“Just imagine, when Stalin died in March 1953, the following thing happened. Our politruks [political commissars - transl.] were given the order to place a bust of Stalin in the ‘PFR’ [orig. PVS, meaning the Politically-Formative Room - transl.] and on the day of his funeral to stand a guard of two privates that would change every hour. Although we were an army without weapons, an exception was made and we were lent to sub-machine guns, with no ammo of course. My great friend and fellow fighter from Domažlice, Ivan Milota, was assigned to my group. At first he declared: ‘It’s a good thing that Stalin died, or we wouldn’t have seen an SMG our whole time in the army.’ Then the room grew empty and the hour dragged out to ages. Ivan was the first to make use of the opportunity and out of interest he began disassembling the gun. That wasn’t a good idea - it was easy work, but who was going to assemble it again... I acted cocky, but the result was that fifteen minutes later both the SMGs were unusable. We anxiously awaited to be relieved. Sergeant Jetelina brought in another two friends, and when he saw the current situation, he almost fainted. He discussed things with him in a reasonable way and it worked out fine. The sergeant, a sensible man, assembled both of the SMGs for a bottle of rum, and so we discovered that there still was a good man to be found in our nation. In the evening we drank the bottle together to celebrate that JVS [Iosif Vissarionovich Stalin - ed.] had finally left our mortal company. And we retained a permanent memory of our military service in the Ostrava mines.”
“In Kdyně itself they allowed some prisoners, men famished to the bone, after opening the door on the far side of the embankment, to literally feed on the grass. Father then made a deal with one of the warders that the best moment for handing over the food would be when he took the prisoners to the nearby pool behind the train station. We had to cut the bread into slices, and we then threw it to the prisoners on the railway track from the embankment by the pool. If you hadn’t seen it, you wouldn’t believe it. Several of the prisoners didn’t even survive the joy. I remember well that one of the prisoners discovered that my friend Václav Štípek had a violin with him in his case. He received permission to play on it. He was a German prisoner, he told us he used to travel around as a musician with some big circus. I remember he played the song ‘Graveyard, Graveyard, You Garden Green’.”
“My father and I were arrested based on that apparently one Markus, a journalist from Bratislava, came to us wanting to cross the state border. Seeing as it was 1948, it was no problem doing so. The Klatovy prison was full of “hillsmen”, that’s true, but the punishment wasn’t so harsh yet. Harsh punishment for the same activity - guiding over the border - started in the ’50s. I myself live [in Hluboká], Hluboká is seven kilometres from the border. Všeruby offered the most means of crossing over because we knew the land there very well. The Mikolášes usually guided with the help of foresters who lived in Orlovice, those were the so-called forest adjuncts who were employed there, they knew the place, the tracks better than anyone.”
Josef Mikoláš was born on 30 August 1929 in Hluboká u Kdyně. His father Jakub Mikoláš ran a corner shop in the village. Josef also learnt to be a tradesman. After February 1948 they both helped people fleeing West, organising ten border crossings. They cooperated with foresters from a game reserve in Orlovice, who knew the border forests well and who guided the refugee over the border. The group fell prey to an agent provocateur, Markus, and on 13 November 1948 members of the National Defence Corps (the police) arrested both Josef and his father. They were held in custody in Klatovy and Prague right until the trial, which took place on 7 July 1949. The case was submitted to the District Criminal Court in Prague, and subsequently to the Regional Court in Prague by appeal of the prosecuting attorney. Josef was convicted of complicity in illegally exiting state territory and was sentenced to six months of prison, which were fulfilled by his stay in custody. His father was sentenced to 18 months of prison and was sent to Vykmanov u Ostrova. In October 1951 Josef was drafted into the Auxiliary Engineering Corps („PTP“, forced labour under the guise of military service - transl.) and laboured in the Mír (Peace) Mine in Karviná until November 1953. After being released from service he found employment in the meat industry. He worked at a slaughterhouse in Janovice nad Úhlavou, then as an accountant at the slaughterhouse in Domažlice, and finally as head planner at the Klatovy Meatworks. He retired in 1991. He is currently active as the chairman of the Confederation of Political Prisoners in Domažlice and he is also an active member of the Union of the Auxiliary Engineering Corps of the Czech Republic, Military Forced Labour Camps.
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!
