Olga Kvapilová

"My mother was in America. She wrote enthusiastic letters saying that she had finally met her brother's children and her sister-in-law. I remember her writing that they lived in a villa and that they had a swimming pool in the backyard. That was completely unimaginable to us! And that she would always throw herself into the pool in the morning. Mum, who loved swimming, that was amazing to her, and other wonderful things. It happened that August 21 came. I was at home. I don't remember the other nurses, but I remember getting up in the morning and going into the kitchen while still in my pajamas and seeing Grandma sitting by the radio, and there was something being said, and then the national anthem was playing, and Grandma was crying. I asked what had happened and Grandma said she was afraid there was going to be a war. That's kind of my most dramatic impression of that time. And then there was a very dramatic time, because when dad came back from work, he tried to contact mom. We didn't have cell phones, we didn't have telephones either, so we went to the post office. At the post office, it looked like there were three booths and a liaison officer. If you reported to her the number you wanted to call, after a while she would call you to that booth. There were already a lot of people waiting. You went to that booth and there was a voice somewhere far away over the hissing and hissing. Now everybody was yelling into that phone because they couldn't hear, except there was another booth next door, so it was disturbing, and besides, everybody in that post office could hear it. But at least they could hear each other, they had an agreement, and the situation was such that mom's brother Jirka said to mom: 'Tell Mirek to pack the girls and come here, I'll take care of you.' Mom was a doctor, so he said: 'You'd find a job now, and I'll find something for dad. You can live here for now. But you're both young, smart, so it'll be fine, just go away, because we know what can happen.' That hopeful time when we took a breath and all cheered up was gone."

"He was in solitary confinement for a long time. I don't know how long, but I think it was a few months. And he said what saved him was that he made such a tight schedule in prison. He had a cell, a few meters. But every morning he got up, said his prayers, had his warm-up. Then he'd recite some lecture, like he was talking to students. Then he'd work out again, if he could. He would chant and he had this fixed routine. Dad had this motto: 'Serva ordinem et ordo servabit te' - 'Keep the order, and the order will keep you'. But I think it was because he was a bohemian. He was very open with people, very friendly. He could have a conversation with an old grandmother or someone educated on theological or philosophical issues. He was always very open, cordial, and he was the kind of person that the order kept him. That he must have been aware of it. Because otherwise he was a great improviser. He wasn't afraid of improvisation and he could be systematic and have that order, and at the same time he was a person open to everything."