The history of RAF Perranporth 1941 – 1945

The history of

RAF Perranporth

1941-1945

.

by

F. R. Andrew..,

.

.

.

Written by Cornish aviation historian, Bob Andrew, who, as a lad, used to cycle over from Callestick some three miles away to watch the Spitfires during the war, this excellent book records the activity from 1941 to 1945.

The book includes details of 310 (Czechoslovak) squadron who had been amongst the various Royal Air Force, Polish Air Force, Fleet Air Arm, Free French, Royal Canadian Air Force and Royal Australian Air Force squadrons who had been based at Perranporth (Trevellas) airfield.

Details of some of the patrol and offensive operations undertaken by these squadrons including their successes and losses.

Published:	2002, Revised Edition
Format:	A5, 56 pages with 34 B/W photos, 2 diagrams and 2 maps
Cover:	Softback
Language:	English
Price:	£5.00 + post and packing
Availability:	In print
For order enquiries please contact:	The Control Tower Perranporth Airfield Trevellas St. Agnes Cornwall TR5 0XS UK
Tel:	01872 552266

.

.

Zdenek Neruda

.

.

.

„Příběh velmi upřímného chlapa“

A story of a very honest chap

.

.

AC2 Zdeněk Neruda

..

* 12.7.1920 Brno

.

.

.

.

.

.

Číslo RAF/RAF Service no: 788750
Funkce /Role : navigátor ve výcviku / Navigator trainee

Zdeněk Neruda se narodil 12.7.1920 v Brně. Posléze se jeho rodina přestěhovala do Jablonce nad Nisou. Zde prožívá těžké roky, včetně Mnichova.

Zdeněk Neruda was born on 12th July 1920 in Brno. Later his family moved to Jablonec nad Nisou. Here he lives through difficult years including the 1938 Munich Agreement.

V roce 1940 si Zdeněk podal žádost o přijetí do vládního vojska, aby uniknul z pasti totálního nasazení v Německu a ulevil starostem rodičů. Vydělal tak peníze, jimiž pomáhal rodičům živit velkou rodinu, navíc posílal domů ještě potravinářské lístky.

In order to escape the entrapment of forced labour  in Germany and to alleviate his parents‘ worries, Zdeněk Neruda applied, in 1940, to join the German controlled Vládní vojsko ['Government Army'] of the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia. This way he earned money that helped his parents to feed their large family, and moreover he also was  able to send home the food coupons.

Nikdy nesouhlasil s okupací. Nejprve sloužil v Lipníku nad Bečvou, koncem roku 1943 ukončil externí studium na gymnáziu v Přerově a na doporučení velitele byl převelen do Prahy – Smíchova do důstojnické školy. Zdeněk chodil do služby na pražský Hrad, zde musel stát hodinu bez pohnutí v jakémkoli počasí.

He never supported the German occupation. Initially he served in Lipník nad Bečvou, where he also concluded external studies at the high school in Přerov at the end of 1943. Following his Commanding Officers recommendation he was transferred to the Officers school at Prague-Smíchov. Zdeněk served at the Prague Castle where he had to stand for an hour motioneless, regardless of the weather conditions. 

Výcvik probíhal pouze do stupně čety, hodně tělesné přípravy a skoro žádné střílení. Jako vládní voják musel Zdeněk pomáhat zemědělcům při povodních, odklízení závějí atd. Dne 1. května 1944 se v Hradci Králové sešly části vládního vojska mezi nimiž byl i desátník Zdeněk Neruda.

The training continued only upto platoon level, and involved much physical exercise but almost no shooting.  As a soldier, Zdeněk was required to help the farmers during  floods, clearing snow drifts, etc. On 1st May 1944,  sections of Government Army met in Hradec Králove, included amongst them was corporal Zdeněk Neruda.

Vlakovým spojem se dostal přes Rakousko, Brenerský průsmyk do severní Itálie do konečné stanice Cremona. Na nádraží byli překvapeni partyzány, kteří začali střílet na vagóny. Naštěstí ihned přestali, protože zjistili, že v transportu jsou čeští vojáci.

He took a train through Austria’s, Brenner Pass to Northern Italy which stopped at Cremona.  Here the train was attacked by Italian  partisans who opened fire at the carriages. Fortunately they stopped immediately when they found that the train was carrying Czech soldiers.

Než Zdeněk opustil republiku, musel podepsat prohlášení, že v případě dezerce k partyzánským jednotkám, bude postižena celá jeho rodina a že budou uvězněni v koncentračních táborech. Zdeněk však věděl, že pokud bude v jeho silách, tak přeběhne ke spojencům a přihlásí se do jejich armády.

Before Zdeněk  had left Czechoslovakia, he had to sign a statement that in case of his  desertion to partisan troops, his whole family would be persecuted and that they would be imprisoned in concentration camps. Zdeněk knew, however, that he would do whatever it took to defect to the Allies and join their army.

Skupinu, ve které byl i Zdeněk, ubytovali v budově Manffrediho kasáren ve velké hale, která původně sloužila jako stáj pro koně. Přes noc spali na slaměných podestýlkách mezi šváby.

Initially, the Czechoslovak group, including Zdeněk, was billeted in a huge hall at Manfredi barracks, which originally served as horse stables. At night, they slept on straw bedding full of cockroaches.

Po dvou týdnech a jednom náletu spojeneckých letadel Zdeňkovu skupinu znovu naložili do vagónů a rozvezli je na strážní stanoviště. Zdeněk vykonával strážní službu v obci Villadossola. Poté byl přesunut na nedalekou stanici Vogogna, kde bylo velitelství stráženého úseku. Za několik dní byl spolu s partyzány zinscenován přepad stanice Vogogna a její osazenstvo včetně důstojníků uteklo spolu s partyzány do hor.

After two weeks and one air raid by the Allied aircraft, Zdeněk’s group was loaded in carriages again and distributed amongst various guard posts. Zdeněk was on guard duty at the village of  Villadossola. He was later moved to nearby Vogogna, which was the HQ of the local partisan group. A few days later the base at Vogogna was attacked by Germans but all the partisans managed to escape s into the mountains.

Pobyt mezi místními partyzány byl nemožný. Jen Zdeněk a asi tři kamarádi uměli základy latiny, ti se domluvili, ale ostatní nikoli. Život ve vysokých nadmořských výškách nebyl jednoduchý, neměli zásoby proviantu a žádnou munici. Bylo rozhodnuto, že partyzáni pomohou Čechům přesunout se přes Alpy do neutrálního Švýcarska.

The stay among the local partisans was becoming impossible. Only Zdeněk and about three of his comrades knew basic Latin – they could communicate with the partisans – but the others in their group could not.  Life at high altitude also was not easy, they had no food supplies or ammunition. It was decided that the partisans would help the Czechs to move across the Alps into neutral Switzerland.

Byla to velmi namáhavá cesta, musel dokonce nést jednoho nemocného kamaráda. Zastavili se na jedné salaši a bača jim slíbil, že nemocného kamaráda uzdraví a hned pošle za nimi. Bača zabil berana a dělal ho v sudu, ale maso se nedalo rozkousat, jak bylo nedovařené. V salaši se doslova nacpal spolu se svými kamarády do betonové kobky a až do rána spal ve stoje!

It was a very difficult, he even had to carry one ill comrade. They stopped at one mountain hut, the shepherd there promised to take care for the ill comrade and when he had recovered to send him after them.  The shepherd killed a ram and prepared it in a barrel, but they could hardly chew the undercooked meat. Zdeněk literally squeezed himself, together with his mates, into a small concrete chamber in the mountain hut, and slept standing till the morning!

Po čtyřech dnech se dostali k jezeru na švýcarských hranicích. Zdeněk děkoval Bohu, že se beze ztrát dostali až sem. Švýcaři jim poskytli skromné občerstvení. Ráno byl Zdeněk Neruda odvezen se skupinou Čechů do Brigu. Po krátkém odpočinku odjeli do sběrného tábora v Oltenu, později do Büsserachu, kde se zotavovali až do 3. srpna 1944. Odtud byli transportováni do města Kronbühl-Wittenbach a ubytováni v sále místního hostince.

They reached a lake on the Swiss border after four days. Zdeněk thanked god they had managed to get all the way here without any losses. The Swiss gave them modest refreshments. Zdeněk Neruda was taken, with the group of Czechs, to Brig in the morning. They then departed to a collection camp in Olten for a brief respite. They were later sent to Buesserach, where they were recuperating till 3rd August 1944.  Finally they were transported to the town of Kronbuehl-Wittenbach and billeted in the function hall of the local pub.

Zdeněk spolu s dvěma dostal práci v místním starobinci, který obhospodařoval přilehlou louku, sad, polnost a část lesa. Sekala a sušila se tráva, vyvážela se močůvka, sbíralo se ovoce. Poprvé v životě Zdeněk usedl za traktor a zaorával pole. Postupně se ke skupině Zdeňka připojili další zběhlí a zbídačení Češi. Když se přiblížila spojenecká fronta k švýcarským hranicím, mohli Češi opustit neutrální zem.

Zdeněk, and two others were given work  the local old peoples home, where they looked after an adjacent meadow, orchard, fields and a section of a forest. The grass was cut and dried, the manure spread,  fruit harvested. For the first time in his life, Zdeněk sat behind the steering wheel of a tractor and ploughed fields. One by one, more defecting and worn out Czechs joined Zdeněk’s group. When the Allied front approached the Swiss borders, the Czechs were able to leave neutral Switzerland.

Zdeněk spolu s dalšími byli přepraveni velkým konvojem doprovázeným bitevními loděmi do Velké Británie. Zde se Zdeněk přihlásil k letectvu a po důkladných zdravotních testech byl přijat. Jelikož měl maturitu, byl generálem Janouškem vybrán spolu s třemi kamarády k výcviku navigátora.

Zdeněk, together with the other Czechs, were transported to Great Britain in a large convoy accompanied by destroyers. In England, Zdeněk applied to join the Royal Air Force and, after thorough medical examination tests, was accepted. Because he had matriculated [graduated] from high school, he and three others were selected to undertake training to become navigators.

Výcvik navigátora byl zkrácen na půl roku a probíhal na základně v Cosfordu. To ovšem znamenalo dvouměsíční usilovné učení angličtiny. Pak následoval tvrdý polní výcvik a učení všeho, co posádka bombardéru musela umět – padákové doskoky na zem, do vody, nafukování a používání gumového člunu. To vše s plnou leteckou výstrojí. Noví navigátoři zvládli výcvik velmi rychle.

Navigator training had now been reduced to six months and was based at RAF Cosford. Initially this involved  two months of intensive English studies. This was followed by arduous field training and learning of everything that a bomber crew had to know – parachute landings onto ground and water,  inflating and the use of rubber dinghy.  All of this undertaken in full flight gear. New navigators managed the training very quickly.

Také se museli naučit značky morseovky předávané světlem i telegrafním klíčem, uměli dokonale rozeznávat vlastní i nepřátelské letouny ve dne v noci a v nejrůznějších polohách. Původně měl výcvik trvat devět měsíců, ale již po sedmi byl před novými navigátory poslední praktický výcvikový let a pak přes oceán do 111 O.T.U. na Bahamy. K tomu letu však již nedošlo. Válka v Evropě skončila. Vláda rozhodla, že se všichni čs. vojáci vrátí domů.

They also had to learn morse code, transmitted both by light and telegraphic key, they could identify perfectly Allied enemy aircraft either during the day or at night and in various positions. The training was originally scheduled to last nine months, but after only seven months, the trainee navigators had their last training flight. They were then scheduled to be transferred to 111 OTU who were based in the Bahamas. However, the transfer did not take place as the war  in Europe had ended. The Czechoslovak Government decided that all the Czechoslovak military would return home.

17. srpna přiletěl na letiště do Ruzyně a koncem srpna spolu se všemi čs. západními letci pochodoval před prezidentem Benešem na Staroměstském náměstí. Po přehlídce Zdeněk jel do Uhlířských Janovic za rodiči, ale ti se již odstěhovali zpět do Jablonce nad Nisou, odkud se v roce 1938 museli odstěhovat do vnitra Čech. Po pozdravení se s kamarády a známými, kteří ho o událostech informovali, se druhý den vydal vlakem do Jablonce nad Nisou.

He flew to Ruzyně airport, Prague,  on 17th August and paraded in front of President Beneš on Staroměstské náměstí together with all the other Czechoslovak RAF airmen at the end of August. After the parade, Zdeněk went to Uhlířske Janovice to see his parents, but they already returned back to Jablonec nad Nisou, from where they had relocated to Central Bohemia in 1938.  After exchanging greetings with comrades and acquintances who informed him of the events, he took a train to Jablonec nad Nisou the following day.

V Jablonci nad Nisou se zdržel téměř týden. Zpět do kasáren se mu moc nechtělo. Navíc shodou okolnosti se seznámil se svou budoucí manželkou, se kterou se 1. 5. 1946 oženil a v současné době oslavili 65 let šťastného manželství.

He stayed almost a week in Jablonec nad Nisou. He didn’t feel very much like returning to the barracks. Moreover, by coincidence he met with his future wife whom he married on 1st May 1945 and they recently celebrated 65 years of a happy marriage.

Po skončení války se jako mnozí jeho spolubojovníci domníval, že bude budovat svoji vlast v demokratickém duchu, ale vše bylo jinak. Po přesvědčivém rozhovoru, po návratu do Žižkovských kasáren s velitelem majorem Svátkem docílil po 5-ti letech ve vojenské uniformě propuštěni do civilu. Stalo se tak v říjnu 1945.

After the end of war he thought – like many of his fellow combatants – that he would build his home country in the democratic spirit, but everything was different. Following a convincing discussion with the commander Major Svátek, after his return to Žižkov barracks, he managed to be discharged from the army after 5 years in a military uniform. That happened in October 1945.

Zaměstnání si nalezl v exportním domě v Jablonci nad Nisou, který vedl jako národní správce kapitán Brablík, účastník bojů u Tobrúku. Po nástupu moci KSČ v únoru 1948 bylo po ideálech. Došlo ke znárodnění podniků, ale především k likvidaci nepohodlné inteligence. Došlo také na zahraniční vojáky ze západu, kteří byli nepochopitelně režimem označeni jako zrádci.

He found a job in an export company in Jablonec nad Nisou, which was managed by the National Administrator Captain Brablík, who had been a participant in the battles at Tobruk. The ideals were all over after the seizure of power by the Communist Party in February 1948. Businesses were confiscated by the new Communist Authorities, but above all – the intelligentsia was liquidated. It was also the turn of those who had served in the Allied forces in the West, who were now inconceivably branded  by the regime as traitors.

Došlo k zatýkáni, k vyhazovu z armády, nastaly dny obav o existenci. Zdeňkův otec i tchán byli propuštěni ze státních služeb. Do zaměstnání je nikde nechtěli přijmout z obavy, aby zaměstnavateli nebylo vytýkáno, že zaměstnává nepřítele socialismu. Zdeněk získal zaměstnání ve znárodněném podniku Skleněná bižutérie avšak v roce 1958 byl pro politickou nespolehlivost přeřazen z administrativy do výroby. Pravidelně byl předvoláván k výslechu na StB s tím, že jako západní voják mám styky se C.I.C. (západní kontrarozvědka).

Roundups followed, dismissals from the army, the days of existential worries had arrived. Both Zdeňk’s father and father-in-law were dismissed from state employment. They couldn’t find employment anywhere because employers were worried of being rebuked for employing enemies of socialism.

Nebylo mu nic prokázáno, ale cítil, jak je každý jeho krok sledován agenty StB. Byl to život štvanců. V roce 1968 se zdálo, že se vše změní, spolu s generál-majorem Mrázkem založili v Jablonci nad Nisou Svaz zahraničních vojáků, ale to dlouho nevydrželo a následně se neobešlo opět bez politického šikanování.

