„Při rehabilitačním procesu ho shodou okolností soudil ten soudce, který mu napařil trest smrti a doživotí. A dal mu znovu dvanáct let. Tak jsem se znovu odvolala, byla tam doktorka Kavalírová myslím, na ministerstvu spravedlnosti a ta mi ten proces znovu obnovila. Takže pak byl rehabilitovaný úplně.“
„To přišli pro něj, aby šel mluvit na K 231, bylo to na Žofíně, nebo kde. Zrovna mu vytrhali všechny zuby. Měl strašné bolesti a z toho důvodu nemluvil a byla to naše záchrana, protože oni je potom všechny likvidovali. My jsme měli odjet do Švýcarska v tom 68. roce, protože jsem se bála, že ho zase zavřou. My jsme byli v Maďarsku a tam nás chytly události a já jsem se o Ludvu bála. Vrátili jsme se do prostřílené Prahy, bydleli jsme na Václaváku, bylo to hrozné. Já jsem váhala mezi rodiči a mezi tím, jestli ho zavřou nebo ne. Bratr, který se hodně angažoval, dodnes žije v Mnichově, protože utekl. Všichni chtěli, aby Ludva odešel, abychom odešli. Nakonec jsem zůstala, nakonec jsme zůstali.“
„Přišlo mi oznámení na moji poslední žádost o milost pro manžela – to je tedy terminus technicus, co tam napsali – že mu prezident uděluje milost s podmínkou deseti let. Já jsem tedy byla napnutá a nevěděla jsem, jestli ke mně přijde na Václavské náměstí, kde věděl, že bydlím, nebo k rodičům. A během dvou nebo tří dní, kdy mi přišlo to oznámení, tak zazvonil zvonek a za dveřmi stál tatínek s Ludvou. Opravdu jel k nim, protože si myslel, že budu ve službě a tatínek s ním přijel za mnou. Bylo to veliké. Já měla zrovna maturitní týden, ‚bílý týden‘. Takže jsem se na všechno vyflákla a bylo to úžasné.“ - „Odmaturovala jste?“ - „Odmaturovala.“
“There was the great amnesty and Hanka called me: ‘We’re taking the first bus to Příbram and to the camp.’ They did not have clothes, of course, and so I took the best clothes that my dad had there. Shoes, shirt, and so on. Hanka went with me and we went to Příbram and from there to the labour camp. I remember that this was the only time when they were kind to me. The warden, his name was Košulič and he was the commander of the Bytíz camp, welcomed us: ‘Oh, the first messengers of the amnesty are here.’ We both nodded happily that it was indeed so. We really believed that they would release our men immediately for us. They said: ‘All right, we will check when we will release them for you.’ Hanka’s Josef lived in Prague and he had been arrested in Prague, and so they found his name immediately and they told her: ‘Fine, leave the clothes for him here, Dr. Plocek will be released within two days.’ Now Ludvík Šmotek: he was not in the Prague register. The registers were thick volumes, this thick. They were searching for his name, because there were great many political prisoners. Then they said: ‘Well, and wasn’t he arrested in Moravia?’ I said: ‘Yes, he was.’ And so they looked into the tome from Moravia. His name was not there, either. Then they brought a volume with names of those who were not eligible for the amnesty, and Ludva was there. They said: ‘Well, these are the most serious penalties, high treason and espionage.’ Ludva was accused of all kinds of things. ‘Unfortunately the amnesty does not apply to him.’ It was insane. It was terrible. When they said that Josef would come home in two days, I was convinced that Ludvík would too. It was terrible. We went together with Hanka, and she got this idea that we would stop in the church on the Holy Mount in Příbram to give thanks. I turned to her enraged: ‘You go give thanks yourself, I have nothing to thank for.’ I ran away from her, there is a small forest there, and I lay there on the ground and I cried. A train whistle was heard in the distance. (sighs) The reason I am saying this is that I have never gotten rid of that feeling. The feeling that life is not worth living when he stays in the prison.”
“Some gentleman eventually advised me that there was no point in my petitioning for clemency for my fiancé all the time, but that I should marry him in a proxy marriage. The problem was that this option had already been abolished a year ago. However, even among those Bolsheviks there were some really good people, too. One of them took my case and he predated my petition and this proxy wedding was thus made possible. It was held here in Prague in the Old Town Hall, and Hanka went there to act as my best woman. Josef Plocek, her husband – they were already married at that time – served as the proxy groom. But you know, it was terrible, because a wedding is something amazing for every girl. But when you hear: ‘Miss Alice Molíková, do you marry Ludvík Šmotek, represented here in full authority by Dr. Plocek?’ I couldn’t even bring myself to say ‘I do.’ But Josef nudged me and said: ‘Hey, what if I said no, that would be funny, wouldn’t it?’ I started laughing. Then I immediately went to the Bytíz labour camp with a big box of wedding cookies. I asked the warden, his nickname was ‘Chinese Chicken’ – they were all called by nicknames – and I begged him to give the box to Ludvík and tell him that the marriage had been granted and that he was now married to me. The warden promised everything. But two weeks later I got a letter from Ludvík and he wrote me again, and in every letter he was writing: ‘Alena, please, write me the date when the wedding will be held. I will be with you at least in my spirit, and in my spirit I will be standing next to you.’ And two weeks later I received another letter from him, and again he asked me: ‘Write me the date.’”
“Not only that he was handsome and that all girls were crazy about him, but on top of that he was a partisan, and still an active one. He had just returned from a raid against Bandera’s bands. Of course, I was curious about him, too; I was fifteen and although I had many friends among the boys and girls, I was quite sprightly. Every once in a while somebody would whistle under my window, and my mom was mad about it, because they were all guys with motorcycles. But I didn’t really love any of them. Then I saw him, and they introduced me to this handsome Walachian lad, oh, he was so handsome! His shoulders were like this, and waist like this, and he had beautiful black eyes and curly blond hair. He got me! I simply fell in love with him and it has lasted for the rest of our lives. Just the interval in between was horrible. So there were two months of summer holiday, the charm, falling in love for the first time, it was beautiful. And he, he was wonderful!”
Alice Šmotková, née Molíková, was born October 17, 1933 in Zlín. She talks of her childhood as being filled with love, although she very well remembers the poverty in which her family lived during the war. Alice’s mother lost her job as a supervisor in the Baťa factory, her father contracted tuberculosis, and the family had to move to Prague. When Alice was fifteen, her mother sent to her sister’s to spend the summer holiday there. While there, Alice met Ludvík Šmotek, a young man from the Moravian Walachia region who was twelve years older and who was a partisan during the war. Their lifelong love began during that summer. In 1949, Ludvík Šmotek was arrested as the leader of the resistance group Světlana-Jeseník and at first he was sentenced to capital punishment. This was eventually commuted to life sentence and later to twenty-five years of imprisonment, fourteen of which he really served in prison. Alice meanwhile studied a secondary school, worked as a secretary for one year and later she began working as a nurse. She spent her youth writing letters, visiting prisons, and sending petitions for clemency to the president every year. Ludvík Šmotek was released in 1963 and together they raised three children. After 1968 they decided to stay in Czechoslovakia. Ludvík Šmotek was rehabilitated after 1989. He died in 2002. Alice Šmotková lives in Prague 5.
