"I suffered many tribulations on our flight. Father was shocked, he had said, that we would be together forever - and then they sent us to a school a thousand kilometers away. For what reason was it like that?" - "It wasn't a requirement, but it was strongly recommended. Usually the whole school would move. It was safer, than in that London. Only thing that could happen, is that some German bomber would make his way home easier and let his bombs out on us. It was done like that when they were running out of fuel and throwing away dead weight." - "And how often did you visit your parents in London?" - "Thanks to the dentist only more often." - "For example once a month?" - "Of course not, maybe once every three months. I didn't really miss them. Because we had already created our life, our environment." - "But even so you were only ten years old then..." - "But they called us 'mademoiselle' and called the boys 'monsieur', From ten years old. It really has something to it, because when they call you 'mademoiselle' at ten years old, then you of course start to behave more politely, when they don't consider you some sort of little delinquent."
"They created sections for themselves there. He was in the financial section was responsible for that loan. We payed the English for all the arming and dressing of our soldiers in England. So it was not endless. Even these kinds of tiny things like shoelaces. And so there was more than enough of it, and that is why he also stayed there a little longer. He did not return with the first batch. He had to give it some form or other and then give it to the English ministry of finance. Dad got praised by that minister, that his accounts corroborated with my dad's accounts. It was a big compliment."
"And because we had diplomatic passports, he said, that he was willing to take mom and me to that Sables-d'Olonne and that dad could go by train. The poor soul never wanted to tell us about that journey, never. We agreed, that we'd meet back together in Sables-d'Olonne and there find some vehicle and go to that big harbor in Bordeaux. Mom, as she looked out, saw, how some man was walking and dragging heavy luggage behind him and sat down on a bench a little way from us. There were benches there and from them you could see the sea. And mom throws back across her shoulder: 'Another poor, desperate refugee.' But then she suddenly temperamentally cried out: 'Jesus Christ, why that's Jára!' She ran out, caught him with her temperament and shook him; I saw it from the window. But dad didn't talk. He was cramped up. What he saw, he never told us, after his journey. Mom dragged him back and at the ground level there was this kind of bistro. When the owner saw, he said, that it was nothing. He took a funnel, put it in my dad's mouth and poured hot wine in there. Dad's first words were: 'Now we will never say goodbye again. We will be together forever.'"
"The ship didn't moor by the platform, but a little bit away, so that strangers couldn't get on board. There was deep sea there for the ship to be able to sail. The parents whispered something among themselves and then mom ran up and jumped over that gap of water. Dad threw her our luggage and then took me up in his arms threw me to mom. She caught me and then he ran up and jumped on. And that's how we got on board. Some way to board a ship."
"The evacuation of the military forces went into the hands of the Brits. They immediately put their own commander there and we ran off on a truck headed to Bordeaux. It was terribly hot and the people were throwing themselves in the truck. The driver for example said, that he wouldn't go any further. We didn't have money, because what our dad didn't need, he stored in Czechia. And so that the way of that driver could be payed, the women took off their rings and bracelets. We drove in-between those horrible columns of people. There were carts, cows and dust from those streets. It was hot and everything stuck to us."
"Mom told me, that when there was an air raid in London, and I was in London, she had a helmet on her breasts. When there was an air raid, I would put it on my face and sleep on. And when they rang the end of the raid, then I just took it off. I don't even know about it. They were these automatisms... you know, sometimes I come off as tough, but you can't really be any other way."
Yvetta Hendrichová, née Nováková, was born on the 16th of August 1929 in Paris. Her father Jaroslav
was an employee of the ministry of foreign affairs. Her mother Aurelie Vosíková was half Slovene from her mother‘s side, but she lived in Prague and met Jaroslav in Sokol in Malá Strana. The family moved often due to her father‘s diplomatic work. From the year 1924 they lived in Paris and returned to Prague after‘s Yvetta‘s birth. In the year 1935 her father was called to serve in Brussels, Belgium, where Yvetta started attending school. After the occupation of Czechoslovakia by Nazi Germany in 1939, the Novák family started on a long journey full of tribulations. The embassy in Brussels was occupied by Germans, and Jaroslav Novák worked to prolong the travel passes of Czechoslovaks that were fleeing to Paris with stamps stolen from the embassy. He eventually joined them, but soon came back for his colleagues, his wife and his daughter and helped them get to Paris, but which was soon too occupied by the Germans. The Novák family along with a group of Czechs fled on trucks to Bretagne and then Bordeaux, from where they got on a ship with Czechoslovak soldiers and went to English Falmouth. They landed on the 23rd of June 1940. From there the family continued on to London, where her father entered the service of the government-in-exile. Yvetta attended a French lyceum boarding school in England, which was moved to northern England due to the constant bombing. She only got to see her parents a few times a year. She returned to Prague after graduation in 1947 and started studying at a Czech grammar school, from which she graduated in 1951. She married philologist and French teacher Josef Hendrich. She worked as a translator and interpreter into French, travelled across many socialist countries, and never thought about emigrating. Neither she nor her father nor her husband joined the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia, but the secret police tried to get her father to cooperate and they were watched. She worked on linguistic publications with her husband. Their textbook of French grammar is still in demand today.
Hrdinové 20. století odcházejí. Nesmíme zapomenout. Dokumentujeme a vyprávíme jejich příběhy. Záleží vám na odkazu minulých generací, na občanských postojích, demokracii a vzdělávání? Pomozte nám!
