Zdeněk Hostaša

“I spoke English thanks to Leopoldov. The people there who spoke English helped us. We used to write it down on cigarette papers with micro-letters in purple pencil. If you had bad luck, they found it. That happened to me once. Just once. There was one doctor there, he was also a mafdo [“man for disposal”, an approximation of the Czech slang term “mukl” describing prisoners undesirable to the state - transl.], and he worked in the mafdo infirmary, or sick room. He worked with rubber gloves and he brought us the fingers from those gloves. So wherever you could squeeze it into... When they did a check-up, those were quickies, you had to hurry because if they found it on you, you went in the cooler. That earned you fifteen days in the cooler. Firstly, that you’re hiding something, and secondly, aggravating circumstances, it was in English, an enemy language. That’s the kind of asses they were, excuse the language. So what to do? Swallow it? Us poor guys where I was, there weren’t many of us... well, there’s a place on the human body that is called anus in Latin. So that’s where. When they did a check-up, you had to strip naked, underwear and all, and if you had bad luck, when you squatted down it plopped out of you.”

“I knew I was in the east zone of Berlin. I reckon, good, I’ll go left - although between you and me, I’m no leftie. It was a good decision, because if I’d have gone right, I’d hardly have got there, it was terribly far away. After a while I came upon a signpost informing me that I was leaving the east zone and heading to the American occupation zone.” (Q: “Weren’t there any patrols there?”) “Wait, let me finish. It took maybe ten fifteen minutes, I don’t know, a short time. I walked on and saw another signpost, and I thought to myself, goodness now what. I was going at a swift pace, I was alone, no one else walked there. The river was on my right side and there was a bridge there. There was one man opposite me, a Russian, I don’t know what he was holding, a kalashnikov maybe. He had it slung over like this and he was looking at me. I didn’t stop at all. Some instinct was telling me don’t stop, keep going. So I glanced at him and carried on straight over the bridge. The Russian stood there, didn’t budge an inch. And there I saw the notice: You are entering U. S. zone.”

“So I went to the river and then over the wires, of course, but I didn’t know the wires, the fences there. I found myself a short stick along the way, I did it all in a hurry, and I used the stick to brush through the grass to make sure there wasn’t any wire there connected to a rocket. I knew it, I saw through it. I saw the electricity isolators, I reckoned now what. And I poked the wires with the stick again, no sparks. I said to myself, blow it, here goes, I grabbed it with my hand - I only felt a little tingling. It was hardly live at all, just a bit of juice in it. I had a leather bag with me, I threw it up on the wires, it created a kind of T if you’d look from the profile. I climbed up, I’m sure a broke an Olympic record. I was torn up, hands all bloody. I jumped into the corridor, and more wires, or rather a fence, but without the T. So again, I threw the satchel over the other side. I knew that Czechs weren’t allowed to construct anything on the Austrian side. So it must be a bit further to the actual border. Well, to put it simply, I got over to the other side.”

“The trial was divided up, it was the public session. I had my mum there and my sister-in-law. The trial was headed by the military procurator, Major Zich he was called. Th name stuck in my brain. Well, and when he read all of the paragraphs and so on - Mum was still there at that point - and when he said: ‘Paragraph 86’, the one for the death sentence, Mum collapsed. My sister-in-law told me that later on, she was with her there.”