Tagamõisa during the Russian tsar government

Our family lived in Tagamõisa at the end of the tsarist government. Tagamõisa was a large manor, but poor manor house. The tenant at that time was Arnold Eichfuss. The manor house was a large one-time wooden building with a mantle chimney still in the middle. Under it was so-called. "black kitchen", where the animals were cooked, but the meat was smoked. The house, in the larger part of Undva, which also had a couple of lounges, lived "Germans". The resin-side wings were servants. On the opposite side was our room with a packing chamber, two rooms and a small kitchen; but there were some other meals in it.

The manor house was located at the end of the hill in the sense of that time. There was a bell tower on one of the corners of the resin, which called the work-moon-goats to work and had a working day at all. The yard of the manor was limited to a stone stove. It was passed by the Resin Road. i.e. road from Kihelkonna-Undva highway to the beach of Reserve. There was a high gate in the courtyard garden of the manor.

The other side of the Resin Road was also a maroon garden surrounded by a stone stove. Near this gate, right by the road to the resin, we had a small shed where a cow, a horse, and two pigs were kept. On the other side, on the side of Kõruse, there was a manor garden-garden with trees, shrubs and flower beds.

On the way from the big road to the manor and along the way to Vaig, there was a cattle garden on one side and a horse stab on the other side. Another famous mansion is about half a kilometer away from the manor house, and this is a north-eastern ridge on the ridge. There was also a mansion barn, but where exactly you can't remember. Strangely enough, I also don't remember the lunatic house.

The manor was surrounded by fields. There were three of them, indicating that there was still a three-field system. There was talk of a fourth, new field, but I can't remember my child's memory. Each field had its own name, but I only remember one, it was "The Field of Kalmu". This is especially true because there, on one side, our potato land was located, and from there we got along the road to the village of Kalmu, where I sometimes went to Kubja and Nurga families.

I describe this childhood landscape in such detail because it is no longer left behind. There are no buildings or gardens anymore, not even the memory of Kalmu's field has been remembered since childhood, as it has been transformed into a huge gravel hole during the construction of strategic roads. It is no longer even the resin beach as I remember.

Then the seabed had a soft and sandy resin, and a few dozen steps down the ground was a gravelless barn with trees and shrubs. It is no longer the case, but it is well preserved in my memory, because we still had a gravel area. It also happened that I fell under the gravel and the older brother Aadi (Adolf) saved me quickly by digging. The second time happened with Aad himself.

People and life in the mansion were three layers. At the top were the "Germans", the gentleman with his mistress and three children. These were Riku (Richard), Ossa (Oswald) and Järda (Herta). There were many servants at Shelah, many. I remember a girlfriend, a child girl, a girl girl. There was no social interaction with the people around the neighborhood. They spoke German, were, to my remembrance, so isolated, that I, who was almost one year old and somewhat playful with Järda, had only a couple of times on the "shrubs", as little as the manor's garden, where Järdal was his playhouse . I almost never came into contact with Oss about six years old. He was a proud boy and he didn't see me. The older brother Riku was different in character. He also went through the villages.

Our family formed the middle layer. My father was a merchant, a Malahov firm's sprat builder, and he had a small merchant before the war. We even had a maid. It was a very big chubby Lodi Liisu (according to Lodi's place where she lived and where we went). Meanwhile, when Liisu, maybe, for home-made potatoes, could not come, our servant was one of her 16-year-old relatives, maybe Miina. With this long, fine neck, fine yard and wide hips girl, I am so strong, I could say, that the long memories I had for a long time, because of this woman's beautiful beauty, such a long, fine neck, fine and broad.

Because of their profession, our family was in close contact with the people around them, but close, socially, with very few people. There was one savage, a school teacher, an old sailor; In the village we visited mostly only from a distance, mostly from Kihelkonna.

We, the children, had a wider relationship. The older brothers also interacted a little with Ossa and Rik, as I said, with Järd. At the same time, our playmates were manor and village boys, mostly from Kalmu village. I'm talking about some episodes.

