Mgr. František Kotyz

“We really had no idea what would happen. The situation in Poland was quite hopeful for us, but when you’re wearing a uniform, that’s trouble. It seemed they were actually capable of sending us there. We had several scenarios worked out for that eventuality. The interesting thing is that some people were actually looking forward to going. Back then it was possible to buy goods in Poland that just weren’t available here. One soldier said: ‘When we run out of cigs, we’ll run a tank into a newsagent’s and load up on Marlboros. And we’ll buy Polish girls for “caddies” [KDs - cans].’ But I, because I felt an affection for Poland, I had some friends there - one of them was a sailor in Gdańsk - I reckoned, what will I do if we really do enter Poland? I guess I’ll steal a BVP [infantry fighting vehicle] and go north. I’ll board a ship, I’ll jump on some ship and hide. I had odd ideas like that in those days. I don’t know what would have happened if we had gone in[to Poland].”

“In 1984 I received a summons that I am to come to the army office for an intensive three-day training session. They took us by bus to Bílina. We got out and found ourselves standing in front of an arms depot and being told we’d be issued camo suits. I didn’t want that, so I started organising things there. They’d only sent us an invitation on a postcard, and now they were trying to dress us in camo. An officer ran up and started solving the matter. I told him: ‘If you want to see me in camo, send me a draft notice. Like this and could have but didn’t have to have come. You won’t get me dressed up in camo based on a postcard.’ A few people caught on to me. I shouted an order, we marched off to the gate, where I announced: ‘Write down: Kotyz plus thirty, The Bloody Knuckle pub. And when those hotshots decide whether civvies or camos, send someone to tell us about it.’ The pub’s name was derived from the nearby hospital. You won’t believe it. A helicopter came flying in two hours later. We ran out and saw František Veselý [commander of the Western Military Territory - ed.] come rushing up from the helicopter, shouting at some local officer: ‘Who is this Kotyz?’ So they brought me to him, and he started shouting at me too. To which I said: ‘You’ve got green duds on, but I’m in civvies. And if you want to speak with like that, send me a draft notice.’ ‘You want a draft notice.’ And he issued me one on the spot. Everyone else went home after three days, and I was stuck there for another month.”