Anton Chvatal's Story
Every one of us elders who crossed the age of 70 years of our lives has many memories of the times gone by, from our youth to the time when one is already bending toward the west and is not far from the time when he will travel from where there is no more return.
I know that there are still many who had truly difficult beginnings, especially whose who had not money and claimed a forested homestead from which they had to get their daily bread with very difficult labor. Such were two families from the old homeland, just arrived, who upon arrival to this country bought land in the Minnesota forests.
I would like to write my memoirs for my readers and I hope that I will be successful even if my facts will be helter-skelter. All that I will write will not be anything fabricated but it will be pure truth, from my best memories. All what follows will be from the time back that my memory reaches and from the time when, as a small boy, I started to remember these things.
I was born in the village of Podesin, at the Czech-Moravian Highlands. It was about 15 minutes on foot to reach the border of our brotherly Moravia. Many times I crossed the border between Bohemia and Moravia. We often went to the villages Rudolec, Bohdalov, Veseli, Zdar - there we often took cattle to the markets, also Jihlava and other villages and small towns. Who would not know the Czech-Moravian Highlands? From there, around Zdar Vlasta Javoricka Pitnerova wrote many beautiful stories and novels for our newspaper. The landscape is really beautiful to look at but the small fields bring mostly poor crops. Rye, oats, barley, but most of all we would plant potatoes. In the fall, when we harvested them, we immediately would take them to the starch manufacturing plant where they were processed into pure alcohol; and the farmer put into his cellar only so many to last his family over the winter and to have enough for the spring planting. From our place we took the potatoes to Nizkov where there was a starch manufacturing plant. Nizkov was a place where we went to church, about half hour on foot. The people there were hardworking and pious and everybody took good care of his little p1ot.
As a small boy I went there many times to a pilgrimage. We went with a procession. We went to St. Anna's at Frantal, to Obyctov, to Kremesnik dedicated to the Holy Trinity. Several of us boys always carried a banner in front of the procession. We suffered all day long and then they took a collection for us and then each of us got roughly five or six kretuzers. These religious processions were really beautiful. Our closest town was Polna, about 2 hours on foot. Msgr. Edward Kasal who is now in Owatonna, Minnesota, comes from there. Later I often went there to take grain to the market.
The reader will perhaps remember that Polna was the birthplace of the Jew Hilsner who murdered Anezka Hnszova from town on her way home, and that Tomas Masarylq the future president of the Czechoslovak Republic, was his defense attorney at the court. Anezka Hruzova was a seamstress apprentice in Polna. She stayed always a whole week in Polna but on Saturdays she always went home. And this Jew Hilsner knew that Anezka always on Saturday walks home about half an hour on foot, and so he waited for her on the way. What happened next is not known but he killed her and hid the body in a small forest. People would see him walk in that direction often and so they started to suspect him. Anezka did not come home and so the next day there was a big commotion and a great crowd went to look for her. They found her murdered and her body hidden in the forest. There were many Jews in Polna, and after what happened there was probably a big uprising. But I was already here in America.
And now I must go back and start with what I remember as a small boy. As I have already written, I was born in the village Podesin, March 27, 1880, it was just before Easter. Our village comprised of 58 numbers. My dear deceased parents owned a smaller farm, perhaps 70 acres of pastures and fields. When I was six, I started school. At that time I already had the duty to attend to the geese, to take them to a pasture daily, before I went to school every morning, and before nine o'clock when the geese were full, I had to drive them home. And at 9 o'clock I had to be in school.
I had a little of potato soup or "kyselo," a type of simple soup made of sourdough starter for breakfast and I hurried to school. And when I came back from school, the geese were already waiting for me in the yard, there was a clamor. Mother gave me a slice of black bread and again I took the geese to the pasture. And that went on or two or three years.
Then I advanced and instead of geese, I was taking cattle to the pasture, and the geese were minded by my younger brother Alois. It was not an easy work to herd cattle, there were no fences anywhere to keep the 10 or 12 heads of cattle together; the pasture was bad, the cattle had nothing to chew on, and when the weather got warm, the animals started to run in all directions, the flies were biting them - it was a lot of hardship. Sometimes it rained in the morning and I had to drive the cattle to pasture early so that they would eat enough but often I brought the animals home hungry. I remember once, it was already beginning to get cold, I was starting to drive the cattle barefoot, and so I made a hole in the manure pile and put my feet there to warm them. Warm steam was coming out of that manure pile.
