Jaromír Randák

“It was when the Nazis started escaping. The Russian front was advancing – Wroclaw, Opole…, so the German settlers moved to the west. They had their own stations. We had to call them 'national guests'. Old women, children, old men, horses, carts, cattle sometimes… And all that was transported. So it was Hitler's politics! And they kept saying that they were going to Führer's arms.”

“We were staring at Václav because there were two policemen coming from the Bauras. However, when they came to our footbridge they went to the forest. They found a snag there and they threw it across the road. We looked at them and thought they were going out of their minds. But those were not our policemen, they had different helmets, different coats, such guys... They were Germans! And they annexed our land as far as to the brook. And they used to come to us in the mill, they used to talk with Dad. My Mum, oh, she hated them! They got to know that her name was Berta and they kept saying: 'Beerrtha, Beerrtha!' My Mum, she felt like giving them a kick.”

“I remember the Boudník going by a dodgem. I always saw him sitting on it, he was kind of tall, his glasses on, and his Adam's apple was slightly higher here. I didn't have the slightest idea that Boudník was an artist. Nobody knew. And then, there came an invitation for an exhibition of drawings and paintings by amateur artists. Boudník might have been involved in it. I made it known to the public and he organized it all. Well, and he always put something into passe – partout for me and we simply got on with each other really well. I used to bring him rusty sheet metals with various figures in it. They were suitable for further craft work. Someone said once that he was kind of crazy, a kind of an exceptional man… And it went so far, I can't remember the year when it happened. It was about ten years before the fall of the regime when he was fired. So he became a… he was a freelance artist. Shortly after that he held an exhibition in Warsaw. A socialist state, there was nothing so strange about it. However, he gave an exhibition in Paris then and it was something different. And then even in America! Boudník told me then himself that one of his paintings was bought by Alice Masaryková. And he said: 'So I am well off now.'”

“I can tell you I wouldn't want to have those times back. It was worth nothing. Even the whole glass-making past of Šumava. It was only evil! They plundered forests… And Šumava today, supposing that no other calamities come the nature will have enough time to recover. And Šumava might grow into a wonderful national park one day. Well, you just say: 'It used to be better…' No, it wasn't! I'm glad that all the misery is gone. We can't complain nowadays. I lived in a mill, we had enough to eat, but we were not rich either.”

“We used to live in Žižkov at that time. It was at the crack of dawn when I heard roaring plane engines. And we got to know from the radio broadcasting that we had been occupied. So I went to the factory. It was horrible! Our Aerovka was a place where several prominent Czechs were concentrated. There were Hanzelka and Zikmund and also the secretary of state Císař. They were hidden there before Russians. But we knew about it. And on my way home from work, it was a horror to see the Russian tanks passing through Vysočanská, their machine-guns aimed at us on the pavement. I said: 'Jesus Christ, they won't shoot at us, will they!' The Russians were surprised at people's hostility towards them. They had been told that there was a revolution in our country and that they were to suppress it. And people said to them that there was no revolution there and that we were simply raided. So the poor guys didn't know what to do, they were confused. It also contributed to the fact that the Russian politics failed later. Because it was when the guys started to understand... And on top of that, there worked a guy called Sorokin in our store. He was a Russian Cossack. He came there as a boy together with legionaries. They brought him there. And he explained it all to them. And I said: 'God damn it, Sorokin, don't say that! They will lock us up!' And he said: 'Bullshit! I'm not afraid of them. I'm a Russian and I will explain it to them.' So they were arguing. They were attacking him and he kept explaining that it was not true.”

“It happened in February 1945, the end of the war occured in May. I had just made dough for buns and bread. And I said at 2 at night: 'God damn it, it's lightening, it's storming outside.' So I went out to the yard and I said: 'What the heck, February and a storm?' So I woke my boss up. He listened for a while and then he said: 'Oh my boy, it's not a storm. Someone out there is in a real trouble!' He could speak German very well so he turned the radio on and listened to a Swiss station. After a while he commented: 'Oh man, they're bombing Dresden!' The lightning lasted from two to five in the morning. We could hear detonations and our window-panes rattled from time to time.”