One of the memories left in the memory and later remembered is that in the spring, many of the boys in the neighborhood gathered in one of the young spruce trees on the edge of the manor field, playing, laughing there and eating the young plants of the big mouth. They were good! Seeing the kids knew they needed vitamins. The second was a robbing game behind a maroon garden in a large bush. They were so tight that they could play a predatory game there. But sometimes the boys also climbed over the rock garden. There were not many apple trees there, but we do. I also visited them occasionally from the ground.

In the spring, we still had the bulbs of wild yellow-flowered tulips growing there. Something tastier is hard to imagine. Everything was eaten at all, also very strange. One of my playmates ate cockroaches, but I scratched the plaster carefully between the walls and ate.

That was the summer. In the autumn, however, my older brothers were taken to a city school and then stayed alone, somehow between the two. I had only one true friend, two years old, Kubja Alp; it also had a little younger sister Viiu. With them and some of the boys from the village, I was playing, but I was still alone - somewhere between the two. I am saying this because it has had a lot of influence on my life. I have been a life-seeker for a lifetime but somehow a hermit.

Perhaps the first memory of my life is also suitable for this, because it also characterizes to some extent the life and condition of that time. Namely, my mother repeatedly told me how she heard that I was talking to someone on the kitchen rack, and I had to look and feel angry.
I sat down the stairs, the milk mug and the sandwich next. Rästik drank milk from my mug and I admonished him: "Why do you drink alone, take a cake too".
I remember clearly how the eater, the neck curved, the milk from the gravel, and the way he came down the stairs when his mother came - Yes, there was a lot of eaves at that time. They could be seen quite often at our desk.


War and Revolution

First War Memorial.
I remember how I went to the beach of the Resin, where my father waited for a sailboat to be brought to Tallinn immediately after the war. We waited there for quite a while until the boat finally came with two men. The men were somehow vague and said that the German submarine was carrying the ship, commanding the men to the boat, and then drowning the ship. It is somehow inconsistent with historical data, because there are no reports that, even at the beginning of the war, German submarines visited our beaches, but it has been preserved in the memories of our family. And it was very memorable to me because my father wept. It was striking because my father was crying for the first time.

The war completely changed life on the Tagamõisa Peninsula, as there were many armies there and large fortifications began. Some change was probably also in our family's lives, because the father was now frequent in the city and tried to get some goods there. Other people, Russian officials and soldiers also moved in the shop. Father and mother learned to break Russian.

However, in my life, the child did not show much of it at first. The first change was perhaps the fact that we saw the "utsinat" of the soldiers - a row training and that was the first game of war, but initially only marching. But then one of the officers who started to live on the "side" of the mansion began to teach the young men of the mansion, and also my older brothers, fencing, and now our main toys were wooden swords or sword-replacing canes and the more loved game of fencing. - It was a great benefit to me once, already in Kuressaare.

But as a great friend, I became an officer of this officer. I rode with me every day. When he went to his two horses to take the pasture, he lifted me on one horse and jumped on his other. So we drove. Horses trotted accustomed so neatly that when the snare saw that I (in my opinion, a huge) horse started to fear, I held it with one hand. It was such a great experience that a black officer was a fan of the company. Maybe this was especially the first revolutionary show I saw.

It was in the summer of 1917. Soldat had accumulated in the manor's garden. It was now completely changed. Where there were flower beds and rose bushes, there was now a field. The jackets were wrapped around it, speeches and sessions were held. However, the repeated shout of "svaboda" was all over and over again.

The Soldat rushed, drank, officers gathered in one corner of the square and remained silent. Then another officer came - he's still in front of me. It was a long straight man, and he was different because he had blue pants. They were talking because he was a prince. Shortly thereafter, a dirty, horse-smelling man, apparently, came from the tall team, went in front of that officer and pulled him from the shoulder. It was so unexpected that we all were scared. The officer said nothing, stood still, turned around, and went straight, with strong legs like a cucumber. Soon the other officers left quietly after that.

It is strange how it impressed me so impressively and forever. Did I really feel instinctively that it meant a complete destruction of the Russian army, which was clearly manifested in the autumn of the same year when the Germans came.