And so, between the school and the cattle I reached 14 years. The school was in our village but instruction was of all sorts. I learned to read and to write well but I struggled in geography and history. I do remember that the teacher praised me a few times in front of the other pupils in arithmetic. When I reached 14 years, I was done with school. At that time I already knew how to plough and how to get everything ready for sowing.
I have to mention that there we were 9 brothers, all healthy boys, but no sisters. The worst thing was that we all slept in one room in three beds: Father and Mother slept in one bed and we boys could not fit into the two other beds. Father made some sort of box that could slide under the bed. During the day it was pushed under the bed, and in the evening Mother pulled the box out, put on the bedding, and we slept well. I remember that when I was supposed to get up early in the morning I did not feel like it. Father came, pulled me out from the bed, stood my on my feet, and up you go, Father went to let the cattle out and Thonda, perhaps even crying, went after them.
And so it continued. My brothers and I helped with the farm till the year 1895 began. I was 15 years old. That year before Christmas, my uncle - my mother's brother - and Vaclav Chalupnik, father of Vaclav Chalupnik who is now in Verdegre, Nebraska, decided to sell their farms - they both had families and that they will go to America.
Both of them had rather nice farms in our village, and so in 1884 had sold out everything before Christmas. People knew that they were getting ready to go America but the departure date was kept secret. Until that time nobody from our village had gone to America. At that time I was 15 years old. The uncle asked my parents to let me go with him and I myself agreed. My uncle's name was Anton Rosecky. At that time he had three children, I was the fourth one. Also a sister of Mrs. Rosecky went with us. She later got married in Beroun, Minnesota, to one Vondracek.
They had a farm about 4 or 5 miles from Beroun, to the south and west. They had several children whom I do not know but both their parents are dead now. I don't know where the children are. So there were 7 of us. The family of Vaclav Chalupnik had, I believe, 5 children. Vaclav Chalupnik who is now in Verdegre, Nebraska, was the oldest of the children. They were also a family of seven. During the time before our departure, my uncle and Mr. Chalupnik were receiving from America various little booklets with information about where and what kind of sections of land are for sale. We received a booklet from some agent in St. Paul, Minnesota. His name was Skluzacek; I think I can even remember him. And so they wrote to him and he wrote back and they exchanged several letters. He was just selling lots for some company in Minnesota and a settlement was just being established. It was Beroun, near Pine City, about 6 miles to the north. Therefore they agreed that they would go to him, and then that they will buy some land.
My uncle and Mr. Chalupnik agreed that the two of them and me with them will start out one day earlier and the women and children will start three days later. Everything was packed, everything was ready and every child who was able had to carry something needed for the journey. Trunks with bedding and clothing had been sent earlier, and so everything was ready, and the three of us in the evening of February 2od, 1895, got into a buggy and my brother drove the horses to the railroad station Polna - Stoky, at least 3 hours away. We had agreed to wait for them, for the families in Leipng. Both my uncle and Mr. Chalupnik were subject to the military draft, and so they thought that in case they would be sent back from the border they would join their families at home. But everything turned out well. We came to Leipzig in Germany and waited there for the families. The rest of the families came also without any problems, and so now, all together, we set out on our journey to Bremen, Germany. We were like when the procession was going to a fair pilgrimage. But more likely we looked like Gypsies.
In Bremen after about two days everything was ready for the voyage across the sea. Our hunks wore waiting for us and so we got into a carriage again and went to the harbor. Every one of us who crossed the water probably knows what one has to go through before he boards a ship.
And so finally we boarded and went toward the new-to-us world. It was a postal ship, and an older one, and it took 15 days to get to New York. In New York * I forgot to mention that before we got on the ship, we were all immunized - in New York after we went through ail the official steps we were taken to a hotel. There was a man who was already waiting for us and the next day we were on the way to Chicago. In Chicago they again took us to a hotel, and again in 2 or 3 days we were going by train St. Paul, Minnesota. After we arrived at the railroad station in St. Paul, they took us again to a hotel not far from the railroad station. We had time to rest. Mr. Chalupnik and my uncle had the address for Mr. Skluzacek, so they called him on the telephone to come to get us.
