28 March 1944

I saw the medical lieutenant today.  

28/03/44 - Health refer.  Graudins Alberts, Diagnosis.  Leg Ulcers.  Not available for Service, 3 days bed rest Doctor E. Pōezfer - Medical Lieutenant.  10% Anti-infective ointment (keep any remainder ointment for future use with our compliment)

Once the main Russian artillery opened fire, and correctly spotted our position, their guns targeted camp.  The Russian bombardment is relentless.  We do not stand a chance.  Everything surrounding us caved in as shell after shell exploded.  I want to go home, I did not want to be here but I must stay.  I stay for Latvia.  I stay for my aged father and for my mother.  I stay for my fourteen-year-old sister, my ten-year-old brother and I stay for my baby sister, Rasmin.

Night after night disembodied war stories crawl out of the darkness on crystallised breath as the older men unburden their hearts.  They tell tales of horror as well as offer wise words of warning.  I listen silently to the advice on offer from each fatigued warrior.  Wrapping my arms across my chest, I hug my coat tightly against my body as the haunted voices forewarn of the fate awaiting any recruit who stumbles across the Russian line.  According to my comrades, if a soldier manages to get away merely having lost his tongue, he should think himself fortunate.

My leg ulcers are so bad my comrades have insisted I find the doctor.  I told him how difficult it is for me to keep myself clean.  I have no clean dressings to use or even any dry trousers to put on.  Everything is so wet and dirty around me all of the time, it is impossible to stop filth from penetrating deep into my sores.