Immigrant Soldier: Search for Identity and Family roots. A fifty year search.

By George J Raunam

About the Book
Immigrant Soldier is the story of one immigrant’s struggle from undergoing Soviet bombings in Tallinn, Estonia, to the devastation of the Dresden, Germany bombing in 1944 by the Allies. Then the uncertain years of living in a displaced persons camp after World War II in Germany. Born in Tartu, Estonia at the start of World War II in 1937, Raunam describes the struggle to understand the reason for all the random death and the fear of the unknown and for losing everything, almost.
He finds a new life in America and military service as well as new meaning in friends, love, fun, and the sheer joy of working for a country that he chose. He enlists as a private in the National Guard at age seventeen, then serves in combat, is decorated with a Silver Star and retires as a lieutenant colonel, aide de camp to General of the Army Omar N Bradley.
His lifelong desire to find his family takes on a new meaning with the fall of the Iron Curtain. The odyssey takes six trips to Germany, Estonia, and Russia to locate family members who did not know the status of each other’s survival after World War II. He discovers the feeling of unbelievable joy to find out that one has a brother and sister and the celebration of finding each other.
About the Author
George J Raunam lives in Texas. He has five children, fifteen grandchildren, and two great grandchildren. He sees his family frequently and has hosted European family members in California and Texas to share their love for America. This is his first book about how to find lost family members and the Immigrant Spirit.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: Oct 25, 2023
• ISBN: 9798889258179

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The contents of this work, including, but not limited to, the accuracy of events, people, and places depicted; opinions expressed; permission to use previously published materials included; and any advice given or actions advocated are solely the responsibility of the author, who assumes all liability for said work and indemnifies the publisher against any claims stemming from publication of the work.

All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2023 by George J Raunam

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted, downloaded, distributed, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, including photocopying and recording, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without permission in writing from the publisher.

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ISBN:979-8-88925-317-4

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Thank You for all your help in

Traveling with me, Dottie, Chris, and Greg —

For keeping after me to get this project done —

Kathy, Debbie, Chris, Greg, and Jennifer

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Many times, I have been flattered when a friend or acquaintance tells me I should write a book about my experiences. I had given it some thought in the past but just as a passing thought. It was when my own children started asking questions about my past that I decided to attempt it as a serious project. It is a challenging task as I do not want to offend people, nor do I want to sound pompous. I think the approach that will suit everyone is based on what I would like my grandchildren to know about Papa.

My own children are too close and still too young to fully appreciate some of the events that have shaped my life. It is full of experiences, some good, some I would rather forget. But if I am to tell the whole story, then I must be honest with myself and relate it to them somehow. Not everyone will agree with what I have to say as no two people see the same thing the same way.

 I need to thank Dottie for taking an enormous amount of time to get all my photos, notes, and documents in a workable order. It took her several years of tender loving care to accomplish this. Thank you.

 The final thanks go to all my children and their spouses. It is because of them I feel pride about our family. When they speak with pride about our accomplishments (and they are our accomplishments), you know you have a loving family.

 Remember the dance on August 15, 1999, when I am gone, and you will know how close I really am.

To my loving family, I dedicate all my efforts.

H

ow does one begin to tell a story about one’s life? Certain thoughts always keep you in focus about what is important to yourself. I have several thoughts that I would like to share to set the tone of my outlook. I remember when I first settled in Kempten, Germany, after the war, in a DP Camp. I felt sorry for myself because Mother and I had lost everything. I did not even have a decent pair of shoes. I met a boy about my own age and he had only one leg and a stump for the other. How can you feel sorry for yourself when you grow up with these lessons? You cannot!

Many years later when I was in the army and feeling that I had accomplished some good things, I realized that nothing I had accomplished would mean much if there was not peace in the world. But going to war would become a distant memory for my own children. There is an old saying that the Tree of Liberty must be nourished with the blood of a nation’s youth… How sad that is. Maybe we can change that and say, The tree needs to be nourished with tears of happiness and the joys of children.

