We were already ready for bed when we heard gun fire. We jumped in our car that was parked in the yard, and in a few minutes we were there. My wife's fellow teacher, Aldona Petrulionienė, joined us on the way. We ran to the tower along the hill from the direction of Lazdynai (from the west). We saw tanks moving along Sudervės Street, firing. We still couldn't see the tanks that were coming from the direction of Lazdynai, we could only hear them shooting. We rushed through a hole in the fence and stood on the western side, as there were fewer people there. We encouraged people to surround the tower from all sides. More people were still coming, and there was quite a crowd already. Men pushed women closer to the wall and blocked them with their own bodies. Young men forced themselves to the front. There wasn't any panic at all. From the left (we were standing facing Sudervės Street and the bridge, where the tanks were firing), tanks began to surround the tower. The noise was inhuman. They came one after another, firing, and after them came soldiers in full gear. They all ran to the right. People were chanting: „Shame! Shame! Lithuania!" Their voices were drowned out by the horrible roar and the grating jingle of breaking glass. A tank stopped by us and soldiers began to shoot from the tank at the windows above our heads. We could see perfectly well that they weren't shooting blanks. The people stood there. Suddenly one of the tanks switched in reverse and began to move towards us. Only then did people disperse, and others surrounded it from the other side. We were excited and infuriated, but we only used words to try to persuade the soldiers not to shoot. Turning back, they fired a series of shots over our heads and continued to push people further back. Reluctantly, squatting down and getting up again, people moved back. Soldiers were already inside the tower. One of them was on the second floor and was kicking everything that he met on his way. Others followed suit. The tanks, turning their blinding searchlights, pushed the people back. Bullets from automatic guns whistled by us. There was an English speaking correspondent near to us (his translators were 2 young women). He was squatting on the ground to avoid the bullets. A few men came running from the tower, dragging a wounded man. My son and I rushed to help. I thought he was already dead. We carried him to the ambulance which was parked below by the bridge. A stumbling young man in a light-colored jacket was being led over. He had been shot. We wanted to go forward but soldiers opened fire.

When everything started to calm down, a group of people in athletic wear suddenly came from the bridge at an almost military pace. They had gotten out of military vehicles. They went up the hill but had to stop there. I saw a group of militiamen mix in with them. As if they were slumped down they gradually went back. When the territory had been “cleaned", a vehicle with a loudspeaker drove up to what was left of the fence. In broken Lithuanian, a voice appealed to the people: „Dear Lithuanians, go home. Your children, grandmothers and grandfathers are waiting for you..." Those words, „Dear Lithuanians" (with the stress on the wrong syllable), ring in my ears... Most of the people cried.

Lithuania, 1991.01.13 : documents, testimonies, comments. - Vilnius : State Publishing Center, 1992, p. 219-220.