The Germans landed in Saaremaa in 1917. midday morning. They flew into the Tagalaht fleet and were all. There was almost no resistance. I remember exactly. At six o'clock in the morning the mother went to the pig to eat. Just standing at the table at the door, he started to unlock the door when a bang, as hard a bang as it wasn't heard before. Mother was so frightened that the grouse of the seafood fell off her hand. This was followed by three similar bangs and then silence. I saw it exactly because I had somehow gone after the mother after stubbornness, I stood on a roaring staircase.

Others could not guess, but Arnold Eichfuss knew. He said:
"The war! The Germans are coming," and ran their own people and our family to the basement of the great mansion.
At first, however, nothing was followed. Only four o'clock, four German cyclists, helmets (we think we had never seen a helmet - crap) on the head, came out of Vaigu. Before that, they didn't remember when all of the Russian soldiers had been taken away from the Manor. So they did not meet anyone other than Eichfuss, a manor tenant. It greeted them, rejoicing, almost hugging, and said (as my mother remembered): "Oh, how have we been waiting for you."

After that, he led them to our store to get what they wanted. These Germans, however, were very polite, everyone took only one of the scent soap in a pack. Only one turned back on the door and asked, "Please, should I get another one?"
Got a course.

There was complete peace until almost ten o'clock. Only then did the Russian army arrive by Undva. One or two German cyclists went to Kalmala behind Kiviaia, and soon a German was arrested with twenty imprisoned Russian soldiers, including at least one non-commissioned officer, at the mansion, and the prisoners were put in a manor house cellar by the Eichfuss agar. Immediately after that, the big Russian army was rushing out by Undva - carts with soldiers, horsemen, and footsteps running alongside the chariots. They went past the mansion, and the big road went straight to Kihelkonna. I was reminded somehow that one of the blue-gray horses ridden by the puppy behind the whip was completely red - bloody in the back.

Now also German planes came and drove over the manor. We heard the vibration and saw how something was falling down. We guys, we ran to see what fell there, but again, Eichfuss was the one who knew, "The machine gun! Let the machine gun." Mom ran after us and drove us back to the basement again.

It all lasted for a very short time, an hour or more, then it was silent again. Until the next day.

The next day, the Germans came in a lot like a "black raft," still said father. They were: mostly in the black navy form, the army's army was much darker than the Russians. They were so heavily captured by the gangs and troops that they did not know who was the soldier who was an officer. Immediately they lit up, perhaps under the leadership of Eichfuss, in our store and took all that was right, so that the shelves were completely empty soon.
Then, at the same time, they began to drive away and probably kill the cattle of the manor. Now, I was struggling, Eichfuss, who had welcomed them at first with great joy. In remembrance of my mother, she said, "We waited for you as rescuers, but now you come as robbers." But one German, maybe an officer, said: "There is a charge for salvation," and added something so threatening that Eichfuss began to fear and ran into the house.

Our cow was initially left, because the father had taken it to the shadow of the Catech Forest. On the second day, a German came, and our cow was next to the whale, and went to Vaigu. I remember it very well again because I was next to my mother when her mother asked the German cow not to take her, otherwise she would get milk for the children, but the German repelled the mother and went on. Shortly afterwards, a group of high-ranking officers, including one very tall man with a helmet, came by Vaigu. And again, there is something in this memory that is not consistent with historical facts. It was said to be a crown prince. That high gentleman was pretty mother, why she cries, and when her mother explained, one man was sent to the resin. Soon the cow was returned to the cow.

I remember that when he was upset, the Germanman justified himself. Yet we got the cow back. But not for long. Now the cow was put under the shadow of "black kitchen". But in the morning it was dead: he was killed. At first it was thought that the meat was not fit, but then it was introduced. The flesh was red, but there was no anger, continued to us, and probably others for a long time.

The last blow to our family was when the father went to the Aad and Aari, who were already in town, and came back, in front of the chariot, a huge lame gray rune. The Germans had taken a horse out of their way and replaced the shack of that side. Now, then, our father, who, with his efforts at the age of a couple of decades, had come to a fairly wealthy track, and as an old 59-year-old man, was once again poor, completely poor.