He was just at home and so the next day he came. Both families decided that for the time being they will rent a house and will travel around and look at some lots of land. Because exactly during this year the town Beroun was being platted, we went with the agent about 60 miles from St. Paul to Pine City, and Beroun. It is a fact that he lots had been covered with forest but at that time, after a big fire, the lots did not look great.
About half a mile from Beroun, there was a lot of 160 acres for sale. That must have been the best piece of land they had seen. So they agreed to buy it and split it into two, B0 acres for each family. The sale was completed and it was agreed that the families will stay in St. Paul and we, my uncle, Chalupnik and I, will to Beroun and start building, and in about a
month the families were to follow us. At that time there was plenty of timber for construction.
And so one day in February 1895 I found myself in Beroun, Minnesota. Beroun, my God, this is where my suffering starts. This is where the life struggle for a chunk of bread begins for me. Before I go on I will mention briefly that today's' refugees who had suffered in camps in Germany and elsewhere, don't have any notion about what the earlier immigrants had to suffer during their early years, and nobody expected any help from anywhere.
It was at the beginning of February when we got on the train in St. Paul to go to Beroun to prepare some living quarters for the families. About an hour and a half later, the conductor calls out "Beroun," and I immediately jumped up and wanted to see our new home. The train came to a stop, spilled us along the tracks, and moves on. The three of us stayed alone. Across the road were two houses and that was the entire Beroun, in all its glory. In one house lived a certain Moravian named Schiller, and the other was supposed to be some sort of a hotel. We went to the hotel and booked lodging, room and board, for about a month till we put up something and the families will be able to join us. And so our construction labor began.
I remember that during that time all Czech newspapers had announcements that a Czech settlement named Beroun is being started in Minnesota. Continuously, every day, someone would come to examine a lot. Right at that time when we wanted to start building, a man from Nebraska - I don't know from where - arrived, his name was Klein - I don't remember his first name. He came with his wife; his son was a little bigger, perhaps l2 years old, his name was Ladicek, and two smaller girls, twins. This Klein was a carpenter. It was convenient for us and for him and so he started building for us. We were helping with the construction as much as possible. He had nowhere to go and so when we already had something built, he stayed with us all summer. And so when we had a roof on our house, the families came from St. Paul to join us.
It was about the middle of April. We built a horse barn, and my uncle bought a team of horses and a cow. The spring was beginning and it was necessary to start clearing the land so that at least a few potatoes could be planted. Everyone who went through this, the old groundbreakers, knew well how difficult this work is. To clear the stumps, cut them with an ax and a saw to shorter pieces, throw them into piles and then burn. It must be said that the large and strong trees, pines mostly, had already been harvested by a lumber company and milled into boards for construction.
And so this heavy labor started for me, a fifteen-year old kid. I had to work hard day after day, and also in the evening because in the evening what was in the piles had to be burnt. There were many piles and so we walked around all the time and kept adjusting the fire so that most of it would bum down. I worked for my uncle because my parents gave him the authority over me.
The landscape behind Beroun was rather poor because only recently a huge fire passed through here and burnt all the top soil, all the nourishment. Many people farther south were burnt out.
That year was very sad for me and many times, when nobody saw me, I had a little cry. I had no friends; there was no one nearby except the family of Jan Chalupnik. Vaclav Chalupnik, who is now in Verdegre, Nebraska, was about 5 years younger than I. He was the oldest child in his family. As I have already written, there were two houses, and that was the whole Beroun! To the west side was the railroad and opposite, en the other side,
the land belonged to some bachelor, perhaps a Frenchman. It was a well situated land, perhaps 160 acres. At that time many buyers came to examine the land. A buyer cams supposedly from New Prague, Minnesota, Josef Chalupsky, and bought the land from the bachelor. He built a house and next to it a grocery store and the railroad company asked him to sell its lots.
They had a large family, perhaps 8 children. And so that year I worked and did not know anything else besides clearing the land. Only when it was necessary, I was sent to buy something at the Chalupsky store but I never made any friends. I only knew that they have in their family several adult sons and a daughter. If I went there to buy something, they always thought that I was the son of my uncle. And it happened later that I stopped by on a Sunday; there were the boys - Jan, the oldest daughter Marie, then Vojtech, Josef, Frank, and several small girls and we talked as boys do. I had a letter in my pocket which I got from my parents in Bohemia and somehow I told then that I received a letter from my parents. That was a surprise! They thought of me as the son of my uncle. Then Mr. Chalupsky came and the Mrs. and everybody was so surprised. Then I became friends with them.