Nothing was proven about  him, but he felt each of his steps was scrutinised by the StB (the State security service). It was a life of outlaws. In seemed that in 1968, everything would change. Together with Major-General Mrázek they founded a branch of  Svaz zahraničních vojáků [Association of Soldiers Fighting Abroad] in Jablonec nad Nisou, but that didn’t last very long and consequently again couldn’t exist without political bullying.

Až v roce 1989 nastal zlom. Výdech byl hluboký.

Only in 1989, following the Velvet Revolution did the break come. The sigh of relief was great.

Nyní stále bydlí v Jablonci nad Nisou. Je ještě velmi aktivně pracující člověk, což se v tomto věku už moc nevidí. Zastává funkci tajemníka Okresního výboru Českého svazu bojovníků za svobodu v již jmenovaném Jablonci nad Nisou. O medailích a hodnosti se jako mnoho jeho kamarádů veteránů nerad zmiňuje, jelikož pro to nebojoval.

He still now lives in Jablonec nad Nisou. He continues to actively work, which one does not see very frequently at this age.

Na každý svátek České státnosti má proslov v parku generála Mrázka, jednoho z našich nejlepších stíhačů. Jeho moudrá slova nás naplňují pocitem vlastenectví. Je to prostě správný chlap.

At each commemoration of 28 October, the Czech National Day, he gives a speech in the General Mrázek Park, named after Karel Mrázek one of our best fighter pilots. His wise words fill us with patriotic feelings. He simply is a great chap.

Jan a Milan Votavovi
Jan and Milan Votava

[Překlad z češtiny do angličtiny není přesný. V anglické textu je zařazeno historické pozadí, které má  čtenáři umožnit aby lépe pochopil historii Československé republiky.]

[Translation note: The English translation is not an exact translation of the Czech text - additional English text has been included to give some historical background to assist the reader to have a better understand of that time in Czechoslovak history.]

.
Article last updated 27 July 2011
.

2011 Capel le Ferne Battle of Britain Memorial Ceremony

2011 Capel le Ferne Slavnostní památník bitvy o Británii

.

The Ceremony to commemorate the 71st Anniversary of the Battle of Britain was held on 10 July 2011 at the National Battle of Britain Memorial, at Capel-le-Ferne, Kent.2011Capel le Ferme Slavnostní památník bitvy o Británii

Dne 10. července 2011 v Národním památníku bitvy o Britanii, v Capel-le Ferne, Kent se konala oslava 71. výročí bitvy o Anglii.

In this critical battle for Britain, and possibly the most important air battle in history,  2,937 RAF pilots – ‘The Few’ – fought in the Royal Air Force against the German Luftwaffe.

V této kritické bitvě o Británii a pravděpodobně nejdůležitější letecké bitvě v historii, malé množství 2937 pilotů RAF bojovalo v Royal Air Force proti přesile Německé Luftwaffe.

Eighty eight of those pilots were Czechoslovak, the second largest contingent of pilots from Nazi occupied countries in Europe. During this three month long campaign, nine of these Czechoslovak pilots were killed with others being wounded or badly burnt. All these pilots are commemorated at this site, on the Christopher Foxley-Norris Memorial Wall, where there names are engraved.

Z těchto bojovníků bylo 88 československých letců, druhé největší skupiny pilotů z nacisty okupovaných zemí v Evropě. Během této tři měsíce trvající letecké bitvy přišlo o život 9 československých letců a mnoho dalších utrpělo zranění, převážně to byly vážné popáleniny. Všichni tito piloti jsou připomínáni svými vyrytými jmény na pamětní zdi pamětního místa Foxley Christopher Norris.

The contribution made by the the 88 Czechoslovak Battle of Britain pilots is remembered at this Monument.

V tomto památníku je připomenuta účast 88 československých pilotů v Bitvě o Británii.

Fifteen veterans of ‘The Few’ Battle of Britain pilots were able to attend the Ceremony. Guest of honour was Air Chief Marshal Sir Simon Bryant, RAF’s Commander in Chief, Air Command who took the general salute at a parade of the veterans, standards from ex-service and Air Training Corp groups. Military Attache’s of the Allied forces who had fought in the Battle and local dignitaries also attended as well as children from the local school. Media and TV were there to cover the event. Historic RAF vehicles were on display and also a RAF re-enactment group to give a ‘1940’ atmosphere to the event.

Tohoto slavnostního obřadu se účastnilo jenom 15 československých pilotů veteránů. Čestným hostem byl velitel RAF, Hlavní Maršál letectva Sir Simon Bryant, který pozdravil přehlídku veteránů, bývalé příslušníky technického personálu a leteckého výcviku, vojenské Atašé spojeneckých sil, které se účastnili bitvy o Británii, místní hodnostáře a ostatní přítomné hosty, děti z místní školy . zástupce tisku a televize. Slavnostní přehlídky se účastnily historická vozidla RAF která připomínala celkovou atmosféru událostí v roce 1940.

The Central Band of the Royal Air Force and also the Kent Wing Air Training Corp Band provided music during the Ceremony.

Hudební doprovod při obřadu zajistila centrální kapela královského letectva a leteckou ukázku zajistil Wing leteckého výcviku v Kentu.

Ceremony was opened, at 13:30 with a flypast of a Mk IX Spitfire, MK356, and a Hurricance Mk IIc, LF363, both from the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight.

Slavnostní obřad byl zahájen v 13.hodin 30 minut průletem nad památníkem letounů MK IX Spitfire MK 356 a Hurricane MK IIc, LF 363, které nesly hlavní tíhu bojů v bitvě o Británii.

The Central Band of the Royal Air Force led the parade formation of Standard bearers and Air Traing Corp cadets onto the parade area in front of the Christopher Foxley-Norris Memorial Wall. Here they were inspected by Air Chief Marshal Sir Simon Bryant.

Při přehlídce v prostoru před Christopher Norris, Foxley památníku Wall před zraky Hlavního Maršála letectva sira Simona Byant , prostřední pruh Royal Air Force čela průvodu byl tvořen veterány a leteckou skupinou kadetů.

Speeches by invited dignataries were followed by a Commemorative Service and Act of of Remembrance. Wreaths were then layed at the Battle of Britain pilot monument. The parade formation then marched from the parade area.

Následovaly projevy pozvaných hostů, vzpomínky na leteckou službu. Poté byly položeny věnce k pomníku pilotů – účastníků bitvy o Británii a následovala přehlídka.

The Spitfire and Hurricane then returned at at 15:00 to give dual and individual flying displays.

V 15 hodin se vrátily a provedly průlet ve dvojici Spitfire s Hurricane.

The Ceremony concluded with a ‘Sunset Ceremony’ by the Standard bearers with music provided by the Central Band of the Royal Air Force.

Slavnostní obřad byl ukončen Ceremonii Západu Slunce, za zvuků centrální hudby of Royal Air Force.

About 2,000 members of the public attended the event who also had the additional benefit of a large screen display to enable all to follow the event being held in the parade area.

Slavnostního shromáždění se zúčastnilo asi 2000 občanů veřejnosti, kteří měli možnost sledovat záběry ze slavnostního průvodu a dalších akcí.

Some scenes from the Ceremony:

Především to byly některé scény ze slavnostního obřadu:

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

It was encouraging to see, that in 2011, unlike the non-attendance debacle in 2010, that those ‘problems’ of 2010 had been overcome. Official representation from the Czech and Slovak Embassies, in London, was at this Ceremony to remember their countrymen.

Bylo povzbuzující pozorovat, že na rozdíl od roku 2010, kdy na této oslavě byla malá účast bez oficiálních zástupců velvyslanectví České republiky a Slovenské republiky v Londyně, v roce 2011 již na této vzpomínkové oslavě svých krajanů byla velká účast, krajanů včetně přítomnosti zástupců velvyslanectví v Londýně České republiky a Slovenské republiky.

During the Ceremony, wreaths were laid at the Memorial by Military Attachés including from the Czech Republic and Slovak Republic.
Během obřadu položili věnce k památníku přítomní vojenští přidělenci, včetně České republiky a Slovenské republiky .

.

Hopefully, adequate procedures are now in place to ensure that the ‘problems’ of 2010 will not re-occur, and so enable this respectful remembrance of these Czechoslovak pilots to be maintained for the future.

Domníváme se, že jsou na místě správné postupy, které budou respektovat a připomínat zásluhy československých zahraničních letců ve druhé světové válce a nepřipustí, aby se v budoucnu opakovaly problémy z roku 2010.

Article last updated 5 August 2011

.

.

Alois Dvorak

.

.

.

Alois Dvořák

.

.

* 23 May 1916

† 24 September 1941

.

.

.

.

.

Alois Dvořák was born in Plumlov on 23 May 1916, he was the third child of Antonín and Františka. His parents were very poor and at the time of his birth, his father Antonín was away serving in Austrian Army during 1st World War and his mother was ill with smallpox. On 22 May 1918, his mother, Františka, died from the disease and was buried in her birth town of Plumlov, in the Moravian region of what was shortly to become Czechoslovakia. At that time, this part of Central Europe was part of the Austro Hungarian Empire. Following the death of their mother, Františka, Alois was placed in an children’s home, in Plumlov, where he was cared for by nuns. His elder brothers were cared for by relatives of Antonín and Františka

Alois Dvořák se narodil 23. května 1916 jako třetí syn manželů Antonína Dvořáka a Františky Dvořákové, rozené Kořínkové. V době narození byl jeho otec Antonín Dvořák v rakouské armádě nasazen na italské frontě. Jeho matka Františka Dvořáková onemocněla neštovicemi (variola), 22. května 1918 zemřela a byla pohřbena ve své rodné obci Plumlov, který se nachází na střední Moravě, nyní v Olomouckém kraji. V té době byla střední Morava součástí Rakousko Uherska. Po smrti jejich matky Františky, byl nejmladší syn Alois umístěn do dětského domova v Plumlově, kde byl v péči sester. Starší bratry Bohumila a Antonína si vzali do opatrování příbuzní Františky a Antonína Dvořákových.

His father survived the war, returned home to Plumlov, collected Alois from the orphanage and they went and lived in Přerov where Alois attended elementary school. In 1928 Alois had completed his primary education and continued his education at the school in Přerov.

Po skončení první světové války v roce 1918 se jeho otec vrátil do Plumlova a Aloise Dvořáka si z dětského domova vzal k sobě a odstěhoval se do Přerova, kde Alois Dvořák navštěvoval základní školu.

On completion of his education, he went to work at his Uncle’s grocery shop, at Hluchov, as a shop assistant. When he was 19, he enrolled into the Military Aviation Academy at Prostějov, commencing there on 1 October 1935 where he joined a pilot training course. On completion of his training he was sworn into the Czechoslovak Air Force and was posted to the 5th Squadron of the 2nd Aviation Regiment. They were stationed at Olomouc and flying fighter aircraft. During this period he logged 300 flying hours.

Po ukončení měšťanské školy v Přerově se v obchodě u svého strýce Antonína Dvořáka v Hluchově vyučil obchodním příručím. Po vyučení v roce 1935, v 19 letech nastoupil do Vojenského leteckého učiliště (VLU) v Prostějově, kde byl zařazen do pilotního výcviku. Po ukončení letecké školy byl po přísaze Československému letectvu přemístěn k 5. letce 2. leteckého pluku v Olomouci., kde létal na bojových typech letounů. V tomto období nalétal 300 hodin.

Alois Dvořák, Prostějov 1935

Whilst serving with this unit he met Jaroslav Sála. Following the German occupation of Czechoslovakia on 15 March 1938, Alois went to stay with a relative in Zlín but kept in contact with Sála. They soon decided to leave their homeland. On 9 July 1939, at 03:30 they left Olomouc by train on their journey to Poland. Initially they went through German occupied Czechoslovakia on their route to Ostrava. There they waited in a pub until 8pm. At 9pm, after Customs checks they boarded the departing express train to Bohumín, a town in Teschen region of Eastern Czechoslovakia, which had, following the 1938 Munich Agreement, been annexed by Poland. They hid in the toilet until the train had crossed over the border into this occupied Polish territory.

U leteckého pluku v Olomouci se seznámil s pilotem Jaroslavem Šálou. Po okupaci zbytkového území Československa dne 15.3.1939, byla Ćeskoslovenská armáda rozpuštěna a Alois Dvořák do svého odchodu za hranice, bydlel ve Zlíně na ulici Losky u příbuzných ze strany jeho matky Františky Dvořákové, rozené Kořínkové. Po dohodě s Jaroslavem Šálou dne 9. července 1939 v 03.30 hodin odjeli vlakem do Ostravy, kde čekali v hospodě do 20. hodiny a ve 21. hodině po celní kontrole nastoupili do odjíždějícího rychlíku do Bohumína, který byl po Michovu připojen k Polsku. Do přejezdu státní hranice s Polskem se ukryli na toaletu.

On 21 July they left Bohumín and went to Cracow where refugees from Czechoslovakia were being transferred. After registering there they were transferred to a camp at Malý Bronovice, on the outskirts of Cracow, where they were placed in temporary huts, given blankets and some poor food. The Czechoslovak exiles were not really welcomed by the Polish Government as they were concerned about further straining of their own deteriorating relationship with Germany. The only option for these refugees was to go to France.

Dne 21. července odešli z Bohumína do Krakova, kde byli po registraci odeslány do uprchlického tábora Malé Bronovice na předměstí Krakova. Ubytováni byli v dřevěných chatách, kde na přikrytí měli deku a špatnou stravu. Pro polskou vládu a úřady nebyli vítanými hosty. a znepokojeni touto situací viděli řešení své situace v odjezdu do Francie, kde očekávali vřelejší přijetí.

French law did not permit foreign troops to be on French territory during peace time. The French authorities offered the Czechoslovak military the option of joining the French Foreign Legion with the promise that if war broke out they would be transferred back from the Legion into Czechoslovak units on French soil. These Czechoslovaks were required to sign a five year contract with the Legion. At 4 am, 27 July 1939, Alois Dvořák, Jaroslav Šála, along with other Czechoslovak military, went to Gdynia where they boarded the Polish ship ‘Chroby’ which was to sail to Boulogne, France.

Francouzské právo však nedovolovalo, aby na území Francie se v době míru nacházely cizí vojenské jednotky, proto československým zahraničním letců a příslušníkům pozemních vojsk byl nabídnut vstup do cizinecké legie se slibem, že po vypuknutí války budou převedeny zpět do československých jednotek na francouzské půdě. Čechoslováci museli podepsat pětiletou smlouvu služby v cizinecké legii. Dne 27. července 1939 Alois Dvořák, Jaroslav Šála s ostatními československými zahraničními letci odjeli do Kdyně, kde nastoupili na palubu polské lodi Chrobry která plula do francouzské Bologne.

On 31 July, the ‘Chroby’ berthed at Boulogne, France. Early the following morning, Alois Dvořák, Jaroslav Sála and the other Czechoslovak military, disembarked onto French soil. After some food they boarded a train for the thirteen hour journey to Paris. They arrived there at 17:30 and were taken by coaches to French Air Force barracks. After a medical examination they were permitted to visit Paris. Before they were due to be sent to join the Legion in Africa, the Germans, on 1 September 1939 invaded Poland.

Dne 31. července 1939 parník Chrobry zakotvil V přístavu Bologne ve Francii. S rozbřeskem příštího dne Alois Dvořák, Jaroslav Šála a další příslušníci československého letectva vystoupili na francouzskou půdu. Po občerstvení nastoupili do vlaku a za 13 hodin v 17.30 hod. vystoupili z vlaku v Paříži, kde nastoupili do autobusů, které je odvezly do leteckých kasáren. Po vyšetření jim před cestou do cizinecké legie v Africe byla povolena návštěva Paříže. Dne 1. září 1939 napadli Němci Polsko.