I have always attempted to believe that all people, regardless of their views, share a common ground. I have found that to be true with family, wives, children, and parents. No matter where I have gone, whether I speak the language or even know all the customs, when I try to communicate with the children, the grandparents, or grandchildren, I will always find a common ground and love for one’s own family. Once you have done that, you can negotiate everything else. Why do world leaders take their spouses and, at times even their children, with them on historic attempts to find peace? It is to set a common ground from which to start. So that is my common ground with you and this book. I will attempt to explain my life to my grandchildren when they get old enough to ask about their Papa or Grandpa or La Pops or Pawpaw.

 Once upon a time in a faraway land where people love to sing and dance, there lived Vana Isa. His real name was Nikolai Alekandervich Bibikov, and he had a grandson called Jüri.

ESTONIA — a little background: Since 1994 I have had the opportunity to review my life’s adventures with a perspective that there is hope for the future. The events of the twentieth century, which have been filled with all sorts of evil and inhumanity, seem to be coming to an end. There is still much the next generation will have to correct, but peace in the world is more probable today than any time before in my lifetime. My children and grandchildren may grow old without ever having to fight for their freedom. What a wonderful legacy my generation could pass on! All the things that we participated in and suffered through would have been worthwhile. My prayers are for that. I am filled with hope for this.

My family, except for my mother, all perished in the worst catastrophes of human history. Although I grew to adulthood in the United States, my life’s goals and desires were shaped by the events of World War II.

Until I returned to Estonia in 1994, I had accepted everything told to me about my family (by my mother) as fact. I do not feel that I am challenging her views or opinions, but I must find the facts as they are, good or bad, without any prejudice. It is with reluctance that I explore my past and my family—their origins and deaths.

I spent a different childhood from most of my contemporaries. I had been through a war as a child and later as an adult in the uniform of my adopted country. I became very adept at change. I will start my voyage through the decades of the wars of my childhood, and then those of my adulthood as I remember them. The first memories of life are a little scary. The earliest bombing, I remember occurred at night. Grandmother Bibikov was with us in Tallinn, Estonia. Why she had come from Petseri (where she lived) during the middle of the war to Tallinn, an obvious target, I do not know. She may have been bringing me back to Mother. I lived all of my six or seven years in Petseri at Rue 57, with my grandparents Nikolai and Sofia Merd Bibikov. I never knew my father except in pictures, and I never knew anything about his parents. I learned years later that my Grandfather Bibikov and Mother had numerous arguments about why I was in Petseri (with grandparents) instead of with my own mother in Tallinn, Estonia.

This bombing of Tallinn by the Russian Air Force occurred during the night and early morning of March 9, 1944. My mother was out, and I was home with Grandmother. When we heard the airplanes and realized that a bombing was going on, I was in the bathroom, or was sent there. In either case, it was the safest place as it had no windows and the other side of the small room had no way out except the one door. Out in the hallway was a large box where we kept vegetables. It was heavy and cumbersome. When the first bomb hit our apartment building, the shock of the explosion sent the box sliding in front of the bathroom door, trapping me inside. Or more accurately, Grandmother was trapped outside and could not get to me! You can imagine the panic! She was screaming to get me out. Everyone else in the building was running out to get away from the possibility of being trapped in a burning building. Well, she must have prayed a lot because a few minutes later another bomb fell on the opposite side. The box slid again, and she and I went running as fast as we could to get outside. We got out and gathered with all the other neighbors trying to figure out what was happening. In situations like this, no matter how you prepare yourself, it is always a shock and people tend to panic. I can still remember the smell of burning houses and the noise of airplanes overhead; they were very low and very large. The bombing continued for several hours. Sometime during the night, my mother came home from her job at the railroad office. I do not know exactly how many people died that night but probably close to 500. A similar number were wounded. I was lucky this time and did not get hurt.

This was the beginning of things to come… I never saw Grandmother again for she went back to Petseri to take care of Grandfather until his death that summer. He died on July 9, 1944, my mother’s birthday. Grandmother Bibikov was able to return to Tallinn later to be with her other children that were left. The fighting continued... Meanwhile, I lived with Mother in the apartment that she shared with her sister Ludmilla and her husband. I remember some fun times in Tallinn! I went to school and ran away! I learned how to ride street cars to the ocean and watch the boats sail. It seemed to me that there were happy and sad times, but as a youngster, you learn to make your own good times. And I did. So let us now visit one of the jewels of Europe and my favorite city in the world, Tallinn.

