Antonie Málková

“People began coming there to look for their relatives and friends, and this was another disaster, because those poor souls were hungry and they started feeding them. But they suffered from typhoid; I don’t know how much you know about medicine, but typhoid patients have ulcers in their intestines which then burst and cause peritoneum infections. The relatives were giving them meat, steaks, or pea soup. ´For God’s sake, you must not give them this.´ – ´But he is so hungry.´ People were dying again. I know that they meant it well, but many people have died as a result.”

“I was thinking that I would lie down and rest. There was Sister Dolores, who was in charge of the dormitory, and another sister, who cooked. There were only three of them, the sisters. We were no longer children and we could understand what was happening. As soon as I lay down, Sister Dolores came to the room and said: ´Charita asked for help, there is a transport train, which was at the train station at night and now is waiting near Votice and calling for help. They are asking for somebody to come there, there are hungry people.´ I was wearing my white coat and the nurse’s hat; I didn’t even change and I said: ´Well, I will go.´ Another girl, I no longer remember which one, said that she would go, too. We walked towards Charita, which had its headquarters in the Sněmovní Street, that’s where the chamber of deputies is now. I went there because they had all the information about the situation. As soon as I passed through the Spálená Street and got to Národní, there were people, men and boys, riding trams and waving Czech flags. I thought, this is weird, it’s finally come, and it will be tough. And it was. Together with some boys I disarmed Germans who were driving a truck: we jumped on them, one guy pulled him back from the steering wheel, and the two others and I undressed them and disarmed them. The Germans were assembling somewhere in Smíchov, and they were driving away from there. But these soldiers were shaking and they obeyed, when we – and I as a girl – disarmed them, because the boys who were with me were quite rough with them.”

“They were already bringing there German women from Litoměřice to do the cleaning jobs. You know, a German woman was an important person at that time, a lady, and they ordered her to clean the toilets and wash the corridors where people had vomited. Well, this was cruel from our people. But I was angry at her, too, but not so much that I would... Well, this German woman said that she would not do it, and she sat down on that pile of furniture and that guy shot her from a short distance. Our guy. It was terrible, but I am in no position to judge him or her. People have had to endure a lot, and the Germans have taken no pity on them.”

“It was difficult for me to walk to Charita. It was fine until I reached Úvoz, but then there were Germans driving in cars from the Castle and shooting in the streets with machine guns. We would always jump into some house, lock the door for a moment until they passed and then we continued. People already knew that the situation was grave. There were women who were shooting at us from the apartment windows with small guns. I got to Charita and there I heard: ´They are calling from the German House, they need bandages, dressing gauze and cotton wool, can somebody bring it there?´ I raised my hand. Two gentlemen, doctor Sakař and another man, went with me. We carried the packages, but they were shooting at us from the German House, which is located between Charles Bridge and the National Theatre. It was called German House, and I don’t even know what is in that building today. I was wearing the nurse’s uniform with the white hat, but they were shooting at us nevertheless. I would always hide behind one of the statutes, behind the pedestal, with my face turned to the wall, and I could hear the bullets ringing on the pavement. The guys were running and when I stepped from the bridge into Karlova Street, it was absolutely terrible. I tried to hide somewhere, but everybody was afraid and the houses’ doors were already locked. I found some stone steps and I crouched there with my face pressed against the wall and waited for the shooting to pass. Then there was silence, and so I slowly walked out, but the men were nowhere to be seen. I called: ´Where are you? Are you all right?´ One of them says: ´You know, I am not a soldier, and so I hid myself.´ Oh my God, a guy and he was afraid more than I.”