Jindřich Machala

“For the first time he could see where his house used to be. He stood there and pointed out that here was the entrance, here was the door, here was the barn, here was the well. He remembered everything exactly. He stood in front of the imaginary entrance where there was nothing but bushes. He was holding something in his hand and crying. It really had an effect on me. I don’t speak German very well and I didn’t understand him. My friend Milan Valovič, a former district administrator, was there too and he translated everything for me. The man was saying that, after all these years, he was finally able to pick an apple from his tree. There were many stories like that.”

“It was convenient for workers, forest workers employed in the army, and so on. I don't want to belittle them, but what kind of interests did they have? To have a pub that was open, at least the basic foodstuffs, and a way to get some petrol, diesel, a microwave, and a fridge off the Russians. The Russians sold whatever they could. Lumber and coal. My friend bought a two-wheeled tanker with gasoline. It was about one and half cubic meters. It was enough to have a job and relatively cheap costs of living to be happy. One also knew that if their gutter fell off, someone from the operations center would come and replace it. It was a military construction repair job. They did it in a uniform style. They all had yellow tiles, the same windows, gray tiles in the hallway, a Brizolit facade, and tin roofs. If that was enough, one could be happy. Those who wanted to live a little more freely in a military area had a bit of a problem.”