 Tallinn, Estonia — Today

As a result of the long-standing ferry service between Tallinn and Helsinki and the availability of Finnish television, Estonia is very Western in its lifestyle. Tallinn fronts a bay on the Gulf of Finland. With its jumble of medieval walls and turrets, needle narrow spires, and winding cobbled hills, the scene creates the aura of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. The city has been judiciously restored and is stunningly picturesque.

Tallinn spreads south from three north pointing promontories and the two bays between them. The center divides into three parts known as Toompea (Upper Town), the Lower Town, and the New Town. Toompea is the hill on which Tallinn has always been centered, protected on the north, south and west by steep slopes. There are observation platforms off Toom-Kooli, Kohtu and Rahu Kohtu. It is a wonderful experience to walk around the city and see old walls and platforms that have withstood the ravages of time for six centuries.

The nickname for Tallinn is Nightcap Town, not because people party all night, but rather for its architecture. It is an old town and by American standards, ancient. If you have traveled to Rothenburg ob ter Tauber in Germany, you would feel completely at home in old Tallinn. Part of the old wall is still standing from about the late 1300s. Along its wall, you can still see the many watch towers with gates and bastions. This is what gives it the name of Nightcap Town for the top of the towers resemble the night caps worn by many people when they go to bed.

A popular folk tale tells of Reval, the old name for Tallinn, that it is never finished in its construction because every New Year’s Eve a little man rises from Lake Ulemiste and asks the tower watchman and the people, Is the town finished? If the answer is yes, then he will send the waters of the lake upon them. So, the people keep building and making the city more beautiful so that the little man cannot destroy it.

One of the fat round towers is called Peek in the Kitchen because in the old days a guard could look down and see what the abbott was having for dinner. Today, you look down on modern shopping areas and cafes. The unusual architecture in Tallinn is obtained from the use of the red brick tiles which are constantly cleaned, giving the appearance of year-round snow on the roof.

Tallinn’s picturesque Lower Town is strewn with charming old buildings, the most venerable of which date back to the thirteenth century when it was ruled by the Danes and the fourteenth century when the Teutonic knights built their castles and great forts. Later came the Romanesque convents to add additional history and beauty to the city. Many of these buildings still stand today as a reminder of the great historical events that have occurred in this small country. In the center of the city stands Kadriorg Palace, built around 1700, near a beautiful lake where every little boy used to go see the swans and sail his great boats of paper or wood. I sure did, and this later got me in all kinds of trouble when at the age of seven, I went there alone on a trolley! That trolley is still operating today. Later in this story I will talk more about the Tallinn I found on my return, - fifty years after I left in 1944. It is even more beautiful than my memories had painted in my mind. Some of the special places that we found were still standing as if time had passed in the blink of an eye. I recommend everyone visit Tallinn to see these sights and many more.

The Lutheran Dome Church from the fifteenth and seventeenth centuries. The big attraction is the many finely carved tombs inside. Life size figures of the sixteenth century Swedish Commander Pontus de la Gardie and his wife can be found. Also elaborate is the 1846 tomb of the Estonian Admiral Adam Johann Von Rusenstern, the first Russian citizen to sail around the world. The Kadriorg Palace and its park were designed for Peter the Great soon after his conquest of Estonia in the Great Northern War. What he did in that part of the world would later bring families together to create the Raunam family. But more on that subject later. The palace was built from 1718-36 with Peter himself laying three of the bricks. The Toompea Castle is from the time of Catherine the Great. The only remains of the 1219 castle are three of the four corner towers of its successor, the Knights of the Swords Castle. Sixteenth century shell scars remain visible on the walls of the fourteenth century tower located in the southwest. The two other surviving towers, plus most of the north wall of the old castle, can be seen from the yard of Toom-Kooli 13. Today the castle houses the Estonian Parliament.

