My dad had a Latvian friend in his youth, and dad would tell me about how sometimes when they’d had a bit much to drink he’d tell stories about fighting on the front lines in Latvia. For the Germans, against the Russians. He was by absolutely no means a Nazi supporter, but he had to weigh the options and try to figure out which one was less likely to end with him and his family lying dead in a ditch somewhere.

It really sucks that Latvia didn’t regain independence until 1991. I hope he lived long enough to see that.