Věra Bořkovcová, roz. Krejcárková

“My dad was approached by two medicine students who were members of a student committee which decided that Opletal’s funeral will be public. The committee decided that Jan deserved it. They also added that they pledged with their lives that there will be no demonstrations. The police then came to our place and my dad had to write down exactly what we was going to say at the funeral. My dad never mentioned that he’d give the text to the Germans, just to our police. So Albertov turned into a funeral. My dad wasn’t used to speaking according to a written text on funerals so he added a couple of his own thoughts. He thanked his parents for the great upbringing and education they gave their son. Then he said: ‘so what, there’s nothing bad about that. The boy was a good student and he could have been a great doctor.”

“It began on October 28, 1939. I was a student and we all felt that we had to publicly show our disagreement. It was very strongly felt among us. So we put on our tricolors and a few of us went to the National Theater to see the play Libuše. I got the ticket at school and I have to tell you that it was a pretty strong experience. I don’t even remember how I got home afterwards. We were sitting at the balcony and listening to the singing of Marie Podvalová. It was a dramatic mezzosoprano, amazingly strong. She sang that Libuše so emotionally, that it sent shivers down my spine. It was incredibly strong, the atmosphere of rebellion and resistance against the oppressors. The standing ovation took forever. Even after the curtain came down and the organizers repeatedly called upon us to go home, people stayed in the audience and applauded ferociously. We chanted our national anthem. Then they turned off the light and only the emergency lights stayed on. We got scared that they might arrest us so we went home. I walked home, I wouldn’t use the tram because I needed some time to process the strong emotions I had felt on that evening. I kept saying to myself: ‘what a beautiful moment that was.”

“I remember that my pocket money was five crowns a week. I donated that money to the defense of the state thinking that my five crowns will do a great deal to help defend the country. Well, and later, when the soldiers had to abandon the fortifications and hand over their arms, it was a sort of treason for me. I was thirteen years old back then and I truly perceived it as a national treason. I still feel that way. You forgive things but I still can’t forget it. It’s the same thing with the communists – I’ve already forgiven them but I can’t forget.”