“And they came there from Segedin.. a policeman led us there. All of a sudden two boys rose from the table there. They shouted at the policeman, they took us and put in jail right away. We had to hand in even our shoe laces. And we were three people in a cell for one person and the Mayor slept on his own. And there were Gipsies next door. Well, you can imagine that. Well, we took turns on the pallet. When we lay on one side and someone wanted to turn, we all had to turn. For three weeks. And within three weeks there were for about thirty-six of us or so in there.”
“If you are thirsty and put some sea water into your mouth, then you swallow it – once, twice. It burns your throat, well, simply, it is bad. Well, and I said: 'Pavel, look, we are here – it is the matter of about two hours. We are in the same conditions, they are dead and Štěrba is unconscious. We should end it up. None of us wants to stay with the dead.' Pavel said: 'What do you want to do? We have no gun to shoot ourselves dead. Only to plunge in the water.' The water was reaching up to my chest when I was sitting. I said: 'Pavel, anything else but never in water.'”
“We were taken from the jail to a cellar in Segedin, a cellar in which they used to empty the manure, the filth from the straw mattresses. We detested that because it was dangerous for your conjunctivae. So we held three together and some other three. We held each other like this and we were ready to spend the night like that. But we stayed there for three nights! No food, eventually we all collapsed onto the straw. Nobody could last it how hungry we were. Then they came and took us and we had no idea (...) and they took us to Ódmesevarszáhera (?). It is a town and they put us up in a ready whole one-storey house there. The ground floor was taken by twenty-five guards and we were sixty-five and one woman. We all were on the first floor (...), there were always two with their legs opposite to another one under a blanket. We caught lice and scabies in a while, they spread really terribly fast. It was probably because of all the filth in there.”
“'OK, Pavel,' I said, 'we have to organize it here in the boat.' And he said: 'I know, we bury the dead.' Because the boat was sinking with us too. There was nothing more we could inflate. There was nothing to inflate it with. It was flat. Well, so we bury the dead so that we save ourselves. We had some kind of morphine hope that we had to save ourselves. So I fastened it on his (Tománek's) shoulder and Pavel helped me to tumble him over it. We managed to tumble him over into the water, it wasn't such a tough job to do over the flat edge. And then we prayed over him and then I said: 'Pavel, this is a burial without flowers.' You see, we missed the body. When he was with us, even dead, but when he was thrown in there already... It was a strange feeling. Of course we had absolutely no more strength left for Moor. I said: 'Pavel, I can't move my legs, I can move only my arms. Try to wake Štěrba up, perhaps he could help you.' What Štěrba did: he took the body, they were friends, he put him on his chest, the body... It was all under water. And I kept saying: 'Pavel, we have to take Štěrba out and put on top so that he didn't get drowned. Hopefully he is still alive.'”
“So we went but there had already been thaw in there. So we went with our calves half in mud, it squelched. And she (the guide) said: 'You get to know Yugoslavia only when you cross a small bridge with railing.' But it was only one level of mud. And then I saw something from the mud so I went there – and it was a small bridge. I crawled over it and everybody followed me. The young woman held my hand, we went two by two so that we managed it, slowly. Well, simply some kind of experience with flights. We crossed the railing and there were shocks of maize there. It was three o'clock past midnight. I had the feeling the shocks moved. So I stopped and everybody stopped. And then I made a step and as it squelched it said: 'Stoj!' ('Stop!') Then I knew we were in Yugoslavia then.”
“We were sat first of all, there were some benches. One of the girls (to the interviewer), like you are, sat next to another one. And on the other benches there were sat men about half a meter from one another and they had to keep their hands on their chests. And I sat down, they sat me next to a man, between such two men, and one of them must have been a heavy smoker. He said: 'A cigarette, haven't you seen? A cigarette?' he whispered. There was a Gestapo man at the head of the table. And they went among them, there stood Czech policemen who served in Gestapo. So I kind of stroke my legs and pulled out a few cigarettes and laid them on the bench. And he, a heavy smoker, pounced on them. And because he moved, luckily a Czech policeman noticed him. And he came and beat him up. He took me and sat me on a concrete bench with my forehead towards the wall. And I read what was inscribed probably with a nail on the wall: 'Goodbye, Mother.' So I said to myself: 'Well, someone has already written it for me!'”
“My name is Alois Šiška, I was born in a small village at the town Kroměříž in 1914. We had a small farm, we were three children. My father stayed in Russia in the first World War and perhaps because of that, or I don't know why, I was always attracted by air force. We for example, when I remember: we were with my mother in the field and we thinned the beet and there flew a plane somewhere in the sky. And I looked until I spotted that and I kept watching till it was gone. My Mother admonished me, she was far ahead, because at that time you were down on your knees and thinned the beet.”
“Then we looked, it was totally unbroken and all of a sudden someone shouted from above the clouds about five meters high: 'There are planes there.' Well, the navigator took one rocket. And it was either the wet match on top, you had to quickly jerk it so that it set on fire. He didn't manage so I said: 'Give it to me!' So he gave me the second one. My hand was still quite painful. So he held me and I jerked with it. Then he gave it to me and I followed the airplane... Two aircraft Hudson flew above us. And someone counted the aircraft and they were said to be twelve... such lighting lights so that we were visible at night. I counted nine when the aircraft shot a red rocket. It meant he could see us. The second plane flew above us and another one flew towards us. He flew right above us, up, down, he did all those... and we all thought that we were saved. And there was an unwritten rule in England that if you were found as a castaway, the plane had to make sure you would be airlifted even if the pilot himself had to land without petrol next to us. That was an unwritten rule, of course. Well, when he was flying he dropped a parcel. A bigger parcel. And we would welcome the parcel, a drop of drinking water or something. But Tománek said: 'I'll swim and bring it.' It was about ten meters far in the boiling (rough) water. I told him: 'You sit here and do not move. You plunge in there and we won't see you again.' And then the parcel disappeared in the waves in a while. It was a shame but what could have been done. Well, and then the Hudson flew directly towards us and then slowly up till it got lost in the clouds. It was a mental shock to us.”
I was sitting with my forehead towards a concrete wall in a Gestapo station. I read what was inscribed probably with a nail on the wall: Goodbye, Mother
Alois Šiška was born in the village of Lutopecny at Kroměříž on May 15th, 1914. His parents owned a small farm. His father didn’t come back from WWI from Russia. Little Alois longed for becoming a pilot since his childhood. He paid for Flying School in 1934, and flew with Baťa’s Squadron. After the occupation he left for France through Slovakia, Hungary, Yugoslavia and the Middle East. He joined the Foreign Legion in France, he left for Great Britain after the fall of France. He flew with 311 Squadron RAF. He was shot down above the North Sea on December 28th, 1941. Three members of the crew survived in poor conditions in a life boat. They were arrested by Germans on the Holland coast. He spent some time in German hospitals and prisons. He was transported to the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia after the invasion of the Allies in Normandy. He was sentenced to death and was taken to the fort Colditz and then to another camp where the Americans liberated him. He spent the next two years in British hospitals. He returned home in 1947 where he was forced to stay. After his withdrawal from the Army, he was forced to work in agriculture (as he was kept on this job). Also his wife had to leave the post of a university lecturer. He was partially rehabilitated in 1968, and completely rehabilitated in 1989. He is the author of the book No Response from KX-B. Mr. Šiška died on September 9th, 2003. He was awarded many decorations.