Alois Dvořák, l940

On 11 September Dvořák was transferred the the airfield at Avord, an airfield about 20 km South East of Bourges, for re-training on French equipment. A further transfer to the airbase at Istres on 11 December 1939, and to Chartres for fighter pilot training on 16 January 1940. Dvořák’s final transfer, before France capitulated, was to Cazaux air base, South West of Bordeaux, on 23 May 1940. During his time in l’Armee d’Air he did not fly operationally.

Dne 11. září 1939 Alois Dvořák nastoupil do služby na letiště Avord, vzdáleného asi 20 km jihovýchodně od Bourges, kde prováděl přeškolení na francouzských cvičných vojenských letounech. Dne 11. prosince 1939 byl přeložen na letiště Istres, 16. ledna 1940 na letiště Chartres, kde prováděl letecký výcvik na stíhacích letounech a poté 23. května 1940 na letecké základny Cazaux, jihozápadně od Bordeux. Během svého působení v l’Armée dÄir operační lety neprováděl.

With the Fall of France, he and other Czechoslovak airmen were evacuated to England. They sailed from Bordeaux, on 19 June 1940, on the ship ‘Robur III’ and arrived in Falmouth, England on 22 June 1940. Here he joined the RAF, at the rank of Sergeant, and was initially at the Czech Depot at Cosford before being posted, on 28 September 1940, to 6 OTU at Sutton Bridge, for conversion and fighter pilot training on Hawker Hurricane aircraft.

Po pádu Francie byl spolu s dalšími československými letci evakuován do Anglie. Dne 19. června 1940 odpluli na lodi “Robur III” z přístavu Bodeux ve Francii a 22. června 1940 připluli do přístavu Falmouth v Anglii, kde se Alois Dvořák stal příslušníkem RAF, v hodnosti seržanta a z počátku byl v českém depu Cosford před registrací. Dne 28. září 1940 byl zařazen do 6. OTU v Sutton Bridge, pro konverzaci a stíhací letecký výcvik pilotů na letadlech Hawker Hurricane.

He completed his re-training and on 15 October 1940 he was posted to 310 Sqn, the first Czechoslovak squadron to have been formed in the RAF, based at Duxford and flying Hurricane Mk I aircraft. Apart from a short attachment to 257 Sqn, in May 1941, he remained with 310 Sqn until he was killed, on 24 September 1941.

Dne 15 října dokončil přeškolení a byl zařazen k 310. československé peruti v RAF se sídlem Duxfordu, kde létal na stíhacím letounu Hawker Hurricane MK 1 . Kromě krátkodobého zařazení k 257. peruti RAF v květnu 1941, létal u 310. československé stíhací perutě RAF až do své smrti při letecké nehodě. dne 24. září 1941.

Alois Dvořák returning from combat patrol with 310 Sqn.
Alois Dvořák po návratu ze vzdušného souboje s německými stíhači nad Anglii.

On 20 July 1941, 310 Sqn, was transferred from its current base at Marrtlesham Heath to Dyce, in Scotland, with a detachment based at Montrose. On the day he died, he was flying NN-V, Z2766, a Hurricane Mk.IIA, on a patrol with three other 310 Sqn Hurricanes between Dyce and Montrose. The flight consisted of F/Lt Miroslav Kredba (flight leader), P/O Wilhelm Sniechowski, a Polish pilot on attachment to 310 Sqn., Sgt Zdeněk Škarvada and Sgt Alois Dvořák.

Dne 20. července 1941, se 310. peruť přemístila ze základny v Marrtleshan Heath do Dyce ve Skotsku, s odloučeným hotovostním letištěm Montrose, na kterém se střídali hotovostní osádky. V den, kdy Alois Dvořák zemřel, letěl na letounu NN-V, Z2766, Hurricane MK IIA, na hlídku s dalšími třemi stíhacími letouny Hurricane 310. československé stíhací perutě RAF z letiště Dyce na letiště Montrose. Čtyřčelnnou skupinu vedl F/Lt Miroslav Kredba ve skupině s ním letěl ve dvojici P/O Vilém Sniechovski (polský pilot na posílení 310. stíhací perutě). Druhou dvojici vedl Sgt. Alois Dvořák a ve dvojici s ním byl Sgt. Zdeněk Škarvada.

They took off at 08:50, the weather was bad and visibility poor. Fog caused the four Hurricanes to fly low over hilly country. At 09:10 Dvořák’s aircraft crashed at Leachie Hill, Kincardine, about 16 km West of Stonehaven, Scotland. According to Henry Prokop, who was a member of a rescue team “If the aircraft had flown only about 3 metres away from the hill as he he flew over the hillside he would not his wing would not have caught the hill.”

Skupina letounů vzlétla v 8.50 hod. za velmi nepříznivých povětrnostních podmínek, malé dohlednosti a mlhy, která čtyři Hurricany přinutila aby v členitém pahorkatém terénu letěli v přízemní výšce. V 9hod.10 minut letoun Aloise Dvořáka narazil křídlem do homolovitého kopce u Leachie Hill, Kincardine, asi 16 km západně od Stonehaven ve Skotsku a havaroval. Podle vyjádření Henry Prokopa, který byl členem záchranné skupiny: ” Kdyby letoun letěl jen o 3 metry stranou od kopce než letěl o svah kopce by křídlem nezachytil”.

Flying low and in fog Dvořák’s right wing tip struck the hill about half way up the 400 metre hill. The aircraft was completely destroyed with wreakage spread scattered for about 250 metres. Dvořák had been thrown from the cockpit and his body was found about 3 metres from the wrecked cockpit.

Letoun letící nízko v mlze,narazil křídlem asi do 400 m kopce. Letadlo bylo zcela zničeno a trosky letounu byly rozptýleny asi 250 metrů. Dvořák byl vymrštěn z kabiny a jeho tělo bylo nalezeno 3 metry od vraku kabiny.

Two days later, Dvořák’s Hurricane was found on Leachie Hill and his body recovered.

Letoun Hurricane s tělem Aloise Dvořáka byl nalezeny až za dva dny na Leachie Hill.

Sgt Zdeněk Škarvada, who was in one of the other three Hurricanes on that flight recalls: “It was on September 24, 1941. We both flew together. The first pair departed for Dyce several minute ago. I was flying No 2 to Alois. We left Montrose and took the course northwards as usual. We flew there every day, so we knew the route well. Dyce-bound, our altitude was low. Suddenly a we flew into a veil of fog to ground level. Alois stubbornly went on at this low altitude in nill visibility. I gesticulated to him that we should turn right to the shore, where there was no risk of hitting the hills, but Alois carried on flying in the same direction. I was not of the same opinion, so I breached flying discipline and left him. I took the course by 90º to the right and flew at this course for about five minutes.

Sgt. Zdeněk Škarvada, který byl v jednom ze tří Hurricanes na tento let vzpomíná:”Bylo to 24. září 1941. Oba jsme letěli společně. První pár odletěl do Dyce o několik minut dříve. 1. letěl č. 2 Alois. Po staru jsme letěli jako obvykle na sever. Létali jsme tak každý den, takže jsme cestu dobře znali. Dyce nebyl vidět, měly jsme nízkou výšku. Najednou jsme vlétli do závoje mlhy, který byl až k povrchu země. Alois tvrdohlavě pokračoval v této malé výšce bez viditelnosti. Destikuloval jsem na něho, že bychom měli odbočit doprava nad pobřeží, kde nejsou nebezpečná převýšení terénu, ale Alois pokračoval v letu ve stejném směru. Nebyl jsem stejného názoru a tak jsem porušil disciplinu v létání a opustil jej, provedl jsem zatáčku doprava do kurzu 090° a letěl tímto kurzem asi 5 minut.

‘From my point of view, it was far enough to be over the coast. I turned to resume the original course and decreased altitude cautiously, till I spotted the sea. I flew over the sea level towards the shore and followed it at an altitude of about 30 ft. in the direction of Aberdeen.The harbour was not so large to endanger me. I made a circiut of the airfield and landed.’

“Odhadl jsem, že již jsem nad pobřežím a převedl letoun do původního směru. Z malé výšky jsem uviděl moře. Letěl jsem směrem k pobřeží ve výšce asi 30 ft. (10 metru) nad hladinou ve směru na Aberden. Přístav nebyl tak veliký, aby mě ohrozil. Udělal jsem okruh na přistání a přistál.”

But Alois did not arrive with me. F/Lt Miroslav Kredba had already landed. About an hour later P/O Sniechowski landed but there was still no news of Alois who, by now, would have run out of fuel. No airfield could confirm that he had landed at their airfield. Then it turned out that he had crashed in the mountains. The aircraft had crashed into a hill and it was scattered for 200 to 300 metres – losing bit by bit as it slid after hitting Leachie Hill. It is such a sad memory.’

Alois Dvořák se mnou nepřiletěl. F/Lt Miroslav Kredba již přistál. Asi o hodinu později přistál P/O Sniechovski, ale o Aloisovi nebyly žádné zprávy. Podle doby letu spotřeboval již pohonné hmoty. Žádné letiště nepotvrdilo, že přistál na jejich letišti.Letadlo narazilo do kopce a části letounu byly rozptýleny na 200 až 300 metrech- ztrácel kousky po kousku jak klouzal po nárazu Leachie Hill. Je to taková smutná vzpomínka.”

Sgt Alois Dvořák was buried on 29 September 1941 at the Old Churchyard at Dyce, about 6 km from Aberdeen, Scotland.

Sgt. Alois Dvořák byl pohřben dne 29.září 1941 na starém hřbitově v Dyce, asi 6 km od Aberdeen ve Skotsku.

.

In September 1991, following the ‘Velvet Revolution’ of 1989, Alois Dvořák was posthumously promoted to the rank of plukovník [Colonel] in the Czechoslovak Air Force.

V září 1991 po ‘sametové revoluci’ v roce 1989, byl Alois Dvořák in memoriam povýšen do hodnosti plukovník československého letectva.

He is commemorated, along with the other 2936 Battle of Britain pilots, on the Christopher Foxley-Norris Memorial Wall at the National Battle of Britain Memorial at Capel-le-Ferne, Kent:

Alois Dvořák je uveden spolu s dalšími 2.936 piloty, kteří se účastnili bitvy o Británii na Foxley Christopher Norris na pamětní zdi Národního památníku bitvy o Britanii v Capel-le-Ferme, Kent.

He is also commemorated on the London Battle of Britain Memorial.

Alois Dvořák je také připomínán na památníku Bitvy o Británii v Londýně.

Article last updated 18 July 2011

.

.

Shot down – Frantisek Fajtl

.

On 5 May 1942, S/Ldr František Fajtl DFC participated in the ill-fated Circus 157 over Northern France. During this mission he was shot down and his account of his successful evasion and return to England is:

S/L František Fajtl DFC

The weather was beautiful at RAF Hornchurch on 5th May 1942.

Immediately after lunch we left for briefing. I was in a hurry to take my seat in my favourite chair. However, “my chair” had already been occupied by a member of No 64 Squadron and I was too embarrassed to tell him that “my chair” was my lucky charm. I sat elsewhere and lost my good mood. A little while later the Intelligence Officer arrived and unveiled the cover over the blackboard.

“Hell, Lille again!” I heard someone behind me.

Half way across the Channel I remembered “my chair” but chased away my thoughts hoping that our sweep will end well and I devoted my attention to my flying. I lead No 122 Squadron as it C.O.

The Boston’s had dropped their bombs and turned towards England. A few minutes later we were attacked by German fighters and in the ensuing melée I was hit. I dived to escape my pursuers. When I levelled off, very low over the ground, I found out that my Spitfive was on fire somewhere underneath and that smoke was entering the cabin. To top my bad luck the engine stalled. I had to land straight ahead and without delay. Fate was on my side ‘though in the shape of a flat field into which my aircraft ploughed with its undercarriage up. The soft, humid spring soil extinguished the fire. I left mg cockpit quickly and run away from my expiring comrade aimlessly. Fortunately, I ran in the southern direction, After about 200 yards I came across an old woman working in the field with a teenage boy.

S/Ldr F. Fajtl crash site near Hardifort 2011 .

“Are the Germans anywhere around?” I asked. “Over there” the woman said pointing towards a big building in the direction from which I was coming. It was obvious that I fell in the midst of the “Atlantic Wall” and sat down practically into the lap of the enemy. I was aghast but I did not lose my head. I began to think and act quickly. Our intelligence officers in England advised to get as far as possible from our crashed aircraft and never to enter the nearest inhabited place.

I took heed of that. It was invaluable advice. I ran far into the fields and lay down in a shallow ditch. I let my body take a rest but forced my brain to go on working. “Find something better” it told me. I avoided a village and started searching the terrain until I found a stream. I sank into the water on my back and left only my nose protruding on the surface so that I would not suffocate. That probably saved my life as the search party which included sniffer dogs lost my trail.

I remained so until dusk. Darkness, an excellent cover, allowed me to leave my unpleasant bath in icy-cold water, and I climbed onto the dry bank. I observed the countryside and realised that I was surrounded by troops who, from time from one to, flashed their torches from one to another. Beside that I heard the Germans clearly searching the nearby village. The dogs barked late into the night.

From the bank of the stream I had a good view and started crawling between the two nearest guards. I succeeded in getting through gap and went on crawling until I reached safety. Then I got up and walked normally. Towards the morning I found a lonely farm. I was thankful that my misfortune was beginning to change for the better, and I was hopes that my luck would not leave me. I stepped into a cow-shed to get dry and warm.

It worked. I was not refused shelter. The farmer offered me a bed for the night, gave me food and changed my uniform for a farmworker’s civilian clothes. I asked for a hoe and set off with it across fields for Paris.

At night I slept in barns mostly but also in clean beds in houses of brave Frenchmen and old Polish settlers. On my march I stupidly tore off blisters of my feet thinking that this would relieve my pain but instead my feet swell and changed colour to blue. Once, to make my journey easier, I stole a bicycle left in the ditch by the roadside. As soon as I mounted it I heard a cry from two boys who set to pursue me. It was not difficult to catch me as of the two bikes I took the worse one with a punctured rear tyre. I apologised and revealed to them my Odyssey, trying to convince them that I was not a professional thief. I told them that I was even allowed theft by my superiors. “After the war the King of England will repay your loss with interest”. I asked the frightened boys not to betray me. “I want to escape from the Germans and I will go on fighting against them, also to liberate France”. They were obviously decent boys and probably complied with my wishes.

I reached Paris after eight days and I found a safe shelter and excellent help for 16 days from a family of Czech settlers named Formánek. “Auntie” nursed me and treated my feet, fed me well and supplied me with money for my further journey. In accordance with a Czech saying that the darkest spot is straight under the lamp, “Uncle” Victor found marvellous help right in the headquarters of the French Secret Police which “officially” collaborated with the German occupants. A brave Inspector Rossi, a Corsican, supplied me with a false Identity Card and took me by train from Paris as far as the border with the unoccupied France. After that I had to fend for myself. I felt that I nearly won as all I had to do was to get through “Free” France where there was no Gestapo and no Wehrmacht.

It was not as easy as I imagined. On the train journey via, Vichy, which I unfortunately chose, there were constant checks as there were fears of assassination of Marechal Petain. I stood in the corridor all the way, dozing off standing up, but I was apprehensive. When the sleuths appeared I disappeared into the toilet but did not look myself in. An old trick but it worked.

Difficulties arose from time to time. Once, proceeding on foot on a road, I noticed a policeman. From a fair distance I saw that he was stopping all pedestrians but allowed motorcars and other vehicles through, I waited patiently for my chance. It did come. A cart was pulled by a strong horse up the hill. Two men sat in it. I asked them if I could get a ride, complaining about my feet. They agreed and took me with then. I noticed that the reins hung loosely over the side of the cart without anyone holding them. That suited me. I got up, took the reins into my hands and turned my back on the policeman. I got through safely.

