Precisely like this: both words - Riga Barricades - with a capital letter each. And although in January 1991 barricades were erected not only in Riga (they were also built, for example, in Liepaja), Riga Barricades nevertheless occupy a separate page in the history of the regaining of Latvia's independence. Remember at least the fact that heavy farm equipment from the far-away regions of the country made its way to Riga to defend in the capital the lawfully-elected Parliament and Government of the Latvian Republic, not yet recognised at that moment by the world community.

Every night of the barricades I spent together with other writers in the Writers Union building: in the splendid house of the Press Queen of the First Republic of Latvia Emilija Benjamina there still remained a kitchen, where soups could be cooked. One floor below in the fireplace hall the tables were set and all night long those who guarded at the barricades the closest strategic objects - the Council of Ministers on Brivibas street and the Central telephone hub on Dzirnavu street - came here to get warmed up by a plate of something warm. Every night two or three times the writers went out with a car in small groups to the further bonfires to talk to people and each time I tried to not let slip by this opportunity to witness up-close the newest history of the country.

During one of the nights information spread among those guarding the barricades, that there will be a landing of the Soviet army's special unit Alpha dropped by plane on the Zakusala island. The aim of the expected operation - to take by force the TV center. Obviously, Zakusala was the place that our writers brigade set off for that night.

First thing we saw - those TV tower defenders were no Robinsons Crusos! They were following the events on a TV set up under the night sky. Around the bonfires rose all sorts of constructions built up with logs, boards, pine brunches - barriers from the winds blowing through the island. A young voice politely inquired from the dark: "Is this where the main gathering is?" and within a minute coordinated choir singing rose from over there. In between two songs I was able to ask: "Who are you?" The answer: "Music academy". That's the way it was. No more, no less. At night, on an island, waiting for a parachute military landing from the sky...

Someone recognised me. Holding hands to his mouth as a load-speaker a man announces to the whole island: "Our Kremlin deputy is here! Bring the book!" People come to the bonfire and hand me a book by the USSR President M.Gorbachov "Perestroika and new thinking for our country and for the whole world". The book is in Latvian. I am told: "If today we stay alive, you go back to Moscow and see Gorbachov, give him back this book of fairy-tales. Tell him we grew up already and don't believe in fairy-tales anymore."

I open the book automatically and see that not only the white front page of the book is covered with ball-pen writings, but all the pages, over the printed text. These are messages from those guarding the barricades to the President of the USSR. They are written in Russian, with grammer mistakes, but without one rude word. These are emotional farewell letters. And under almost every text - a clear signature and the name of town or village, where the person came from to the barricades.

There was no air landing dropped on Zakusala that night. We all stayed alive. I went back to Moscow and saw Gorbachov in Kremlin. But I did not give him the book. Because it was still only January 1991 and the signatures under the farewell letters of the Riga Barricade defenders could be read all too clearly and the addresses were put down too precisely. Seven months remained untill the fiasco of the August coup. Noone of us could know at that time that in seven months the USSR would collapse and the repressive system of the KGB would become history.

Illustration: Aigars Bumburs