country. Thousands of Estonians took up arms against Soviet forces. Many became known as the Forest Brothers. Operating from forests and rural areas, these partisans attacked Soviet units and fought the destruction battalions that were attempting to maintain Soviet control as the Red Army withdrew. In some parts of southern Estonia, Estonian fighters drove out Soviet forces even before German troops arrived.

 

The German 18th Army entered southern Estonia in July and moved north. Soviet forces retreated toward Tallinn, destroying property and infrastructure as they withdrew. On August 28, 1941, German forces captured Tallinn.

 

In June, when the Soviet army retreated, so too did many of Estonia's Jewish families. Ralph might not have noticed except that a co-worker named Leo failed to show up for his shift at the distillery. The following day his absence began to cause a stir. When Ralph sought details he obtained the curt reply, "He's Jewish"

On another occasion Ralph had made arrangements to meet someone at the railroad yard. It was quite late and he expected everything to be desolate. To his surprise there were Nazi soldiers ushering lines of people into cattle cars. Though he initially failed to grasp the significance of what he was seeing, over time it became increasingly self-evident that the Nazis were not the "good guys" either.

Once again the people of the Baltics were subjugated by a new regime, a new landlord with new rules. The initial response by many was jubilation. The Nazis were liberators. The dark cloud of Soviet oppression had been lifted. But this sentiment was not shared by all. 

THE SOVIETS RETURN

Like many Estonians, Ralph had mixed feelings when the Germans drove Soviet forces out of the country in 1941. He did not welcome German occupation, but after a year under Stalin, he considered it preferable to Soviet rule.

Estonia was still occupied, and the war continued around it. Some Estonian men went to Finland to fight alongside the Finns against the Soviet Union. Others remained at home, knowing that if Germany lost the war, the Red Army would probably return.

Ralph joined the Estonian National Guard. Many of the men serving with him had lost family members during the Soviet occupation. Ralph had lost his brother Karl and his closest friend Mutti. He had no desire to see the Soviets return. His damaged leg had never stopped him from bicycling or skiing. He wasn't going to let it keep him from serving.

1944, soldiers strive to block the Red Army's retur. 

By 1944, the war had turned against Germany. German forces were retreating across the Eastern Front, and the Red Army was advancing into the Baltic states. 

In September, Ralph was serving with his unit east of Tallinn when rumors began circulating that the Russians were approaching. Soldiers were accustomed to rumors. Some were true; others were propaganda or simply wrong. Ralph tried not to pay much attention, but the reports kept coming.

The Estonian units had been operating alongside German forces. One morning during the third week of September, Ralph was standing near the German headquarters tent when he overheard a major speaking to his officers. Because Ralph understood German, he learned that the Red Army was indeed approaching. The Germans had been ordered to withdraw, leaving the Estonian units behind to delay the Soviet advance.

Ralph understood what that meant. With the Germans leaving, the Estonians were expected to stay, and die fighting. This was the second time knowing another language saved his life.

When the major and his officers went inside the tent, Ralph saw the major's motorcycle nearby, hopped on it and drove away.

Ralph headed for his mother's home outside Tallinn, avoiding the main roads when he could and following trails through fields and woods. He had made a decision to leave Estonia. But first he wanted to fetch his mother.

---

Ralph was not alone in his desire to flee. As the Red Army approached in September 1944, tens of thousands of Estonians fled their country. It's been estimated that 10 percent of the people fled that week. Many headed for the coast, hoping to find passage across the Baltic Sea. Others headed south and west, into Latvia and Lithuania.

When Ralph reached home, he told Ida they had to leave.

She refused.

“I'm too old, Ralph,” she said. “I can't start again somewhere new.”

Ralph pleaded with her. Then he went to the barn, brought out a horse and wagon, and pulled it up behind the house. Finally, Ida began packing. They loaded clothing and whatever else they could take into the wagon.

Suddenly Soviet aircraft appeared overhead. The planes began strafing the area. Ralph held the horse while his mother ran back into the house. An explosion nearby shook the building.

“Mother! To the shelter!”

Their shelter was little more than a hole in the backyard with an old door laid across the top. Ida climbed inside. Ralph pulled branches and shrubs over the opening and climbed in after her.

Almost immediately someone began pounding on the door above them.

“Open up! Come out!”

The voice was German.

Ralph climbed out and found a young German soldier pointing a rifle at him. With the sound of more aircraft approaching, the soldier turned and ran.

“Macht schnell!” he shouted as he disappeared.

Ralph went back to the wagon and untied the horse. He helped Ida onto the seat and told her to take the back roads toward Tallinn. They would try to find a boat and get out of Estonia.

Still wearing his uniform, Ralph climbed back onto the German major's motorcycle and rode ahead. He checked the roads, then doubled back periodically to make sure his mother was still coming.