In one inn, I was refused breakfast for which I was ready to pay. One young man did not take me in his car when I begged a lift. An RC priest, coming from the mass, refused to advise me where to find a shelter in the village, and in another a farmer chased me away when I asked him for a place to sleep.

Nevertheless, there were more of those brave ones willing to help. I remember fondly a Mr Vitek, a Pole. He let me stay in his place, gave me food and offered valuable informations. Also a French lawyer sprang to help. He offered me a place in his car, although it was already full with four members of his family. He took me as far as Montluçon where he helped me to buy a trainn ticket to Montpellier. The nicest experience awaited me in Béziers. There a pretty young student, Marlene, warned me against the police, bought me a train ticket to Argeles sur Mer, and acted as if she were my sister on the platform which was crawling with gendarmes and policemen carrying big pistols slung from their shoulders. Had it not been for Marlene’s presence I would have surely become the centre of their interest. I was quite dirty, badly shaven and all crumpled. I also like to remember my crossing the Pyrenees. I found and excellent place of rest with the family of a charcoal burner deep in the mountains. They accepted me with friendliness, they fed me and supplied food and drink for my trek through the mountains, and especially gave me “golden” advice how to avoid border guards, mountain guards and the “sharp boys” directly on the ridge – the border with Spain.

The last sector of my escapade in France I completed with cuts and bruises which I suffered in falls from rocks and by struggling through dry and prickly bushes on my way through the rough country. When I descended into Spain I was arrested by two soldiers who pointed their guns at me. I raised my hands and in the international manner I announced “Prisonero de la guerra Britanica”. From their grimaces and talking I gathered that they did not believe me; I could not have been an Englishman because I had brown eyes and all Englishmen had blue eyes! I left them with their belief, lay down beside them and fell fast asleep.

I followed other British comrades in three flea infested prisons and then into a concentration camp called Miranda de Ebro, and I found out that their blue eyes did not help them either.

The British Military Attaché got me out out of the camp and took me to Madrid as a free citizen again, and from there I was sent with a large group of co-sufferers to Gibraltar. The crossing of the border into the free world was emotional experience never to be forgotten.

On 20th August, my thirtieth birthday, I returned from the British fortress to England. That was the culmination of three and half months of involuntary wandering accompanied by enormous amount of luck, most precious help and understanding from brave strangers, and my determination to return to my own.

After a rest I took off again and flew over the area where the enemy humiliated me. I found again my niche in the ring in the sky where, with my comrades, we were again hitting the enemy as he deserved it.

.

.

Journey into the unknown

.

F/Sgt Bohumil Ryšánek served as a Navigator in 311 Sqn. In 1939, as a 25 years old, he chose to leave his homeland and take up arms against the German occupiers. His story of his route to England where he joined the RAF is:

Journey into the unknown: Lipník to?

In my Journey into the Unknown I have concentrated mainly on my experiences regarding seeing different countries, the people I’ve met and made friends with.

The war and its incidents affecting me I’ve mentioned only briefly, as they were the same as described in a number of books written by my wartime friends and many others.

The Journey into the Unknown was perhaps triggered off by an incident at the local dance in February 1939 and the subsequent German invasion in March. – After the Sudetenland was `given’ to Germany (in accordance with the Munich agreement) the `old’ local policemen, known to everybody in town, were replaced by the `expelled’ police from Sudetenland. There was the normal exuberance at the dance and the `new’ constable remonstrated with my friend, Pepa Taborský (he was my school friend and member of our soccer team). The result of this confrontation was – the policeman falling through the glass door. The following day, the `new’ Chief of Police, Mr Boda, called me to his office at the Town Hall and asked whether I had seen the constable being pushed through the door. I told him that I had not seen `the incident’, so he, without warning, put me in a cell! This was observed by a town clerk (a friend of mine, L. Wiederman) who `broadcast’ what had happened to me. The Chief, in the meantime, had had second thoughts and came to let me out.

I went to a lawyer to sue him for wrongful arrest; his defence was that he had not locked the cell door, so I could have walked out at any time. There was a suggestion about taking it to the higher court (in Olomouc), which was under German jurisdiction. I decided not to proceed with the case! Meanwhile, the Chief sent a letter to me and my friend to report to a `work camp’ near Ostrava. We took the letter to the County Offices where my friend had an ex-army `buddy’ who was an Admin. Clerk; he told us to forget the Chief’s letter since he had no power to decide who was to go to the camp. We discussed the prevailing situation and thought that there was not much future in the CSR under the current regime i.e. the Germans, with the new local subservient police, so `the journey into the unknown’ was formulated. We had heard rumours that, in Poland, an anti-German group was being formed. I told Taborsky that we should leave home on the last Monday in May. We were to meet at the station and take an early train – he did not turn up! As I learned after the war, he did not join me as arranged because he had been travelling on the train, carrying information for the partisans. He was picked up by the Gestapo, taken off the train and, apparently, killed – his body was never found. This tragedy happened in March 1945, two months before the end of the war, in May.

First Phase

I started the journey alone on the train to Frydek-Mistek, and saw a distant relative, Mr Drbal, owner of a removal company. He changed some crowns for me into Polish zloty. The same evening one of his employees and I cycled to his home in Morovka. Early in the morning, I set off over the mountains (past Ropice, 1082m), 13 miles over the border to Jablunkov (formerly in Moravia but now ‘occupied’ by Poland). From Jablunkov I took the train to Cracow. There was no problem at all; I discovered that this escape route was not being taken by other refugees; there was no guard on the border. On arrival at Cracow I started looking for the CSR Consulate. While I was resting in the park, a plain-clothes policeman, recognising by my white `balloon silk’ coat that I was not a native of Poland, asked me to accompany him to the police station. As it was after office hours, the Magistrate’s Court was not in session so he put me in a cell until the next morning. In the evening a warder brought me a big flask of coffee and rolls (bulky). The warder had been in Prague during the First World War so we had a long chat – incidentally the coffee and rolls were sent to someone else! He told me that there wouldn’t be any problems in the Court and I would be taken to the Consulate. Later that evening he came back and brought with him a young man to keep me company. The fellow introduced himself, saying: “I am Vavrin Surjan from Slovakia.” I was taken aback when he asked if I would mind sharing the cell with him because he was a Slovak. I said jokingly, “You idiot, do I have a choice?” (We later lost touch with each other.)

The following morning I was in Court, the second case. The first case dealt with a young prostitute who had apparently stolen an umbrella. The girl was crying and the Polish Magistrate tried to calm her down, telling her politely, “Please, madam, don’t cry!” – and, in the end, jailed her for seven days! My case was over in a few minutes. I was not considered a threat to the Polish State and policeman took me to the CSR Consulate.

After the usual interrogation and identification I was taken to the ‘refugees’ accommodation at No. 24 Glowny Rynek (Main Square) where I met my many future friends in the Foreign Legion, in the Army in France and England and, finally, in the Air Force. Cracow was, and is, a very interesting historical town on the River Vistula, overlooked by Wawel Castle. About two weeks later, who should arrive but two brothers, Joe and Toni Ocelka, from a village 2 kilometres from my hometown. Joe was a pilot (he later became Wing Commander of our 311 Squadron) and had been in the same Grammar School I was at, only four years earlier. They were both very annoyed with me because I had been talking to them on the Sunday before my departure and I had not told them that I was leaving town – they had had a much more difficult journey to Poland than had I.

There was not much going on in Cracow; just waiting for the transport to France. Before leaving, however, we were moved to a small village near Cracow – Bronovice. Apart from keeping fit and exercising, there was very little to do; I played soccer against various local teams and against the top club ‘Wisla Cracow’ to whom we lost, not too badly, I think: 5 -2! I was gaining new friends and acquaintances and had teamed up with some fellows from Brno and Karel Konstain (Kavan) from Kolin.

Finally the day came when a train took us to the port of Gnyna to board a very new luxurious Polish ocean liner, ‘Chrobry’ (sunk by the Germans at the beginning of the Second World War), on our way to Boulogne and the Foreign Legion! After landing at Boulogne we were transported to Lille for a check-up and to sign up for five years in the French Foreign Legion. We were told that if we didn’t sign we would be sent to the German frontier (how serious the threat was, I don’t know). However, there was a proviso in the five-year commitment that, should the war in Europe start, we would be sent to France to form the nucleus of a Czech army. We knew that the war was inevitable even if the top leaders in the West didn’t think so. After all the ‘signings’ the train took us to Marseille. Further check-ups at the old fort by the sea – a transit stop – before sailing to Africa – Oran, here we come!

Second Phase

After landing in Oran, we were marched to the Foreign Legion Barracks, awaiting transport to the main French Foreign Legion Garrison at Sidi Bel Abbès. While waiting there, some of our fellows were ordered (out of spite) by two corporals – German in origin – to shower and clean some pigs. They resented doing this very strongly and swore vengeance when we returned to France through Oran. I was lucky not to attract that kind of attention – the worst I suffered was when a corporal tried to swap his battered, old tin mug for my newly issued one. A former school friend of mine, a quiet, peaceable fellow, sitting next to me, suddenly plunged his fork into the corporal’s hand and swore he’d kill him if he took it.

In the réfectoire (dining room), was a picture of a general with the following (not very encouraging!) quotation:

Vous autres legionnaires
Vous etes soldats pour mourir
Etje vous envie ou l’on meurt (Général Négrière)

(Sometimes it is better not to admit to knowing the `native’ language (i.e. French).

B. Kerwitzer put a question to the orderly Corporal and, in reply, was told, “Tu as rien a faire; alors to vas faire les cabinets.”)

In the Foreign Legion.

On arrival at Sidi-Bel-Abbès we were fitted out with Foreign Legion uniforms, given our ranks, i.e. ‘Soldat de la Deuxième Classe’ – you couldn’t get any lower, and also our personal number – `matricule’- mine was 85133. When you were called out on parade etc. you answered with your name and ‘matricule’ (and, if you were answering an officer, you added “mon Colonel” or whatever his rank was). Some chaps had difficulty remembering their number in French so some of us had to teach them. There were some rather amusing incidents: on marching exercises the NCO called out the tempo – “Un, deux, trois, quatre…” – a fellow whose name was ‘Makar’ broke rank because he thought that his name had been called – `quatre’ sounding phonetically like ‘Makar’! The military training in Bel Abbés was mainly marching and running: the Reveille at 5 am, after breakfast 3 – 4 hours exercise, back to barracks by 11 am, lunch and siesta until 4 – 5 o’clock. After dinner you could go to town. You had to be `smartly’ dressed; there was a big mirror by the exit gate to check your appearance and the guard sent you back if he thought that you were not smart enough! The pay during training was negligible so you could not purchase very much in town – some beer, cigarettes, soap etc. After the basic training you got your `prim’ – 300 francs – one felt like a millionaire – champagne at 15 Fr. a bottle! Life was very easy for most of us, being fit and healthy, but some recruits, mainly the ex-Spanish Republicans (after the Civil War in Spain) were weak and tired easily. Finally the day came when we were sent to our permanent garrison at Ain-El-Adjar in the mountains, not very far from Saida. As it happened, we (the Czechs) were the largest group (circa 200) so we really dominated the goings-on in the camp. The officer in charge was in Saida most of the time, enjoying himself. The highest rank present was a Sergeant and an old Legionnaire Corporal Chef (Yugoslav in origin), serving his third five-year term in the Legion. The exercises were very easy, the climate hot and dry (no humidity), although one had to run the gauntlet of the garrison stork who would swoop down and `put it about’ with his long beak, whilst the men were exercising in the square!

As a soccer player I had certain privileges, which meant I didn’t have to use the general shower facility – a real boon as the water was controlled by ‘Soldat de la Première Classe’, shouting the order for the water to go on, off apply soap, rinse. As the water flow was never powerful enough to reach the last cubicle, its reluctant inhabitant always emerged lathered in soap. Those who did not finish, for instance, the morning run, were punished by spending the night in jail without a roof and with a stone bed to sleep on – and the nights were very cold – we had three camel-hair blankets to keep us warm! Before we could properly settle into our mountain `village’ – one shop which sold some grocery and wine – at midnight, on September 3rd, a drunken Corporal Chef came into our dormitory with a lighted candle and shouted, “La guerre a éclatée!” (War has been declared!), called us all murderers and left. A few days later we were marched to Saida where the real training for war started.

In Saida we received our `piqûre’ (inoculation) against all imaginable illnesses and to thin our blood (to withstand the heat) – a jab in the back and that was it. The ‘operation’ was performed by very unskilled orderlies, so after the jab everybody’s back was oozing blood. We were told not to drink any alcohol and those who did became really ill.

Nothing very exciting was happening; we were getting familiar with the old French Hotchkiss heavy machine gun and we were all anxious to be on our way back to France. Finally, in October, our Foreign Legionnaire uniforms were exchanged for French army uniforms and we were off to Oran for the embarkation to France. While waiting at the garrison (the one mentioned when we arrived from France) the two German NCO’s, who had mistreated some of our fellows on our initial arrival there, foolishly started walking through the crowded parade ground (about 600 Czech ex-legionnaires) and received terrible revenge beatings. This was watched by the CO, who let it pass (perhaps also in retaliation for the profiteering he knew they had indulged in re. Army fodder). The same evening we said goodbye to Algeria and sailed to France.

Third Phase

We landed at Sète and were transported to Agde by ‘camions’ (lorries) to our camp, which had previously been ‘home’ to Spanish Republican soldiers after Franco’s victory in Spain, and after which some had stayed as general ‘domestics’.

Accommodated in wooden huts, we settled in and started training and preparing for the next stage of warfare. Coming from the Foreign Legion, we were already in French uniform and the stream of new Czech-Slovak arrivals from France and other continental countries was swelling our ranks. Having been trained to handle the Hotchkiss machine gun, a few of us were being made instructors to the new recruits and NCO’s. The weather of early autumn was very pleasant, quite warm, so there were frequent outings to the beach. (Today Agde is a well-known holiday resort). One of the usual exercises was testing the budding aspirants for promotion, by defending the lighthouse on the hill by the sea. As a joke, someone invented a scenario, which asked of a cadet what he would do if his platoon was being attacked by an infantry regiment – including tanks, bombers. “Well, sir,” said the cadet, after some lengthy consideration, “I’d give an order to my platoon to kneel down and pray!”

One day I received a parcel from ‘Macy’s’ of New York (at that time I did not know who or what Macy’s was). The parcel contained all sorts of goodies – cigarettes, etc. It had been ordered by Mlle Margaret O’Brien who lived with her mother in Paris. Margaret appointed herself my ‘marraine de guerre’ (war godmother). There was also an invitation, arranged by Margaret, to visit the `Cité Universitaire des États Unis’ when on leave in Paris by the Directeur, Mr Lowry. During leave in Paris, we were also invited to the Czechoslovak Embassy, where the Ambassador, after refreshments, made a speech: “You are standing on the free land of Czechoslovakia and for that you should be grateful to me!” The Ambassador, ‘His Excellency’ Mr Osusky (Slovakian) was not on friendly terms with President Beneš, who was in exile in London. After that speech my friend (L Kruml) and I picked up some cigarettes (I did not smoke) and left.

I visited an old army friend of mine who was domiciled in France, married with two daughters – his wife came from the Basque country in SW France. One of his daughters had been married to a war photographer, killed in the Spanish Civil War. Before leaving Paris I also went to see a man who had sent me a letter in Agde. His name was Mr Kocian and he was from my hometown, (Lipnik N/Becvou) and had been with my father in the First World War. Mr Kocian left the CSR and settled in France in Orly, not far from Paris. I took my friend with me and we had a few days of drinking with him in the local bistro – the ‘Rougette de Lille’ (composer of the Marseillaise). On returning to his wife, Mr Kocian was severely castigated by her for leading us youngsters astray! I remember one of his party tricks involved a tame duck, who, on being told that the cockerel had been very naughty and exhorted as to what he was going to do about it, chased it around the room until it caught him by the comb and gave him a thorough shaking!

