Jiří Bartoš

“I always liked to go to the movies. One Sunday I told my parents I was going to the movies. I took the tram and when I was halfway there, the air-strike sirens started screaming. I got out of the tram, we watched, nothing happened. After a while, they announced an end of the air strike. I rode all the way to the main square. There again, the air-strike sirens went off. I was watching and saw several airplanes high in the sky, one of them getting hit. The Germans had powerful cannons. The pilot jumped out with a parachute. I thought this had been it and went to the movies. I sat down and in about then minutes, the sirens started screaming again. I told myself: ‘Well, I may just as well leave this damn cinema!’ I got up and took the tram number six. We went for about a kilometre and suddenly, someone looked out of the window, shouting: ‘Oh my god!’ We asked: ‘What’s going on?’ There were tens of allied airplane squadrons raiding Belgrade. The tram driver speeded up, driving as fast as he could. We rode up the hill when bombs started falling. I ran into some house, there was an arch so I squeezed myself below it. Splinters were pouring all around. The bombs were falling into residential areas, although in the evening, they said they would only aim on military targets.”

“It was Sunday 6 April 1941. My dad said: ‘Let’s do something in the garden.’ I agreed. I got out and heard this fantastic engine roar. Initially, I did not know what was happening because Yugoslavia did not have many airplanes. I looked around and saw airplanes coming in waves of fifteen from the East. They were raiding Belgrade. In a moment and without any ado or declaration of war, bombs started falling down. People were mostly asleep, it was about six a.m. The artillery then started shooting but their grenades exploded low, not gaining the required altitude. Desperate, I ran off hoping it was only an exercise. But the explosions were such that even at this distance, one could strongly feel the shock waves. I turned on the radio. Nobody knew anything, they played this light morning music, the bombs were falling and people were killing each other. That was how the war started.”

“I sat down at the gate. There was a way out there and further on, there were only trenches. I piled up bricks, creating a peephole in order to see through. From there I was looking for someone to shoot. One day I had this prepared when they started systematically shooting from a mortar from the direction of Bosut river. When I saw where the shells were falling, it was clear to me that I was about to be hit, too. I did not know what to do. I went to hide inside a house. I could hear explosions outside, passing by. I went outside. From the church where our machine-gun was dug in – it was some thirty metres far – I heard: ‘Bartoš had died!’ There was a hit at precisely the place where I previously sat. I heard that and replied: ‘Bullshit, I am here!’ And I went on with piling up those bricks.”