Zdeňka Dostálová

“There was a V-shaped trench right in our garden. Our house’s façade faced the street, which went towards the forest. We had a garden in the backyard; I made a drawing of it. There was a fork in the road; the road made a broad “V” shape. This was our house, and that was our back garden, with a wooden plank fence. The Nazis came behind the planks; we had to leave the gate open, and they dug out this V-shaped trench so they could shoot at incoming Russians. They had something they would fire at tanks. As a result, we had to leave our house without closing the gate, so that the Nazis could get in at any time. Only dad stayed in the house to take care of the animals – rabbits, geese and ducks – and we had a dugout made way out in the orchard.”

“What I remember well – and it gives me these odd feelings sometimes – is that there was no municipal public address system in Otaslavice. There was a municipal servant who would walk the village, beat a drum and make public announcements, stopping at certain spots along the way. It was in 1942, it was wartime, and he announced that all the citizens were advised that martial law had been declared, and whoever was caught walking outside without a permit after eight PM could be shot. I didn’t know what martial law was. I asked my mum and she explained. I was scared from then on because mum was pregnant by then. My little sister was born in the same year when Lidice was levelled and martial law declared. I imagined my mum having a little baby and my dad getting killed – because he would never come back home from the orchard in daylight; he was so busy working in the orchard he would always come after dark. To this day, I am worried about Ludmila’s and Kateřina’s families when they are away from home – I worry about something bad happening to them.”