Blanka Andělová

“Another memory of something that I witnessed and that I can still see in front of me: It was perhaps October because I know that the day’s were getting short and the leaves had fallen. We were up on Dušná, and always when the uncles, as we called them - they were men in ‘hubertuses’, long trench coats, and usually with satchels - when they came there, we had to go outside. Grandma looked after us there. As she was playing with us outside, she noticed a unit of schutzpolizei on bikes with dogs coming up the long winding road to our cottage. Grandma knew that meant trouble, so she whistled. The men, I think there were three or four of them, rushed into the bunker that is still dug into a slope there. There was a tube which brought air in from the top. There was no door, just a hatch. So they rushed inside and Grandma closed the hatch behind them. The schutzpolizei and the Germans, with typical precision, stacked all their bikes up on the hatch. The dogs were getting frantic, but by that time Auntie had come outside, Mr Škrábal, Mrs Škrábalová, Grandma - simply, a lot of people. They asked if we had seen someone. Of course we hadn’t. So they left the bikes with us and set off to search the surrounding area. They searched everything with the dogs and came back in the evening. I still remember how awful I felt when one of the Germans took me into his arms and told me he had a little girl just like me. He said it in German and Grandma translated it. Then he took a box of chocolates out of his pocket. That was the first time ever I saw chocolate. Then they took their bikes and left. We could’ve all been dead on the spot.”