So was the story of our family. But there is another historical point of view, reminiscent of memories, and an opinion about these events. Namely, I have come to the knowledge of why Saaremaa's conquest operation was just on a midday day. Namely, the anniversary day was the name day of Kihelkonna Church. That day, Kihelko was made a beer in every family, especially in Tagamõisa. It also became part of the Russian soldiers, they also held a party, were drunk.

Characteristic of this is what one of the man of the Undva spoke. They had a 12-inch battery team in the apartment. This, including "dezurnõi", peaked in the midday morning until the German came in and said, "Guten Morgen."

That's why the Germans got there. To land on Tagamõisa peninsula without resistance. Finally, there is also one brighter childhood memory ever since. - As I had a big friend among Russian soldiers, I became a friend with a German. In the meantime, four German army shoemakers lived alongside our apartment, and one of them, the elder man of "Emperor Wilhelm's Whiskers", always shared with me his marmalade, which tasted this, during the lack of sweetness, especially. I still watched with interest how he cared for his whiskers - turning their ends into a paper thug in the evening and then waving up with eyeglasses. It was great to look at and his long whiskers (or we said mustaches) were still upright and the ends twisted. They were so proud that they created the will: how big I grow, I grow the same.

Life in Kuressaare during the German occupation

Arnold Eichfuss's agar affair was paid to him and to us by the German occupation authorities for what he was requisitioned (in fact abducted) for a military landing, for some sort of war damage, not in money, but in some debt obligations. In our family's life, however, it played a big part because of the debt and some debt owed by the father to a small old wooden house and in the spring of 1918 we moved to the city. The house was located in the so-called. In the village of Russia, with the address at the time Kopli uulits 3. now Workshop t. 10. Along the edge of the city.

On the south side, "Puute plats" and then to Kõvera Uulitsa and to the present Vahtra Street houses "Saloon Koppel", in the west, on the sides of the Piews, there was a large plain, a Tori side of "Bergman Copper". There was a street across our house, five footpaths down the garden, over the stonewall and to Aia Street, which was not yet a street.

Pikk Street, a few dozen meters from our door, was the garden of Bürgermuse. It was surrounded by a high barbed wire, because Bürgermuss was a camp for Russian prisoners of war, one high gate just over the top of our street. With this camp of war prisoners, I have live memories.

Life in the city, especially in the corn where we lived, was not easy at that time. The Germans themselves had a narrow hand in food during World War I, so they did not supply the townspeople who were not directly at their service. Everyone had to do it by themselves.

Woe and food shortages were also found in Western Saaremaa. The gravel and sandy fields there were unable to feed their people. The annex came from fishing, sailing, working outside. During the First World War, additional fortifications were given. There wages were decent, the food was fed by the army. So, at that time, they lived in the western Saaremaa better than they were otherwise, so well that some left the farm to the dragon.

When the Germans in 1917 In the autumn Saaremaa was occupied, everything changed. There was no extra service, the Germans, who had trouble with food, did not give anything. On the contrary - they wanted to get conquered. And now there was trouble, all the more so that, in many places, the armed forces were plundering the fields, using the drying fruit to feed the horses.

Initially, the ashes and Baltic herring continued, but then there was an error as there was no more salt.

All who received, now went to Valio, to Limeiah, to Pöid, where the farms had yet fruit. At first, there was still Russian money for it, soon no longer; But the money of the German Oberost was not for the countrymen. Everybody then put everything on the trolley that could be hoped that it could be exchanged for fruit. But it wasn't much, and soon the bins of East Saaremaa started to empty. To this end, the German occupation forces contributed carefully. Namely, they started giving salt to the farmers only against the fruit.

The lack of salt was terrible. In the Kuressaare market, musculoskeletal water was sold with toilet, sometimes even smelly. It put another bang on the western islands, because one of their main foods - no fish without salt and no salt without it. I have already told you that in the former Bürgermusses, there was a camp for Russian prisoners of war, whose wires stretched to Kopli Ulysses, a few dozen meters from our house. When Russian prisoners of war loaded salt, they hid the salt as much as they could, the bladder. And then the towns and the countrymen came there, feeding something hungry to the hungry prisoners of war and receiving a handful of salt.