The Lower Town is a wide square dominated by the only surviving Gothic town hall in Northern Europe. It has been the center of Tallin life since the first markets were held here, a thousand years ago. Town Hall Square is where all Old Town streets lead and is a meeting place for the area. The town hall was built in 1371 and 1401. This was the seat of power in the medieval Lower Town. Its present spire is from the seventeenth century, and the weathervane at its top dates from the mid-1500s. The Gothic Holy Spirit Church has the oldest clock in Tallinn with carvings dating from 1684, and the tower bell was cast in 1433. Oleviste Church is dedicated to the eleventh century King Olaf II of Norway. It is linked with another Olaf, the church’s legendary architect who fell to his death from the tower when his work was nearly finished. Legend says that a toad and a snake then crawled out of his mouth. This 350-foot tower is the chief Tallinn landmark. Most of Oleviste was rebuilt in its original Gothic appearance after an 1820s fire, but the adjoining Chapel of Our Lady looks like the original sixteenth century. The Great Coast Gate is joined to Fat Margaret, the rotund sixteenth century bastion, which protected this entrance to the Old Town. Its walls are more than twelve feet thick at the base.

A history museum titled Kiek-in-de-Kok is interesting for its setting as much as its contents. It is a tall bastion of the old walls built around 1475. It has several floors of maps, weapons, models of old Tallinn and good views. This is one of my favorite places and museums. The Teutonic knights, whose course is set in Estonia, bought Tallinn from the Danes for 19,000 silver marks. (About the same as buying Manhattan from the Indians or Alaska from the Russians) All great deals! The name Tallinn was changed from Reval and came about because Taani Linn means Danish castle.

What a rough time this little independent minded country has had. Estonia is located in the northern European region whose waters the Vikings once plowed with their rugged long-boats; whose barbaric people the Teutonic knights chastened into Christianity; and whose seas reach the vast Hanseatic League regarded for several centuries as its own private fish and amber preserve.

Many people, unfamiliar with the Baltic region, confuse it with the Balkans, on the other end of Europe, consisting of Albania, Bulgaria, Greece, Romania, Yugoslavia, and part of Turkey. The Baltic States are Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania, in that order from north to south. They are next to the Baltic Sea while the Balkans are next to the Danube and the Mediterranean Sea.

 Many things are unique to the first-time visitor. The Baltic Sea, or some people call it the Gulf of Finland, is almost fresh water and many a first-time swimmer cannot taste the salt, but an ocean it is. Being so far north it also stays light till nine or ten in the summer evenings, and at times you can see the northern lights. Music and dancing are part of the things born into you. I have never met an Estonian who does not love to sing or dance, not always able to carry a tune, but loving to try! In Narva, there is an old castle built by Ivan the Terrible in about 1490 whose walls are so thick that in 1919 it took twenty-two assaults by the Bolsheviks before the walls were breached.

The countryside in spring and summer is filled with flowers - bachelor buttons, buttercups, daisies, and goldenrods. The country just is filled with color. Mixed among this is the occasional cow or sheep or goat. The markets are overflowing with strawberries, raspberries, and all types of fresh vegetables. Dairy products are plentiful but beef, as in America, is rare. The restaurants serve a variety of foods from the sea and the farms with plenty of music and dancing to entertain you. Traveling along the coast, you may see fisherman in long boats with poles and nets. But do not be fooled. They are not fishing for fish but rather for amber, the Baltic gold.

Tartu, where I was born on May 16, 1937, is about 100 miles south of Tallinn and the center of education. Unfortunately, it did not escape as Tallinn did and was greatly destroyed by the retreating Germans during World War II. Today, much has been rebuilt but because it was not as favored by the Russian occupation, it did not get the assistance to rebuild on the same level as Tallinn. Today, it is well on the road to recovery but will take probably till the year 2005 to completely recover. From Tartu, it is a half day trip to Pskov, Russia - another family location that we must discuss later. It is a very beautiful and historic place. Grandmother Sofia Merd Bibikov’s family lived there and had quite a bit of land holdings in the area.

Looking at a bit of history may help people understand the independent, fiercely loyal, never-quitting people that came from these roots. I am proud to be one of them and hope that I will always remember from whence I came. For knowing one’s origin makes one a better citizen of America. I do not know how to explain my love for both; one gave me courage that I needed for many of the battles I would fight. So far, I have survived and am a very proud American of Estonian birth.