As I found later, Mr. Chalupsky was a very good man and to this day I remember him with respect. Their son Josef was about my age. So after the daily hard labor I had a place to go to on Sunday. And so the summer passed and the winter came, rather brutal one such as they often are in Minnesota. It would be even 30 below zero and I had to go everyday to the woods to haul wood. We were cutting cord wood for sale. We drove it to the railroad and when we had about 25 cords, they loaded it and sent it to St. Paul. Soft wood was $1.00, sometimes less or more. Hard wood was $1.25 - $1.50 but it was hard work. I was not dressed sufficiently in the winter, and footwear was bad - I had only rags and bags tied on my feet. Even in the woods my feet were cold and I cried from cold. The house was not finished and it was cold. I used to sleep upstairs and did not dare to stick my head out from under the down comforter.
I was working for my uncle but I did not even know what American money looked like. The money we made from the wood we paid toward the credit in the store. There was no more money and nowhere any possibility to earn more. In the winter I went to snare rabbits. They had such nice paths through the short brush. I had several snares and every other morning I took with me a sack to my work in the woods and before I started working, I made my rounds around all the snares and I always caught a few rabbits.
There used to be many wolves and elk there. My uncle and Chalupnik would go to a blind to wait for an elk. Chalupnik was a fanatical smoker, lit his pipe and smoked and they never brought home anything. The first autumn I would have liked to go hunting rabbits. My uncle was not at home, so I took the rifle and went to the woods. This was the first time I held a rifle in my hand. The rabbits were running around, I wounded one and he was sitting still but every time I tried to catch him and reached my hands after him, he moved away from me a little bit. That happened several times and when I came closer to him again I wanted to hold him down with the rifle but as I pressed down on it, I broke the butt. I had two pieces. My uncle had it brought from Bohemia; it was a very nice rifle. So Thonda quickly ran home, stuck the two pieces together and stood the rifle in the usual place. So the uncle never knew it. Only a few years later I told him.
And so the whole year 1895 passed, and we started writing 1896. I continued working for my uncle but I looked around and learned more. Harvest came and I was told that many people go to the Dakota for harvest and earn good money. During the year 1896, many new settlers came, some bought lands and others came.
During the spring, a large family came with about 9 children, the Broz family. I became friends with their son Josef and we decided to go together to the harvest in North Dakota. It was something new for me; we made the arrangements and when the harvest was supposed to start, we went. I don't remember much any more, only that we stopped at Breken and Wahpeton and then continued.
I don't remember anymore the name of the small town where a farmer, a German, hired us for a few days to build shocks of wheat. Never before have I seen such enormous expanses of wheat fields as he had. At that time, the cutting was done with horses. When we finished, he had his own threshing machine and was going to start threshing later. So we went on - and I remember this well - the town was Casselton, there a man hired us to work on the threshing machine and we went with him from one farm to another and threshed ti1l late autumn. My work was to toss the sheaves into the rack wagon. After the threshing season, we went again by train, without much thought, till it stopped in the town of Hinckley, about 8 miles from Beroun.
Then we went on foot to Beroun and I went back to my uncle. With the money I had earned I bought some clothing for myself and the rest I gave to my uncle. Then the heavy work in the woods started again.
The year 1896 passed and 1897 began. One day I came to the Chalupsky store, and Mr. Chalupsky came and asked if I would want to work for him for the whole year. He would give me $150. Also, he says, "I have a nice 160 acre piece of land for sale, you can choose 80 acres, whichever lot you want, and you can may payments on the land. I see that you are sedulous and this way you will save yow money." And so I started working.
As I have written, the family of Joe Chalupsky came from New Prague, Minnesota. It was a very kind family. At that time Chalupsky owned already some 1,240 acres there, so there was more than enough work. Not to forget, a new railroad depot was built, and also, on Chalupsky's land, a small church on logs.
A priest from Pine City would travel there; if I remember correctly, it was Father Rabsteinek. He came only once or twice a month. In the winter I always fired the stove but the chimney pipe went through the side wall instead of the roof, and it so happened that the fire in the stove did not want to burn and the church was filled with smoke. It depended on the wind. And so we already had our own little church but nothing in it.
And again many people came, bought land rand settled. Of course many people did not like it here. Mr. Chalupsky was an agent now and so I had a good opportunity to meet new settlers, to learn their last names and places where they settled.
