The Fate of Soldier Havlík

or we fought under Husák

JAROSLAV BÁLEK

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 1

The first of September is not just any date. Even small children know this, as it marks the beginning of their obligations, not only at school, but also at preschool. And so it continues as they grow older. Often, this is also the day they start their first job. The first of September can therefore be a sad day for some, but a happy one for others. In any case, it often represents a certain intervention in life and sometimes even a significant change. And in the days when military service was still compulsory, it was not unusual to start basic military service on this day.

This was also the case with our hero Havlík. Not that he wanted to be there, not at all. Like most men, he didn't like discipline and various restrictions, and even less so when someone yelled at him. But he took it as a fact of life.

After all, our ancestors are to blame for such unpleasant things. It is simply one of the legacies they left us. For example, Emperor Joseph II introduced military service in 1781 for the poorest or for those who wanted to join, as they said at the time, in their own interest. Of course, people can have different interests, and sometimes one wonders about them. If someone enlisted in the army, it was for life. Havlík couldn't understand why anyone would volunteer, except perhaps the poorest, but the others? To be maimed or killed? It probably had some advantages, such as money, plenty of food and drink, decent accommodation, access to doctors, and perhaps easier access to women. However, 1868 was a disaster, as it marked the end of voluntary service and the introduction of universal conscription and compulsory military service, which applied to most of the male population and lasted for three years. Three years is quite a long time. The Habsburgs really gave us a hard time! And in 1912, regular conscription twice a year was introduced.

And when we finally liberated ourselves and got rid of the hated Habsburgs, things did improve. In 1920, a military service law was enacted, including universal conscription with a service period of only 14 months, fortunately. Unfortunately, this did not last long, as in 1924 it was extended to 18 months. And after February 1948, perhaps in connection with the deterioration of the international situation and the beginning of the Cold War, a new military service law was passed in 1949, which set the length of basic military service at 24 months. Well, that's no joke.

In the mid-1950s, our generals even toyed with the idea of extending military service from two to three years. Well, generals often have strange ideas, to put it mildly. This was apparently influenced by weak conscription years caused by the deep economic crisis in the mid-1930s, as well as war losses and post-February emigration. It was also said that there were certain disagreements between the army leadership, which insisted on extending military service, and the party and government leadership, which needed more and more labor for its rapidly developing industry. Gradually, the prescribed number of military positions was reduced, and with it, of course, the number of conscripts. The army command considered this unacceptable. Therefore, it again demanded that basic military service be extended to three years. Fortunately, this did not happen, because analysis showed that as a result of the extension of basic military service, the national economy would have significantly fewer workers than if two-year service had been maintained and the number of armed forces reduced. The proposal was abandoned, partly in view of the protests that would surely follow. However, there was still a danger that it could be extended to three years. Disputes between the state leadership and the army leadership are not uncommon; there are many such cases in world history. Often, they even ended in a coup d'état. It seemed that something like this was not possible in our country. But who knows, even in the Warsaw Pact such things happened. The relatively liberal leader of the Soviet Communists, Nikita Khrushchev, was overthrown with the help of the army, and his successor, Leonid Brezhnev, was rumored to be very afraid of the army, lest he suffer the same fate as his predecessor.

Over time, it became clear that we were no exception; anything was possible in our country too. It was rumored that the president of the republic and first secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party, Antonín Novotný, wanted to use the army to prevent his overthrow and remain in office. But under the influence of conflicts with the Slovaks, part of the army turned against him. For example, the commander of the Eastern Military District, General Kodaj, declared that if an attempt were made to arrest certain members of the Presidium of the Slovak Communist Party, the district would mobilize and defend the comrades in danger by force.

Well, sometimes there can be a combination where the political leadership of one country does not trust the political leadership of another country, so it joins forces with its army to exert appropriate pressure on it. Something like this allegedly happened in the late 1960s, when the head of the German Communists, Walter Ulbricht, was dissatisfied with developments in Czechoslovakia and demanded military intervention there. To this end, he joined forces with the marshals of the Soviet Union, because he allegedly considered part of the leadership of the Soviet Communist Party to be revisionist. Well, we all know very well how that turned out.

But our disagreements in the mid-1950s were not significant enough to lead to such things. The military service was extended by two months in the early 1960s, but only for a short period due to the Cuban Missile Crisis.