I did not meet my ‘marraine de guerre’ Margaret, as she and her mother had left for America. Margaret was a ballerina with the Paris and Monte Carlo Operas. Later I learned that her father had been an oil executive in the Pasadena Company. When he died, Margaret and her mother moved to Paris (Margaret’s mother was originally from Holland and had never learned French!).

Now back to Agde… When the course for the newly promoted NCO’s finished, my company was moved to Castelno des Guers on the River Hérolt, not very far from Agde. A very nice little village – picturesque – it is dominated by an old fort, dating from the days when the south coast of France was raided by pirates. We had a never-ending supply of wine, which we had ‘liberated’ from the Co-Operative Store on the riverbank. All good things must come to an end so, one day an order came to board the train and move north to the ‘Front’. The Germans had broken through Belgium and bypassed the Maginot line, moving towards Paris (or so we heard). The train took us to Coulomiers (east of Paris), which was to be our base. That night, after the Italians occupied Monaco, Monte Carlo and part of southern France, the French Prime Minister Renaud broadcast from Paris, saying, “La France ne peut pas mourir!” When I heard that, I said to V Lehar, who was in charge of our platoon (awaiting the delivery of `cannon anti-char’ – anti-tank cannon we never saw), “Let’s go home!” i.e. back to Agde.

After a few days we were on the way back to the south. The chaos on the road was unbelievable – the French civilians were leaving their homes and farms in all types of vehicles; some were pushing carts filled with families with children etc. The farm animals were running loose, cows desperate to be milked, and nobody was around. Chateaux were lying abandoned and we could raid vintage cellars, bathe in champagne and fall onto four-posters with our boots on. To the tune of “En arriere, en avant / Nous vaincrons en buvant!” we filled our ‘bidons’ (two-litre field flasks) with wine from the cellars and smashed what we could to prevent the Germans, so close behind us, from enjoying what we had. Yet for all that, with some of my colleagues taking full advantage of the opportunity of looting from the deserted shops – jewellery, everything – my total sum of war booty was a towel I took on impulse because I needed one!

In one little town the road was completely blocked by the retreating French artillery units – nobody moved (all this has been documented by the historians of WW2). We eventually got as far as Montereau on the River Seine, marching still in ‘proper’ military formation with horses pulling the carts with machine guns etc. Approaching the river bridge, guarded by the Senegalese soldiers on the opposite bank, the bridge was bombed by Stuka’s and blown up!. In the chaos that followed, some of us took the initiative to cross the river in rowing boats and eventually reached Agde. The surviving part of our ‘army’ arrived a few days later. There was a lot of argument and recrimination – that those who had arrived earlier than the main body of the army had, in effect, deserted from the front, although in actual fact there was no Front to speak of. All that was sorted out and we were moved to Sète to board the ship for Gibralter.

Czechoslovaks soldiers being evacuated from Sète

By an irony of fate, the coal ship to Gibraltar was the ‘North Moor” belonging to Lord Runciman, who was on a fact-finding mission in the Sudetenland, to see how the Czechs were oppressing the ‘poor’ Germans, referring and describing all the ‘atrocities’ to the Prime Minister Chamberlain!

On arrival at Gibraltar we were transferred onto a rather nice ocean liner. While waiting at the port, we noticed British warships sailing towards Oran to prevent the French warships from falling into German hands.

Our journey and accommodation on the ship was quite luxurious – compared to the ‘coal boat’. We sailed deep into the Atlantic, perhaps to avoid an attack by German bombers based on the west coast of France. During the journey we started English lessons. I’d remembered quite a few English words and some grammar (taught by my Jewish friend back at home). When we eventually landed in Liverpool, I could muster a few ‘important’ sentences i.e. how to get to the nearest pub, dance hall, ask for a cup of tea etc, which did not help very much, as I couldn’t understand the reply to any of my questions! We disembarked at Liverpool (at night) and were put on a train going to? There was a blackout and I wondered why every station was called ‘Bovril’ – I learned later that all the names of the railway stations were covered, and that Bovril was a popular English meat paste. We arrived in Nantwich (Cheshire) still in the dark and then marched to our allocated camp in the grounds of Cholmondeley Castle. The tents were ready for us, and our ‘new life’ in England started in the glorious summer of 1940.

Czechoslovaks arriving at Liverpool after escaping from France 1940.

Czechoslovaks at Cholmondeley 1940.

Newly arrived Czechoslovak soldiers at Cholmondeley 1940.

Under canvas at Cholmondeley 1940.

Shortly after arriving at Cholmondeley, Bohumil Ryšánek voluntered to join the RAF.

.

.

Karel Valasek – Evasion and PoW

.

P/O Karel Valášek was serving as a pilot with 313 Sqn. when he was shot down in his Spitfire over France. His story of his evasion, capture and being a PoW is:

On the 21st of May 1944, I was shot down by German ground Anti-aircraft fire just as we finished our mission. Our mission that day was to clear and attack ground targets occupied by German military. First was Caen airfield, then German transportations (goods trains) and lorries in Gaumont. In short it meant ….Sweeping the roads in preparation for the invasion.

My ‘plane, Spitfire MK IX B reg. NN-B was was hit by a explosive shell, whilst we were flying at zero height, skimming the tree tops. My engine started to smoke, and lose power, so I was forced to crash-land in the woods below me. It was called Cerisy Boa in-between St Lo and Baleroa.

I got out with just a few bruises, and made hasty depart from the site, because there was gun-firing rather close.

After 3 days on the run, I stopped a lady cyclist in a country lane to enquire about the amount of Germans in the area, and when she wanted to know why, I have told her, that I was an RAF escapee. She told me to hide there, and cycled back to a near-by village. In about three quarters of an hour later she came back with a man riding a horse and cart. They covered me with straw and potato sacks, and brought me to a farm, where I was met by three, slightly nervous men. They questioned me, fed me, and then locked me up in room in the loft. The following evening, I was brought down, and introduced to the Chief of the resistance in that area named Monsieur Pique.

Karel, in his civilian clothes with M. Pique.

I was welcomed and told, that they were in contact with the RAF, that they established my identity. With a recommendation for me to stay with them until we were liberated. (Originally, my plan was to make my way to Gibraltar to emulate my previous Flight Commander, who in 1942 returned to operational flying after 4 months from the day he went down in Northern France.)

I changed into civilian clothes and stayed with them. However, after the invasion started, and Allies advance halted for regrouping, the Germans were bringing reinforcements and actually arrived in to our place, which caused us (M. Le-Chartier, who was my host at the time, and myself) to scramble out through the back door.

I realised, that if I was captured there with them the Germans would shoot the lot of them including women and children. That was the normal procedure at that time.

Karel, with Mme. Pique.

After consultation with the Chief, I have decided to make my way across the front. On the 20th June 1944, M. Pique took me and two other men (Canadian soldiers who were avoiding capture by the Germans after the invasion) a considerable distance, risking his life if he was captured with us. He stayed until he had guided us across the road to Caen. There he had to leave us to find the rest of the way on our own.

We seemed to be heading in the right direction, but after about an hour, we were stopped by a German officer who appeared from a small path followed by German soldiers. He wanted to know who we were and what we were doing there. I told him we worked there. He ordered us to go through the back door into a nearby empty house, and left a soldier to stand guard over us outside the back door. As he was leaving I noticed that he was semi hiding, avoiding being seem from the lane, which was right in front of this house.

After a short time, we crept out, one by one through the front door into the lane opposite while the guard stood guarding the back door. The lane was heavily lined with thick hedges, which made it slightly easier to keep going.

Suddenly we heard the German soldier shouting, and that was the time we got separated. I jumped into a thick hedge on the opposite side field to hide.

Since we did not leave the house together I could not tell how the Canadians finally faired. Fortunately at that time the Germans did not follow us. I believe the Canadians may have been luckier because they were at the time ahead of me in the lane.

I stayed motionless until the evening, only to experience a heavy artillery bombardment of the zone by the Allies. It was very close and unpleasant.

After it became dark, I heard movements in the lane behind me, so I crawled across a field between dead animals, but then I discovered, rather too later that this was also mine field.

By then, I had no option, and carried on all night in what I thought was right direction.

At first light, I was approaching camouflaged possitiourand I crawled right up to the hedge. There I thought, that I have made it, but I held back making any noiset in case one of the soldiers on duty was trigger happy.

Then I was choked to hear one of the soldiers speaking in German.

By then it was full daylight. I could not back track, so I lay there until 7 a.m. when one of the Germans, while moving the barrel of his machine gun spotted my feet and pulled me down.

I was brought in front of a officer, who sent me to their field HQ guarded by three soldiers.

There an SS officer took over questioning me. He promptly declared me a spy and terrorist to be shot. The usual procedure – name, rank and number was to him totally irrelevant, because I was captured in a German position wearing civilian clothes.

They searched for my parachute, according to his assessment, it would. be impossible for me to come there unless somebody was previously hiding me there.

The following day, I was handed over to the Gestapo and moved to the dungeon in what used to be a fort tower Alencon where I spent ten days in a black cell with unpleasant bouts of interrogations.

I managed not divulge vitals, especially about my possible helpers, which seems to be at the time, their priority.

From there I was moved to Gestapo HQ in Avenue Foch, Paris, for further interrogations, commuting to Fressnes Prison. From there they moved us to a prison in Wiesbaden in Germany, and finally to a civilian prison in Mainz. By then there were about forty of us in civilian clothes.

At the end of August 1944, they were forced to evacuate our prison in what seems to be a great hurry at midnight. During our transportations we were always handcuffed to a chain and made to stand during our journey.

This time, they rushed us out of our cells, and handcuffed us twenty to a chain, without any particular order. It appeared to us, that they are going to carry out the threats, they have been promising to us all along.

Our column of twenty was the first out of prison rushed on the double to a rail station, led by our Gestapo Fuhrer with a gun in each hand. But, I think, he made a mistake when he brushed aside a directive by a German Field policeman to go to different part of the station, shouting that he had a batch of criminals to transport.

He led us to a platform where there was already a train load of prisoners of war. This was supervised by a high ranking German officer who was showing off in front of representative of the Red Cross.

He wanted to know who we were, and we shouted that ‘We are the R.A.F.’

There seems to be a great urgency to move everybody out, so they put us, still chained with with the other P.O.W’s on the same train for further investigation.

That brought us to Dulag Luft interrogation centre at, the beginning of September 1944.

The date of my arrival and condition, still in civilian clothes to the P.O.W. camp is clearly visible on the photocopy of my ‘kreigsgefangenenkartei’ borrowed from the camp in 1945. This was the first time the Germans informed the International Red Cross of my existence. Eventually, we finished at Stalag Luft VII at Bankau, near Kluczbork, in Upper Silesia, Poland.

Karel Valášek

In January 1945, with Russians advancing, we evacuated this camp, and were marched 120 miles through Sagan – Wittenberg to Stalag III-A, near Luckenwalde, 30 miles South of Berlin.

Towards the end of April 1945, I left this camp with colleagues, and we reached the American lines. They flew us to Brussels, from there by train to Lille aerodrome and from there, by Lancaster bomber to England on 5 May 1945. On arrival to England we finished in 106 P.R.C. Centre at Cosford. The R.A.F. part of personnel Receiving Centre had my past records correct, including my promotion to P/O.

From there I traveled to the Air Ministry in London for de-briefing (I think it was section P5). There I have learned, that they did know roughly about our movements in France and Germany. Also during my de-briefing, the RAF Officer in charge, wanted to know all the details about people involved in helping me to avoid my capture. I have gladly given him the names of all, as far as I know, except one, and that was the name of the lady cyclist, who first delivered me into the resistance circle, and that is because I never knew her name.

His final comment was ‘we are all deeply indebted to those brave patriots’

But when I enquired about some colleagues with whom I have shared cells in different prisons, I was told that those, who were tied to the second chain during the evacuation of Mainz prison, finished in a civilian concentration camp where they perished.

During my final interview at the Air Ministry, I learned was told, that in the situation like I was in, they did not give any information out, even when known, that I was alive and with the resistance, or in case of those, just captured wearing civilian clothes. That person was simply listed listed as missing, until there was positive news from the other side through the International Red Cross. In my case, this happened in October 1944.

During my crossing of the front line that night, I missed my freedom by only fifteen degrees. I discovered later, when the Germans were moving me around, that the front line at this point was shaped into almost a half circle.

.

.

Spitfire AR501

.

.

.

.

Michael Burns charts the crowded history of the Shuttlesworth’s Spitfire V AR501. ‘Flypast’ artist Bill Bennett produced the superb cutaway.

.

.

.

SUPERMARINE SPITFIRE MK V, AR501 was built in 1942 as a Mark VC, one of a production batch of 300 Spitfires ordered under Contract No. 1305/40 of August 1940 from Westland Aircraft, Yeovil, Somerset. Serial range of the batch was AR212 to AR621.

Originally ordered as 300 Mark I’s, but typically, as modification and more powerful Merlin engines became available, the contract was modified several times to cover the production of later marks. The batch was delivered from July 11, 1940, and comprised: 50 Mark IAs, several of which were later converted to PR Mark IV and Mark V standard; 140 Mark VBs, of which two, one during production and one later, were converted to Seafire Mk IBs by Westland, and another was later converted to PR Mark XIII; and 110 Mark VCs, of which AR501 was one.

Most of the Spitfires from this batch, following delivery to Maintenance Units, were sent to the Middle East and (Mark VCs only) to Australia, two Mark VBs AR511 and AR567, were delivered to the Portuguese Air Force. Westland built a total of 685 Spitfires, 50 Mark Is and 635 Mark Vs, before concentrating on Seafires.

As an F Mark VC, the prefix indicating a general altitude fighter, the suffix that it had the universal armament wing, AR501 was fitted with a Rolls-Royce Merlin 46 engine, developing 1,415 hp maximum, with an altitude rating of 19,000 feet.

AR501 was delivered to 8 Maintenance Unit (MU) at Little Rissington, Glos, on June 22, 1942, and passed to 6 MU, Brize Norton, Oxon, on July 7, which issued it to 310 (Czech) Squadron, RAF on July 19. The squadron was based at Exeter, Devon, and commanded by Squadron Leader F. Doležal, DFC. AR501 was on occasions the CO’s mount.

Doležal had escaped from German occupied Czechoslovakia to France in 1938. Joining the Armee de l’Air, he destroyed two German aircraft in combat during the Battle of France before fleeing to England in June 1940. Quickly converting to Spitfires, he flew with 19 Squadron during the Battle of Britain, destroying a further three German aircraft and claiming two as probably destroyed. Posted to 310 Squadron in January 1941, he was promoted to the rank of Squadron Leader in April 1942, and became the Squadron’s CO.

310 had formed at Duxford, alongside 19 Squadron, on July 10, 1940 on Hawker Hurricane Mk Is, as the first Czechoslovakian squadron in the Royal Air Force. Declared operational during the height of the Battle of Britain, it began to convert to Spitfires in October 1941.

Although AR501 flew with the squadron on routine coastal and convoy patrols (Jim Crows, after a ship’s look-out) in 10 Group, Fighter Command’s air defence area, 310 Squadron had gone over to the offensive in July 1942, in common with other offensive based fighter squadrons. It undertook regular fighter sweeps, designed to provoke the enemy into the air to be shot down, and to force the Luftwaffe to deploy in France fighter, ground defence and support units required elsewhere, and, also, to harass the enemy and show the roundels.

Circus operations were flown by one or more wings of fighters in support of medium bomber attacks, and were carefully orchestrated. Rhubarbs, flown at low-level (‘down among the rhubarb’) were single sections of two or four aircraft slipped across the Channel under poor weather cover to attack anything they found of the enemy’s war machine. Essentially spontaneous, but requiring Group approval, the results achieved by Spitfires on Rhubarbs did not justify the losses of aircraft and pilots to ground fire.