Jan Sebesta came from somewhere near Montgomery, Minnesota, and bought the grocery store from the Chalupskys, and Chalupsky built a new house for himself. I remember that at that time Joseph Chalupsky was the chairman of the First Central Union. I think that he was also the Central Administrator of the Catholic Worker.
And so I worked there for one year and bought 80 acres about 2-3 miles from Beroun and I put down the first payment. It was a nice 80 acre plot, it had enough wood but also enough stumps, and the big trees were already cut and taken by loggers to the sawmill. I finished my agreement to work for that year. Mrs. Chalupsky asked me many times to stay and continue working for them but I did not accept, it was a very hard work. Then for some time I helped again my uncle.
It was already 1898. I was again ready to go to the harvest to earn some money. Two brothers Motycka had settled here, they were from Olivia, Minnesota, and so I went with one of them to the harvest in Olivia. There I worked for a man named Harazim, he was renting a farm. When I finished there, one Gerhart hired me, several miles from Olivia, but he did not have much land and therefore after about a week I left.
I started to work there for Gerhart. They had a small house. The farmer had with him his elderly mother. That granny always cooked and used straw for the fire. She would bring an armful of straw into the house, sit down by the stove and push the straw into the stove to keep the fire going. There were no screen doors and so the small house was crawling with flies. For lunch there was some soup and it looked like it had raisins in it. I could not stand looking at it so I left. (That's gospel truth.)
And so another year went by and 1899 started. In the fall I was hired by John Chalupsky, son of Joseph Chalupsky, who got married and lived in Beroun where he had his house. He bought 150 acres of land with a small shanty built on it. He wanted me to stay there and cultivate the land. There was not a living soul around. I was like a hermit there, I did not see another person a whole week. There was a bed and a small stove for cooking. I did my own cooking.
The bed was so close to the stove that I fed the fire lying down. I had the stove going so that I would not freeze, it was a severe winter, 30 below. In Minnesota, this is a daily routine. The wolves were howling around my shanty but I was not afraid. Every morning I made coffee and went to chop wood and in the evening I read by a kerosene lamp and went to sleep.
It was rather late toward winter when John Chalupsky came and wanted to burn the wood piles. There was no snow yet so we began the fire; there was new grass growing, it was close to the meadow where he had some 10 - l2haystacks. The fire escaped from us and all the hay in the stacks burned down; in the meadow there was still some wood here and there and so it all burned like sulphur.
For some time I used horses to drag stumps into one pile for the lumber mill. A11 of this was a very hard work for me. I did not eat well and worked a lot, so I left them I worked only where it was possible. The wages were miserable, everything was cheap and the local settlers were mostly poor laborers.
There would be much more to tell what I lived through there but I have to finish about Beroun and start another chapter.
The fifth year there I met many new settlers. Also the boys and girls got together many times. And so it seemed that better life was beginning.
A family of Joseph Korbel had been settled on a farm for four years, ever since we came there. This family came from Iowa, from Calmar near Spillville. I visited them often and did all sorts of work there. Their father, Frank Korbel, would often come to visit them. I came to visit just when he was there and so we talked and he asked if I would want to go to Iowa, that there would be some work for me. I promised to come in the spring. This Frank Korbel liked to be happy and liked to drink.
Before I say goodbye to Beroun I have to write that after all the troubles and the experiences of five years of my young 1ife, I always remembered and still now remember, Beroun with respect because it was my first home here in America. I think that nobody
there remembers me any more except the families of Jan Chalupnik's children. Vaclav Chalupnik now settled in Verdegre, is his oldest son and my good friend. We will return to it later. Father and mother Chalupnik have rendered up their souls to God.
And so the year 1900 started. It was sometime in the spring, March perhaps, that I went to Iowa as I had promised to Frank Korbel. He wrote that he will wait for me at the Conover station. And he was there when the train arrived. Conover is only a few houses; and he led me into one of them, there were already several buddies of his, drinking. After a while we went to his farm, I think it was 160 acres. He had a large family and some of his sons were already married.
Having stayed with the Korbels about two days, I arranged to work for Matthew Tuma. The Tuma family had three children; son John was older than I. I was 20; and one girl, about 12, and the youngest son was 7. Then there was the grandmother, mother of Mr. Tuma. The farm was large and nice looking. It was something new for me. And so again a new life started. It was a more cheerful life. Only there I learned about the life of a farmer. Everything went well, they all liked me, and I was like reborn.
