War Diaries (January 22) (nonfiction)
War Diary entries for January 22.
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Diaries
Henry J. Hornbeck: January 22, 1864
January 22nd…. Went to office, steam tug returned from Havana having gone for the mail. Unsuccessful. She reports the rebel steamer Oreto in the harbor, being a mate of the Alabama or 290 as she is termed, and therefore returned as quick as possible. The Blacks at this place have hoisted flags, being on account of Lincoln’s proclamation, making them free. The San Jacinto left for Havana this evening in pursuit of the rebel steamer Oreto. Retired at 9 o’clock.
—Henry J. Hornbeck, 47th Pennsylvania Volunteers, near Key West, Florida (diary)
Laimons Stals: January 22, 1944
The armaments arrive today. Velme and Brunis go to fetch them from Studnuz and in the evening we journey to the frontline. The feeling is quite strange, but it should pass, the older soldiers say. The boys are preparing and discussing hectically. Some already taste crispbread from their iron portions, because many see and eat it for the first time. I must admit I myself have a great temptation to check whether it has not gone bad.
Alberts has come back from Sofienwald. Now there is at least one decent buddy, as others are still strangers to me, with the exception of Brunis, but he too has alianated and poses himself as very knowledgeable - at least in the matters of radio operation. The darned kohlrabi for lunch. Having gotten the rifles we leave for the once discused hike. The destination is not known, just the direction makes me and Albert conclude that we are making for East Prussia. So - Just in case - Farewell Latvia, we will not see you ever again. Should Latvian mothers have raised their sons so that they just loose their lives pointlessy in a foreign country? But yes, such is our fate and while treading the snow covered path I may reflect silently upon all things, I may recall my dear ones and my beloved girl who perhaps is not even among the living any longer. I even shrug when Brunis touches my shoulder saying that we have arrived in Sofienwald. We expect to be put on a train, but alas, we continue to march, the backpacks crushing our shoulders and we cannot put them into the carts as those carry the communications gear, Vipulis and foostuffs. We have to carry our load.
Fortunately it is not very cold, otherwise we would freeze wearing these thin little coats made from potato plant stems. It is promised that we would somehow receive warm clothing. We march and march, everyone anticipates hearing the shout for repose, which is a pleasant thing after all, even if it makes one feel colder, we can relax our aching shoulders by leaning our backs aginst he carts. We pass on village, then another, just on and on. Already past Zalisa, it suddenly occurs that we may be marching to the division headquarters where warm trousers, jackets and caps as well as other missing items would be handed out. Morale seems to improve, we are going to get something. We march and march. Finally 3 kilometres past Zalia we hear the wonderful word "halt". We stand but there is no sign of warm clothing, things turn even worse. The baggage train (the carts) is going to stay here and we will have to carry the cmmunications gear and the weaponry on our hurting backs. Hot coffee is handed out, it tastes wonderful when standing on the road and being cold. I warm myself against the field hospital cart that is heated by a little stove. Machines! Finally we hear this very uplifting shout and that is correct, we will be further transported on vehicles. We toss all our bags and packs and hand grenades and things into the vehicle. Battalion staff including Uztics and our "sirs" as well as our boys crowd themselves in, however Alberts and I cannot get in. There is no room left. The machine leaves helter-skelter, and both of us remain standing there agape. We run to seek another car, because it is not fun to be on foot. We have had quite a stroll past all those little villags, such as Sofienwald, Lindberg, Sabisch etc. Alfons sits in one of the vehicles, but even that one is stuffed like a fishnet. We rush further , until we manage to throw ourselves into one of the lorries, in which we leave for God knows where. During the trip the wind whistles past our ears, and it is cold. We observe the surrounding area, namely it is dawn hour already. Some who are better informed speak about familiar places where they have been or walked through.
We are driven through Raduna, Brusa and so on. Alberts and I press our backs together - thus we can be warmer indeed, and we curse and swear about "Gerry" who has given superb clothing to his own soldiers, but not a scrap to Latvians this time.
—Laimons Stals, civilian (diary)
George Beck: January 22, 1945
Today I am happy but have rather a strange feeling. The Russians are very near now, just a few miles and anything may happen will it be release or shall we be moved, soon it will be too late.
Today’s communiqué from the Bridal front. After a short engagement the Bridegroom landed a strong attack against the Breast works and the whole front according to plan. Following a hard encounter the Bride retired to a new position. After a strong show of resistance the Bridegroom made a great surprise attack from the rear. Followed by a pincer movement coupled with a strong frontal attack. The Bridegroom made a hard stand and several thrusts were made into the Brides centre section. After a prolonged struggle the Bridegroom forced a narrow passage deep into the gap at the central sector. Having penetrated the Brides inner defences he made a strategic withdrawal with some loss of material. Mopping up operations are now in progress.
To be unmoved. This is nearly ten o’clock and the big guns can be heard in the distance signifying distress to lots of people, but to us it means a lot for we’ve waited or this great moment for nearly five years. Hundreds of our lads have set out on the trek today and now we await our turn, we hope we shall be left for we’re sick. Happiness is very near now and yet who knows what awaits us, let us hope for just the best and may I spell all that we have dreamed of in this prison life, namely release. All my kit is packed and the camp is upside down with people dashing about.
—George Beck,1st Battalion The Duke of Wellington's Regiment, prisoner of war (diary)
In the News
Fiction cross-reference
Nonfiction cross-reference
- George Beck (nonfiction)
- Henry J. Hornbeck (nonfiction)
- Laimons Stals (nonfiction)
- War (nonfiction)
- War Diaries (nonfiction)