On August 18, 1942 came the largest offensive operation in the North-Western Theatre since 1940 with the exploratory and disastrous Operation Jubilee, the amphibious landings of British, Canadian, and a few American troops at Dieppe.

RAF gave close air support, fighter cover, and diversionary support throughout the landings, and largely prevented the Luftwaffe from attacking the choice array of destroyers, transports and landing craft, although the Luftwaffe’s tardy response contributed to the RAF’s in success. 310 Squadron was heavily engaged in Operation Jubilee, covering anti-E-Boat Hurricane sorties, and providing air cover over the troop landings. The squadron claimed one enemy aircraft destroyed, and three probably destroyed, and six damaged in this operation.

Doležal, possibly flying AR501, claimed a Do217 probably destroyed and one FW 190 damaged. It was the first time that the FW 190 had been encountered in force, and it was evident from the pilot’s reports and was superior to the Spitfire Mk V. Only the Hawker Typhoons, committed to action for the first time in force also, matching it a fortnight later, on 28 August, Doležal shared in the destruction of a Bf 109E, although not in AR501.

Operations from the West Country thereafter were increasingly hampered by the autumn weather, and by the end of the year 310 Sqn had reverted to its earlier defensive role. It flew anti-Jabo patrols against the Luftwaffe’s high speed, low-level FW190 and Bf 109 Jabos (fighter bombers) which were making hit-and-run raids against coastal installations. Chances of interception were remote, and the unit claimed no victories during this phase.

Selected items from AR501′s Operations with 310 Squadron:

10/09/42, S/Ldr F. Doležal, Green Section:

Rear cover for 4 Whirlwinds. from Bolt Head. Set course 175° for 18 min climbing to 18,000′ orbiting for 15 min did not see 312 Sqn, returned to Exeter.

Time Up/Down: 18:30/19:40

18/09/42, S/Ldr F. Doležal, Red Section:

Squadron took off from Exeter for Non-operational formation practice. At ll:35 ordered to intercept 6 bandits over Teignmouth, being told shortly afterwards that they were at Danmouth. Sqn at 8,000′ above 10/10th cloud. Doležal ordered Sqdn to regroup diving through cloud arrived 15 miles E of Dartmouth – followed coast for 30 secs – 2 FW 190s seen 1½ miles distant flying S.E. at 3000′. 310 at 1000′ turned left and right in pairs abrest behind e/as of whom 4 more were seen 2 travelling S., rest S.E. Sqdn chased and fired at range of 250-700 yds. No results observed. With Sqdn full out FWs left Spit VC standing. Sqdn. ordered to return. Disappointed!

Time Up/Down: 11:15/12:05

08/11/42, F/Sgt V. Popelka, White Section:

Air-Sea Rescue search for P/O Doucha missing after baling out of AR502 25 mls. S.W. of Eddystone Light after being attacked by FW190 on 7/11.

Time Up/Down: 8:35/10:10

22/01/43, F/Lt R. Borovec, White Section:

Anti-Rhubarb patrol off Torquay.

Time Up/Down: 10:10/11:50

23/01/43, S/Ldr E. Foit, Red Section:

10 Group Ramrod 48 – bombing Lorient supplying cover at 23,000′.

Time Up/Down: 12:35/14:15

26/01/43, W/O F. Trejtnar, White Section:

Wing to escort l2 Venturas, set course at sea level until 50mls. from French coast – climbed to 11,000′ near Ile de Batz. Owing to low cloud mission cancelled.

Time Up/Down: 14:50/16:15

27/02/43, F/Lt H. Hrbáček, Red Section:

low cloud mission cancelled, From Predannack Foryess & Liberator raid on Brest (Ramrod 54). Engine found cutting at height returned to base.

Time Up/Down: 13:45/15:30

Prop, exhaust stubs and rear-view mirror, all non-standard on a Mk V and explained in the test (Duncan Cubitt)

On December 1, 1942 AR501 went for minor repair in works at Air Service Training. Awaiting collection on December 3, 1942, it was again on the charge of 310, still based at Exeter, two days later. In January Squadron Leader F Vancl took command of the squadron, remaining until March 1943.

The unit again returned to offensive operations in January and on January 29 was involved in a complex fight over Merlaix airfield, Northern France. The squadron lost two pilots, but claimed an FW destroyed and one probably destroyed and one damaged. However, the squadron’s main orientation was shipping and convoy patrols, with sweeps when called upon.

While parked in a dispersal some 200 yards off the runway, AR501 was hit by Mosquito PR3 DD634 at 1100 hours on March 15. The Mossie, from 307 (Polish) Squadron, careered off the runway during an overshoot. AR501 (and Merlin 46 90621 A.339581) was damaged to Category B status. It was issued to 67 MU at Taunton on March 22, and moved on for repair in works by Westlands the following day. It was ‘awaiting collection’ on July 3.

AR501 was taken on charge by 33 Maintenance Unit Lyneham, Wilts, on July 17, 1943 and then by 3501 Servicing Unit at Cranfield, Beds on August 6. 310 Squadron had been transferred to the North of Scotland in June and had also re-equipped with Spitfire HF Mk Vls.

However, on August 18 AR501 was issued to 504 (City of Nottingham) Squadron, based at Church Stanton (Culmhead), Somerset since June 1943.

Under 11 Group, 504 was on offensive operations over France, led by Sqn Ldr P J Simpson DFC. However, 504 was being transferred to Redhill, Surrey, and converting to the new Spitfire Mk IXs. It is unlikely that AR501 bore 504′s code. ‘HX’. and on August 20, 1943 AR501 was taken on charge by the Station Flight.

AR501′s combat career, however, re-opened on October 10, 1943 when it was taken on charge by 312 (Czech) Squadron, which had arrived at Church Stanton in September following some months based at Skeabrae, providing air defence for the Royal Navy’s Home Fleet base at Scapa Flow, Orkney Islands.

Sqn Ldr A Vybíral was succeeded as CO by Sqn Ldr F Varnel DFC, in November 1943. The squadron was engaged on bomber escorts from its arrival at Church Stanton, protecting the increasing number and weight of bomber raids across the English Channel against V-1 rocket launching sites.

A number of other aircraft from AR501′s production batch, including AR550 and AR614, also served with this unit. The Squadron transferred to Ibsley, Hants, in December 1943, remaining there until February 1944 when it moved to Mendlesham, to convert to Spitfire Mk IXs.

On February 26, AR501 was transferred from 312 Squadron to 144 Fighter Affiliation Flight and was allocated the following day to 422 Squadron, RAF Coastal Command, a Short Sunderland equipped maritime patrol unit at Castle Archdale, Northern Ireland, AR501 was probably used for fighter affiliation and for acclimatising air gunnery, and aircrews, to fighter attack (see notes).

On March 30, 1944 AR501 was taken on charge by 58 Operational Training Unit, based at Grangemouth, Midlothian. AR501′s front line days were now definitely over, the Mark V being obsolescent in the North West European Theatre, 58 OTU was one of the OTUs disbanded before mid-1944, and it seems likely that AR50l was struck offcharge shortly before the unit closed, and only shortly after the aircraft’s arrival.

On April 26, 1944 AR501 was taken on charge by I Tactical Exercise Unit, based at Tealing, Angus, I TEU had formed on October 3, 1943 from 56 OTU. which had in turn been formed from 6 OTU at Sutton Bridge on November 1940, moving to Tealing on March 27, 1942.

AR501 was re-allocated to 61 OTU on July 4, 1944, and I TEU ran-down and disbanded on July 31, 1944, 61 OTU had been based at Rednal, Salop, since April 15, 1942 and used Spitfire Mks I, II, V and IX, Miles Magister Mk IIs, Harvard Mk IIIs and Mustang Mk IIIs.

Sketch to show the flap arrangement on the MkV. (Bill Bennett)

AR501 suffered a Category B Flying Accident on September 9, and on September 22 was delivered to Air Service Training at Exeter for repair in work. AR501 reappeared as an LF Mark VC, with the fitting of a 1,585hp Merlin 45M, essentially similar to the medium altitude 45 and 46, but rated for low-altitude duty, and ‘clipping’ the wings to improve low-altitude performance by removing the wing tip panels and substituting a wooden or metal fairing, incorporating the navigation/formation lights. It made its first test flight following conversion on November 22, 1944.

During this period of repair and conversion, AR501 also acquired a number of features normally only seen on late production Mark Vs and Mark IXs, which contribute to making AR501 an interesting survivor. It was policy to update aircraft that came in to service units for major repairs, but in any case, by 1944 many replacement Mark V parts would have been to later specifications.

AR501 was fitted with six ejector stub exhausts on either side of the Merlin instead of the earlier standard Rolls-Royce triple ejector exhaust manifold with which she had previously been equipped, and her narrow blade propeller was replaced by a broad root unit Both these changes accompanied the Merlin 45M.

When AR501 was struck off RAF charge in 1946 she also had a number of other modifications from her original specifications, which were almost certainly made during this period of repair and conversion, because there was not substantial opportunity, or requirement, later. An elevator with horn balanced tips of increased area and accordingly modified stabiliser were fitted, aiding low-altitude performance. IFF aerials between the fuselage and tailplanes were replaced by a rod aerial below the starboard wing panel. A later style windscreen with an internal bullet proof screen superceded the earlier external screen. Link-type oleo legs were fitted, together with ‘bowed’ undercarriage doors that enabled the wheels to sit lower in the wells when retracted and thus eliminated the bulges on the upper main planes over the wells, but two stiffening strakes were rivetted over the panel above the wells, which was a service modification.

View at Duxford showing the strengthening strips on the wing. (Bill Bennett).

It should be noted that it is a Spitfire’s fuselage centre section – the monocoque – which carries the continuity of its identity. The tail section, engine bearers and engine, and starboard and port main wing panels could each or all be replaced, and were, but the Spitfire would still bear the same manufacturer’s construction number and RAF serial number as before the interchange, for all practical and record purposes.

Other noteworthy features on AR501 today are a rectangular type rear-view mirror (fitted in 1968), and the lack of a formation light behind the radio mast and of a radio wire from radio mast to rudder, and of a support for a radio wire on the rudder.

AR501 was listed as awaiting collection from Air Service Training on 23 November 1944 and on 2 December 1944 she was flown to 33 MU at Lyneham, pending allocation. She was taken on charge by the Central Gunnery School at Catfoss, Yorks, on April 24, 1945. A taxying accident on July 15, necessitated the fitting of new propeller No. 21435. Flight time with CGS at this point was only nine hours 35 minutes.

On August 22, 1945 AR501 was ferried to 29 MU at High Ercall, Salop, for storage. On March 21, she was declared suprlus to RAF needs and struck off charge.

AR501 escaped the melting pot and was flown to the Department of Aeronautical Engineering at Loughborough Technical College, Leics, by Flt/Sgt D R Reynolds on March 21, 1946. At this point Merlin 45M No.702 70239/N80732 fitted had logged sixteen hours forty minutes. Total airframe hours for AR50l came to 511 hours, 35 minutes.

At Loughborough AR501 was a training airframe for students, along with Hawker Hurricane KX829, a Sea Hurricane Mk I Z7015 and a Grumman Martlet AL246 until it was given on permanent loan to the Shuttleworth Trust, based at Old Warden Aerodrome, Biggleswade, Bedfordshire, where it was stored and also displayed to the public in static condition.

Busy scene at Loughborough with students working on AR50l. Martlet 4L245 in background - now at Yeovilton. (Peter R Arnold collection).

When AR501 arrived at Loughborough, it was fitted with the Rotol RX5/10 (broad root) prop that was fitted at Catfoss in July 1945. (The Form 70 for this prop runs as follows: Sent to 35 MU following repair and overhaul, received January 31, 1944. Sent to Hutton Cranswick March 1, 1944 and returned to 35 MU April 26. To Catfoss on December 13, 1944). This prop was swopped with Sea Hurricane Z7015, and AR501 took on a DH narrow blade unit Z7015, now at Duxford, still has this prop. It is thought AR501′s prop came from MK IV KX829, indicating a complex swop-around at Loughborough.

In 1967 Hamish Mahaddie of Spitfire Productions Ltd was collecting together aircraft for the film Battle of Britain. He had gathered nine airworthy Spitfires – five Mark IXs, one Mark XIV, and two PR XIXs, but only one early ‘short-nose’ Spitfire, Mark VB AB910 (G-AIST), lent by the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight for the film.

As the budget permitted it Mahaddie decided to restore to flying condition three early mark: Mark I AM213 (G-AIST), purchased from Air Commodore Allen Wheeler who had had it in store at Old Warden; Mark IIA P7350 (G-AWIJ), an exhibit at RAF Colerne which the RAF made available and which was presented in airworthy condition to the Memorial Flight after the film, fittingly; and AR501, which was loaned by Shuttleworth.

Restoration to airworthy condition was undertaken by Simpson’s Aeroservices and Spitfire Productions Ltd at RAF Henlow, Beds. Like the other aircraft in the film, AR501 was entered on the civil register, as G-AWII, by her new operators, Spitfire Productions Ltd of Pinewood Studios, Iver Heath, Buck. AR501 flew some fifty hours during the film, in various guises in spring and summer 1968.

For the Battle of Britain, AR501 was given full elliptical wing tips replacing her clipped wing tip fairings, which were inauthentic for the 1940-period. Her cannon were removed, as only one squadron of Spitfires, 19, used cannon-armed Spitfires, Mark IBs, and for only a few days, during the Battle.

Spitfires in the films were allocated fictitious squadron codes, selected to ensure that none had been used in the Battle itself, of ‘AI’, ‘CD’, ‘DO’ and ‘EI’, and were allocated serials in the range N3310 – N3329, originally allocated by the Air Ministry to Boulton Paul Defiants, but which had not been taken up.

Unit codes were made of a self-adhesive Fablon materia| and could be stripped off after each flight and replaced by other codes, because only twelve Spiifires – roughly two-thirds of a 1940 squadron’s strength – took the role of the whole of Fighter Command. However, the code’s colour was a slightly inauthentic shade of the Medium Sea Grey used for the 1940 codes – white!

After filming was complered, AR501′s briefly acquired wing tips were returned to their donor aircraft and it was ferried by Dickie Millward to RAE Bedford for storage on behalf of the Shurtleworth Trust via a low level display at Old Warden. At RAE she remained until she was dismantled and flown to West Germany for use by the Canadian Armed Forces at a colour presentation ceremony.

At RAE Bedford following use in the film

AR501 returned to the UK in the same manner as she had departed, in the hold of CAF C-130 Hercules. The Herc brought the Spitfire to Duxford for complete rebuild. Note: Stuart MacConnacher is not convinced of the allocation to 144 FAF, no matter how brief. A signal from HQ 2nd TAF dated February 15, 1944, transfers AR501 to 144 Airfield (Digby) for three new Canadian units (441, 442 and 443) being formed there. 144′s ORB shows the first Mk Vs arriving on February 19.

AR501′s record card shows onword transfer to 422 Squodron os February 27. Stuart believes this to be a clerical error for 442 Squadron, which was of course then at 144 Airfield. The next transfer, to 58 OTU, coincided with the 144 Airfield ORB showing requipment of its units with Mk IX Spitfires. Stuart points out that all things are possible since 442 Squadron was an RCAF unit and who better to borrow a Spitfire for fighter affiliation from than a working-up Canadian unit The 422 Squadron ORB made no mention of Spitfires, but on February 20, 1944, Sunderland III W6028 crashed during a fighter affiliation exercise).

At this point Stuart MacConnacher takes up the story of AR501′s restoration at Duxford.

