Růženka Hušková

“And then when we got to Daruvar the police was waiting for us at the train station. And they led us to the police station. I don’t know, my father did nothing, I don’t know, maybe he ran away during the war. I don’t know about that. They were looking for him at our home during the war but I don’t remember him doing anything. And we slept on a bench there overnight and in the morning they led us to where they lock people up, to the prison. Across the street from the church. Recently when I was in Daruvar, I said, yeah, I recognize these windows. And that was where they locked us up. My mother and I were separated from my father and brother, men were locked up separately. We would go there for a walk, we would walk around in circles, and what food we were given – some sort of soup, with no eggs, nothing in it. My mother cried. (And how long were you there?) We didn’t stay long, about three nights. (And what did you think they were going to do with you?) I don’t know, I was just a child, I didn’t ask questions. I don’t know what they thought…”

“Suddenly my father remembered that a year earlier some people from Brestov had already left for the Czech country, that was after the war, I didn’t know. It seems it was like now when there are these refugees, we were like that in Bohemia. They promised to give us a house so we went. The train was full of us. There was a train station in Končenice. My father had this huge box, a crate made of wood, blankets, hoes, a scythe, he packed everything just so we had tools to work with when we got there. He was very hard-working. So we rode the train, it was a train for people but at the back it was a goods train. So we got to Bohemia, there was a woman in Jevišovka waiting for us, it used to be called Frélichov. She had already come there a year earlier and she was a widow so we went to her house. Her house was huge. We also went to the local church, I was at the church for the first time and they were singing a Croatian song. I know it from here, from Brestov. And I started to go to a local school as well. We had the school report, or what do you call it, from here. So we were holding it in our hands and the boys around us were laughing at us. Mine had fives written all over it and so did my friend’s report. And they thought they were ones.” (Czech grades go from 1 to 5, five being the worst, Croatian grades are the opposite)