Danuše Lelitova, roz. Bártová

“Danuška went with Granddad to the Přívoz station. Granddad had all the papers. Rit [the dog] was well trained. I’ll never forget that. [We] came to the station, there was a man there in the uniform of a German officer and another man, who lived three houses down the street from us. In just a little house. Now Granddad came up to them and said: ‘Good day.’ The bloke’s name was Zavadinský, and he said: ‘Well then, old Bárta? One of yours’s pegged it in Mauthausen, where I sent him, and they’ll send the second one there soon enough. He’s at the krajzák [the Regional Court - transl.].’ The moment he said that, Rit jumped and caught him. He wouldn’t have bitten him. He was trained and he knew that the man was speaking ill of his master. The Reich German was afraid the dog’d bite him, so he shot him. A silent shot. You couldn’t hear it. Rit fell to ground and I broke out crying. Granddad stepped on my foot, and the man said: ‘Pick up your rubbish.’ Meaning the papers from Rit. Granddad couldn’t move so well, so I collected it up for him. We went to the church in Přívoz. I said: ‘Granddad, that was our Rit.’ Granddad said: ‘Danuška, did you hear what he said about uncle Tonda and your father Bedřich? He’s the snitch.’ We hadn’t known who had told on Dad, but he told us himself.”

“When the Germans occupied us, they brought with them a load of flunkeys, who took everything. Furniture and the such. They wanted our flat. Next door to us there lived an old Jewish couple, the Kohnhäusers, very honourable and kind people. They had a daughter in their late age, she was my classmate. Her name was Betynka. Betynka longed to have a brother. So he was born just when the Germans occupied us. The worst thing was that a truck came up, Mrs Kohnhäuserová was forty-nine years old with a little boy, and they took that baby into the truck; they took the babies, the little Jewish children, and threw them all in. That was here in Ostrava, [on] Na Spojce [street]. And then the next house, a kind of round one, that’s where the Linsner Jews lived. The husband was an officer of the Czechoslovak army, and he left to secure passage to England for themselves and the little one. But instead of that, the Germans took Mrs Linsnerová’s child and threw it in as well. They took their old parents to Auschwitz, they never returned. But those were such kind and honourable people.”

“The worst thing was that there was a German family living in our house, the Koblížeks. They arrested Mr Koblížek as a collaborator and traitor. Dad wasn’t there, he would’ve stopped it. They took Mr Koblížek and forced him out and into a military truck. Mr Koblížek jumped out of the truck and was run over by a tank. He was a good German, he kept watch for my dad when he listened to foreign radio. The Czechs were the worst. The Koblížeks didn’t have any children and they had a beautifully furnished two-room flat. The Sochoreks, Czechs, the husband was a managing clerk at Budoucnost. They had money, they hadn’t suffered during the war, and they came and started taking away the porcelain and other things. Porcelain, furs, and other things. That was so hideous. Mrs Koblížková then came to me and said: ‘Danuška, come and choose something as a keepsake. I won’t live without my husband.’ They had a lovely, harmonious marriage. Mrs Koblížková killed herself. They just came to evict her from the flat and...”