Prof. RnDr., DrSc Miloš Lokajíček

“I was basically in touch with the League. Thanks to Jukla it was clear that it was necessary to divide it. To set up official, elected leadership, and then to have a second group that would work in secret. And I was fully engaged in the latter. I attended all meetings, we met at Heidler’s place. Some people did the official committee, the ball when it was still organised, and the such, whereas we took care of the other matters. I actually became a member of Kolaković’s ‘Family’ right off in 1946, when Kolaković appeared here.”

“There were three of us in Slovakia - Jukl, Krčméry, and me - who had the strength to pull something. Back then the approach was that if there’s to be a Mass, there must be an altar stone. So they borrowed one in some village under Ľubietová, and we then took turns pulling it up to the bunker, where we had Mass every day, which was celebrated by a priest from my native town of Starý Plzenec.”

“My name is Miloš Lokajíček. I don’t know any Saint Miloš, but my second name is Václav, so I use that for personal connections. I was born in 1923 in Starý Plzenec. My father was a barber, my mother became a hairdresser after they married.”

“And another interesting experience. I was given an interrogator who was very odd compared to the others. The first time he interrogated me, I shocked him completely by saying: ‘I think you’re the ones who should be locked up, for locking me up, because I could’ve done a lot of meaningful work.’ At first I only told him the first part, actually, that they were the ones who should be locked up, and he froze and said: ‘How!’ Then, when I added the second part, he guffawed and said: ‘I can promise you that you will work!’”

“I was lucky to have a granddad who was a person I could always have before as a paragon of justice. One example of this was that he married a mother of about five children when she lost her husband. Her husband was killed by a bolt of lightning on a farm near Blovice. My mother got her world view from him. I spent my earliest childhood with him. Then there’s one story: When I was gravely ill at five years of age, I had some ten enormous boils on my back, so the local doctor told my mother they should be cut out, but that I’d be afraid of them afterwards. My mother was so strongly affected by this that she had a dream in the night. The dream pushed her to set off to Pilsen for the children’s doctor. When she told him all about it, they sat into the car and came back to our house. He cut all the furuncles open - my mother always said that there’d been spoonfuls of the pus that he’d taken out of the furuncles, and after that I recovered. The neighbours then said that my granddad, who’d been healthy, no problems, he’d prayed to go instead of me. And while I recovered within a week, he...”