Leo Tõnisson

       It was 14 of June. A week earlier, I had finished Tallinn Secondary School No 7, and I was 19 years old.

      Very early in the morning, at about 4 a.m., I was woken by urgent pounding on the door. Earlier, Mother had already heard a commotion and crying from downstairs, where the Puhk family lived. According to her recollections, she had then looked out the window, and seen a truck in front of the house filled with all kinds of household goods. Someone's iron and electric stove had especially stuck in her mind.
      

      When Mother opened the door, two men stormed in. The militiaman was holding a revolver in his hand, and the younger man, in plain clothes, was holding his hand in his pocket, just in case. At the door and outside, stood armed men in internal security uniforms. First of all, they demanded, by name, to see my brother and me.