Marie Volovská

* 1935

  • "One of those Russian commanders, I remember, I was just... I was standing in the kitchen, so I was just listening, and he was talking to my father in Czech. He knew Czech, he was talking to him in Czech. And he says, 'I have three little children like that at home, too.' And he says, 'You were very lucky, you were very lucky, because if those Germans hadn't left that night, there wouldn't have been a stone left on a stone.' That two hundred cannons had been prepared. Those woods were full of troops and they wanted to smash it."

  • "There was a farmer in that field, when I used to go there to herd the geese, just outside the village, he left - he didn't have time to take it away - what is the wheelbase, it's the front wheels with the drawbar. And he left it in the field. We explained it to each other afterwards. The way the drawbar was sticking up and the wheels, it probably looked like a cannon to them. And they started bombing it. Twenty metres or so. There were two bombs dropped in the pub, in the barn, so it didn't fall a bit further, so we would have it in the cottage. There wouldn't have been anything left of us, of those eight people." - "Where were you at that moment?" - "In bed, it was early in the morning. Mum came in and said, 'They're bombing.'"

  • "In the morning, around eight or nine o'clock, we still were having mass in the chapel. That's how I got it wrong. The soldiers couldn't stay with us because we were full, we didn't have room, but they were staying next door - the family. And there was a priest among them. And he was saying mass for us on the very day the Russians came there. And he was saying mass right at the altar, and suddenly from outside, because everybody couldn't fit in, you could hear, 'The Russians are here! The Russians are here!' There were shots in the air. And he just heard, 'The Russians are here,' so he said, 'Sing, sing.' I don't know if he was German by origin, but he was probably just worried, so people started singing really loudly. The troops went past the chapel and passed it quietly. Just the shots that were fired. And they went on through the village and they dispersed around the village or wherever... I don't know."

  • Full recordings
  • 1

    Otice, 27.01.2026

    (audio)
    duration: 01:45:46
    media recorded in project Příběhy regionu - Moravskoslezský kraj
  • 2

    Otice, 02.02.2026

    (audio)
    duration: 01:22:28
    media recorded in project Příběhy regionu - Moravskoslezský kraj
Full recordings are available only for logged users.

“Wake up, they’re bombing,” her mother woke her up.

Marie Volovská, ca. end of the first half of the 1940s
Marie Volovská, ca. end of the first half of the 1940s
photo: Witness´s archive

Marie Volovská was born in Jamnice on 3 September 1935 to parents Aloisie, née Vémolová, and František Kleibl. Her father worked as a worker in the sugar factory in Vávrovice, while her mother tended to the cattle and fields. She spent her childhood during the German occupation, which also affected her school life - she had to greet her teachers with a raised right hand and a Nazi salute. She remembers the German mayor, Peterek, as a decent man who did not turn anyone in, but after the Soviets arrived he disappeared and his daughter Edita later told her that the family received only a bundle of bloody “rags”. According to the chronicles and the memoirs of the memoirist, Jamnice was bombed several times without any injuries to local civilians. The family took shelter in the cellar of the pub or with neighbours during the bombings at the end of the war, even for a whole week. The Kleibl family had a hay wagon ready with the essentials. Just before the liberation, German soldiers who left at night were accommodated in the village. On the morning of May 6, 1945, Jamnice was occupied by the Red Army without a fight, the citizens were just in the chapel for a mass celebrated by an escaped Polish priest. The Kleibl family was then occupied by Soviet soldiers who slept on straw in the kitchen. The soldiers eventually set up the intended infirmary in the hall of the inn instead of at the Kleibls’. From one soldier, she learned that the village was to be razed to the ground. From 1952 she worked at the cereal research station in Opava. The family farm was hit by a foot-and-mouth epidemic, then collectivisation set in. For a long time, my mother refused to join a cooperative farm and faced psychological pressure. Maria Volovská was threatened with dismissal at work and with a bad personnel report. In 1958, she married Jan Volovský in Otice and raised two children. The events of 1968 caused her to feel fear again. There were rumours of the possible removal of the children. Faith and church attendance remained a matter of course for her, yet the family faced pressure from school and employers. She refused to join the Communist Party. At the time of recording in 2026, she lived in Otice.