My Dad keeps telling his story:
“There were several factories in Belgium that made shotguns. and we used to buy their products for our store in Czechoslovakia. During the occupation those factories continued working, but they could only sell their products under the German regulations. Whenever I had some extra money I bought some of those shotguns, but would not take the merchandise. The money stayed as my credit at the company for further delivery after the war, when they would be sent to our store in Czechoslovakia. It was a way to save money, because I knew that later on, after the war, the currency would probably lose its value. Which actually happened! Two days after the liberation by the allies, the currency was changed, being replaced by bills that had been printed ahead in England. We had to give up all our money and receive only 2,000 crowns in exchange. Further adjustments were supposed to happen, but most people never saw their money again. Having bought merchandise, I was then able to keep my money intact.
There were some coincidences that happened. One day I was coming home and there was a German officer in front of our home. His name was Sluka and he told me that he was living in Ostrava (my town in Czechoslovakia ) when the Germans invaded the country. At that time those Germans were ordered to serve the German army, and that’s what happened to him. He was now a Colonel in the German army, working at the local airport. He actually became the airport manager later on. He told me that if I ever needed something, I should look for him . He knew my father, and liked him, so he would help me at any time if needed. He actually lived close to us, and his family used to buy at our store. He could remember an incident when a few students who were planning to go to Africa were looking for financial support. One day they came to our store and while a few were distracting my father with some talking, one of them stole one of our rifles. When they left the store a police officer saw the weapon and checked on them. Realizing that they probably stole it, he brought them to our store and told my Dad that they probably stole the rifle. My Dad was the type of person that wouldn’t mind this kind of thing. He immediately told the officer that they didn’t steal it; he said that they were telling him their plans and that he contributed to their cause by donating them one of our rifles. And now, in Belgium, this German officer who remembered that story, was offering to help me if I ever needed something. He was touched by my father’s kindness, and wanted to be kind to us as well.
I kept in contact with him. There were many good people among the German officers, common people like us but who just happened to be born in Germany and at that time serving their army. He was one of them. Very often I would go to his office to chat in Czech - which he liked to do although it was certainly a risk for him because the Germans did not appreciate when people spoke in any other language than German in their offices. Being his friend actually came in very handy on a certain occasion when I could have been in some big trouble. I had received a notification to go to a certain SS office, a Gestapo police department. The Gestapo was the worst and most threatening German police at that time. So I went to that place and they started interrogating me, asking who I was and everything about my life. They also asked if I had someone who could give some reference or even become responsible for me. I told them that I knew Colonel Sluka, which impressed them and changed the whole tone of the talk. They immediately told me to go home and come back the next day. Later on Sluka told me that they called him late at night at home asking him if he actually knew me and if he would recommend me. Which was a great help because I don’t know what they wanted from me and what their real intent actually was. At that time one could be imprisoned for no reason and at any time.
It was very common having German officers coming to our home to interrogate us. But things always went better when I took a bottle of cognac and offered it to them. One day one of them came and after asking me many questions he told me that he had to take me with him and I had to be deported to Germany. I got the miracle bottle and he started drinking. Then we talked more about my case and he told me what the case was, saying that there was a certain German officer named Ratke working in Ostrava at a certain time and that I denounced him to the local authorities and he was not seen after that. I told him I knew nothing about that - as I really didn’t - and he told me that a police officer in Ostrava, named Tichavski, had told the authorities that I had done it. He showed me the paper concerning the case, but it was stated that the son of Gustav Tichy had done it. However, there was no first name mentioned. I told him then that it must have been my brother Gustav, who was already deceased. The officer then had a couple of more drinks and left without taking any action. The “miracle bottle” never failed me on occasions like that…
That officer forgot his gloves in my home. The German soldiers used a special type of gloves made exclusively for them. So the next day I took the gloves and went to his office to return them, but it was already a few days before the end of the war and he had already left going back to Germany. So I just kept the gloves as a souvenir. A few weeks later, when the war had already ended, I was walking in the woods and was wearing those gloves when suddenly two men grabbed me and because of the gloves they accused me of being German. But everything was clarified later on when I told them that I knew the Mayor, so, after checking the veracity of what I told them,they finally let me go. I had become good friends with the Mayor of that town since I often helped him by translating his conversations with the German officials that were always giving him a hard time with something. He appreciated my help, and we developed a great relationship. It’s always helpful to be friends with people like that…
Later on we moved to Florennes, and became friends with a nice couple, the Esghems. He had been in charge of counting the trees that I cut during the time when the Germans were controlling all details about every business. He did not like the Germans, and had actually made an American flag even before the Americans’ arrival. When they came he had the flag posted on a pole in front of his home. We became good friends.