There were German guards who didn't pay much attention to it, but there were also those who got very bad. I have an eternally remembered incident when the guard came to the fence with a baton of a prisoner of war, and a prisoner shouting as the guard beating him in time. The same guard was crying out against the women behind the garden. Although he did not hit them directly, many began to fear. And then, on some occasions, a piece of bread or a few boiled potatoes was served to my seven-year-old neighbor. I put them in my hand through the wire and got the handful of salt I gave to the bread and potato maker. You usually don't rival me; it was only once that the German cried out to me. So it was with salt.

The fruit, as I said, was going to be exchanged for something or it was begging in East Saaremaa. Our situation was a little better, because the father in Tagamõisa had something left behind. The father went to those goods, also changing clothes for the fruit. Once upon a time, sometimes it came almost empty. And now my mother, who was from Pikk, went. I remember how happy he came back. There was somewhere in Laimjala wore a man asking for a way. It had looked and said, "You are Vienna! - you are Vienna? I know you, you still gave me some better kisses."

The man had been a puppy in Kingli's mansion when my mother, as a young girl, had been a mansion at the same time. This man gave the mother two freshness fruits himself and helped his mother with the villagers to trade so that the mother came back with happiness, two blinds and a couple of frosted fruits. It was noticed or heard, and at night we broke our fence. But luckily it went. The mother had come so late in the evening that the fruit had been left in the house, without help. So it remained.

So we had a loaf of bread, and there was also a tangu, but still so little that eating the bread beside the tangusup was considered sinful.

Some also lucky. I remember how a man from Tagamõisa, who had been on a grain search trip to Valjala, had more than a grain of grain. He was praised for having received fruit from witchcraft and witchcraft. That was so. - The sea was often washed by rocks at the beaches of Tagamõisa. They were opened.
The mine sheath was made on the sauna deck, explosive, it was called "mine mine", was taken out and used in many ways, mainly to control cockroaches. The cockroaches were terribly afraid of it. I remember repeatedly watching how the cockroach was afraid. When the cockroaches nested around the mine, the cockroach didn't get out of it. Came to the mine line and soon returned to the mine. This man was where he saw cockroaches on a warm wall or in a furnace, pulled a mine-mine line around them and was so witch ready. Got frosted or mottled fruit for witchcraft. But cockroaches were at that time in almost every house.

So what did you eat? The main food was ash and fish, mostly herring, in the summer - in the season also flounder. But during the German occupation, the fish was narrow because the fishermen's access to the sea was limited and a large part of the fish caught had to be handed over by the fishermen to the German army. Only then did the fishermen get salt. That's why it happened that the ear of the ash was either saltwater or onion salt water. The latter tasted even better than me, perhaps.

We were also in a better position in this regard, because the men of Tagamõisa who went to the city and stayed overnight, paid for the lodging sometimes a fish or a richer one or half a thousand. The father also went to horses on the beach sometimes. It was forbidden and dangerous during the German occupation, but sometimes his father was still. Even so much that it continued to sell to its neighbors.

The ashes were usually cooked with cream. Only when the fish dried on the ashes were put on top of the ashes, the ashes were also peeled before cooking. This peeling was a real art. The shells were supposed to be very thin so nothing would be wasted.
In retrospect, even strange, because the bodys went into the gear - at first to the cow, later to the pig. The cow, later the pig, also ate the bucket - dishwashing water. The neighbors who got some milk for this were also brought to our buckle.

For breakfast we usually had coffee. It was done from her burnt fruit. The coffee was burned in a small iron kettle with a wooden spoon. The chicory root was going to be harvested from the field. Sometimes burned acorns were added in the same way, and chestnut was also used. When the cow was milking, milk was put on the coffee. Sweetening was saccharin - there was no sugar. Perhaps it was still good if my older brother Aad so loved that he was still saying: "Aad's coffee barn will never be full."

Another sweet thing is that the mother knew and boiled the syrup out of the potatoes and later the beet. It was so good that whoever got it, fingered it in and the finger licked.

Later, of course, the situation improved, then we had a ham in the pantry, which was good to pinch, but only when the bread went on. In the summer, chickens also gave eggs.

