Diaries from a crypt
the jump: a capsule and the last bullet. They could not be caught. They could not be taken alive at any cost. Except that meant suicide, and suicide was a sin. A deadly sin. Valčík tried to be a good soldier and a good Catholic, but it wasn’t easy. He sometimes wondered what hell was like. He had asked himself that even as a little boy. All he knew was that it was definitely horrible. And yet, here he was, walking a thin line, and hell was so close. Should he hold a gun to his head and protect his fellow fighters, the resistance and his family? He spoke to the priest for hours. It was more of a discussion than a confession. ‘Son, trust in God. Trust that he trusts in you, and that you are doing the right thing for your country. Fighting evil is not always easy. He understands you, whatever you do. But as long as you have the opportunity to fight, then fight. When the time comes, you will know what to do. Without hesitation. You would never take your own life because you wanted to end it. You want to live, Josef, and that is right. If you die at your own hands, it will be because you want to protect others.’ Valčík didn´t stay at home. It wasn’t for the first time. Neither had he in May, when he last traveled from Prague and back. He didn’t even reach for his gun. In the train, he read a pocket novel he had borrowed from Jenda – he hadn’t even had time to ask permission. On the last page was the address of some girl – Marie Žilanová. Pilsen. He frowned, and then laughed. Yes, that was the pretty girl who had helped them light a fire in April, when the Allies were bombing the arms factory. She was a real fighter, young, cheerful and unrestrained. It’s true; she had a lot in common with Jenda. 99
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Jana R. Hlavsová
‘Kubiš! You’ll go mad one day, with all those Maries,’ thought Valčík, shaking his head. He was in a good mood. He was calm, and that calm would stay with him. He felt it that very day, returning from his visit to the Moravec family. Heydrich would soon be transferred to Berlin for his big Nazi funeral. He was gone, and the very thought warmed Valčík as much as the evening sun. Jaroš cut himself a slice of salami and returned to the box he kept his dismantled weapons in: a Colt Pocket Hammerless 1903 and a Browning pistol. Cleaning his weapon soothed him. He was not alone; everyone did the same. The best way to prevent a malfunction was good maintenance. The main reason they did it was to stave off boredom, though. ‘We had so much more to play with in the container we lost, but…’ Jaroš restrained himself. He didn’t like to whine. Jožka waited a few moments for him to finish his sentence, but when nothing came, he smiled. He saw that Jaroš didn’t want to complain, even though it would have made for a good story. Quiet, respectful, conscientious Jaroš. Even if he hadn’t exactly been shy and retiring at the patisserie: the ladies (young and old) had gone wild over his cream puffs and schaumrollen, served with a smile. They threw themselves at him – good and sweet Czechoslvakian girls, the best in the whole world. Jožka wrapped up something to eat. His gun, sparklingly clean and ready for any nasty surprises, was in his pocket. He watched Jaroš painstakingly polish his gun for a moment or two. The First Lieutenant Hrubec would have melted at the sight. He would have been proud of all of them. 100
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Diaries from a crypt
‘Tell us tomorrow,’ said Jožka, patting Jaroš on the back and heading over to the ladder. He and Jenda had won the choir watch the day before. Opálka went with them. Jaroš wasn’t quite sure what Jenda meant by that, but he let it go. He was glad it wouldn’t look like he was whinging. He didn’t like whinging; people should get by with what they have and what life brings. No special favours or scrounging. Just honest work. He finished polishing his gun and tidied up after himself. He slipped away to use the bucket, then joined in the game of cards. As he fell asleep, he reflected on their parachute jump at the end of April. It hadn’t gone to plan, not at all. Before he could dwell on that fact too long, however, he fell asleep. Tomorrow was another day.
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