Eva Mosnáková

“In 1942, when most Jews had to leave to be transported to Auschwitz, my teacher told me during a lesson: ʻEvička, would you, please, wait for me after school?’ So I waited until there were just the two of us. Then she hugged me and cried. I also cried. Because those people were our friends and we were saying goodbye. Even though my father wasn´t in danger yet, they were our friends. And it was terrible because there was a little girl going around asking: ʻWhy are you crying?’ And the girl was leaving too, and she never came back. There was another family with a 19-year old daughter severely suffering from tuberculosis who was to arrive all the way from the Vyšné Hágy Medical Center. The deportees were first concentrated in a Jewish school in Nitra and as she was unable to walk, they dragged her on to a stretcher, but she died yet before they got to the cattle car. So obviously, were they really leaving for work? But there was a couple with no children: Mr. Strasser, a fine craftsman, and Mrs. Strasser, a seamstress who made clothes for us. And when they were leaving they both said: ʻWe are not afraid, we can work hard, we will find an occupation (in Poland).’ But they never came back because they were not going to work; surely they were going to die.”

“In Brno I experienced the German occupation. It was a tough day. I was 9 years old. The weather was bad, damp, and foggy. It drizzled. German troops were rolling down the streets; cavalry, infantry. Aunt Maři was standing by the window, crying. She did not send me to school, it was too dangerous. Later, on my way to school (back at Veveří, before my aunt moved), there was a military warehouse guarded by German soldiers. Being afraid, I chose to cross the road to avoid them. I used to walk to my piano lessons past the Kaunicovy koleje (dormitories). Those fateful dorms, where my father once was a student, became a prison. Because universities were closed down, students were taken to forced work in Germany and if not, then they were arrested. People were imprisoned in the dormitories. And there were too many. Walking to my music lesson I was passing by the dorms and I saw a courtyard and a fence around it. And in front of the fence, walking around, there were ladies, spouses of the imprisoned, hoping their husbands or brothers or sons would see them and understand they were thinking about them. They did not know that if a prisoner showed up in the window, shooting would follow.”