The Red Army was behind them. Ahead was Tallinn and, Ralph hoped, a boat across the Baltic. They didn't know whether there would be one.

CONTINUED

RELATED

UPROOTED: Intro and Part One

UPROOTED: Part Two

UPROOTED: Part Three
UPROOTED: Part Four

Uprooted: The Ralph Kand Story, Part Four -- Family, Finns and Potatoes

During the months Karl was in hiding, Estonia continued to change. Banks were closed or taken over. Churches were restricted. Prominent people were arrested. Statues and portraits of Lenin and Stalin appeared in public buildings, along with Soviet flags bearing the hammer and sickle. 

One night the following spring, Ralph's cousin Uno came to the house with a message.

Karl wanted to see Ralph.

 

Late that night Ralph and Uno took a train to the home of an uncle, where Karl had been hiding in a crawl space beneath the house. Karl had decided to turn himself in. He wanted to say goodbye. After that night, Ralph never saw his brother again.

 

* * * 

Ralph also told me a story about the origin of his family name.

 

Estonia had spent much of its history under the control of larger powers. By the beginning of the nineteenth century, Estonia was part of the Russian Empire, while much of the land remained controlled by Baltic German landlords.

 

According to the story passed down in Ralph's family, Estonian peasants did not commonly have surnames. When surnames were assigned, German landlords or officials sometimes chose names based on occupations, places or personal characteristics.

 

One of Ralph's ancestors was known as a particularly stubborn man who resisted those in authority. He was given the name Kand, which Ralph said meant the root or base of a tree stump—something firmly planted and difficult to move.

 

Ralph said this ancestor later took part in an uprising against the German landlords. Men involved in the revolt were severely punished, and some were killed. According to Ralph, that man was his great-great-grandfather.

 

Whether every detail had survived the generations exactly as it happened, I could not know. But Ralph knew the story well, and he was proud of the name. Kand meant something that would not easily be moved.

 

* * * 

The Kand home stood in a lightly populated area outside Tallinn. Before the Soviet occupation, Sunday dinners often brought together cousins, aunts, uncles and friends.

Ralph's cousin Uno was a regular visitor. So was Ludi, the older brother of Eitzi. Ralph had first met Eitzi through Ludi, who was one of Karl's closest friends. Karl and Ludi had joined the police force together in 1938.

 

Now Karl and Ludi were gone. So were Eitzi and Mutti. Most days the house belonged to Ralph and his mother. Ralph's father had died several years earlier. Estonia had been independent for barely two decades when the Red Army arrived, and daily life was changing quickly.

 

Ralph and Karl had kept a radio hidden upstairs under a bed. At night they would listen to the BBC for news from outside Estonia. Soviet-controlled newspapers and radio could not provide the information they wanted.

 

They followed reports about the war in Finland. The Soviet Union had invaded Finland in November 1939, beginning what became known as the Winter War. The fighting interested young Estonians for an obvious reason. Finland was a small neighboring country fighting the same power that was tightening its control over Estonia.

Some young men left the Baltic region to help the Finns. Ralph and Karl talked about doing the same. Their mother put an end to the idea and they stayed home.

 

After Karl disappeared, Uno sometimes joined Ralph in listening to the radio.

On one occasion, before Karl surrendered, the NKVD again surrounded the Kand house and came inside looking for him.

 

They knew Karl might be armed. The radio was playing upstairs. Ralph realized they had not turned it off. The NKVD men moved rapidly through the house with their pistols drawn. Ralph stood listening to their boots on the floor and the sound of the radio upstairs. The men searched the house but did not find Karl. Then they left.

 

Afterward Ida said something Ralph remembered for the rest of his life.

“Did you see their eyes?” she asked. “They were as scared of us as we were of them.”

Ralph hadn't noticed. He had been too frightened himself. His mother had.

* * * 

Potatoes were a regular part of the Kand family's meals, and Ralph had become a fussy eater. His mother often scolded him for leaving the potato skins on his plate. Ralph didn't like them. His mother told him to eat them anyway. Before the war was over, Ralph would remember those potato peelings for a very different reason.

 

Ralph also remembered an argument during one of the family gatherings before Karl, Mutti and Eitzi disappeared. Mutti wanted to know why Estonia had allowed itself to be occupied without fighting. The question had become harder for him to accept after watching what was happening in Finland.

 

“I want to know why we didn't fight,” Mutti said. “The Finns are fighting to the death. Estonia simply surrendered.”

 

“Mutti, Estonia has no army,” Karl replied. “What could we do? Our leaders did what they felt was best.”

 

“What kind of army does Finland have?” Mutti answered. “They will fight and they will stay free.”

 

Ida interrupted them. “Boys, you don't know what you're saying. Do all young men think fighting and dying will fix everything?”

 

CONTINUES

RELATED

UPROOTED: Intro and Part One

UPROOTED: Part Two

UPROOTED: Part Three