I made a few friends and we would get together on Sundays. Every Sunday we went to church in Spillville. Mrs. Tuma and Grandmother Tuma saw to that. There were plenty of horses; I always got the young ones ready, made sure that they were rested for Sunday. When I harnessed them to the buggy, they could barely wait and trotted all the way to Spillville. The priest serving there at that time was Father Joseph Broz.
And so everything went on very nicely. Son John bought a lot of land near Odesa in Washington State, he married during the summer and went to his farm. The farm work was a joy, and Grandmother never forgot. She lived alone in her own house and always when I unharnessed the horses, she would call "Thonik, come here," and she would already have a gallon bottle ready and poured me some liquor or wine.
I must not forget, often Mr. Tuma went to Calmar and stayed there the whole day. And Grandmother would say “Thonik, when you tidy up, go get Mike." We had one horse, perhaps one of those from horse races. When I was taking him out of the barn only with his halter he already new what was going to happen. He was already wiggling and I had to lead him to something so that I could get up on him. But then he was like a bird in flight. Most of the time I found Mr. Tuma in the saloon.
Once John and I were looking for something. There was a small machine shed, he sent me there, I was searching it and found high over my head something like washers in a tobacco pouch. I untied the pouch and there were gold dollar coins. I showed it to John and went one more time to search. I found another pouch with only 20-dollar bills.
Grandmother had left for Spillville for a week - there was some religious feast there, and she also had a sister there, Mrs. Panoch. We guessed that she must have hidden the money there. It was true, later when we brought her home, she went to get her money but the poor thing was surprised when the money was gone. When I came back from the fields she came to ask me, "Tonicek, don't you know anything, I had money there and it's gone." "Oh yes, Grandma, you have it safe with me. Never again hide your money like this. Many times strangers come here and they would not return it to you."
And so the year went by and it was 1901. I finished my year's contract and they wanted me to stay on. So I agreed to stay another year. Everything went with the same pace except this year we were one man short for the work, since John, the son, had left. And so Mr. Tuma arranged for help from his daughter-in-1aw's brother, and we kept going but it did not go as well as the first year. He had not worked much on a farm before and also he thought that because he is a relative he has more rights than I. Then some acquaintances of theirs came from Bohemia, and so, when I finished my year's contract, after some time I got ready without anyone knowing that I was getting ready to go back to Bohemia.
I never mentioned that my parents wrote to me all the time, and I wrote to them. Often they said, if you don't like it there, come home. We have beside you eight sons, we ail hope that you can find livelihood here, if not we could feed you too. Nobody can be surprised that I decided to go back. I left as a fifteen year old, I was now alone here and it seemed to me that it is not as bad there now as it was at that time. I decided then to go because even though I knew that if I stay there I will have to be conscripted into the military. Now it was exactly my year. If I wouldn't like to be conscripted into the army, I would have gone back to America; it was still possible at that time.
Near Calmar, which was our nearest town, was Spillville where everything was Czech; Protivin - Czech settlement; Little Turkey - Czech, Fort Atkinson - Czech. Beautiful country. As I wrote earlier, we drove to church in Spillville. Exactly in those years, in 1901, there were holy missions there. I received a rosary from Father Dostal. Today, 50 years later in February 1951 when I am writing this, I still pray with it. The rosary had always been with me. The three years in the military never though I did not have time to pray often, I still carried it with me. It is made of bladder wood and so I think it will last me till the grave. Because it is getting late. Yesterday I received a letter from Bohemia that my oldest brother died on New Year's Day, and so it is my turn now.
And so I went back. I never wrote home that I will be coming, not even one word. After about 15 days I was suddenly at the railroad station in Stoky - Polna. It is about 4 -5 hours on foot. Now the line has been extended all the way to Polna- I look around to see if there is any transportation toward Polna. I asked and was told there is the Polna Post Office carriage which collected the mail from the train. This carriage took me about two and a half hours closer to my home.
In Polna I paid for the ride and immediately I asked where one Sazavsky lived. He married the woman who was working for us before I left. So I went there, of course nobody knew me, I said who I was and said that I would like to get to my home in Podesin, if there is any transportation. They asked me to stay till the morning, that he (Sazavsky) will make sure that I get home.