In March 1918, Russia’s new Soviet government, eager to get out of WWI, abandoned the Baltic region to Germany in the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk. Nationalists in Estonia and Lithuania declared independence in February. Latvia followed suit soon after. Once the Germans surrendered, the Bolsheviks launched a military and political campaign to win the Baltic states back; however, they were beaten by local opposition and outside military intervention from, among others, Britain, France, and Finland. The new countries, damaged by the war, suffered dire economic problems despite land reforms. Unemployment led to more immigration (mostly to North America), and my grandfather headed from Rybinsk to Petseri, Estonia due to fears of the Communists in Russia. He arrived in Petseri in 1920. Between 1920 and 1939, Estonia enjoyed its greatest years in freedom and prosperity. The Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact of 1939, which agreed on nonaggression between Nazi Germany and the USSR, secretly divided Eastern Europe into German and Soviet spheres of influence. The Baltic states ended up in the Soviet sphere and the USSR demanded mutual assistance pacts with the right to station troops there. By August 1940, the communists had won elections after the opposition was harassed or disqualified, and the states had been accepted into the USSR.

The Soviet authorities nationalized industry and land, purged universities and libraries, and began deporting members of noncommunist regimes, landowners, businesspeople, clergy, and intellectuals. Our family was not spared either with losing an uncle and an aunt to this deportation. Within a year, approximately 60,000 Estonians were deported - many of them were loaded into Siberia bound cattle trucks on the nights of June 14-15, 1941. When Hitler invaded the USSR in 1941, many of the Baltics saw the Germans as liberators, but they were disillusioned. This change of loyalties occurred mainly because the Estonian people, in Hitler’s eyes, seemed to rank very low on the scale of life. In the three-year German occupation of Estonia, more than fifty concentration camps and ghettos were set up. Those that were not killed were sent to German military units and certain death. I believe that my father, Bruno Gustov Emmerich, after their divorce, was one of the individuals who was taken into the German military units.

The second conquest by the Red Army in 1944, put Stalinism back on course. In July 1944, Mother and I were taken by the retreating Germans to their country to be part of their work pool. Between 1945 and 1949, as agriculture was collectivized and industry nationalized, another 60,000 Estonians were killed or deported. Partisan movements, which had begun against the Germans, continued against Soviet rule. The resistance, however, was crushed in 1953-55. Some attempts were made by outside parties to rekindle these as late as the early sixties, but the control exercised by the Soviets could not be broken, and with little or no money being available for a full-scale resurrection, it never happened. At this same time, the Bay of Pigs disaster in Cuba put Estonia and the Baltics very low on the list of things for which America was willing to risk its reputation. Today Estonia is again a free country, but I wonder how long it will take to return to its prior standing in the eyes of the world. I suspect that by 2010 it will be one of the leading nations between Western and Eastern Europe in tourism, technology, and education.

Today, you can see the beautiful mixture of old and modern. Tartu University. located in the city of my birth, is almost 400 years old. Tallinn, the capital city, traces its history to about the year 1250. Estonians are a vibrant people who love to dance, sing, celebrate family events, and cook. no matter how hard the times may be. My mother would always remind me, It could be worse, just look around. And this attitude shows in everything they do. During the Russian occupation, the greatest duty station for the Soviet military was to be stationed in Estonia and especially in Tallinn about thirty-five miles from Helsinki where one could watch European television, listen to their songs and if one was lucky, buy German and American goods. Whoever said that Estonians where not traders have never met an Estonian!

Estonians sent shock wave across the entire Soviet Union and won the admiration of most of the world with their brave and shrewd independence movements of the late 1980s and early 1990s. Many of us doubted that they could pull it off, but they sure did, and I am so very proud of them! Cultural life reflects their ties to European ideas and tastes. Art, jazz, rock, and classical music all thrive there, having enjoyed relative freedom of expression even under Soviet rule. Economically, however, the transition to Western practices and standards has proven slow.

1993

 In 1993, several El Paso bankers were invited to travel to Estonia to help in their economic development, but the trip fell through due to lack of financial support. There was not enough interest at that time from the U.S. government, private industry, or others to invest in this small country with any serious money. (If they could only have seen what would occur in the next couple of years, they would have been first in line!)

After World War II, the region underwent serious industrialization and Russians migrated to the Baltic states to work the new factories. With this migration came local resentment over the allocation of housing and top jobs. This was coupled with feelings that the republics were being exploited economically without reaping due rewards. There were demonstrations against Soviet living as early as 1980 by Estonian students. Each of these bold political moves would have been unthinkable a few years previously, but piled one on top of another, they were able to stage them. Each republic pursued the identical goal in its own style: Estonia was calculating with an emphasis on economics; Lithuania was more emotional; and Latvia was in between.

