“The core of the army came, moving on these main roads towards Russia. Then a recon arrived, as a purge to that village. They arrived there, positioned machine-guns everywhere on the river bank and by the road and they launched purges, looking for Jews and people like that.”
“We were moving from one mountain to another. We went round it and we could not pass through, it was terrible. They were firing at us, there was just the smell of it in the air. They were giving hell to our soldiers. We thought the Germans must have already retreated or withdrawn. Suddenly our soldiers stopped shooting. Stopped firing. There were piles of it. Piles of these mortars, mortar shells. Only the SD vehicles were broken, as the soldiers were throwing the stuff. Firing for two hours without stopping. It smelled awful. We thought the Germans must have been gone by now. And there was silence for one moment, and then, all of a sudden, the Germans opened fire. I dug the ground with my nose in order to dive deeper and hide.”
“He had a shack behind his house and in winter, ice was always brought there, a heap of ice. This was covered with straw and the innkeeper had beer kegs there and he was keeping it cool that way. Salt was sprinkled on top and this was covered with straw. He would always take out one keg and roll it to the tap-room.”
“It was a good place for observing, if nobody showed up, you didn’t know anything, there was silence. You could only hear that everything was falling down and as the splinters were raining down, they made a clicking sound when they hit the beech trees. You didn’t know about the shell. It could have fallen fifty metres from you and it made noise. Only a while after, a short moment after you could hear that clicking sound of the splinters. That was amazing. There were only branches, the remaining twigs were shaved off by it. It was an amazing sight. The branches were not broken, young trees only bend, they don’t break. But all the trees in that place were shaven off like this.”
“The Germans disappeared and then the Hungarians came and they were guarding the railroad. And what trains there were! There was one train after another, as they were transporting those girls from Russia to West Germany. So many trucks. A train with a hundred trucks. Such long trains. With open doors, it was warm, they were crying, weeping. These cattle trucks were open, there was only a bar of railing in the door. On the roof of every other truck there were Germans with firearms in these watch booths. If some of the people had jumped out, they would have shot them immediately. There were so many of these trains, all the time, all days long. We had fields there and we were passing by the tracks, we saw it all. So many trains. So many girls and all. And after that, they were transporting frozen Germans. They had been just thrown into these trucks. In these trucks, which were normally used for transporting pigs, they were lying strewn on the floor like wooden logs, frozen.”
“One day, our driver made me angry. He was a Russian. It was hard work, there were stumps everywhere. In summer it was terribly hot and our soldiers were black with dirt, you couldn’t even recognize their faces because they got so dirty when working among those stumps. And so many of them were lying in that place where the road led to the forest, the soldiers had been laid among those stumps. They covered them with a bit of ground and he ran over them with a Studebaker. I was furious that day. Couldn’t say anything, because one of them was a communist. Two of these soldiers were planted among us. We had two Gaz cars there. One driver, our boy, and the other, there were two Russians in the staff. And then we had those resembling off-road cars, those small ones. And at that time I saw these boys of ours, so black, so many of them were lying there. He did not have to run over them. He could have kept going but he rode right over them. The car, this American vehicle, just swayed a little. There was a bit of ground on them, that was it.”
The Germans were saying, ´Should one of the Germans fail, they will burn down the entire village.´
František Levý was born May 13, 1922 in Hlinsk, in Volhynia. As a boy he had to do the main share of work on the farm. He was to be sent on forced labour to Germany but since he was indispensable for the farm, he was allowed to remain at home. After the arrival of the Czechoslovak troops to Volhynia he joined the 1st Czechoslovak independent corps. He was assigned to the artillery staff as a signalman. He experienced fighting in the Dukla Pass. He especially remembers the fighting near the village of Machnowka. After Machnowka, he controlled the telephone line for general Ludvík Svoboda. While in the Slovak territory, on November 11, 1944 his hand got injured by a grenade splinter. He was treated in hospitals in Rzesow and Lvov and then went home to Hlinsk to recover. From summer 1945, he was in Czechoslovakia, where he stayed in sanatoriums for wounded soldiers. After he fully recovered, he was allotted a farm in the village of Paseka (Olomouc district). František Levý passed away on September, the 12th, 2014.
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