The next morning he came back from town and said, "A man from your village came here to get beer at the brewery, he will start back in about half and hour, and you can go with him." I had asked him in case he finds someone from my village, not to mention even one word about who it is that wants a ride. He did not mention anything. I had a small hand luggage and so I sat next to the driver on the boxes and we went for about two hours. But I knew who he was; Sazavsky told me who will drive the horses. It was Adolf Rosecky, he was my age, and we used to be friends and went to school together. He did not know me but I knew him. He would not even think of that possibility.
We started talking about all sorts of things, I told him that I happen to be going this way and that when he lets me off in Podesin, I will continue on, I named some little towns nearby where I will be going. At the same time I was asking him for news from our village. I told him that I was coming from Prague and had traveled much and that I had spent about two years in America- After a while he says, "Yeah, from our village, a guy, the son of the Chvatals, is also in Americ4 he must have been there for about seven years now, I went to school with him." I say, "You would not recognize him after all those years if he by chance came here." We were already close to home. "Oh yeah, I would recognize him right away, he used to be so strong, and I still have him in front of me." "Oh well, Adolf, do you remember how once Chvatal's Thonda gave you a good beating? And now he sits here next to you and you don't know him?" His speech was always slow; sometimes it took a long time for him to get a word out. And this time he was so surprised that I thought he completely lost the ability to speak. He wanted to say something but he couldn't, he kept opening his mouth, his eyes filled with tears. "You see, Adolf, you and Thonda will be friends again." I was sorry for him and my eyes were wet too.
He drove the beer to the tavern and I went inside. He promised me not to say a word about me. He was now very happy. He would not take any money from me but I gave him some, I don't know how much anymore, and he went home. He was a hired man for a farmer who delivered beer to the local tavern.
How many times did I think of my parents and my friends in the village at the Czech-Moravian Highlands during those 7 years! How much I used to long to see those places one more time! It is true what I learned in school: "Father's house is a paradise which God gifted to you, and even if you travel the wide world you will not find another heaven." And so while he was letting me off at that tavern I was thinking how it will turn out when I come home. I did not want to be recognized. The small suitcase in which I had some underwear I left in the tavern saying I would come back for it, and I went across the village to our house. I had some documents in my pocket, and nobody would believe how I felt.
I opened the little door in the farm gate, I did not see anyone in the yard and so I went in. I had to cross the hallway. I open the door and see a flock of tiny chicks – it was spring time. I recognized Mother immediately, she was feeding them. I said hello and I asked if I was at the right address, at the Chvatals known as "from the lower end of the village". She said, "Yes." I continued, "Is Mr. Chvatal at home?" She said, "Yes, he is, go ahead, he is sitting in the front room, he may be reading." I continued through the kitchen. Father was sitting at the table; he had two slim books in front of him. One was a journal titled Cross (Kriz) and the other was titled Mary (Maria). At that time they were published somewhere around there. At the table stood a small statue of Virgin Mary which was carried in the procession at the pilgrimage. Father used to be a singer in the church. And so I greeted him and of course I also recognized my father immediately.
Mother remained in the hall and continued feeding the chicks. I shook hands with Father and I said that the weather is nice outside, that I come from Polna and that a local man was hauling beer from there and gave me a ride. I meant to come here for some time to bring you greetings. Because I came from America not long ago and there is a man from here, from your village, by the name Anton Rosecky who sends you his regards.
"And you spoke with him? He is the brother of my wife. And one of my sons went there with him at that time, you haven't seen him?" I saw that my father did not recognize me and I did not want to deceive him any longer because I had my eyes full of tears. I said, "Father, you do not recognize me, I am your son Thonda." The poor man started crying and could not even speak from surprise. He ran fast out of the room, "Mother, come here, see here, our Tonik from America." Yes, it was a joyful reunion. It was something new for our village because so far no one from America had ever come back. My parents imagined me to be much larger because when I was leaving at 15, I was strong and they thought that when I grow up I will be like my grandfather.
Everything seemed a little different. Some things were new in some places, some hills were bigger, and some were smaller, and so on. And people kept coming to ask about America. Some slandered it and some praised it, and so it went on.
I was 22 years old and I was to register for the conscription examination the previous year. I had my American documents, they should not do anything to me but if I wanted to stay there, it was time to register for the examination.