A good sign that movements were getting somewhere came when Latvian government members joined a public meeting in March 1988 commemorating one of the Stalin deportations. That year a nationalist popular front was formed in each republic to press for democratic change, virtually in alliance with the local communist parties. Environmental problems also inspired the protests. In Lithuania, large demonstrations prevented a Chernobyl type nuclear reactor from being built. At its first congress in October 1988, the Estonia Popular Front called for autonomy, democracy, and cuts in immigration. The March 1989 elections for the USSR congress of people’s deputies gave the popular fronts a voice in Moscow. All three republics continued paying lip service to Perestroika while dismantling Soviet institutions. On August 23, the fiftieth anniversary of the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, an estimated two million people formed a human chain across all three republics, many of them calling for secession. In November, Moscow granted the republics economic autonomy within the USSR. In December, Lithuania was the first to legalize noncommunist parties; Estonia and Latvia quickly followed suit. On March 11, 1990, Lithuania’s parliament declared Lithuania an independent republic, dropped the words Soviet and Socialist from its name, and validated its 1918 constitution. After weeks of intimidating troop movements in Lithuania, Moscow clamped an economic blockade on Lithuania, cutting off fuel supplies. Lithuania’s president, disappointed that no foreign country recognized its independence, gave Moscow small concessions. Estonia and Latvia followed similar paths by reinstating pre-war constitutions and dropping Soviet Socialist from their titles. They did, however, allow transition periods during which Moscow law could stand while independence was negotiated.

In January 1991, Soviet troops and police occupied strategic buildings in Lithuania and Latvia in an apparent attempt to provoke a reaction which might give an excuse for a full-scale military crackdown. Western governments condemned the violence, and the threat subsided. In March 1991, the republics all boycotted Gorbachov’s referendum on the future of the Soviet Union and instead held their own referenda on independence. All these produced large majorities for secession. Today, with Yeltsin in power, the Baltic republics enjoy their well-deserved and hard-fought independence!

History, as you can visualize, is not in the history books for Estonians. Instead, it is part of their daily lives, like water, bread, and air. My fondest hope is that before I die, I can take my children to share their heritage that goes back a thousand years. You cannot believe the beauty and peace that you feel in this place unless you have been.

Well now that you know something about Estonia, let us go meet the various families that intermingled to make the name Raunam. I will start with my mother’s family because these will be some of the funniest and saddest memories that I have about the people who make up our family. These include Olympians, military officers, world class cycle racers and a few rascals that are best probably forgotten. But all of them were people who believed in love, family, and in the fact that what they were doing was good and just. Before I recall my mother’s stories of her childhood, let me introduce her parents and the way they lived through my eyes.

Bibikov

 My Grandfather Nikolai Alekandrovich Bibikov or Vana Isa was not only a large man but also good looking with a large mustache and short hair. I am not sure if he loved me or just tolerated me because I was his only grandson. I sure caused him a lot of heartburn in a few short years. Allow me to explain some of my memorable events in tempting fate at an early age.

I have always had a love of collecting things, and it started at an early age. Vana Isa worked in a bank or an insurance company; they were very similar in their operation and purpose at that time. I seem to remember the name Salamander. Occasionally, he would bring work home, and that was great with me as I was able to spend time with him. He had a beautiful office in the back of the house that was absolutely off limits to all when he was not at home. On his desk, he had a large bowl full of pencils, different colors for different things that he did. I especially remember the blue ones!

Occasionally, I was allowed in there with him and would sit under his desk drawing pictures or whatever he told me to do. Often, I would take the pencils with me and hide them so that later I could draw by myself. Eventually, the pencil supply in the office got smaller and my stash got bigger. I had the perfect hiding place, under my mattress; nobody would look there, right? Well, one day Vana Isa came into the room where grandmother and I were and asked about his supply of pencils that seemed to be getting smaller. I made a horrible mistake and told him that I did not know anything about that. Grandmother obviously did as she changed the sheets and made the beds. To my horror, she told him. Then followed one of two spankings I will never forget. Grandfather explained later that the spanking was not for using his pencils but for not being truthful. What a lesson that was but the most important one that I could ever have been given.

