Milan Milner

“Everyone started running. Old Cichra and Mirek and Tonda stood firm and said: ‘To the forest!’ We were lucky it was close by. Right by the forest, a hundred metres away from the trees. Old Cichra said that it won’t burn forever, but the danger was that there was the train station right at the bottom of the slope with a train full of Hungarian Arrow Crossers. They manned the battery from which they later shot at Kyjov. And there was also a part of the front army there because they already had some of the mortars. You really could see it from far away. It was burning, it didn’t explode. We had our experience with that, when the boys who had been in the Reich brought home some AA batteries - so when we placed them up on the castle at the top of the hill, you could see the light all the way to Kyjov. But nothing happened, no one came. So hurrah, off to work and quickly dig it underground. A worse problem was that one of the parachutes had caught in a tall tree. But Old Cichra was prepared for that too, he was a first-rate chap, he chose the ablest of us to cut the oak down. The next day the gamekeeper passed by, and he complained of the cheek of some people, really, it’s awful. They’re not content when I tell them to pick themselves some brushwood. They go and cut down a whole oak!”

“We would go to keep watch. The forests were being combed. We also caught one SS man here, when he attempted to flee in the night. Mirek Hlušců happened to be playing with a pistol, and he shot his legs through, so he didn’t escape. But the Russians shot him dead straight off. The NKVD. We received a report that there was an NKVD troop on the way to us. They had green hats. Some lieutenant came up, and Tonda said I had to go calm them down. Of course, all the Fascists who were in the Fascist party knew about it, and they legged it before the Russians came. I was tasked with taking the lieutenant to the head Communist back here. I tried explaining somehow to the Russian that he had been in a concentration camp. But he waved his hand, the Russian didn’t give a hoot. He saw a glass with slivovice, and so I said: ‘Mrs Gazdová, pour us one!’ She brought the drink, but he swept it off the table. He pointed to the two bottles, poured them out, and said: ‘Ty, popiyosh!’ I don’t drink much, but he pointed at me. Gazda said: ‘Drink it, Milan, he’ll shoot you!’ So I drank it, and he gulped down two more.”