Because I told my parents how I suffered those first 5 years in the woods and that I got nothing for it, they asked me not to go back - I can find my livelihood here as well. And so it remained like that; I reported to the official and about a month later I received an order to report on such and such day in Caslav for the conscription examination. There were 12 of us that day and two of us were drafted. And so time passed and in the fall I was supposed to join the army. In the meantime I kept thinking if it would not be better for me to leave even if my parents did not wish it.
Time was flying and it was necessary to decide. At that time is was perhaps still possible to dodge the military service. One day I say to Mother: "What do you think should I go back or stay here?" "Oh, stay, you know how much you suffered there, and here you will be alive just as well." And so I decided. I will stay; there are others here who also have to do their military service, "therefore you can stand it as well." In the autumn I was called up and so I went to Caslav, there was our military division. On the way there more and more recruits were getting on the train and we did a 1ot of singing.
Only two from our village, Jan Sfransky and I, were drafted- In Caslav during the examination we were separated and he went to serve with horses, with the dragoons, and I joined the 21s foot regiment. At that time one battalion of the 21't regiment was in Bosnia, in Sarajevo, and I was attached to the 1tt battalion, 3'd company. This battalion was stationed in Bosni4 in Sarajevo, and so for a few days we were still in Caslav and then we traveled to Sarajevo. On the way, naturally the boys were messy, and a little bit of the drink was still left. We went in box cars used for transporting cattle. In Vienna we stopped for lunch and then we went all the way to Sarajevo. At times, between the hills the train went so slowly that one could run beside it and keep up.
Finally after about two and a half days we arrived and were billeted in the barracks. The barracks there were huge. I can describe it as a field of about 40 acres, and
on all sides it had four-or five-story high, nice buildings for the troops. There weren perhaps only two gates with guards posted all the time so that no one unauthorized would enter. A soldier could enter without any trouble but at 9 in the evening the gates closed and everyone who had a leave and came after 9 o'clock had to report in. Whoever came after nine- without having an authorized leave was written up and could be sure that he will receive some punishment. And so the new life began. Everything settled down in about two days and the military training started. On about the third day, the highest non*commissioned officer called out our company and asked who was at home any kind of a writer or worked at any office. About 8 boys raised their hands. And he says, "Of those of you who know how to write and count well, you, here, take a broom, and you take a rag, and you take a bucket with water, arid go over there to clean the latrines. And the rest of you will have a turn tomorrow and keep that job the whole week." The boys were surprised but could do nothing about it. After eight weeks the basic training was done, and only then the old soldiers who had served three years went home. And so it was a little easier now for the new recruits. Even today I wonder why the experienced soldiers, instead of advising the new recruits or helping them, were many of them - like dragons; they thought that they were something better and made life more difficult for the new ones. It is well known how it used to be in the Austrian army. When the training was over, we often had guard duty, at least twice every week. There were big hills so that we had to gab a bundle of grass or a bush to climb higher. Sometime the watch was rather dangerous. As you know, Bosnia and Herzegovina used to belong to Turken and the Turks remained there and did not like our soldiers very much. And so it happened when the post was unprotected, several soldiers were shot
dead, Sarajevo was mostly Turkish, with some of our people beginning to settle there, who did not go into the Turkish quarter. Always on Sundays we went to where there were Turkish stores and really, there was much to see. Carpets, embroidered and others, what cannot be seen in Bohemia. Women had their faces covered; you could see only their eyes. They had their own churches, mosques, and instead of ringing the bells a Turk went up the tower and called them to prayer. The Turks were tall people and every one of them had a wide belt around him with a knife. Among them were settled many people we called Bosnians, probably Serbs, and they liked us Czechs,
There was not much to grow; now and then a tiny piece of a field the size of a palm, but there were many sheep and grapes grew there in abundance. Nothing was
better than Bosnian wine. We often went to drink wine, we pooled the money, and everyone pald 9 kretuzers for a liter of wine. And if we had yet another liter, the head
would go spinning. S/e said we will transfer to the 36e, Italian plums and pears as in Bosnia perhaps don't even grow in Bohemia, as Ilater found out. Nowhere have I seen a larger piece of land, at least 1./2 of an acre; everywhere there were only small patches of fields on the slopes. Small horses (mules) carried everything from the fields on their backs. They climbed on those slopes like rnountain goats. Cattle were rarely seen, but sheep and goats were plentiful. V/e had kind officers in our 3rd company except for the highest noncommissioned officer by the name Chararnza. Many times he tortured us without any reason.