Diggers (22 page)

With very little rise and fall in the ground we continued deeper into the forest. More and more evidence of the battle greeted us, and like novice adventures we took photos of everything; holes, bullets, helmets and trees filled up many rolls of film.

The Diggers were leading us to a place they had found earlier in the year and one they believed contained a rich variety of weapons and equipment. What we found was a hole in the ground filled with mud and water. Tired and a little disorientated this was not what we had expected. The Diggers explained that this had once been a German ammunition bunker and by the excited looks on their faces we could tell they believed there was plenty of unused ammo still in there.

Stripped to the waist and clad in our waders we ventured into the water, more full of hope than confidence. But within minutes the 50-year-old bunker began to grudgingly reveal some of its secrets. It was hard going, the floor of the bunker was just thick, sticky mud and most of the finds were discovered more by luck than judgement. A long, thin steel probe became the most sought-after piece of equipment we had.

Surrounded by smaller trench systems the bunker was set apart from the rest by some distance. This was obviously because as it stored ammo the chances of explosion were pretty great!

Having lain in the ground for so many years the 81 mm mortar shells that started being pulled out of the mud were in remarkably good condition. All were live, most with original markings, and a number still packed inside their metal boxes. We tugged them out of the mud like prize catches and raised them up triumphantly to show the others.

Not far from here one of our team had been given a metal detector (White's Spectrum XLT set for relics) and, after hours of false readings, found a Mossin carbine with the bayonet still attached and the bolt still in the breech. This was a rifle used mainly by Russian artillery troops and was one of the finds of the trip, as the Diggers had never found anything like this before. The other good find was a rocket from a German anti-tank weapon (8,8cm RPzB-54). This was pulled out of the thick mud of the ammo bunker.

Half a day later and we had enough live ammo to start a small insurrection. Dozens of 81 mm (German) and 82 mm (Russian) mortar shells, a couple of hand grenades, a number of empty Panzerfaust one-shot anti-tank rockets, wooden ammo boxes and cases and an almost compete German gas mask lined the side of the bunker hole.

It was at this point that a Russian TV camera crew arrived to film the scene for the audience back home and to gather more information about the Diggers work. They also took a passing interest in ourselves and what had brought us to Latvia

After lunch we traveled deeper into the forest to a place where the Diggers believed there were the remains of a number of soldiers. Nearby we found a tank shell and eight Russian mortar shells in a shallow ditch.

According to our hosts, the remains of many soldiers still lie in the forest where they fell. Identifying which side they were on is relatively easy. Usually a helmet is lying close by and this is a good pointer to whether they are Russian or German. A rather gruesome way to find out if the helmet belonged to the body is to see what damage has been done to it and compare that to the state of the skull.

At one site we found a Russian helmet with a bullet hole on the left side and beneath it only the jawbone and small fragments of the occupant's skull! Next to this were hundreds of spent machine gun casings—evidence that the poor fellow was making some sort of last stand as his position was overrun. More sinisterly we found beneath his body two hand grenades attached together with a trip wire. From the way it was set out, the Diggers reckoned the body had originally been booby-trapped.

Personal equipment and possessions are also another good indicator of which side the soldiers were on. What is almost impossible to do is to identify the actual individual, as the Russians particularly rarely carried any form of ID that could have lasted 50 years in the ground. All the remains that we found on our trip were identified as being Russian.

The euphoria of the morning was replaced by sober introspection as we dug and then laid out the bones of the fallen men. These are the unknown soldiers, having lain undiscovered in the forest for so long. Perhaps somewhere back in the Russian heartland is a surviving relative who will never know where their loved one fell. With one set of remains we even found a aluminium cigarette case. Poignant though it was, it still didn't help in identifying the owner.

All the bones that the Diggers find are taken back to Riga and stored, until a proper burial with honours is conducted. This is done every May in the presence of the Russian Ambassador.

It was whilst examining the remains of another set of bones close by that we came across the handiwork of the so called Black Diggers. These are, according to our hosts, unscrupulous treasure hunters who scavenge the remains looking for anything of value to sell either in Latvia or to collectors overseas. The bones they find are scattered, strewn and forgotten in the search for valuables and this was certainly the case with the third set of human remains that we came across.

Only one solitary hand grenade was left in the shallow hole we found, everything else had either been taken or thrown away. We collected up what we could find and made a simple cross, laying it in the hole as a mark of respect.

By now the sun was slowly beginning to drop from the sky and we began the long walk out of the forest. Our thoughts on that first day were mixed. There was plenty of excitement about the things that we had found, exhaustion from the physical labour and sadness about the human remains and the ultimate futility of their deaths.

Days two and three revealed to us the true nature of digging; i.e., lots of actual spade-in-hand shoveling. Whereas in the first day we had been to places well known to our Latvian hosts, now we went into uncharted territory. Deeper into the forest to places they had only visited maybe once before.

One of the constant hazards even in May was the abundance of mosquitoes. An ever-present irritant they are always around your face, hands, arms or any other unprotected area of skin. One of our team was bitten so badly that his hand swelled up alarmingly, so much so that the team doctor decided he needed more advanced treatment than our first aid kit & trauma pack could provide and they both trekked out to find the nearest medical center.

Our finds on these two days were not as exciting or as numerous as the first. We got a taste of what it is like to physically find and then dig out another massive bunker, but this time with no guarantee of success. After an hour or so of digging the metal detectors went in but could find no trace of anything and we gave up. We did find a huge horde of Russian POMZ anti-personnel mines imbedded deep in a trench and spent a few hours exploring an intricate German bunker system but the finds were limited to bullets, shell casings and helmets.

All the live ammo that we found was left out in the open and as visible as we could make it. In the next couple of weeks engineers from the Latvian Army will accompany the Diggers into the area and will either make it safe or blow it all up.

