Brigita Hertlová

“Just before in July (1968), we went to see Mom, who was at the spa in Trenčianske Teplice, and she told us: ‘Sorry, what? We’re being surrounded.’ And I told her: ‘Mom, don’t worry about it, it’s not fifty-six anymore. They wouldn’t let something like that happen again.’ Well, yeah... They did. And I was looking forward that Wednesday (21 August) because we were supposed to collect our pay and then suddenly there was someone banging... we still had old windows. A weeping Kačka was pounding on the windows, crying and screaming: ‘Get up, get up, we’re being occupied by the Russians.’ We bolted out of bed and heard the rumbling. Tanks were coming from Blatnice and we could hear how they rumbled. František left to the theater alone and I took the kids’ money, their change, to buy some coffee. Because we didn’t have anything then. I told myself that there was no way I could be here with the Russians and no coffee! So I gathered their money and pocketed it. I had a sort of denim dress on. So when I was running around with the all that money, I suddenly realized I had a full handful of dust. When the Russians were driving over and crushing the pavement, there was dust in the air. I walked the kids to pre-school. Sitting on the tanks were these totally livid young boys. My son was five years old then, and I said to myself: ‘They’re the victims, the poor devils. What about in ten years, fifteen?’”

“I perceived the war as a dire threat, and everyday moments stuck in my memory as an expression of war. In Vojkovice where we lived, we had huge windows spanning the entire room. It must have been about four meters of window. It was a modern functionalist villa... I loved it. Grandpa Hertl had built it. So, when there were the strict measures in place, watchmen arrived telling us that our lights had to be off, so they didn’t bring any air raids to the city. So there were these big fat black rugs on rings, and they had to be hung up every night before turning on the lights... And the way my mom balanced herself on the stool... I was so afraid she’d fall because of the way her calves were strained and how hard she tried to hang that heavy material on the hooks... I perceived this as war. That it was dangerous.”