“The Germans were making us get such a move on at times that we didn’t manage either to put clothes or shoes on. One night they surrounded us and were waiting for reinforcements. But our cook got a stomach-ache and had to go away and at that moment he bumped into the Germans. He raised the alarm and there it started. Everyone grabbed what he had and was running away. And up the hill across the road there were German cars coming and they started to strafe us. So we ran in different directions and then we spent several days getting together again.”
“I didn’t experience this in person; I know it only as a story. One day the headquarters got a tip about the presence of the OUN in a certain village. I don’t remember its name anymore. The alarm was raised and the unit set off. It was a hilly terrain there. They found an occupied trench. There was a machine gun every ten metres and men behind them. Our leaders thought they were Polish. At that time it was difficult to tell who is a soldier and who is a civilian because everyone wore clothing made up of various parts of uniforms. So they wanted to see the commander. The men called to the trench where the commander was, but there was no commander. So the battalion went over the trench and continued in the journey. Yet our political commissar was wondering how come there was no commander. About two kilometres later he convinced them to go back. But the trench was empty then. They really were the Bandera’s unit. It was pure luck. Was there a single accidental shot, the men in the trench would shoot half of the battalion dead because they came to them as for a visit. It would be enough then for someone to trip and pull the trigger by accident and they would smash them to smithereens. After getting back we all had to sign an affirmation of silence. Even those of us who hadn’t been there! I don’t know how many years it is valid for but I suppose that it is barred by the statue of limitations after those fifty years. The boys who were there were born anew as it would have been a terrible massacre.”
“We supported ourselves by seizing food from the collaborationists. And unfortunately, there were quite a lot of them, especially among the large farmers. They mostly sided with the Germans. They said that the Germans wouldn’t take them anything. And when there was no other way, we had to buy things but most of the provisions went from the collaborationists. We took what we needed. If the farmer was a real bastard, we took him with us to the headquarters for them to do with him whatever they wanted to. They usually let us take what we needed... I can’t say we were exactly starving.”
“(What was it like when you got under fire for the first time?) Well, I didn’t feel well... It’s such a strange feeling when they are aiming at you. You can’t see it but you do feel it. The noise that follows the bullet. It’s as if somebody fired just behind your ear. When they are shooting at someone else, that’s a totally different sound. (Have you found enough self-preservation to return the fire? Or did you try to hide as quickly as possible?) To hide somewhere as quickly as possible and press down to the ground as much as possible. There is no heroism then.”
“In our opinion, the last attack was completely pointless. It is not very pleasant to say but it’s true. And lots of boys died there. And yet it was no big deal then. I mean, the Germans had surrendered! Us soldiers, we took it as that someone with high ranks simply wanted to show off. A couple of boys died there in vain. They could easily be alive. It didn’t change the situation.”
“We were sent the weapons on parachutes from England. But we had to fight for them. I was a member of the communist resistance movement FTP. We were governed by the Communist Party. The Degaulle people, they were a different resistance movement; they got as many weapons as they wanted and they didn’t usually even use them. So we stole the weapons from them to arm ourselves. The commander knew when the airdrop was due so we tried to be there as the first ones. First come, first served, isn’t it. “
“(You have said that you were a member of the Communist Youth. Did you vote for the Communists in 1946?) Sure. And I wasn’t the only one. The Slovaks were electing their clericalists. And we were voting for our Party. (Did you regret it after 1948?) What should I regret? (This choice of yours.) Not really. (Did you – as a soldier of a Western army who came from France – have any problems?) No, I didn’t. I didn’t have any problems. I was a common worker! I was nothing! I reported to work here in the glass factory. I can’t say I was persecuted in any way. Not at all. (And did you know about the persecution of, for example, the soldiers from England, the pilots, or even those form the East?) I knew about it. We had one of them right here in the glass factory. His name was Pepa Prokopec. He is a colonel now. His parents were confiscated a block of flats they had in Pilsner. They took his rank away. That guy was persecuted. But I didn’t have anything to take away from me! The job? I doubt it; someone has to do it.”
“When they are shooting at you, everyone is trying to hide somewhere as quickly as possible and press down to the ground as much as possible. There is no heroism then.”
Leo Žalio was born on 23 October 1923 in a little town of Vianne in the southwest France. His parents, originally from the South Moravia, came to France looking for work in 1921. There was a glass factory being founded at that time. The director, also of Czech extraction, recruited labour in his home country and several Czech families moved to France. Leo Žalio joined a French partisan group that formed a part of the communist resistance movement. In 1944 Leo Žalio entered the Czechoslovakian units and was moved to England. There he was assigned to the motorised battalion, the so called CEW, the company of escort weapons. At first, during the training he worked as a loader of the anti-tank cannon. Later he applied for a course for drivers and then he served exclusively as a driver. His unit stayed in England until May 1945. After arrival to France he took part in the battle of Dunkerque. When the fights finished, Leo got to Czechoslovakia. His unit was immediately posted to east Slovakia, though, where they should act against the Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists (OUN), lead by Stepan Bandera. He stayed there until the end of 1946 and was discharged from the army on 1 January 1947. After the war he worked in the glass factory in Heřmanova Huť where he has spent the rest of his life, till his death 11th of july 2014.
