"When the Soviets arrived, we were terribly surprised to see how pitiful their horses were. They were just strings and bones. Not like the Germans, whose horses were perfectly harnessed and collared. The Russian horses were so small that we admired how they actually managed to pull the cannon and wagons. The soldiers had these pointy hats and only their faces were visible, the rest of them was covered up."
"I had one heavy can of ham for four, but those were iron rations and not to be used unless by the commander's order. Except it got in my way terribly. So I ditched that first, and other things followed. Then it was I believed the boys who had fought at Kiev and were telling us: 'You'll ditch the food, you'll ditch everything, just to keep your pockets full of bullets. Those are your life. You'll always find food somehow. Or you'll live through a few days of hunger."
"The Russians arrived during the offensive. It was just before dawn, they settled down on Forta Hill. But they didn't have any time to dig in. The Germans started tearing them apart with direct fire. The Soviets had hidden their horses in our barn, right next to the house. Six beautiful horses that I guess they had taken from the Czechs in Western Ukraine. But the Germans slaughtered all those horses. Luckily ours was a brick house and the bullets only penetrated one wall of the barn. Because behind the next wall, two families were hiding - us and the Albrechts."
"A nurse once came into our room, she had had three day shifts in a row, plus she was looking after her sick mother, so she couldn't go to the market. She told us she hadn't eaten for two days and asked if we could spare a piece of bread. I had a piece, but I didn't give it to her. I regret that to this day, that I didn't. One time I came into the doctor's room, they were just heating up some buckwheat porridge. It thought to myself when had I had that, and I realised that it was three days ago. They were only allowed to have the food that no one wanted anymore. If a soldier would want an extra helping and they would've already eaten the food, they would be in trouble. Soldiers always had precedence."
"I can't even begin to tell you how thrilled we were to be given the chance to liberate Czechoslovakia. We were full of zeal. You wouldn't see anything like that nowadays, that someone would be so proud to be Czech and to be given the chance to liberate their country. I'd go again even today. We all knew what could happen. War simply is war. We knew we could be disabled or even killed."
"I could run, but I was acknowledged an 85%-invalid status. He said he couldn't give me any more, that there wouldn't be any point, I wouldn't get any more money anyway. He really was something like Dad. The boys were surprised: 'How come you got 85 percent! I'm missing a leg and I've got 75!' To which the doctor replied: 'Look, you might be missing a leg and you can't walk, dance. You can be a cobbler, tailor or clerk, but he doesn't have any hands, all he can do is maybe kick someone up the arse.' "
"His name was Emil Svěcený and he always had a cigarette in his mouth wherever he went. He used to say: 'When I get to the front, I'll shoot those fascists!' I was his first assistant, I carried the ammo and the SMG. When we dropped to the ground with the Germans were attacking us, I said: 'Milly, fire, they're coming at us!' But he couldn't fire, he was dead."
I can‘t even begin to tell you how thrilled we were to be given the chance to liberate Czechoslovakia.
Jan Opočenský was born on the 3rd of June 1926 in Volhynia in Český Boratín. Like most of the local inhabitants of Czech descent, the Opočenský family of seven lived largely through farming. After the communists annexed Eastern Poland in 1939, the family was in danger of being deported to Siberia - paradoxically, it was saved by the German invasion in the summer of 1941. In 1944, Jan Opočenský joined the 1st Czechoslovak Army Corps. After a short stay with the field gendarmerie (militarized police), he underwent infantry training not far from Kiverce. After that the unit moved to Černovice in Romania, by early September 1944 they reached the Krosno region. Opočenský took part in the tragic battles of Machnówka and Wrocanka where many died and he himself was heavily wounded. Thus he began his long journey through various sick bays and hospitals, where he was treated for complex injuries on both his arms. In 1946 he left for Czechoslovakia, where he spent several more months in various spas, rest homes and sanatoriums. At his release in 1947 he was acknowledged an 85%-invalid status. He settled down in Chotiněves, where he was given an estate formerly belonging to a German family, the Klaars. Opočenský‘s parents moved to Czechoslovakia in 1947. On the 23rd of November 1947 he married Libuše Šeráková from Lysá nad Labem. They have a son Jan and a daughter Marie. He remained an independent farmer until 1960, when he joined a co-op.
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!