Bohuslav Andrš

"The Slovak National Revolt broke out, and they probably - according to historical sources, as I know and as no doubt everyone knows - were counting on us being deployed into combat somewhere around the Moravian Gate. Because there were pointlessly too many troops in these parts of the Carpathians. They were moving in through Hungary, so they would've by-passed the whole thing. But the Slovak National Revolt broke out, so hurrah and off we go to help the revolt, so off to Dukla. And there... You know all that from the sources, there's no point in me talking about it. Opinions vary on whether too many died there and for no good reason. But really, that wasn't the only place they were dying pointlessly in. Because, I do have to say, the Soviets' method of fighting was: 'We are many and no one is important.' ... I arrived at Dukla. The first impressions were appalling - the impressions from the 8th and 9th of September 1944. We were almost fit to pull back from combat, in those first moments. We regrouped somewhat, strengthened the lines, but the truth is, we lost many of our own there."

"I'm not originally from Bohemia, from Czechoslovakia. Unlike others who had crossed the borders and entered the army, either in the West or in the East, our foreign army. I'm the descendant of post-White Mountain exiles. My ancestors left - as far as I've been able to find out - sometime around 1740. That means that I am the seventh or possibly eighths generation to be born abroad."

"Everyone returned, but I stayed. And I was afraid, rightfully, that they would send me back, that the Soviets would say: 'You belong there, you are a Volhynian Czech.' So I didn't write home. Two years - from 1945 to 1947 - I didn't write home. In 1947, they even asked after me through the radio, as they did after the war... And a friend came to me one time and he said: 'Bohouš, I heard in the radio this morning, that they're looking for one Bohouš Andrš etcetera. Wouldn't that be you?' I said: 'Nah, no one would be looking for me. Give me a break!' I told me to go there and ask, but I didn't go anywhere, I was afraid. In fact, I had made up my mine to such an extent, I was so determined, that if they had caught me and were taking me away, I would have jumped out of the train. It was a completely different place here, to me. When I was in the demobilization detachment in Kroměříž, as I remember, on August 6th, they dropped the bomb on Hiroshima. There were various notice boards and I read the newspapers. Mostly Rudé právo, Svobodné slovo, Lidová demokracie (transl.: The Red Law, The Free Word, The People's Democracy). And I saw that each paper wrote in a different way, in an interesting way. I thought that was something brilliant! Back at home, they were all, whether it was Pravda, Pionýrská pravda or Izvěstija (transl.: The Truth, The Pioneer's Truth, The Report) - all exactly the same. So I liked that very much."

"The Soviets came, and with them the kolkhozy, persecution and imprisonment. We lost our father. Not just us, that year of 1938 they took away thirteen people from our village. For no reason at all. They sent them off to Siberia. Just one returned, Pujmun his name was. No teeth, a broken man who couldn't even remember, where he had been. The rest never came back. Not until 1956, when Khrushchev replaced Stalin and Malenkov (the witness probably means the 20th Congress of the CPSU and Khrushchev's denouncement of the Stalin personality cult - ed.), they sent my mother an announcement: 'Your husband was unlawfully repressed...' And we don't even know where he rests."