"But we were strictly ordered not to talk about the original owners, especially not the nobles. Then if had to be emphasized during all guided tours that the objects were the work of masters, and especially workers, who lived in the area, if it was found out somewhere, there was a lot of such action in the region of Liberec, thank god for certain uprisings or strikes in factories, so those also had to be involved."
"It simply came to my notice then that all these people thought this was normal. My husband, as an only child, inherited a large house in Bohušovice, and what to do with a house in Bohušovice? So, we managed to buy a villa in Klíš, and there were the only ones, who built it during the First Republic, and otherwise it was all the just confiscated. And they all thought it was normal. And then when we became a little bit more friendly and came there to visit, we saw the lovely furniture of the Germans made of carved wood, and no one thought it was strange. And especially not their children."
"So, they [ČSAD] really considered him highly and then arranged even my father´s funeral and took care of my mother, who could just speak German, they arranged a cleaning job in the pharmacy on the square in Děčín. But she, like a proper German, was insanely clean, she worked really hard. It was still semi-private and there was a busy grandfather of the pharmacist who had to rub the ointments. And she always said, 'Mr. Rose, go get some rest,' and rubbed ointments too. The pharmacy in the hospital on the hill had to get a supply from the square, so my mother took a ladder, loaded Malaga wine up on it, it was drunk as medical, mineral water, it was all brought to the hospital. She did it all. And the masters, who were working there, suddenly remembered their school German, and started speaking German with her."
"It must have been in August 1945, my mother was practically completely alone in the apartment building, where there were two or three apartments above each other. We always blocked the entrance a lot, because various guards were still breaking into the houses, maybe even looting. They managed to break it. My mother, who could not speak any Czech at all, she was not able to stand up to them, and they told her to take a sheet, and pack all she had up to 50 kilos, I think. So, my mother wrapped something up, probably talked to me indiscriminately, and so on, I was about six, so there was much fear. They simply picked us up to a kind of a truck and took us to the assembly point of the Germans, who were then destined for further deportations to the arrived trains, and it was already known. And those trains were just departing from the Děčín-Východ railway station and practically running before the eyes of the front of our houses."
"She [family acquaintance] took me to a village, where there were Czech relatives. It was near Úštěk nad Litoměřicemi, where I spent a part of May, June, July, August, mid-September. Only Czechs lived there and so I learned Czech. But it was also an amazing experience for me, it was a childhood change. In the village, the children had to help, they had to bring snacks to the fields, they had to collect spikelets, they had to knock out poppies. We got even drunk meanwhile. We had to pound butter, whose, taking turns with those, who could no longer work, because it was hard. We collected burdock leaves, then packed butter for market sale. Well, I came back and I could actually speak Czech, except for only a few words."
She was born Erika Lischke on June 18, 1939, to a German family living in Děčín, then called Tetschen, which became part of the Nazi German Empire during the war. Her father, Hermann Lischke, fought in the ranks of Czechoslovak legionnaires in the First World War and, due to his advanced age, avoided being drafted into the German army. He was an anti-fascist, which was the reason, why his family was not deported from the borderland and could stay in Děčín. Before starting the first grade of school in 1946, Erika had to learn Czech quickly and also changed her surname from Lischke to Lischková. In Děčín she graduated with excellent results and then began studying the University of Economics in Prague. After graduation she followed her husband Karel Bahník to Ústí nad Labem, where he was placed. She worked as a guide for Čedok and after the birth of her daughters in the Regional Centre for Monument Care and Nature Protection, later in the Czechoslovak State Bank. She contributed to the German minority magazine Prager Volkszeitung. In her articles, she also wrote about the forgotten and anti-fascist association Naturfreunde (Nature friends), whose enthusiastic member was also her mother, Frieda. The witness’s testimony was documented thanks to the support of the Statutory City of Ústí nad Labem.
Miroslav Tuček (the head of the Finance Department of the University of Economics, the first director of the Investment Bank after the revolution), second from the right; Prof. Friedmar John from the University of Berlin (third from the right) in Pilsen and Erika Lischková in the third year of the University of Economics in Prague
Miroslav Tuček (the head of the Finance Department of the University of Economics, the first director of the Investment Bank after the revolution), second from the right; Prof. Friedmar John from the University of Berlin (third from the right) in Pilsen and Erika Lischková in the third year of the University of Economics in Prague
