The Marian Martyrs of Rosica

145 Memoir “Go away, so that we never see you again, or else we will arrest you,” he said. The heroic saga of Rosica had come to its end. The sacrifice of blood soaked into the earth. We continued on toward our own uncertain fate. ATIME OF SUFFERING Then, in March, we celebrated the resurrection of the Lord from the tomb. As we had done since 1940, we started the Easter resurrection hymn with the words: “He overwhelmed the powers of hell, He trampled His enemies ...” Time was going forward with increasing suffering. At that time, the Latvian Provincial Superior, Father Valpitrs, took charge of our monastery. He came to us for a visitation. He was a serious, middle-aged priest with a beard and mustache who performed his priestly functions in both rites. Probably it was the same time that Bolek Zajac went to Latvia where Bishop Sloskan secretly ordained him inside a closed church. His first Masses were celebrated very quietly. When would I be able to stand at the altar as well to make the bloodless Sacrifice to God? Autumn came, and again the superior summoned me. “Brother Henry, we would like you to go to Warsaw to tell them what is going on here and to bring us news from there.” Go? All right, even though it wouldn’t be easy and it was very dangerous. The partisans were in full operation, and every week a train was blown up somewhere. But, a man must do what a man must do. It was not easy to obtain a travel permit. The German authorities gave them very reluctantly. I went to the deputy regional commandant in Braslaw with an inter- preter, Fr. Anthony Szubzda. Even though it was 1943 and the Germans were no longer so self-absorbed, I still didn’t get the permit. Maybe the turkey was too small and maybe the Commandant didn’t understand he was getting it in exchange for a favor. And maybe — and