Jonas Arbačiauskas

Jonas Arbačiauskas, who actively participated in the resistance movement with his family, recounts his experiences during the post-war years.

Interview conducted for the film “Žvangantis miškas” (author: Rūta Vyžintaitė-Lajienė, Rytis Titas), initiated by Kaunas 2022 “History Festival 2020”.

—

Please introduce yourself briefly.

My name is Jonas Arbačiauskas. I was born and raised in the Butrimonys district of the Alytus region. My father was a former member of the Lithuanian Home Guard. He did not join the partisans, raised three children, was politically calm and a good man. He was not afraid that someone would report him, so he became a courier. When the partisan war ended, the partisan commander Adolfas Ramanauskas-Vanagas and his family hid in our house. I was eighteen years old at the time. I remember playing chess with him. In 1954, Vanagas asked me to help him and his mother-in-law “get” passports. I did as he asked. I handed them directly to him, but less than two years later, Vanagas was arrested with these passports… My parents were afraid that they would betray us… I was afraid too, even though they didn’t know that I was the one who had gotten the passports for Vanagas.

Vanagas did not betray either my parents or me. The real owner of the passport was summoned to the Alytus security headquarters to see the commander himself, where he was interrogated.

Encouraged by this, in 1956, together with two friends, I raised a flag on the Punia hillfort. Later, in 1957, we raised six. For this activity, I was given the status of underground activist and courier. I am a member of the Lithuanian Freedom Fighters’ Movement. Now I am glad that I am still in good health—I visit schools and places where partisans are honored, and I am happy that I can pass on my experience to the younger generation.

Looking back on your experience… What were the most difficult moments?

Personally, the most frightening moment was when I wondered whether Vanagas would betray me or not. If he had, I would have been expelled from school and my life would have been ruined. However, he endured and did not betray me…

The entire period of the partisan movement and the war was difficult because people in the village were left without land, without bread, and were being sent to Siberia… Partisans began to die in large numbers. Panic broke out among my parents, relatives, and neighbors. Life was difficult… All of this had an impact on my character and the formation of my personality.

Speaking of your parents, did you notice any moments when they were in danger?

My father’s friends were partisans and they would come to our house. And not just friends… At first, they didn’t really hide. A group of eight, ten or twelve men would come in the afternoon… I remember how they would gather in the house. How they gave us children candy several times… It was a great joy. Sometimes they would come in wet from the rain. In winter, they wore white robes, because that was their disguise. They would come into the house, collapse on a bench and fall asleep immediately… Others would clean their weapons. My mother would give them milk to drink or make tea. She would give them cheese and bacon… The men would rest for a few hours and then go on their way.

I was eight or ten years old at the time. It was “romantic” – you couldn’t hide anywhere in a village house, I could hear everything and everything was interesting. The partisans would leave, and in the morning the stribai and soldiers would come… The soldiers would come to rob us, especially when our parents weren’t home. They would line us three children up against the wall and search us. They would take my father’s and mother’s rings, shoes, hat, watch… And if the partisans and soldiers came at the same time, there would be a shootout. There was tension all the time, and my parents felt it.

I remember during the revival period, someone asked my father, “Was it difficult?” He replied, “No, it was my duty.”

You were just a little boy at the time. How did you react to all this?

At first, there were many partisans and they would come back wounded. In winter, my father would harness a sleigh, and in summer, a horse, and go to the wounded partisans. My father’s sister worked as a senior nurse in Alytus and she provided medicine and medical assistance to the partisans. That’s how everyone lived, with hardship and fear… But we survived.

My father trusted me very much. He would harness the horse, throw in a sack of grain and tell me to go. I went to the couriers three times like that. They would meet me, open the sack, take out what they needed, put in what they needed, and I would go home. I was just a teenager… It was a heroic deed. I am still proud of it today.

