Petr Vaníček

* 1932

  • “My father and his whole generation, they were unbelievable in the way they worked their hands to the bone. They were just incredibly laborious and selfless when it came to promoting the interests of this country, particularly the former legionaries who would give their life for the First Czechoslovak Republic. Usually, these people were personalities with a first-grade character. My father was an abnormally honest man. He was also very kind. This is a feature most of them had in common. In those times, an employee was almost more worth than a member of the family. I’m not kidding you, it’s true! When I was a small kid, a boy of the age of 5, maybe even younger, I got beaten by my father for the first time. I was sitting in the car waiting for my dad to come from the office where he was finishing some work. An employee of his factory who was sweeping the yard was playfully making grimaces to cheer me up – the sort of thing you when little kids are around. I stuck out my tongue at him at the very moment my dad came back. I got beaten for that. I was told by my dad: ‘How dare you do something like that to a man who makes his living by honest work! All people like this deserve the utmost respect, son’. That was the kind of attitude these businesspeople of the old sort had toward their employees. It was utterly unthinkable for them not to pay their employees their wages. It was absurd for them to even imagine it. Today, it is common that employees end up with no pay and the director goes for a trip to Africa. Back in the old days, if somebody did that he would be disgraced in society forever. Nobody would ever talk to him again. This was the mood I grew up in, where words about the respect for the worker were not just mere phrases but had substance to them. They were kept unreservedly. That is the abysmal difference between the capitalism of the old days and the communism that came later.”

  • “We didn’t like the morning shift because you ran the risk of having a lunch alarm or matching exercises. The drunken commandant would order us to set out on a march and you had to leave everything as it was and go. Sometimes, they would just check if we had packed right or something of the sort. But more often than not, they would send us out on a marching exercise. The drunken commandant was put in a small van accompanying the marching unit. He usually fell asleep and we had to march on till he woke up or came back to his senses at least a little bit. Then he would order us to return to the base. So we never really knew for how long we would march or when we would come back. It was not exceptional for us to come back and have lunch and dinner at the same time, usually both cold.”

  • “The whole Czechoslovak industry had to work for the Wehrmacht, it didn’t matter what they produced. The factories had to adapt their production to the needs of the German army and they were put under occasional German oversight. The overseeing was by the Germans, not by our people. It was done by inspectors from the Wehrmacht or even the SS itself. They didn’t really change how the factories were operated, the production plans just had to accommodate German war needs. So they had to deliver certain quantities of goods and those quantities were, of course, under tight scrutiny. The most tightly guarded aspect was the allocation of input material and then the resulting production output. If somebody refused to cooperate, he was dealt with in short order. The boss was sent to a concentration camp, there was no discussion about it. The board was sent on forced labor to Germany and the firm got a new management that was more in tune with the German wishes. The company then carried on with the business under the direction of the new boss, who was a German.”

  • “In 1942, the Nazis introduced the so-called total occupational duty for everybody. This basically meant that everybody was obliged to work, and most work was directed to the assembly lines producing for the German army, the Wehrmacht. Those factories – like the one my father owned – helped to employ a lot of people who otherwise wouldn’t find any other job. If you didn’t find a job in the Protectorate, they would assign you to forced labor in the Third Reich, which put you in a much worse situation than here at home, not only because of the allied air raids and bombings that had already begun to target German production centers at that time. These factories were recruiting people en masse and actually keeping them from the Nazis. Not to mention that some of these people were considered parasites by the laws of that time and were sent either to forced labor to Germany, or – what was even worse – straight to concentration camps. Paradoxically, it was these people that most often turned into informers who denounced the factory owners, pressed charges against them, and sent them to so-called peoples’ courts. They were put on trial according to the small or the large decree. The wrath of these people, who should have actually been thankful to the factory owners for saving them from forced labor in the Reich, was symptomatic for the time just after the war in 1945. These people later became the national caretakers, the scum that devastated our nation, country and economy. These people took over our factory as well.”

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    Praha, 02.08.2011

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A class enemy

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Petr Vaníček
zdroj: obě pořízeny při natáčení

Petr Vaníček was born on March 15, 1932, in Prague. His father was a former legionnaire and the co-owner of a paint factory „Vaníček a Malec“ located in Satalice in Prague. The war and particularly the Nazi policies aimed at the extermination of the Jews in Europe affected the life of the family in a cruel way. The Jewish members of the Vaníček family that didn‘t manage to emigrate abroad in time found themselves in Nazi concentration camps. Petr‘s grandmother died in the Theresienstadt ghetto. The family factory in Satalice was destroyed by the allies during an air raid that took place in the last weeks before the end of the war. It took nearly three years to rebuild the factory - the last worker left on February 21, 1948. A few days later, the Communist takeover in Czechoslovakia changed the life of the family for good. The factory was nationalized and Petr Vaníček - the son of an entrepreneur - was labeled a class enemy. He had trouble at school, was expelled, and had to take up studies at a different grammar school. Eventually, he wasn‘t even allowed to graduate. In 1952, he was assigned to the auxiliary technical battalions (so-called PTP) where „politically unreliable“ individuals were assembled for cheap labor in mines or construction. In the second half of the fifties, Peter engaged in distance learning at the University of Chemistry and Technology (VŠCHT). However, in 1958, he was expelled from the school after screenings had been conducted at the school. He was only able to finish his studies at the Faculty of Natural Sciences of the Charles University in the sixties. Although he always turned out to be an able and laborious expert, he was persecuted for his family background and the political views he held. Therefore he had to change his job frequently. He finally went to Slovakia where he could work in peace till the nineties. He currently lives in Prague.