"The problem during the war was that once, after Heydrich, when they came, there was a new district governor, so he invited all the mayors to come and receive their new credentials. And at that time, we had the district office in Kralupy, which was later relocated to Roudnice. My father was invited to Roudnice to visit the governor, and he was told that it was expected of him and all the mayors, to greet with the proper greeting. That means raising the right hand and saying, 'Heil Hitler.' And I remember my father saying to my mother, 'Look, I will go there, but I won't raise my hand. I am a Czech, and I won't salute like that. So prepare me some snacks because I might not come back.' It was such an awkward, stupid situation. And he did come back because when he arrived there, the secretary said, 'The governor apologizes; he has been unexpectedly called to an important meeting, so here is your credential, and you can go home peacefully.' So he was lucky - he didn't have to give the salute and received his credential."
"What was interesting during the war was that we had streams of prisoners - in the 44th and 45th years. Mostly Russian and Polish, from eastern Poland to western Germany. There were always a few hundred of them, and they were always led by the Volkssturm, old German granddads. We had a big barn, so they slept in it. There were always about two hundred or two hundred and fifty of them overnight. And they went on. Once, it was a Russian column, and there in front of the village, a Russian saw a turnip fall. The peasants were feeding their cattle with it. He jumped there into the scarp, wanted to pick it up, and the old German from the Volkssturm, who couldn't even carry a shotgun, shot him, and they went on calmly. And they left him lying there. Everyone was afraid to do anything with him, and dad said to the constable: 'Mr. Plachý, we can't leave him there. He is a person, and we need to bury him with dignity.' 'But where are we going to get the coffin?' Dad said: 'There is a stage in the pub. Take the boards from that and make a coffin.' So they made a coffin, and the funeral was in the corner of the cemetery. Only me, my sister, my father, and mother, and the constable came to the funeral. So we buried him. And he wasn't even Russian. He was Ukrainian. And that was the end of it. But after the war, he became a great hero. The neighboring village was full of Bolsheviks. They went to Černuc every May Day with music, banners, wreaths, and speeches. Some heroic Soviet soldier fell there for our freedom."
"The smuggler gave me the documents of his brother, who was my age and looked similar. If they wanted to identify me, I had an East German identity card. But because the train was so crowded, it was impossible to walk around. So no one checked me, and no one came to me all the way from Dresden to Berlin. We got to Berlin around noon, got off, and he took me across the river Spree, which divided East and West Berlin. There were no checks, so we crossed calmly. There was no Berlin Wall back then. And at one o'clock in the afternoon, I was already standing at the West German police station."
Václav Kříž was born on 10 May 1929 in the village of Nabdín near Velvary in the Kladno region. Father Václav held the post of mayor in Nabdín during the Second World War. In his native town, Václav witnessed violence against Soviet prisoners and soldiers of the German Wehrmacht and the subsequent arrival of the Red Army. In 1948 he passed his matriculation examination at the Higher School of Economics in Roudnice nad Labem. After the communist coup, the family lost the farm with all equipment, livestock, and 25 hectares of fields. Václav could not study at university due to the cadre politics of the communist party and decided to cross the border illegally. With the help of smugglers, he reached West Berlin at Christmas 1951. After administrative vicissitudes, he sailed to the USA in January 1953. He started a family in the United States, obtained a master‘s degree (MBA) from Northwestern University in Illinois, and subsequently held several high and prestigious positions. After the Velvet Revolution, he worked for three years in Prague. In 2023, he lived in Arizona.
Parents, grandfather, and grandmother Šediví in Nabdín, 1970s. From the left Mr. Šedivý, father-in-law and mother-in-law Eva, dad, mom, sister, and Václav
Parents, grandfather, and grandmother Šediví in Nabdín, 1970s. From the left Mr. Šedivý, father-in-law and mother-in-law Eva, dad, mom, sister, and Václav
