Egon Urmann

“There were no shootouts here, the sort of skirmishes, as they were taking place in other places. My mom said that she didn’t have anything herself that she would take across the border because we didn’t have much. However, she would help carry things for others – maybe a painting or a sewing machine. She went from Žleby down to Horní and Dolní Cazov. She told me that many times they lay hidden behind the stone terraces and the border guards were afraid to let go their dog because they were afraid that it might get shot. Mom recalled that if those border guards had only known that it was just two frightened women hiding there, they would have thrown themselves at them. They were shooting like crazy at my mom, the bullets were whizzing above their heads. She was taking huge risks but she was at home in that environment and knew every stone there. When it got dark, these guards had no chance. Only the dog could become dangerous. But they would cross the border at night when it was dark and it was only five hundred meters to the border from there.”

“The house where I was born technically was part of České Žleby, although in fact, it was on the outskirts of Lenora, just across the river. The people from that village lived about three kilometers away from the border. In spite of this, they would accept the suffering, the interrogations, the beatings, torture. They could have escaped anytime. But they thought: ‘Why would I run away? It’s bad right now, but it will pass, it will not take long and there will be peace again. This is quite extraordinary if you take into account that violent beatings of Germans were on the order of the day. For instance, they would gather all the men from the village and beat them, let them kneel – that sort of torture. Then they would send them home again. But these were innocent people. Those who had actually done something were put in jail right away. Mostly, they were taken to Písek and given long prison terms, ranging anywhere between 10 to 20 years. But these were innocent people, more or less loyal people who took the brunt of the retaliations. For instance, there was a guy called ‘fackář’ (slapper). He had a liking for slapping people.”

“I was born at a time when it was already clear that the war was lost for Germany, even if some were still dreaming about the final victory. The Americans were already somewhere in Passau, the Russians near Ostrava ... However, some of them were still fooling around in the militia, training for combat... They were actually fifteen-, sixteen-year-old boys who were drafted as the last reserves to save the Reich. My mom told those guys to run and hide! She told them it was all over. Why should they stick their head into the loop? But their commander heard my mom and told her to shut up or he’d put her to the wall and have her shot! Because this was treason to him! So you see, even at a time when we all realized it was over, there were people, such a group of fanatics, who thought that there was something to save.”

“In 1947, my parents anticipated that we would go soon. However, for a while, it looked like we wouldn’t have to go in the end. So they did the hay, dug out the potatoes and stocked up for the winter. On October 2, two policemen came with a truck and told us that we were to show up at the train station for the transport to a glass factory in Včelnička near Kamenice nad Lipou. In this way we were transferred there and later, another four families came there, for instance a family of a glassmaker from Vimperk. Other glassworks needed skilled workers and people here complained that there were too many Germans here. So we ended up this way.”