Perhaps the story here was how I was the richest man in the family. We sounded once at Põduse, on the hill of the Great Bridge, when the pharmacist Allik came there. At first he was angry about littering hay, but he said: pick up the grass better for me. She showed three plants, one of them, a little whitish, whose seed buds were brown and heart-shaped, I have in front of my eyes. He called it a "herd shop". What the real name of this plant is, I don't know.

The other boy, weird, didn't bother, but I started picking up now. I collected this "herd bag", the valerian, the chamomile, the thyme and something else. I was so keen that the pharmacist soon lowered the price by half and didn't want any more.

My second source of income was champignons. Others did not pick them up, considered "assassin", but my mother, a servant of the old shrines, knew them and kept them. I picked them up mostly from the Salon Copper, where they were many, sometimes also from the Dawn. A couple of times they were bought by pharmacist Allik, but the main buyers were Buhrmeistrid on Pika Street. I was so diligent that they once showed Buhrmeister-Lord that they already had them. All of the eateries were filled with dry-cut champignons on the end of the string. But they led me to someone else's buyer.

So I had "Oberostis" more than anyone else. But there was also a great pride and joy in this, which later became a disappointment. Namely, Pütsepa Priid came from Tagamõisa. The man who had been my half-brother in the Russian army and was somewhat sympathetic to me. He wanted to buy cigars from the Germans, and asked my father for a loan. The father said, "No, I don't, but the boy has. If he gives?"
I proudly gave my stamps to Priid and got cigars. However, the frustrating disappointment was that he did not pay the debt to me, but brought it shabby.

It wasn't much better than anything else. There were no tricks at all, and petroleum was so scarce that we had the original paraffin left over from the store, then the sheep fat candles. In the kitchen, however, the knife was burnt down, which the father, according to the old wisdom of the farm, was able to tear off the cool pine branches. It was a separate art that only the father knew. The father was able to handle the fireball. I remember to do this by pushing it back.
Petroleum continued only for "tattnina". Only rarely, for learning, was it possible to ignite a ten-liter glass of kerosene.

In most cases, however, we had coal under the ashes in the sauna heater. To keep them, the father had the wisdom of the old farmer. It often happened that our neighbors came out of the fire. Here too we were in better condition. Namely, we had yellow sulfur left in the store. It was not possible to do the tricks with which to fire, but his father made long matches, dipped their ends in sulfur, and so were the matches that also ignited the weak spark. These dudes were also sold by the father. Later, homemade lighters began to spread. Very often their body was made of a rigid cartridge. They could be found everywhere, empty shells and charged cartridges.
For us boys, these were some kind of dangerous toys, but maybe when I arrive so far that I write about the games of boys in Venezuela.

So we lived until one day the prison camp was empty. It was said they were spoken: they were taken to a Roomassaare ship, taken to Germany. The ghost started to go: the Germans are going away. And one day they were gone.

Estonia's government, the Estonian state, came. At first these messages were confusing: many did not believe it could be true. My father was one of those who rejoiced. Too much evil was done by the Germans. I was too small to understand everything. But there was a change in my life with that. The Germans were in 1918. In the autumn, I introduced a schooling obligation and I went to school for a 7-year-old.

My school was so called. Linnamägi schoolhouse, a small stone house next to the current Basic School in Garnison Street. There were grades 1 and 2. Grades 3 and 4 were so-called. Etruk Schoolhouse. 5th and 6th Court Street, former "Bratski School" building. My teacher was a clerk, Hans Paas, in the second class, the river. I was the only one in my class who knew the stars and knew a little, though there were 13-15-year-old boys. Now, after the Germans left, the primary school moved to Kubermang Street, the premises of the former Girls' Gymnasium.
The change of class teacher, also changed teaching. We no longer required to learn German at the beginning of the throat. We were in Estonian school.

The War of Independence, the rebellion of Saaremaa, the victory over the Landeswehr followed. Life at the same time was still difficult, even though the stranger was under pressure. But then everything started to go up slowly. These events once deserve to be reminded and written down from the bottom, as some things look different from below, when talking about the history written on the basis of documents.

 

 

VOLDEMAR MILLER,
Saaremaa Muuseumi Kaheaastaraamat 1993 - 1994