Břetislav Baran

"We had the opportunity to correspond with girls from a girls' school in England. We were even allowed to go there back then. At the end of each letter there was written that we would certainly see each other soon. Some classmates took advantage of this and stayed there. I didn't even try; I wouldn't run away because of my parents. This correspondence had a consequence for me in the future. In one of those letters, I questioned the suicide of Jan Masaryk. That has become almost fatal for me. After about three years, in the year 1951, the State Security called me and showed me my three-year-old letter photographed. They opened and censored all mail abroad. They said they could lock me up for it. I was shocked. I was with them for about an hour, and the policeman told me that I could do something for them. That I could write them a report on the sales manager and the head of work and wages. So, I did it. I still remember what he said to me: 'But comrade, we all know he's in the party. But we need to know his core. What is he really like? Is he swearing or what is he doing?‘ They wanted to know the core of man."

"Daddy came home from work and said, 'Turn on the London radio station.' I turned it on and we listened to the news. I didn't even realize that I always retuned it back to the Prague station. To this day, I remember that one day at four o'clock the German soldiers surrounded the village and banged on the windows, 'Open quickly.' They looked into the chamber, where there was grain and straw, they looked among the tools, probably if we had a rifle there. One of the Germans then came to the radio, put on his glasses and looked at the scale. I froze if I had returned the wavelength from London to Prague. Fortunately, I did it. I can't imagine what would happen if I didn't. But surely my father would be arrested and there would be some repression. The German just nodded in agreement and said, 'All right.' "