Rebuild started in 1973 with a group of enthusiasts who eventually became a joint Duxford Aviation Society/Shuttleworth Veteran Aeroplane Society group known to all as the Spitfire Crew. Leading lights were Keith Taylor, Bob Tinkler and Steve McManus – becoming some of the most knowledgeable amateur Spitfire/Merlin restorers in the UK.

My role was liaison link with the workshops at Old Warden and the aircraft’s historian.

Very rare shot of AR501 wearing its civil markings - briefly at Duxford. (Stuart MacConnacher

The crew’s aim was total authenticity including matt paint finish to correct shades, wheel covers and restoration of the cannon stubs which had not been thrown away after the removal at Henlow. With Peter Arnold’s help a gunsight was obtained from Canada and the cannon fairings which attach to the stubs were a fortunate find in the Old Warden stores. believed to have been from a Mk XVIII.

The only area where we could not change AR501 back to our desired restoration of Squadron Leaders Doležal’s 310 Squadron aircraft of October 1942 was the wing tips and the propeller. This era was chosen as it was the high-point of its career and the fact that both Doležal and 310 Squadron had Duxford connections was a bonus.

We never obtained any wartime photographs of AR501 which might have influenced our choice of markings. Research carried out in 1970 at the AHB had shown that no individual code letter was easily obtainable. The concensus we arrived at was that by cross-checking known serial number/code letter tie-ups with Peter Arnold our choice of ‘D’ for Doležal and Duxford did not conflict over the dates of AR501′s service with 310 Squadron.

The Czech emblem on the cockpit sides cannot be confirmed but the use of the code letter under the nose was a common feature at the time. The quest for authenticity by The Spitfire Crew went as far as the gun patches where red doped patches of linen were used rather than the neatly taped bright red squares usual at the time.

AR501 flew again in the hands of Niel Williams on June 27, 1975 – a tribute to those who rebuilt her at Duxford and those airmen from Eastern Europe who fled their homeland and helped us in hour of need.

Reproduced from the May 1986 edition of Flypast with kind permission from the publishers, Key Publishing Ltd. www.flypast.com

.

.

Karel Stastny – PoW

.

The account of W/O Karel Šťastný, a pilot with 311 Sqn, as a Prisoner of War, by M. Vincent:

Almost from the outset, Karel’s crew was to become acquainted with anti-aircraft fire during bombing raids, but there was none that 18th night of July, 1941 as they droned high over the Netherlands, bound for Bremen. Without warning, the bomber was suddenly buffeted in a violent oscillation – triggered, it seemed, by an explosion under Karel’s seat. In immediate reaction, Karel strained to bring the ‘plane back on to a level course, until it became obvious that it could neither regain height nor be counteracted in its downward trend. The bomber’s erratic behaviour, combined with the flames now flaring into the fuselage behind, prompted Karel to make an urgent roll-call. The crew was intact, but the fire was spreading and a bomb-laden Wellington was no place to tarry, so Karel gave the command to bale out. Once the last of his crew had jumped, Karel struggled out of his seat and clambered in defiance of the ‘plane’s diving tilt towards the nearest means of exit. The bomb-aimer’s trap door, directly behind his seat, was already open and he hurtled through its flaming outline, braced to experience his first parachute descent. Instead of dropping like a stone, he was sharply jerked to a halt, almost hanged by the cables of his intercomm and oxygen mask, which he had forgotten to disconnect. There he dangled in the slip-stream, held fast by the taut flexes across his throat, already raw from breathing acrid smoke – while the heavy Wellington gathered momentum in its earthward plunge.

Summoning every last ounce of his might, he managed to lever himself back aboard, free the restraining cables and plummet once more out of the now spiralling inferno. Had not they been cruising at an altitude in excess of 18,000 feet, it is virtually certain that a lesser descent of the bomber would have taken Karel with it into the crash. Miraculously none of their number was seriously injured, but they held little hope of retaining their liberty, when their flaming ‘plane and its subsequent crash, was certain to have aroused German Occupation Forces into a thorough search for survivors.

One feature of the night’s dramatic events was clearly imprinted upon Karel’s mind: that there had been no flak, he was convinced. Experience had taught him that even a close miss was invariably accompanied by the noticeable. Instead, the explosion was within the ‘plane itself, directly under the Captain’s seat and Karel was never known to retract his conviction that it was the dastardly work of a saboteur.

PRISONER OF WAR

The blazing aircraft had most certainly alerted German troops and it was only a matter of hours until tracker dogs in the charge of armed soldiers, had located every crew-member. By truck, they were then taken to Germany – to Stalag Luft IIID at a place called Sagan.

Stalag Luft III, Sagan.

The huts were large ones with double bunks accommodating some 40 men. Conditions were harsh in the extreme. Food was appallingly inadequate, the German interpretation of a prisoner’s daily food allowance (within the terms of the Geneva Convention) amounting to a mere 1/12th of a loaf of bread (3 thin slices at most), 3 small potatoes and a bowl of soup. Even this scanty meal was further depleted, when, at the finish of their stored season, many of the potatoes were rendered quite inedible. Frequently and especially in hot weather, the so-called soup was rancid and could only be consumed when the nostrils were pinched together. The onset of winter lowered despondency to a new madir as their under-nourished bodies strived to ward off the bitter cold. Had it not been for the weekly distribution of Red Cross parcels, the sick-list would surely have reached greater proportions. These parcels sustained them in spirit as well as in body, providing a link with the outside world with a silent rally of hope that this limbo state would not last forever.

The parcels came, in turn, from three sources – Great Britain, Canada and the United States of America – portions being, not surprisingly, more liberal from the two North American countries than those out of strictly-rationed Britain. The contents averaged a small tin of butter, cheese, meat, powdered milk, and dried eggs, sardines, jellies, some chocolate and forty cigarettes. A certain meat loaf seemed, even to their deprived palates, overly lacking in a reasonable meat-content and gave rise to a joked threat that, after the war, they would unitedly seek out the supplier named on each tin and shoot him as an enemy agent.

It was soon after being taken prisoner that Karel decided to grow a beard and this image he was to maintain for the duration of his captivity, except for a few occasional and brief resorts to his razor. Even then, he retained the substantial moustache, without which, he never was seen thereafter.

Stalag Luft IIID expanded, with the erection of additional huts within its confines and new arrivals swelled the roll-calls. In mid-October 1942, a track brought in a batch, who had just been discharged from hospital care, among them, Zdeněk Sichrovský. If prisoners they must both be, then it was good that they were together, but Karel was distressed to see such change in his old friend and gradually to learn the details of the dreadful crash, which had almost cost Zdeněk both his limbs. His Wellington bomber had received a direct hit from anti-aircraft fire, after a raid on Bremen, killing his navigator and wireless operator outright and extensively burning the other crew members. Zdeněk himself had been catapulted heyond the ‘plane by the impact of the crash, thus escaping burns, but not severe injuries embracing 9 broken ribs, a in both legs. In hospital in Tibburg (Holland) the German doctors had, in fact, recommended amputation of both legs below the knee, but, encouraged by the experienced optimism of a Dutch nursing nun, he elected instead, for the long and painful treatment by surgery, plaster casts and traction. It had taken nine months to patch him up and the suffering endured was clearly evident as he painfully struggled for mastery of ambulation.

STALAGLUFT I – BARTH

Stalag Luft I, Barth.

Only a few days after Sichrovský’s arrival, the entire camp was transferred by cattle truck, to Stalag Luft I, sited at a place called Barth. It was a much smaller compound, with smq1 ler huts, each divided into three rooms. A room held three bunk beds, a w stove, a table and 2 benches as well as a cupboard in which, they stored the combined contents of their food parcels. They had discovered that it was advantageous to pool the food items and had nominated Sichrovsky their chef, he having proved himself the most competent cook amongst them, capable of serving some remarkably palatable snacks from even this, very limited, larder.

Zdeněk Sichrovský, on right, at Barth.

Another useful accomplishment, was Sichrovsky’s skill in watchrepairing. No doubt in consideration of his physical incapacity, permission was granted for him to receive two boxes of watch parts from the Red Cross in Geneva. Karel made a small lathe for him and they were in business.

Most of the prisoners engaged in some pursuit; some painted pictures saved up the foil wrapping within cigarette packets, smelted it down into a base metal and from this, all manner of objects were, with considerable artistry, created. Such was the wealth of talent in and support for, this particular craft, that an impressive exhibition was eventually staged, the array somewhat dominated by a grotesque death-mask of none other than Sichrovský.

This outward show of resignation to their plight, was a concealment of a further hive of industry, namely the assembly of contributions towards escape projects. German uniforms were duplicated, after painstaking unpicking of British ones, each piece then carefully pressed and re-fashioned, using the reverse side of the fabric, thus effecting a close resemblance to the material worn by a Deutsch soldier. Metal buttons were cast from plaster moulds. Papers were stolen, ‘borrowed’ or bartered and the temporary ‘loan’ of a typewriter allowed moulds of all type-face to be taken, for subsequent compilation into the rubber stamps, so imperative for authenticity in identity and travel documents.

ESCAPE 1

It was one matter to prepare for escapes but another to survive the manifold hazards which undoubtedly lurked in the alien territory beyond Camp. That much, Karel had, to his chagrin, learned when he made his first bid for freedom in the summer of 1942, out of Stalag Luft IIID.

Under cover of darkness, he and another prisoner had accomplished an undetected exit, after cutting their way through the double perimeter wire fences. Not until many miles separated them from the Camp did they slacken their pace, having navigated themselves to a predetermined Railway. Momentarily, they lay amid shrubbery on the embankment, to regain their breath and decide in which direction might lie the nearest signals, where a train might have cause to slow down. A goods train did just that and once hidden beneath the tarpaulin cover of a wagon, they allowed themselves a small measure of congratulatory elation that they had made it and were speeding in the direction of Czechoslovakia. Fate however, was to deal a capricious hand. After some time the train’s erratic shunting behaviour and a prolonged halt tempted Karel to risk a careful survey of their whereabouts and to his consternation, he saw that they had been shunted into the loading yard of what was surely, a German Munitions Factory. Here security was maximum – not only was the yard brightly illuminated beneath its blacked-out roof, but sectional walls were topped with barbed wire and amongst the small array of workers already unloading the train, he could discern numerous aimed guards. By comparison, escape from Stalag Luft IIID had ben relatively simple and there could be no unobserved retreat from this highly secure bulwark.

ESCAPE 2

The severity of a German winter, with its snows and extreme cold was a formidable deterrent to further escape speculation. Karel recognised only too well, the rigours of life on the run and the greatly reduced chances of success, in inclement weather conditions. In any case, he had to await spring to avail himself of the particular means by which he hoped to quit Barth Camp.

Among the inmates of Stalag Luft I was a percentage of civilian refugees of Russian extraction – non-combatants whom war had buffeted into a slave labour situation here at Barth, their days spent in wearisome agricultural toil whenever weather allowed, in return for one unappetising and barely sufficient meal, at the end of each day.

The opportunity of escape, by changing places with one of these refugees, was an obvious one, but fraught with the danger of recognition by a guard or even betrayal.. Karel waited and watched, before making his choice of a likely co-operator, meanwhile hoarding his own Red Cross parcels, to the sacrifice of any complementary meals. One morning in early summer, he hurriedly relinquished his bribe and donned the garb of a fieldworker, taking his place in their sullen ranks, tense and expectant that the ruse would fail. But it succeeded and from the open fields he edged gradually to the cover of nearby shrubbery and ultimate woods.

He deemed it imperative that he remain isolated from civilisation and essential, therefore that he travel only at night. In his present refugee clothing he lacked the protection afforded by his uniform should he be apprehended and could be shot as a spy. A second day passed in hiding, the hunger pangs which plagued him barely relieved by gnawing on a few raw potatoes gleaned from a field.

The stars guided his north-easterly route towards Czechoslovakia. Some fugitives from P.O.W. Camps opted for a route to Yugoslavia and many did, in fact, reach that country to fight again with the partisans. But Karel pressed steadfastly homewards, each 24 hours of freedom setting the seal on success. His diet remained raw vegetables, potatoes or turnips mostly, but drought conditions roused the more pressing torment of thirst. He would not permit himself to venture near farms where there might be water troughs or barrels – such places also had people and worse, vigilant dogs.

Into his third week of freedom he was crazed by thirst, until mercifully a ground mist formed one dawn and he lay on the moist grass greedily sucking the droplets of dew. As his panting gradually abated an unbelievable sound reached his ears the tantalising gurgling of water – and soon he was floundering in the shallow depths of a vastly evaporated river bed.

With his thirst satiated and aglow from the cold dousing, his spirits rose as he lay in a hiding place re-assessing his chances. It was his 17th day of freedom – surely he was rid of the pursuing search-parties which had undoubtedly been sent forth after him from Barth. His reckoning told him he might well be within one more night’s trail of the border. Surely thus refreshed and spurred by this anticipation he would cross into his homeland before another dawn. In this state of reassurance he discreetly spread his clothes to dry in the heat of the day while he drifted on into an oblivion interspersed with dreams of home-coming.

The sun was in its zenith when Karel was startled back to consciousness by the proximity of two dogs sniffing around him. Beyond them, with steady gait, the figure of a man approached, a broken shot-gun resting easily in the crook of his right arm. Karel scrambled to his feet, but the man made no move to cock his gun and was still very much in charge of the obedient hounds. As he questioned Karel, his accent revealed him to be a Czech. and an apparently innocent gamekeeper engaged on his daily patrol. Karel felt himself weakening with relief, yet could not dispel a nagging mistrust of the shelter offered and promise of subsequent assistance in a clandestine crossing of the border, which, as he had calculated, was but a few miles distant. How prudent was his instinct, for even before they cleared the spinny a dozen and more German soldiers ran to meet them and Karel realised that his discovery had actually taken place earlier, either as he slept on or perhaps he had been spotted as he bathed in the stream. It was just too’coincidental, to suppose that a truck-load of armed soldiers had been passing. Feelings of disappointment over this 11th-hour disintegration of all his endeavours and dejection at the prospect of further captivity, took time to develop in him. For the moment, his whole being was consumed by a loathsome contempt for the fellow-countryman who, so readily, had abused his trust and stooped to betrayal. Karel managed to convey his disgust for the traitor, before rough hands were laid upon him and brutal blows rained upon his face and head, from the riflebutts of his captors. Thus ended his 17-day liberty – further misery and deprivation awaiting him in a dark, lone cell back in Barth.

His prolonged absence had, understandably, encouraged an assumption of his success, among the inmates of Stalag Luft I. His re-appearance, after such an interval, therefore had a decidedly shattering effect on the few onlookers who witnessed his return. Not only did the revelation of his failure depress them, but they were deeply shocked to note the battered face that rendered him barely recognisable.

Four weeks in solitary confinement was the customary punishment for re-captured escapees. Karel knew only too well, from memories of Sagan, what was in store for him. It meant survival on the most meagre amount of swill to keep him vacillating on subsistence level and no more. And again, he found himself glad to gnaw on fragments of coal, in a vain attempt to stave off the gripes of overwhelming hunger – his sole comfort being the few crusts tossed through his window in sympathetic token, by a band,of prisoners led by Sichrovsky. But, with grit, he withstood this destitution and the long month ended at last.

Czechoslovak PoW's Stalag Luft I, Barth, 1945, Karel Šťastný middle row 2nd from left

A THIRD ESCAPE

Incredibly, Karel was not defeated by the two unsuccessful escapes, for indeed, failures they had not been, both beset by cruel and unexpected twists of fate.

He was determined to try again and preparations were put in hand. For months he hoarded and bartered chocolate bars, to fill the little attache case which was to be an essential accessory to the role he contrived, namely that of a civilian worker. It was getting on for winter, but he planned to travel by train as fax as possible, thus trusting that the somewhat shabby trousers, jacket, cap and scarf procured for him would suffice. Finally, the forged papers and a small amount of money were available and he was ready to go.

