Iva Bejčková

"Protože jsme nebyli ani finančně podporovaní a neměli z čeho žít, maminka v té době byla částečně ochrnutá na jednu ruku, tak [jsme] potom díky přátelům, kteří nám zbyli, [a jejich podpoře vycházeli], protože lidi se od nás odvraceli. Když si vzpomenu, že jsme šli po chodníku, tak přecházeli na druhý chodník, aby se s námi nemuseli setkat. Měli jsme jenom pár rodin, které nám byly věrné. Kdybych jmenovala – rodina Andrlových, Spilkova, Tobiášova, Teplých. To byly takové naše věrný dušičky, které mamince hodně pomohly. Pamatuji se, že na jednoho Mikuláše nám paní Spilková přinesla ošatku, kde bylo sádlo, jablka, hrušky, nějaký bonbón, a že to pro nás bylo něco úžasného. I když jsem ji jako malá žába tenkrát poznala podle bačkor, přesto na ten okamžik nikdy nezapomenu. Byl to pro mě ten nejkrásnější Mikuláš."

"V té době jsem sice... když v roce 1955 jsme měli vstoupit do Pionýrské organizace, tak maminka, ač jí to strašně bolelo a určitě to ani nechtěla, nechtěla mi přidělávat starosti a kazit dětství. Takže mě nechala, ať si vstoupím jako mé vrstevnice – kamarádky do Pionýrské organizace. Pamatuji se, že jsem byla hrdá a přednášela. Dost jsem četla a ve škole přednášela básničky. Přednášela jsem básničku a říkala: ‚Na svůj pionýrský šátek já hrdá, pyšná jsem!‘ A tenkrát jsem přišla domů a maminka plakala."

“And one of those who lived with us, that lady, she had a phone. So Mr. Jiří Šrámek, husband of Zdena Šrámková, called the lady next door to call me to the phone and told me what happened, that the Russians annexed us, and that there is staff at the Radio so if they want, they had it relayed to me, that I rather not come to work because I was 21 and they were worried about me, so that I don’t need to come. I was curious and it didn‘t occur to me, I remember that I dressed very lightly, I had a thin pullover, skirt, sandals and a simple basket bag, and I walked from Letná where I lived to the Vinohradská street to the Radio. And there were tanks in the opposite direction, there were tanks on the bridge when I walked across the river, it was called Šverma bridge back then. So when I walked across the bridge, there was a tank. Then I kept encountering them and there were fires in front of the Radio and they did not let us through th emain entrance so I went to the back entrance and there were two of my colleagues who also did not manage to get inside. Meantime, others went elsewhere because the transmissions were going on at other places but us three from the manufacturing newsroom, Arnošt Marvan and František Hejný, we did not manage to get inside.”

“Then I remember, and my mom verified it, that since then, I hated the Christmas Eve from the bottom of my hear because I kept hoping that dad would return for the Christmas Eve. I spent the evening standing by the bedroom window and watched out for him to return. I must say, I still do it even in my old age, that I always go to look out of that window for a while.”

“He never wanted to talk about what happened there. Only later when my brother was already dead and I was an adult and he knew he was dying, he did tell me a few tidbits after all. And when I asked him what was the worst for him at that time, he said that probably the worst thing was not that he had to learn by heart the things he was expected to say at the court but that when he was in a solitary confinement in that custody, they let the water drip on purpose and day and night, day and night, there was only him and dripping water, it was destroying his nerves. Obviously, one cannot really imagine it, but even the interrogations, he never wanted to talk about it, he said, this is nothing for your ears.”

“When mom returned from the court hearing where he was sentenced on that eighteenth and nineteenth March of 1954, she came back home totally drained and she said, ‚that was not my husband at all, that was someone else. He not only looked like a stranger, he also talked such nonsense, things that never happened, that were not true. It was apparent that he had learned it by heart.’”

“The house search and the arrest, that was an awful drama. Not only that they stormed in the house, they also started throwing around all the things there where we slept. They started looking in the beds, they lifted the mattresses, and even today, I can hear mom’s ‘Quietly, please, so that my son doesn’t see it, I hid a hockey stick for my son, a Christmas gift.’ That was a big thing at that time, for a boy to get a hockey stick. And when they start digging in my pram for my dolls, it was me who started to shout: ‘Let go, they are mine. Leave my pram alone!’ Dad’s departure was dramatic as well. We couldn’t even say our goodbyes. They took him away and he only managed to say: ‘Don’t worry, I haven’t done anything, I will be back soon.’ Even though I am 73 nowadays, I can still see this in my mind. I still see this scene. These men were quite crude, I would say, they did not let mom use the bathroom, they went there with her. They took us to school, too. I was in the first grade at that time, and I remember, it was a beautiful and rare event when I came to school, the classes had already started and they knocked the door, my class teacher came, Mr. Rasocha, and he held me in his arms and carried me there and back in the hallway and kept reassuring me: ‘Don’t worry, don’t worry, everything will be fine again.’”