Miroslav Wildung

“They took me from the secret police headquarters to the prison in Olomouc. It was like a salvation for me. The reason was that the cells at the secret-police station were really cold. They had only built it in the autumn and I was taken there in January. As far as the interrogations are concerned, well … let’s say that they caressed us but at the same time it wasn’t that horrible. There was not much beating taking place. Those who had been arrested weren’t taken to the secret-police quarters at all. We were only there for a day. Those that I didn’t know had just come to the Olomouc prison. The lights-out was only at ten o’clock and they turned the lights on at six already. Cover up and put your hands under the blanket. It was a disaster. Because then he would kick the door and wake up the entire floor. When you slipped under the blanket all the way. That was forbidden. When they took you to the interrogation, you only had a number, no name. They would put glasses on your head and lead you to that room. But there were almost no beatings I have to say. Because they didn’t even have to, they got them to tell them what they wanted just by…”

“When we lined-up they counted us. I wasn’t there at the time but I know from hearsay that nobody wanted to stand in the first row. It was because one of the warders would beat those in the first row deliberately with his heavy bundle of keys. They called him ‘Paleček’ (Albín Dvořák), he was the officer in charge in Jáchymov. Nobody would stand in the first row. During my term there, there was an acquaintance of mine, a guy from Znojmo. He was a teamster. I knew him because I had worked with him before. One day, he came to the line-up in his slippers. The warder sent him to the correction and after two hours, he was dead. Požár from Znojmo.”

“I saw a deadly accident pretty early on in the mine. It happened to a guy who helped people flee across the border. He was a tall sports man. Originally, he was a carpenter by profession. He was constructing chimneys, struts and these kinds of things. He was sort of a boy scout. ‘Boys, I don’t want to go today’. He was buried by a boulder. As long as he was buried underneath it, he spoke to us. As soon as we finally managed to lift it up with cranes, he was gone.”