His secret plan was confined to the few friends whose assistance he needed to help smuggle his disguise to the Ablutions Block, where, after the other prisoners had showered and departed, Karel remained in hiding, to wait out the tense hours until darkness descended. He then made his way toward the double fences, carefully timing each spurt between the sweep of the searchlight, cut a small hole in each of the grills and gained cover of the scrub, some distance beyond. Momentarily he thought “so far so good” and permitted himself to wonder how long might his freedom last this time, before grimly pressing on into the night.

It seemed suddenly strange to walk along a proper tarmac road. He tried to adopt an air of nonchalance through the outskirts and into the town, which was now astir for the day’s business. He had breakfasted on some chocolate, which only served to confirm his fear that such a diet was going to prove monotonous, if not downright sickening. Still, this independent food supply obviated the risk involved in contact with shopkeepers, cafes and even the ubiquitous German Militia – nor did he have money to spend on ought but travel. As it was, his meagre resources would hardly get him far and he might well have to resort to less than honest tactics, to cover the considerable distance he intended. He would exercise maximum caution until he gauged the risks and he noted, with relief, that his guise did not seem to arouse any undue attention.

It was not his dress which gave him away, but a simple irregularity in his papers. From time to time, the German Authorities introduced additiinal or re-styled endorsement stamps to up-date passes, in an effort to tighten the net cast to catch deserters and other fugitives. Unfortunately, Barth’s Escape Committee had not been acquainted with the latest of these alterations and the discrepancy came to light when Karel chanced to be selected by a Railway Policeman during a random document inspection. It was at the barrier as an anxious crowd jostled to pass through to the waiting train. A foul stroke of luck it was for him to be one of those waylaid, just as it was a crushing blow to be thus intercepted in Sudetenland so close to Czechoslovakia and safety.

Examination of his attache case only condemned him further and he was transferred into Civil Police custody, incarcerated in a cell beneath the Police Station, for several days while they verified his true identity. During this detention the only food he received was bitter, raw, salt fish while all liquids were denied.

From this private hell, he was almost glad to withdraw to a top-security Prison Camp – in reputation, second only to the infamous Colditz, there to know a third term of the obscene injustices of solitary confinement.

DISBANDMENT

A new year dawned, bringing with it an abundance of rumours for the prisoners’ speculation. News filtered into the Camp of successive Allied victories and the increasing certainty that Germany was on the brink of defeat. It was 1945 and a March morning brought dramatic confirmation of these stories, when the entire Camp seemed to erupt in a fever of activity. Since daybreak lorries had been trundling out of the gates and soon the prisoners were urgently aligned and marched out, under escort, soon to overtake streams of fleeing civilians. Everyone-and everything moved in an easterly direction – the rout was on.

As far as the eye could see the road ahead was clogged, but gradually the Army lorries hooted a passage through, taking all food supplies with them. Many of the prisoners were already under-nourished and weakening visibly under the demands of such unrelenting physical exertion, without sustenance. Hunger pangs attacked Karel too but he was not slow to recognise a potential meal when a cat happened along. Without hesitation he wrung its neck, skinned and dressed it, to provide a meal when a cat happened along. Without hesitation he wrung its neck, skinned and dressed it, to provide a meal surely to be tolerated by none but the utterly desperate.

Fitful sleep was snatched by the roadside and another daybreak saw so many automatons force themselves into a reluctant resumption of the gruelling trek.

Mid-morning brought an unexpected jolt from their torpid nightmare, when, out of the sky behind them roared a singlefile formation of fighter ‘planes, each in turn, swooping low over the straggling column and strafing its length – the machinegun fire scattering the dazed pedestrians into the ditches on either side. When Karel sensed their passing he raised his head and clearly saw the insignia on the last ‘plane – ironically the star of the United States Air Force. Threat, though these undoubtedly brought, their presence was nonetheless reassuring, for it promised the close proximity of Allied Forces. And rescue was indeed at hand, when, soon after American ground forces caught up and took them into welcome care.

The end of hostilities in Europe did not take place for a further 7 weeks, but for Karel, the war ended that April day. He underwent several postings; from a Prisoner Release Centre he moved on, in mid-May to a Czech. Depot; two months later, he joined a Group Pool and finally from R.A.F. Station Manston, in Kent, England he took his farewell of the Royal Air Force under repatriation to Czechoslovakia, just two days before Japan capitulated.

.

.

Karel Bednarik

.

.

.

.

Karel Bednařík

.

.

* 19 December 1920

† 26 February 2011

.

.

.

.

.

Karel Bednařík was born on 19 December 1920, in Holešov in the Moravian region of Czechoslovakia. In 1934, after completing his eight years of compulsory schooling, he left school and trained to be a tinsmith. He then went to work at a armament factory in Továtna. Following the ‘Munich Agreement’, the Germans occupied Czechoslovakia on 15 March 1939. Very shortly after the armament factory reduced its production and Karel was made redundant. He was now 18½ and had no wish to be a burden to his family so when in April, some older friends suggested that he joins them and go to Germany to work he took the opportunity.

They worked in East Prussia and on 25 July returned home, by train, for a holiday. The train journey from East Prussia to Moravia involved travelling through the Polish Corridor – a strip of Polish land between East Prussia and Germany. Relationships between Poland and Germany were by now already strained and the Germans would not permit any of the passengers to leave the train when the locomotives were changed for the crossing East Prussia into Poland and again when they left Poland to cross back into Germany. The Polish authorities however were less vigilant and as they were leaving Poland, Karel and his companions, noticed a Czech worker climb out of the train and stay on the Polish side of the border. This action inspired Karel and his friends to do the same themselves and between themselves they agreed that on their return journey to East Prussia they would also leave the train and remain in Poland.

On 4 August 1939, at the end of his holiday, Karel said goodbye to his parents and departed with his companions by train back to East Prussia. At Czew station, where the train crossed into Poland they got off the train and made their way to Crakow.

Czechoslovak escapers at Czew, August 1939,
Karel Bednařík kneeling first right

Here they reported to the Czechoslovak military legation who transferred them to Maly Bronowice, where escapees from Czechoslovakia where being assembled to form military units. Due to indifference from the Polish authorities about using these Czechoslovaks in their own military units, arrangements where made, with the French Government, to transfer the Czechoslovaks to France. French law did not allow for foreign nationals to serve in its own armed forces, the agreement was that these Czechoslovaks would have to enlist, for a five year period, in the French Foreign Legion. If and when war broke out they would be transferred back to French units. Karel’s group sailed on 19 August from Gdynia and 3 days later they disembarked in Calais, France.

They were then transported to barracks in Lille, where following a basic medical examination, they signed to join the Foreign Legion, and were sent to Fort Saint Jean, Marseilles to await transportation to Algeria. Whilst on their arrival in France, they were greeted with a large feast, they were always made to feel ‘inferior’ by the French authorities. They were next transported to Oran, Algeria from where they were taken by train to the notorious Legions training camp at Sidi Bel Arbes.

On arrival here they were overjoyed, when catching up on the news, that war had been declared which meant that would be serving in French military units instead of the Foreign Legion. The Czechoslovaks were dispatched back to France to join French military units. In Karel’s case he reported to Agde, which was an assembly camp for the Czechoslovak military personnel. Despite France now being at war with Germany, Karel was disappointed that the French attitude towards the Czechoslovaks had not changed.

At Agde he was initially assigned to the 3 Company, 1st Infantry Regiment and shortly after transferred to 1 Company 1st Infantry regiment. On 16 November Karel requested a transfer to a communications course, he successfully completed the course on 25 January 1940. He was promoted to the rank of Corporal and posted to the 2nd Infantry Regiment as a signalman.

Karel Bednařík, France Spring 1940.

In May 1940, due to the rapid advance of the German forces, the French sent more re-enforcements to the front line. Before Karel’s unit was sent to join the re-enforcements, Karel was transferred to the 4th company of the 2nd Batallion and the unit was sent to defend the left bank of the river Marne at the beginning of June 1940. When the unit arrived at its position on the Marne each soldier was given 8 rounds and ordered to defend the position. With an overwhelming German force attacking and no realistic means of defending, the inevitable retreat followed and the unit was forced to withdraw and they retreated to the southern French port of Sète. France capitulated and the new Vichy Government had pledged to and over all Czechoslovak troops to the Germans. Under those conditions it would have effectively been passing a death sentence to those Czechoslovaks.

Before this could happen, Britain and the Free French managed to organise ships to evacuate the Czechoslovaks and have them transported to England via Gibralter. In Karel’s case, his unit was evacuated on the Egyptian ship ‘Rod el Farag‘ on 28 July 1940 and 2 weeks later the ship reached Liverpool. From there, the Czechoslovak troops were transferred to Cholmodeley Park at Chester where they where initially based whilst new Czechoslovak units were formed within the British military forces. Karel always had had an interest in aircraft and when there was a call for volunteers to join the RAF he quickly applied. His application was accepted and he joined the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve as a trainee wireless operator.

In Spring 1941 he had succefully completed a course as a air gunner and because he had achieved high results in night vision tests he was selected for night fighters. On 14 May he was posted to 96 Sqn., a night fighter squadron based at RAF Cranage, at Middlewich, Cheshire, flying Boulton Paul Defiant’s Mk 1. Here he crewed up with another Czech, Sgt František Chábera who was to be his pilot. During this period they had a unconfirmed ‘kill’ of a He 111.

Karel Bednařík, England 1941.

In September 1941, the two were transferred to the newly formed Czechoslovak Flight in 68 Sqn., a nightfighter squadron, bassed at High Ercall, Shropshire, flying Bristol Beaufighter Mk IF’s. In the Sumer of 1942, Chábera’s tour of duty finished, Karel’s new pilot was Jan Šerhant. Karel’s own operationial tour of duty finished in February 1943., he had flown 386 hrs 55 m during this tour. He was promoted to the rank of Warrant Officer and, following some leave, was posted to RAF Unsworth for training as a as a navigatior/radar operator instructor. He successfully completed this training and was posted to the OTU at Winfield and later at Charter Hall.

In October 1943, Karel started a new operation tour and was posted to RAF Cranfield where he joined his new pilot P/O Miroslav Štandera, also a Czech. They rejoined 68 Sqn on 1 March 1944 now based at Fairwood Common, South Wales, and flying Bristol Beaufighter VIf’s, They had an ominous start to this tour with two crash landings within a few days of each other. The first was on 18 April after the start of a night flight in V8740 (WM-Z). Just after take-off, at an altitude of only 6 mtrs, the starboard engine failed and they made a belly landing in a clearing about 1km away from the airfield. Neither of the crew were injured in the crash.

A few days later, on 27 April, during take-off in V8592 (WM-E) at 17:05 for a test flight, a tyre burst. They had to spend the next 80 minutes circling the airfield until the last of the day fighters had returned from a sweep over northern France. Štandera then made a belly landing at the airfield and again both crew escaped uninjured.

68 Sqn was actively flying sorties in support of the D-Day landings on 6 June 1944. In July 1944 the Squadron retrained to use the de-Havilland Mosquito. They now undertook a new role of trying to destroy the new threat of V1 missiles before they hit their targets in London. Due to the rapid Allied advance in Europe, the requirements for night fighter squadrons over England declined. On 20 April 1945 68 Sqn. was disbanded and on 2 May, Karel, now a Sergeant, was posted to the Czechoslovak Depot at RAF Cosford.

Karel returned to his homeland in August 1945 aboard a Liberator bomber from 311 Sqn. Initially he remained with the new Czechoslovak Air Force. On 1 January 1946 he was promoted to the rank of lieutenant but he chose to be demobilised which happened on 13 March 1946. He returned to his native Holešov and was employed as the manager of a cinema. He had a good job and was planning to get married.

His plans were dramatically changed following the Communist coup of February 1948. On 27 February 1948, the President of the Workers Union came to Karel at the cinema and told him that this was his last day of work at the cinema. About an hour later the President returned and said that he would be permitted to continue working until his replacement had been trained. Bednařík refused and immediately left his job. He quickly got himself a job as a sales representative for a local textile company. Bednařík realized that under the new regime there was little chance for those who had fought in the West, for the liberation of their homeland, and decided to go into exile again.

On 15 March he was in Prague and visited his friend Josef Machek, together they discussed the possibilities of escaping to the West and started to make their escape plan. Machek then travelled to Aš, a town near Chleb, Czechoslovakia which was close to the German border. His inquiries there found that there were possibilities to covertly cross the border to Germany.

Machek returned to Prague and Karel and he decided that they would try to cross the border on 25th March 1948 and invited a 3 close friends to join them. Karel married his fiance Anděla Hajniková on 23rd March 1948 and the following day the seven members of the escape group – Karel with his wife, Machek with his wife Vlasta, Miloslav Kratochvíl, ex-310 Sqn Pilot with his Jaroslav and Fr. Vojtěch Rygal – travelled to Aš. On arrival there, they contacted the man who was due to help them cross the border. He advised them that he had been tipped off that he was due to be arrested by the StB for facilitating illegal border crossings to the West and that they would be better to cross the border on their own.

They then approached the Chairman of the local Sokol group for help. He suggested they contact two German women but unbeknown to the escape group the two women were working for the StB. The escape group, led by two women, left that night and started to make their way towards the border but were led into a trap where the StB were waiting. Initially Karek and Anděla managed to hide in a hedge to avoid capture, but the StB men knew that seven people were in the escape group an searched till they found them in hiding. All the escape group had been arrested. Bednarik spent the next three months in jail in Aš and Chleb, the jail was overcrowded with twenty people being held in a cell meant for only four prisoners. Anděla was held in jail for a month. Fortunately for them, Klement Gottwald, the newly elected Communist President of Czechoslovakia, announced an amnesty for some political prisoners, and Karel was released in June 1948. However he was still kept under investigation by the StB and he was reduced to the rank of Private in a Engineering Regiment. He was only permitted to do menial work whilst Anděla found she was ‘unemployable’.

In the Spring of 1951, Karel was summoned to Court charged with ‘anti-state activities’ and the judges were intent on passing a severe sentence on him. In the trial the prosecutor conceded that the claimed law breaking activities by Karel had not been proven and he was sentenced to prison for the period he had already spent in detention at the time of his arrest in 1948. He was however ordered to work in the mines but because he was suffering from chronical bronchil inflammation the mines Doctor would not even permit working in a surface mine. Instead he worked at Stavomontáže a contruction company in Zlín. The authorities also tried to pressurise him into renouncing his RAF decorations but he refused and retained these medals.

At the beginning of 1963. Karel was visited at home by a stranger who identified himself as a member of the StB. He was ordered to get dressed and go with him to be questioned. During the interrogation they wanted to know why he went to England in 1939, the names of people who he was in contact with in the ‘Society of Friends of Great Britain and the USA’ (a post WW2 society in Prague comprising manly of Czechoslovaks who had served in the West during the war). Karel named three known Communists to which one of the StB men said “We know that you don’t like Communists” to which Karel replied: “Why should I not like Communists, I like all decent people.”

They then tried to pressurise Karel to become a StB informer saying that “People know you and have confidence in you.” Karel refused saying that “I would make an awful informer, I move amongst the ordinary people and I could not have it on my conscience that someone would imprisoned because of a silly joke.”

Karel was released but expected this incident to have dire consequences for him, but instead he remained just like all the others who were disliked by the Communists following the February 1948 ‘putsch’, he lived on the edge of the society, with miserable salary, kept under constant StB surveillance and in isolation from the other RAF members.

Following the ‘Velvet Revolution’ in 1989, he along with his former Czech RAF colleagues were Politically Rehabilitated on 13 September 1991 in Prague. Karel was promotd to the rank of Colonel (retd.) in the Czechoslovak Air Force.

He died in his native Holešov on 26 February 2011, aged 91.

.

The assistance of Milan Votava with this article is very much appreciated.

.

Article last updated 8 September 2011

.

.