“They led us to the army barracks, it was called schloiska (“the sluice”), and there they looted the baggage again. They opened it and took out whatever came handy for them. We were deprived of everything there. There were two women from Litoměřice there, Litoměřice was in the Sudetenland, and they were so brutal. They felt the inside of our bras, and they would also touch the inside of our trousers. They took it whatever they found there. We thus lost everything and we had only out body and our soul. What else is there to say? Then they began assigning the housing quarters to us. They separated families, of course, everyone went somewhere else.”
„Byly prověrky, to jsem jim tam tenkrát zahrála taky trošku divadlo. Oni každému kladli otázky: Co říkáte tomu srpnu 68? A já říkám: ‚Jé, to jste hodný, že se ptáte, já bych tak ráda o tom něco věděla. Já jsem se nikdy nestarala, to byste mi měli vysvětlit.‘ A oni na mě koukali a já říkám: ‚No ale já to nevím, vždyť vy jste ve straně, tak víte o co jde.‘ A teďka ten hlavní, co to vedl, to byl sládek v pivovaru, byl středoškolsky vzdělaný, tak znal latinu, tak já mu říkám: ‚Já vám to řeknu, on vám to přeloží, váš představitel: Quod licet Iovi, non licet bovi.‘ A on říká: ‚Co je dovoleno Bohovi, není dovoleno volovi.‘ A bylo po prověrce.“
“In the evening we arrived to Rychnov. It was already dark at the town square. Most of the people were from mixed families, and thus they had somewhere to go. My mom and I were standing there and we had nowhere to go. The old Mr. Havel, the hotel owner, came to us: ´No, no, you will come to us. You will stay with us and you can stay for as long as you like.´ Imagine that. And so we went. He said: ´You can take a bath here, there is a bathroom for you. Would you like to eat something?´ We said that we did not need anything. You will come for the breakfast in the morning and we will cook for you whatever you like.´The old Mr. Havel. So we went there. The first thing we did was that we bathed, because it was necessary. Then we went to sleep to a clean bead with clean bedding. Can you imagine what it was like for us?”
“Then, probably on January 20th [1943], Franta and I were called into a transport. Imagine what a fateful coincidence there was. Franta had gone to school in Litoměřice, and his former schoolmate, certain Bobek, was there as well. This Bobek worked in Terezín as an electrician, and he was wearing a swastika. By chance Franta had run into him there before the transport. This Bobek recognized Franta and told him: ´Don’t look at my swastika, we are classmates, aren’t we, and if you need anything, I will help you…´ He told him: ´When you get assigned into a transport…´ But Franta replied: ´But I’m married.´ ´Tell me you transport number then, and the number of your wife, and when you are assigned to a transport, I will throw out your card.´ And it really happened. There was a transport, which was to leave for Bohušovice, and we were ready. I said: ´It is not true, he just told you some lie.´ But a messenger suddenly came there running and shouting: ´Franz Müller und Hana Müller ausgeschieden,´ telling us to get out of the transport. I was totally confused by that, it was at night, everything was being done at night. We thus got off and we saw that all the other people were looking at us as we were leaving and they felt terribly jealous. We were going away, as if going home. They had to open the door and let us out. I was standing behind the door and crying, I thought that it was such a miracle that it was not even possible. We were the only ones from the transport. The whole transport departed and all were killed by gas. This Mr. Bobek has saved our lives.”
“Bags were already gathered everywhere, and keys were ready and we had to surrender them immediately. We had prepared winter clothes, because it was in winter. Everything had to be cleaned up. We went to the train station. A small motor train arrived from Solnice, with people from Solnice and Kvasiny already in it. Then they made another stop in Týniště, some people got in the train there as well. Then we continued to Hradec, the train stopped behind the train station and they led us to the place where the academy was originally located. We stayed there for three days. A mattress was prepared there for everybody in place of a bed, and we had to go to various places to surrender various things. We handed our keys, and if there was somebody who still had something that they had not surrendered yet, they had to surrender it there. We were there for three days.”
Hana Dobešová was born December 14, 1920, to two Jewish parents living in Rychnov nad Kněžnou. Her father came from Hranice na Moravě, and her mother was a native of Rychnov. Hana graduated from the State Girls‘ Grammar School in Hradec Králové in summer 1939, but due to her Jewish origin she was not allowed to continue in her studies. She trained as a seamstress and as a cook in a hotel, and later she began home schooling four boys in the Deutschmann family in Rychnov. In July 1941 she married fashion designer František Müller. On December 17, 1942, she and her husband and parents were deported from Hradec Králové to the ghetto in Terezín. While in Terezín, she worked first as a janitor and after recovering from a serious illness she was assigned to work in a factory for mica processing. This work has saved her and her mother from being transported to the death camp. Her father and husband were transported to Auschwitz in autumn 1944, and her father died there. Hana‘s husband died in February 1945 in the camp in Kaufering. After the liberation of Terezín, Hana and her mother returned to Rychnov. In 1947 she married again. Her second husband was Ervín Dobeš, who had served in the Czechoslovak army in England. In 1948 she moved with him to Jablonec nad Nisou. In 1964 she became a widow. In 2022, she lived in her appartment in Jablonec nad Nisou. Hana Dobešová passed away on August, the 9th, 2022