And then our time was up in the forest. Weighed down by helmets, empty mortars shells and wooden ammo crates we made our way back to ivilization. Driving back to Riga we stopped at the home of a man the Diggers regard as the godfather of digging. Here we were treated to a private viewing of his collection, which spanned 25 years worth of mooching around Latvia, Lithuania, Estonia and Russia.

Blockaded and decimated, the Germans became even more contained in the Curland Peninsula. The front line encroached more and more into their territory as the Russians kept them successfully penned in. Some Germans managed to escape by sea but most were left to fight it out right up until VE day. Latvia became part of the old USSR and apart from the removal of heavy armour the battlefield was left to nature; if not forgotten then certainly abandoned to the elements.

Soon the remains of the men we found will be laid to rest with some honour and dignity and that knowledge gives me great satisfaction. I have stood and taken in the emptiness of battlefields across the world from the massacre at Islanwanda, the heroic actions at Rorkes Drift, and the barren cold beauty of Culloden. But nothing prepared me for to the stark reality of this forest and discovering the desperate heroics of unknown men, long dead.

Strange events. Strange events always walk with us, and without them our adventures would not have the spice that they do have. In a watery ditch torn out by a hand grenade, for example, the Classicist's metal detector found some peculiar metal object. The Classicist and I were joined by a newcomer, Nautilius, in jumping into the water. Our long rubber boots filled up with cold water. We rolled up our sleeves and tried to find the unknown object. Our arms were too short, and we had to bend down low enough to get all wet. The clay and mud began to yield their treasures. We lifted handfuls of Russian bullets from the ditch. Some of them were in a half-corroded cardboard box. A while later we found a Russian military helmet and, on the other side of the ditch, the jawbone of a soldier.

“Shit,” the Communicator sighed. “He's in here somewhere. We need some buckets.”

The Communicator thought about the problem while Nautilius, like a wild boar, diligently dug through the brown liquid.

Nautilius was 18 years old. “Hey, guys,” he spoke up. “What's this? It came off of something else?”

Nautilius was holding a small and bent piece of metal. The rest of us looked at each other.

“You dummy,” the Classicist was smiling. “It's the ring from a hand grenade.”

“Let's start counting,” I chimed in. “One, two, three, four seconds, five seconds…” We lucked out. The grenade didn't explode.

Sometimes we get a little too crazy. We're on the edge of a knife and we behave like we don't care.

***

The last evening. The Englishmen are flying back home tomorrow.

I collapse across the threshold of my house. I want to prepare gifts for Matt in a way that will ensure that he is not grabbed by anti-terrorism units when he goes through customs. I disarmed four Soviet infantry mines and drilled holes in five bullet casings.

***

The day of departure

We are all at the Classicist's house. Natalija has found a big bag into which we load up the four mines, along with four Russian and four German military helmets. The Legend presented us with some of them. We had to take the Englishmen to the Legend's museum.

The time has come to say good-bye. We're back at the same place where a few days ago we had first set eyes on these wonderful guys. Four hands were raised into the air for a wave, and I can't really explain what I was feeling right then. Our friends passed through the passport check and disappeared. Natalija cried.

It wasn't the end of the adventure for our friends, however. On the way back, the most important bag got lost—for more than two weeks. Matt and his friends had to fight to get back their property. Eventually a letter from England appeared on our computer screens.

Hi all

Hope you are all well,

It's really hot here at the moment (30 degrees C!!!!) phew too hot to work, is it hot with you?

Well after weeks of correspondence with the British consulate in Vienna I finally secured the release of our bag…hooray!!!!!!

—and got it home on Saturday. They had re packed it and the only things missing where the ammo box parts, don't know why? but I am just happy to get back the helmets and grenades. We can always bring some ammo boxes back home with us on our next visit!

Apparently the bag was not stopped because of the metal x ray but it fell off the conveyor belt in transit and spilled out on to the floor. The baggage handlers where very frightened as a load of grenades rolled towards them, so they called the bomb disposal dept who came and evacuated the area and nearly evacuated the airport!!!! No wonder the plane was delayed. We still don't know why they did not call us at the airport so we could have told them it was safe? Anyhow at least they came to their senses and sent it back to us.

We are all wondering how we came across on Russian TV? Was the ort program good? Let us know.

Still trying to get someone to lend me a video recorder so I can do a copy of the tape you gave me

Will send video I did to you this week.

Well, missing you all, and looking forward to seeing you all again soon.

Best wishes to you all

Matt and Annie

“A relationship between two people is like a bank, with both people depositing something into the account. The more you deposit, the stronger the relationships. The worst situation exists if withdrawals are made from the account all the time. Viktors, you must be under a heavy burden of loans from that account. You have to decide whether you want the woman back or not.”

I sat, my head in my hands, and listened to the Attorney instruct me. I don't know where he found the metaphor about the bank. I didn't know when he had become so very smart. I learned something, though. What a stupid question—when did he become so smart? A year earlier he had won his girlfriend after a serious battle with a competitor. I couldn't imagine that. He's a wealthy and handsome man, and dozens of women would lie down in front of him if he just whistled. Instead he goes off and loses his head over some bitch. But what am I saying here? I'm ashamed of some of the things I did myself.

“We both had loans out. You want to know what I think? We're dealing with the laws of nature here. As soon as a bitch—and I'm not talking about my wife, I'm talking about a dog bitch, a filly, a cow, a woman. As soon as she feels that the male in the relationship is becoming weak, she immediately looks for a stronger one.”

“You're so right,” the Attorney said. “I've been thinking about that, too.”

As we walked out of the teahouse, I asked my friend, “Are you happy with her now?”