“Our platoon was in those bunkers, and the company command stayed some 200 meters behind us. We were in these bunkers. The Italians built fortifications around Tobruk. There was a wadi, which is something like a gorge, and it was eroded by water during the periods of rain. At other times, there was just sand and rocks in there. Our task was to do advance reconnaissance, to keep advanced patrols, and watch what the Italians were up to. A watch had to be kept every night. One night my comrade and I were in that wadi and we took turns – he was on guard for an hour or two, and then he went to sleep and I took his place. At one moment I woke up and I saw him sleeping! That was very dangerous, because the enemy was doing reconnaissance, too. They had some Senegalese, and they could just come and slit your throat, and that would be it. But eventually we managed. One time I was on the advanced patrol on the other side of the wadi, and there were only some low rocks to give you some minimal cover, but otherwise the place was just bare rock. I was on the patrol with a fellow soldier, and just when we were there the Italians opened fire from mine-throwers. The situation was pretty bad and we were surprised that we got out of there and didn’t get a direct hit. Adámek from our platoon died in the same place before or after that.”
“After the war, I remained in the army as a career officer and I came to handle my duties quite well. Then there was an inspection from the ministry – they transferred me to the rear services, and I served as the supply chief for the mechanized commissary regiment. The inspection arrived, and among the inspectors there was this general from Volhynia, I forgot his name, but he had been in Volhynia with me. I talked to him and they evaluated my work very well, praising me for leading the regiment properly. But after some time… You see, I was involved in a photography club. I was an amateur photographer and I was doing photo enlargements, and so on. And some officer from the section came to me and accused me of participating in this photography club, which was allegedly a den of spies. I told him: ´Come on, stop talking this nonsense.´ I didn’t pay any attention to it. But a notice then came, and I was ordered to begin working as a warehouse keeper. I realized that this was not good anymore. It was in the 1950s. Eventually I was transferred from there to the guard section and they eventually dismissed me from the army. I was in Benešov near Prague, and near Tábor at that time, and I felt very bad about it. For many years I have tried hard to keep our country in existence, and suddenly I was labelled as a criminal. But after I had moved to Ostrava and met the guys there, I realized that I could have been in a much worse situation: other guys had been imprisoned in the Mírov prison, like Tuška or others. Tuška was open about his views, and he wanted to act independently. They played a trick on him - he had told me the same thing at that time. He told me that it would be good for me to escape the country. He promised that they would help me! What happened, and it happened to many other people as well, was they trusted this promise, and they even mentioned something else they shouldn’t have. Then they ended up in Mírov, and got into great trouble. Just take General Píka, for instance, who was executed.”
“Unfortunately, when the Germans attacked Poland on September 1, the opportunity was no longer there, and we had to rely on ourselves. Captain Divoký organized our transport to join our main group in Poland, but it was only on September 3. We managed it, and we also experienced bombing there--not only the bombing of our wooden barracks in Brumovice, but also the bombing of the railway station, which was in bad shape already. We rode on a train towards Lvov, but a section of the railroad track was destroyed by the bombing and we had to get out and walk. We reached the track which led to Lublin, but as we were arriving to Lublin the terrible bombing began. There were German bombers and fighter planes, and the Stuka planes were firing at the train so the train had to back up. We jumped out of the train, but we were not able to get any further because the entire city of Lublin was on fire. The following night we moved onto another railroad track in order to get to Baranowicze. We lost one sergeant there--he died-- and there were also some wounded. We reached Baranowicze, but when we got there, there was nobody there. They had left because they were under attack and it was obvious that the Poles wouldn’t make it, and that there would be no other option for us but to leave the place.”
“Each of us was allowed to take a leave, and I chose Alexandria and Cairo. I was the only one from our platoon to request leave. They drove us to some makeshift railroad in Egypt, and from there we rode onto Alexandria. What happened… Besides me, there were soldiers from other units in that train, too – Englishmen, Indian, and Polish. You know, we had been assigned to the Polish foreign gunnery brigade. In Alexandria, the train derailed and we kept moving onto the couplings which hold the rails together. The reason was the railroad was built on sand, and due to the heat the joints were loose in some places. But another train arrived and took us to Alexandria. One of my comrades, I think his name was Rak, tells me: ´I know an owner of one guest house there, go to him.´ It’s interesting that I was able to find my way in Alexandria and that I really found that house. The owner let me stay in his guest house. After a long time I was able to sleep in a bed, take a bath, eat with a fork and spoon. I almost didn’t know how to use utensils anymore. I could thus spend some carefree time there. While I was in Alexandria, naturally I went to meet some girls too, but since I was already there, I also wanted to do some sightseeing. Although I had been there before, I wanted to explore the city a bit more. From there I went to Cairo to have a look at the sphinx and the Citadel - it was beautiful, and I am still amazed even today that I had managed it. Being there on my own, you know. Among the Arabs, you never knew what might happen!”
“There was unrest in Syria and it was expected that the Germans would want to occupy it because of the oil reserves; the Vichy government seemed to be in favour of that. The English therefore wanted to occupy Syria, and we were also deployed there. It was at the time when we held the area of Merjaun in Lebanon. It was quite difficult because it was in the mountainous terrain and our platoon was sent there. There was lieutenant Vašica, who was the commander, and I was in the squad with sergeant - officer cadet Král and his deputy sergeant Tesařík. We drove through the Lebanon mountains in one of the platoon cars. As long as we were in the valley it was fine, but as we began ascending to the mountains there were only gorges and rocks and almost no vegetation, except for an occasional crooked tree. We drove on a very bad road. At one moment it looked like the driver wouldn’t make it, and I could already imagine our car down at the bottom of that gorge. But we managed, and we arrived to a small village called Cheva. We looked at the place in amazement, because the people there had their houses carved into the rocks. Our task was to reconnoitre the area and disarm any foreign legion soldiers and Arabs that might be there. We did take some weapons from them, but it was very dangerous because as we were down in the gorge, the Arabs could just roll some big rocks on us from the top – it was quite dangerous. We managed it, but another group which were there with us got into trouble. They almost got surrounded by them and they barely managed to get out of there.”
Josef Křístek was born on August 31, 1919 in Domaslavice near Frýdek. He learned the fitter’s trade and he worked in a coal mine. After the occupation in 1939, he crossed the border to Poland. He joined the Czechoslovak army in Krakov, and via the USSR, he went to the Middle East. He took part in combat at Tobruk in North Africa and in the Middle East. He sailed on the Mauretania to England. The end of the war found him at Dunkerque. He was dismissed from the army in the 1950s. Josef Křístek passed away on February, the 17th, 2016.
