Pavel Chalupa

“When I came out at the National Theatre as one of the audience – I wasn’t on the stage, that was really brave of the actors on the stage. And when I came up there and started to read, there was applause after every sentence. People had suddenly broken through the barriers of that we can finally start expressing what had been kept suppressed within and dampened by the regime the whole time, we had kept it inside like a pressure pot, so now we can let it out. I was almost too moved to speak. There was an enormous energy and power to it. I could see that they wouldn’t be afraid to show solidarity with us, that the public would join in. It was also connected with the anthem. Then I was invited to the National Theatre, where Boris Rösner organised it every evening. At first the way it was, was that the declaration was read out, there was applause, we sang, and then off home again, but gradually the evenings started turning into public debates, where the issues of society were discussed. People from the Civic Forum were invited as well, who were already given posts. I remember Miloš Zeman’s speech, in which he asked the people whether the answer should take ten, twenty minutes, or an hour, and he then responded accordingly; or I remember Valtr Komárek – those were powerful moments. The people chanted: ‘Zeman for president! Komárek for president!’ All of the speakers were always to be the president.”

“I didn’t know anything about the occupation. I remember that all we did in Varnsdorf was to exchange belts and cartridges with the soldiers for beer, which was good for us. When the boys came, the soldiers, sovetskaya armiya, they gave us badges, and that was enough for us and our games. That was our contact with the Russian, or rather the Soviet army. I remember how one time when I was walking with Mum and a colleague of hers down the main street – called Stalin Avenue, how else – I suddenly pointed: ‘Look, the Ruskies are there!’ The colleague gave me a slap, said those weren’t no Ruskies, but Soviets! That’s how muddled people were.”

“The worst thing I experienced was on 28 October 1989, on the anniversary of the republic, when they pushed us up to Hotel Europe and launched a massacre there. They dragged us out of the crowd by our hair. ‘Who was that shouting!?! Who wants freedom?!’ And they chose people accordingly. They dragged me by my hair as well. My police agent had an American Parker, he was a secret cop, robust, ginger beard, I can still remember him. The buses were parked so that no one could see from the outside, they formed a kind of courtyard. He grabbed me by the hair and mashed me against the bus, I had blood on my face, and I fell to the ground. I was lifted to my feet by a uniformed cop with a helmet, who kicked me in the butt, shoved me against the bus, and gave me several welts on my back with his truncheon. Every cop had his own prisoner, whom he beat and held by the scruff. Suddenly, their boss came running up from above, helmet on as well, and yelled: ‘Franta, Jirka, Pepa, come with me!’ My one let go of me, and I slowly drifted away. I saw Kuba Špalek in a crack between the buses, with his fist clenched, showing he was with me. I managed to escape the trap. All I know is that they beat them up proper and then took them out into the forests somewhere and left them there without their documents. They had to go for questioning and then sign a statement.”