My father used to say that Russians are not eternal. When I visited him for the first time during the Sąjūdis movement, he smiled… I understood why. He was proud of his son, who also believed that Russians are not eternal.

What kind of people were the partisans? Did their manner or words make an impression on you? How do you see them now?

Most of the partisans were good people, especially the older ones, who joined the partisans for the cause. The young ones were just young. There were some who drank… As everywhere, people break down under difficult conditions. The very good and brave partisans were arrested and brutally tortured, and those who couldn’t stand the pain betrayed the others… Quite a few teachers also joined the partisans. They were creative people. Vanagas sang and played music – he was a jack of all trades.

Was your father also interrogated in prison?

Yes. Around 1947–1947, a young partisan betrayed us and told the authorities that partisans were coming to our house. They arrived in the morning and told my father to get dressed and get ready. Later, soldiers arrived, the garrison surrounded our farm, and they arrested everyone who passed by. A neighbor, his wife who was looking for him… And so on, all the way to my grandparents… They held us for a week… Because they were waiting for the partisans to come. After a week, they took my mother away. I was left behind, the oldest. A week later, my mother returned, and two weeks later, my father, with a rope tied around his neck and buttons cut out of his trousers. My father told the interrogators: “I live near the woods. They would come and ask for food, and I would give it to them. What could I do? We had no other choice… The bandits would burn down the house… We had to feed them.” That’s how he got out of it…

The partisans’ life was hard, especially because of the lack of clothes and shoes. They walked through fields and forests, and their shoes quickly wore out. My father, brother, and even my father’s sister collected and brought them military and other shoes and clothes. From 1944 to 1946, the partisans were still in power in our region. Then there was a turning point – many people were deported, the partisans lost their breadwinners and places to shelter from the cold, and life became harder for them. More troops arrived in Lithuania, began combing the forests, and many partisans were killed. The partisans could no longer attack towns because they had no strength left. They began to run out of weapons and ammunition….

Can you explain why the forest was a refuge for the partisans?

There were lines in songs that said, “The forest is our home”…

What did it mean to raise a flag during the Soviet era? Could you tell us what the consequences were?

Easter 1956. Vanagas had not yet been arrested, but he was no longer visiting my parents; he had left for Aukštaitija. A few like-minded friends and I decided that on Easter morning we would raise a flag on the Punios hillfort, where it would be seen by people going to church. We rode there on our bikes during the night. As the most athletic of the group, I had to climb a tree and raise the flag. My friends kept watch to make sure no one saw us. They even took knives from the kitchen for defense. At that time, I was twenty, and my friends were eighteen and seventeen. A week later, we took a photo with the flag as a souvenir. We created an organization… At first, there were five of us, but later we accepted three more guys. There were many worthy people, but we were afraid of being arrested – it was safer in a small group. After this success, on the night before February 16, 1957, we raised five flags. All of them were near the highway, at intersections. We were lucky. Later, on July 6, in the Alytus district, at the Vaisodžiai election headquarters, my friend Algimantas Karkauskas came up with the idea of lowering wires from the flag, tying them to stones, and digging a hole in the ground to imitate a mine. He told me how his father was delighted when he saw it: “You don’t know what’s going on! There are still Lithuanians! It’s election time and the tricolor is flying! They say you can’t take it down because it’s mined.” Algimantas’ father didn’t know that it was his own son who had created that joy…

We did what we could. We had to wake people up and keep their spirits up against the occupiers.

Tell us more about the years of Sąjūdis.

I was one of the founders of the Lithuanian Special Olympic Committee. I remember when my students from Jieznas and I started attending the Olympic Games. My first trip was to Austria in 1989. I can’t put into words what I felt… At the opening ceremony in Salzburg, we walked with a crowd of people carrying our flag. Latvians, Estonians, Georgians were carrying it… Later, they banned us from doing that. I still have the flag from the Sajūdis days and take it with me everywhere I go. People want to touch it…

Text by Augustė Kupstaitytė

2020