Milan Vlček

* 1942

  • "These are such small things... I digress... Hotel maids. There's always poor grannies, we always give them something, don't we. The first time I was there, and I knew I'd be going again in a year, they didn't know a broom, a dustpan and a handbrush. They had a broom, a rice broom, and they'd get on their knees and sweep. Crazy. And I was telling her about what we had here, and I said, 'Look, when I come here next year, I'll bring you a broom, and somebody will make you a broom, that handle, and you won't have to bend over.' - 'Oh no, you can't,' she said. 'Why can't you?' I said, 'I don't want anything for it, I'm giving it to you.' She said, 'You know what the others would make of me? I can't, I just can't...' Same thing, for example, there was a building opposite us, I thought we were in China or somewhere, they had wooden scaffolding and the concrete and mortar was carried by girls in zig zags, they didn't know a pick and shovel with a long handle, they only had these short spades, so they were hunched over and digging it like a spider. They blocked all modernization, even against the trams, because they didn't want any change. They were taught to fix it, and if we had given them, God forbid, some... semiconductors back then, it would have been trouble, they just needed a screwdriver and a hammer and that was it."

  • "These people looked ragged, stupid. What was interesting was that it happened to me a few times that the Russians, when we were talking to them, the women, the waitresses, of course at first glance we differed in face and clothes, but what shocked me the most was when the Russian said to me, 'Well look, you're completely different' and I said, 'Like what?' And she was like, 'When you walk like that, like upright, you look so confident, you're completely different.' And they were just saying about themselves, 'We're not living, we're surviving.' Their first concern was to get food, acceptable, not that there was visible hunger, no, but you couldn't buy, like, meat. Something like our meat shops, there was no shop like that. Meat was in a corner somewhere, they brought a cow in there, which of course didn't have the nice meat anymore, sirloin and this wasn't there, and there were two guys, they had this log, a big axe, the women lined up, he took the axe and chopped what he cut, the one who was next got it in a net bag, he weighed it for her, the next one. Whoever didn't like it, leave, you don't get anything..."

  • "In that Tatra factory, everything was assembled. There were halls built by Ringhoffer in 1830 or so, still in their original condition. In that awful place, where they used to make horse-drawn trams, people crawled on their knees and assembled the trams under terrible conditions. And we were all the way at the back, in a hall with space for just two trams. When they finished building a tram, they pushed it over to us, and we checked whether it was made properly, assembled correctly, especially the electrical parts. However, the absurdity of the Communist system was that at one time they were producing up to a thousand trams a year, the largest manufacturers of one type of tram in the world. Nobody else in the world was making it. Ninety percent or how many went to Russia. The crazy thing was they didn't have a test track to test the finished tram. So they assembled it, or we assembled it, and they tested to see if the features did what they were supposed to do, but not while they were running. So the tram, for example, travelled for six months, 4,000 kilometres to Siberia, and there for the first time it was put on the rails and we tested whether it would run. But the fact is, it was so well made that there were usually no problems with it."

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    Sezimovo Ústí II, 22.08.2024

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    nahrávka pořízena v rámci projektu Stories of 20th Century
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    Sezimovo Ústí II, 27.08.2024

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    nahrávka pořízena v rámci projektu Stories of 20th Century
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We were looked at as geniuses, but what‘s Russian is still the best

Milan Vlček in a passport photo as an employee of the IFF UK, 1980s
Milan Vlček in a passport photo as an employee of the IFF UK, 1980s
zdroj: Archive of the witness

Milan Vlček was born on 20 May 1942 in Prague. His father worked as a driver, his mother was a housewife. He was trained as an electrician in Blatná near Strakonice, a profession he pursued with variations throughout his life and thanks to it he got to Russia during the normalisation in the 1970s to Siberia. During his years at the apprenticeship he participated in the electrification of villages in southern Bohemia. From 1960 to 1962 he was in the army, the second year he spent at Pardubice airport as a meteorological observer. After the war, he worked as a maintenance worker at ČKD, and from 1965 he introduced a new accounting computer system at Technoplyn. He has relatives in Austria, which he visited twice during 1968 and 1969, and decided to leave the republic. Before he could arrange everything, however, the borders were closed to legal crossings and Milan Vlček decided to stay in Czechoslovakia for the sake of his family. From 1971 he worked at ČKD Trakce in Vysočany, in the OTK or Technical Control Department, as an electrical engineer in the exit technical control test room in the tram production. From 1972 to 1975, as an electrical engineer, he commissioned trams in the Soviet Union, specifically in the cities of Barnaul (Siberia), Lvov, Kuybyshev, Kalinin and Pyatigorsk. In total, he commissioned 240 of the legendary T3 trams abroad. After his return, he worked in Technoplyn, at the mathematics and physics faculty, and later moved with his family to southern Bohemia. Here, after the revolution, he founded the successful company DBD Control Systems and for many years was involved in the city council in Sezimovo Ústí II. He has a wife and three children, and in 2024 he lived in Sezimovo Ústí II.