It was a great time for everyone when the Americans finally arrived. Their tanks were everywhere and they were throwing all sorts of goods to the population, including chocolate bars. People were very excited and made a big public demonstration welcoming the American army along the roads and in every town and village.
One day Mr. Esghem was walking in the woods and he found the camp of an American division. The Americans had food in such abundance that people could not believe. But obviously everything was canned food and the soldiers missed having some fresh food once in a while. Some of them were invited by the civilians to have a meal with the family at home and in exchange they would share their canned food with people in general. One time two of them came to our home to have dinner with us and said that they didn’t have anything to give us until one of them went to their jeep and brought some packets of cigarettes, probably close to 2,000 cigarettes. We didn’t smoke, but Mrs. Esghem did so we gave it all to her, thus making her very happy.
We had a son who was born in Belgium, the one who died later on at the age of three. His name was Jan. There is a habit in that country that when the child is baptized the family will throw some money through the window and also will pay very well to the priest officiating the baptism. On the day when we were ready for Jan to be baptized, we had some money on the table that would be used for that celebration according to the local tradition. Then, suddenly, Mrs. Esghem came in and, seeing the money, asked what the money was for; she immediately advised us to spend only half of that money, saying that the priest didn’t deserve so much because he has not been nice to people. He had been violent toward the children at church, apparently punishing them harshly for some bad behavior; according to her, he would get a child and hit their head against a wall, sarcastically telling them that he was not doing anything to them, that it was the wall that was hitting and punishing them for what they did. He treated our children better because they used to help him with the services at church and had a better relationship with us. One day some children made a small fire in the church, which could have caused a big fire. The priest actually spanked most of those children, but did not touch our children even though they were, unfortunately, also involved.
Florennes was a small village where we lived for a while before the end of the war. Our home was on the top of a small elevation from where we could see a small local airport. One day two German officials came to our home saying that our home has been confiscated and that we had to move out immediately. It was just before Christmas and we had invited some friends from Liège to come and spend a few days with us. The officials also searched the home because they were suspicious that we could have been spying on the airport. I was very concerned during their search of the house because it could have been a disaster. Let me explain. Mr. Esghem had been in the Belgian army at a certain point during the war and he kept his rifle. Of course that was a dangerous thing to do because if the Germans had found it in his possession they would certainly kill him immediately. So, one day he came to my home bringing the rifleand ask me if I had a place to hide it for him. There was a small room outside of our home where we kept all kinds of tools and other belongings, and I had placed the rifle on the ceiling in that small compartment. The ceiling was actually just a few wooden bars that one could see through, so the rifle would certainly be seen if someone looked up to the ceiling. During the search the soldiers also went to that place, which worried me a lot because if they had found that weapon I certainly would have been executed on the spot. Luckily enough, though, the beasts didn’t see it; and once again I escaped the hands of the Germans. There were many rats in that place and the officers got very distracted with those rats, thus not paying too much attention to the place in general. I then returned the rifle to Mr. Esghem very quickly, because it could be trouble for me in the future anyway. He didn’t want to keep it at his home, so he hid it in an old and vacated house nearby, where nobody would probably ever go.
Soon after that, we were told by the Germans that we had to move to another home, because they needed our home. We almost rented a home in a certain village nearby, but then we changed our mind and moved to a different village a little farther. After the war I was told that a German bomb fell in that other village that we considered moving to at first - but didn’t. The bomb hit a scholl, killing all children living in that village. Had we moved there, all our children would have been killed, too.”
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