The second event occurred sometime later, and again I learned a valuable lesson. Grandfather was a world class champion, cycle racer, and we will hear more of that again later. The large barn in back of the house (where at one time cows had been kept) was now the home for his winning cycles and some motorcycles. I remember one in particular that was dark blue or black and very shiny. Once he took me for a ride, and I was so scared. But with the wind in my face, it was very exciting, and any fear I had vanished! To this day, I still love motorcycles, convertibles, and the thrill of going fast! One day I was in the barn and got the courage to get up on the motorcycle and was having the time of my life when the kick stand gave way, and the bike and rider went out the barn door! Grandmother and I tried as we may but could not put it back. This time when Grandfather came home, no questions were asked, he just took me by the hand to the back door. There sat a large pickle barrel. He removed the cover, stripped the leaves from a twig he had broken from the birch tree, stuck the twig in the pickle barrel, dropped my pants and hit my bottom with the salty twig. How painful it was, and I tried not to cry. But I cried and cried. Later, after being sent to bed to heal my physical and emotional wounds, Vana Isa came and said that the first time I used his things without permission was understandable, the second time was sad because I was not respecting others’ property.

These lessons, as sad as it may sound, were the two most memorable events in my life with Vana Isa. There were times that I remember him sitting with me and telling me stories about soldiers and his life. How he escaped from the Bolsheviks in a horse drawn cart from his home with my mother and her sisters and brothers... How he loved Estonia, how proud he was that all his children had attended advanced schools and universities and were contributing to the world... He loved to read and would read stories to me in Russian and Estonian. He also spoke some German and Swedish probably due to his wife’s background. He believed that everyone should speak as many languages as possible. Although he probably never told this to my mother, he was very proud of the fact that Virve could speak six languages.

On other occasions, I remember him taking me to a monastery not far from the house and introducing me to the monks that lived there. He told me that the best thing to do when you are afraid is ask God to be beside you, and He will always be there. How wise that advice has been because both Vana Isa and God have always been by my side. Many times, I have thought God surely must be tired of me asking for help. But I also remember to tell Him thank you every day, once in the morning and once at night for the help He has given me daily and helping me watch over my family.

The Petseri monastery was small as I remember it. When I returned in 1998, it was even more beautiful than my memory had painted it in my mind. It is much larger than I had remembered it. This is strange because as a child you always remember things as being bigger than they really are. It has more than a dozen onion-shaped domes of various colors and shapes. They were especially beautiful in the bright sunlight that greeted us that summer day. As I recalled, the place had a very sweet candle smell. I think they made candles there at that time as we always came home with a couple of them. It also had a beautiful garden and occasionally Grandmother and I went there, but that was supposed to be a big secret. I do not know if Grandfather ever knew or just pretended he did not so that Grandmother and I could have our secret. One time I remember going with Vana Isa to his office for some reason. I do not remember why; all I recall is he had a large map on the wall and a large clock in the office. He was very proud of the fact that he was responsible for other people’s money, a banker. But I do not remember much about how the bank looked or exactly where in Petseri it was located or even the name of the bank. What I do remember is Vana Isa teaching me how to count both in Russian with kopecks and rubles and then in Estonian with krones. He probably would be very proud today to see that his grandson had been a banker, which to him was only second to a military officer. Two of his sons became military officers, my mothers’ brothers, one in the navy, the other in the army. Unfortunately, neither made it through the war in Estonia.

Grandfather’s family, Bibikov, was primarily in the area of Petseri-Tzoli-Pskov. The family first settled there around 1725. His parents were landowners and well known in the area as fair people.

Nikolai Alexandrovich Bibikov was born on a farming estate in what is now called Estonia. At that time, it was called Livonia, and the estate was called TZOLI. The reason that they are called estates, rather than farms or as in the United States ranches, is the size. The Tzoli estate was primarily a timber growing business. Usually, a farm is a family holding with one family operating the land, estates on the other hand are multi-family holdings and a commercial venture. Ranches do not exist as that implies very large land open land holdings, just not that much available land in that part of the world. Tzoli is located between the city of Váru and Petseri in the southern part of the country. Nikolai was the middle child of a family consisting of ten boys and two girls. His father’s name was Alexander Bibikov born about 1832 in the Pskov/Petseri area. He