“[Q: Did you experience air strikes at the front?] The Germans had air superiority, and while they were still bombing us, we had orders to dig our motor into the earth in the forests after every journey. We hewed the roots off with axes and hid at least the front part of the motor underground, so it wouldn’t be damaged by shrapnel. The bodywork could be easily repaired, but not the motors.”
“We slept various ways at the front. At Moscow we slept in the cab of the truck, it was freezing outside. We’d always secure some German helmet, we’d fill it with petrol and salt, lit a match and set it on fire - the petrol didn’t explode, instead it burned like kerosene. The cab was all smoked up afterwards, of course, and we ourselves looked like Moors. We had a piece of soap and we couldn’t have a bath, we had trouble with that.”
“When I joined the unit in Yefremov, they soon chose me for driver training. During the exam I was driving up to a crossroads with the instructor. The instructor was Slovak, and he kept saying: ‘We’ll go right, right.’ But right as we were entering the crossroads, he suddenly roared into my ear: ‘Left!’ I was startled, I pushed down on the brakes and the motor died. The vehicle was started by a crank, so I immediately leant forward for it - and in the meantime I had a slap coming for me, because that’s what they did in the Slovak army. The instructor missed and broke two fingers on the steering wheel. When we came back to the barracks, the boys asked: ‘Vladko, why’s the instructor’s hand bandaged up?’ I replied: ‘I guess he fell down.’ I didn’t want to embarrass him.”
“We were being detached coach by coach. There was always a bigger settlement such as Akumalinks, Osakarovka. We were dropped off at the stop Šokaj, which were two three wooden cottages and we had to look after ourselves the way we could. The chairmen of kolkhoz came and they took men force. I was such an underfed sixteen-year-old youngster. I was a skilled turner worker but no one seemed to be interested in me. When one of the chairmen said: ‘There is a place for a turner apprentice.’ Well, I went for it so that we didn't stay in the steppe alone. My Mum then worked in a kolkhoz, she sorted potatoes and my brother drove there as a wagoner – a thirteen-year-old boy.”
“A grafter earned some good money. We didn't have hard lives in Russia until the war broke out. Then starvation came. Everything disappeared right on the first day. The shops were empty, nothing anywhere, not even the bloody tins that were, pickled peas, all was away. Well, and queues for bread, they used to give a kilo of bread and it was like that all war through. We lacked fat, food. We hard workers were only issued with 800 gram bread and vouchers ran out as there was nothing to replace them with. At the beginning of war they replaced for example sugar with jam but it got worse then. Everybody did what they could. There was a canteen and there was soup and aspic every day. It was a pickle soup and nothing in it, not even a groat, only the pickle seeds. And we got a little spoon of porridge and some fish or a cutlet. It was mixed vegetables with something. And you worked so hard there.”
“I simply delivered munition and all needed stuff to the troops. Even food. They attached for instance a gun or a kitchen to us – but all when marching. Otherwise I had my mess with the Second Paratroop but I was always out and about so we ate in various ways. We always had some moldy bread under the seat and we had to get something somewhere. Such ration for three days as we had, you wolfed it down in one day, it was a tiny tin like nothing. A boy in his twenties needed strength for a Studebaker.”
(I'd like to ask if you felt personal hatred when you met captive soldiers?) “No, it was not the soldier's fault. He was conscripted and had to go otherwise he would be killed. Unfortunately, such was the truth. However, what they did to us in Stalingrad, it was no fun for me. My Dad toiled there for ten years, we had furniture there, he had a zither there, he had a gramophone there, records, ordinary culture. He brought everything with him. He was in Bohemia twice and he brought what he missed with him.”
“I survived the war all in all quite all right, I have to touch wood. But my health deteriorated, of course. We slept in cars in the frosty weather, we heated there in a German helmet. We always salted petrol there, we set it on fire and the cab warmed up. I even didn't have a blanket during the whole war, only my coat. And I always took my shoes off every night so that my feet didn't get frozen in my shoes. I always put my feet to the coat sleeves and I slept. I was all dirty, there was nowhere to get washed.”
“I think the young generation should act in a more patriotic way. They shouldn't be such sissies as they are. Even my sons were like that... They were not such tough guys who traveled the world as we were. And they should be proud of our traditions. They shouldn't think that the Allies did it all for us as we also had to lend a helping hand. And it was not easy.”
“I was allocated to a Sudeten German, he was also in the Czechoslovak Army, his name was Krasser. He was a terrible... playboy, he was simply a man about town. And they told me: ‘Hey, Voloďka, you'll be responsible for him. When he deserts to the Germans you'll be shot.’ But he didn't let anyone to look after him. When he went with a woman somewhere to intimacy... I actually didn't look after him. But he was a fair guy, we got on really well with each other because I could speak German.”
Vladimír Winter was born in Prague on January 27th, 1925. His father lost his job as a turner in 1930. His family moved to the USSR during the economic crisis. Winter spent his childhood and youth in Pemza and Stalingrad. His father worked there as a turner and later as a teacher of metal cutting. Mr Winter has got a younger brother. He knew bases of a couple of languages (German, Russian, English) in his childhood. He was a good student. His father was arrested by NKVD (People’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs) and executed shortly before the outbreak of war. Vladimír became the householder at the age of 16. He worked in a factory producing tanks T 34, which was later transferred to Kazakhstan. He received a draft notice at the age of 18. He took his chance to join up the Czechoslovak Armycorps of general Ludvík Svoboda. Due to his eye injury with a metal clip he wasn’t in any army unit but he drove the automotive truck Studebaker. He still stayed in the Army after the war, but he definitely left in 1948. He spent a few months under arrest. In 1948 he was investigated after the jailbreak of Zdeněk Toman, an important prisoner. Mr Winter worked as a jailer in the prison. He worked in ČKD (Czechoslovak Engineering Company) from 1948 and he was hired as a driver by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, where he used his knowledge of foreign languages. Vladimír Winter died on 26th October 2021.
