Zdislava Michlová

“We were four children. My oldest brother Bohumil wanted to study theology. He was friends with one Justice Gebrich. And shortly after Czechoslovakia was occupied by the Nazis, his own brother ratted on them that they were listening to English radio. They nabbed my brother from the seminary, where he was studying, arrested him and sent him to forced labour in Germany. Her returned to the seminary after the war, but he was soon sent to do service in the AEC in Slovakia by the Communists, for a change.”

“When someone ratted on a person who had a better flat, wanting to exchange it for their own, we had to investigate it. We had a special person for that. He went there, and if necessary, the exchange was made. Luckily, it didn’t happen all that much. For instance, I knew one old teacher. She was already retired. And someone ratted on her in that sense. At the time I was forced to give in and move her into the worse flat. So I was glad to get out of there afterwards. It weighed down on me. I went to work for Křižík, I sharpened saw blades there, and that was truly apolitical work.”

“We lived in Smíchov, and I attended a Catholic grammar school in Vinohrady. It was run by venerable nuns. We only had two civilian professors. For Latin and mathematics, I think. There were a lot of us and the nuns couldn’t manage everything. It was during the war, and we received the announcement that we wouldn’t graduate. That the Germans do not wish to develop the Czech intelligentsia. We breathed a sigh of relief that we’d avoid having to take our graduation exams. But then another announcement came that we will take our exams, except in German. Mathematics, history, even Czech [language and literature] - all in German. The professors were devastated. In the end they came up with a trick: they distributed the questions among us, so we could prepare ourselves somehow. When the German commissar found out, he was furious that they were helping us this way. I don’t know what happened to the professors, whether they locked any of them up. All I know is that everyone passed the exams, only a few students had to do retakes.”

“Part of the what was to be the last Sokol rally was a parade through Prague. It was spectacular. How they all marched through the city in their gym tights and white T-shirts. There was a grandstand down at Můstek. On it, there was Gottwald and his colleagues. They expected that the marching Sokols would call out their fame. Except a bit further up ahead of Můstek there stood two Sokol leaders, one on each side, and whenever another troop came up, they both ordered ‘Eyes left!’ But that meant with their backs to the grandstand. Gottwald was furious. He had the [Sokol] leadership locked up straight away. But he didn’t cancel the rally itself with regards to its international prestige.”