Havlík, as already mentioned, did not have a positive attitude towards the military at all. In this respect, he differed greatly from some men who, as children, longed for toys such as tanks, soldiers, and airplanes, and fought various battles with them at home, and later longed for green uniforms and enjoyed marching, perhaps thinking that they would become great military leaders. In his early childhood, he had a friend at the cottage who visited him with tanks and various tin soldiers and rode them down a hill of clay, saying that they were Soviet tanks fighting the enemy. Well, it was the 1950s. When Havlík's mother heard this, she urged him not to say anything to the neighbor, to agree with him in everything, otherwise they might even arrest us. Havlík was afraid of this, so he preferred to lose most of the battles, unless he was playing a Soviet soldier. At that time, there were also a huge number of military films showing in cinemas. They were mostly Soviet, about World War II, the Great October Socialist Revolution, or the Civil War. They were extremely long. Many years later, he occasionally saw a pornographic film, which he found interesting for about five minutes, but then it just repeated itself over and over again and was terribly boring. At the time, it reminded him a little of those war films, where tanks drove back and forth for the entire three-hour film, planes flew overhead, and in between, soldiers ran around shooting at each other. But that wasn't all. The school also took them to the theater to see excessively long Soviet war plays. The children didn't have the patience for this, so they started talking among themselves, simply disrupting the performance with school talk. This led to the theater director interrupting the performance, coming out on stage, and scolding the children, telling them that they shouldn't be misbehaving during such a beautiful and moving play, but should watch the action with excitement. He then gave the signal for the performance to continue. Both the films and the plays showed heroism on the one hand and a lot of death on the other, and he was afraid of death. There were lots of dead people, and Havlík was still a child, so it was depressing for him, and he certainly did not want to die young. Later, he never went to see another war film or watched them on television.

He did not try to avoid military service and obtain the so-called blue book. This was a certificate of exemption from military service. Its holder was exempt from military service, i.e., he was not conscripted for compulsory military training and basic military service, nor was he assigned to the reserves. The confirmation was issued by the military administration's draft commission, usually on the basis of assessments by medical specialists. The usual procedure was for the conscript to fill out a detailed questionnaire about his health and have it confirmed by a youth doctor, who then sent him for appropriate specialist examinations based on the content and medical history. The conscript would then take these assessments to the draft board on the appointed date. And why was it called the blue book? Well, because it was actually blue, which was quite unusual, as were its holders, who were few and far between. There used to be a saying: "Which book do you like best? The blue one."

Getting it was certainly the desire of many young men, and some of them really tried everything possible to achieve it. There were various instructions on how to simulate incapacity or how to injure oneself. Some prepared medical reports for conscription, or even for their children, many years in advance. A well-known doctor who could influence this was worth their weight in gold. The most popular diagnoses were allergies and asthma, spinal disorders, eye defects, or high blood pressure; some even said flat feet. The problem, however, was that even a blue book did not guarantee a permanent deferment from military service, as it was necessary to go to the draft every year to see if one's health had improved in the meantime. This also included the need to visit various medical examiners relatively often.

Havlík had an acquaintance who had flat feet. He was classified as category C with the note: not fit for officer rank. Such a note was given to those who were politically unreliable and those who had some kind of disability. Therefore, he did not even take the officer exams. For a college student, however, such a note is not very good. While it probably protects him from some physically demanding activities, on the other hand, an officer's rank undoubtedly has many advantages.

Our hero was influenced by the opinion that every real man should do military service. In some areas, large celebrations were even held after the draft. He was afraid that some people might mock him for it, and how would girls view him? Would he lose his appeal to them? Many would see it as a disgrace.

Many years later, Karel Plíhal perfectly captured the prevailing atmosphere in society in his song Modrá knížka (The Blue Book): “The whole world is suddenly hopelessly gray, I wander the streets desperate and pale, everywhere I see young people being led away, cheerful and lively, and only I was given a blue book. Even Prouza, who wets himself every day, rushes to tell his wife the happy news, while Václav gets drunk with his father-in-law in Mikulovská, already seeing himself as at least a captain. Everywhere in the parks I see happy friends getting acquainted with military orders, among them Novák, the one with the glass eye, trying to march in step. Tipsy Viktor dances the cancan with Hugo. Viktor will be a signalman, Hugo a tank driver, and Jarda, who didn't even finish eighth grade, threw a bottle at me and shouted, "You bastard!" I tell myself in vain: Karl, don't be crazy, but I was so looking forward to the army, I gave the doctor an envelope at the draft in vain, he said they wouldn't take me because they had too many applicants. How will I explain this to my beloved Blanka, who liked to boast that she had a boy in the army? My mom will cry, my dad will stomp on my toys, the poor guy was so looking forward to the badges." It sounds funny and almost unbelievable, but that's how it really was very often. It couldn't have been expressed more accurately.

And socialist propaganda claimed that basic military service was the highest honor for a citizen. Those who were not drafted were considered to be not very supportive of the regime at the time, refusing to join the army and defend their country, and therefore resorting to various forms of deception.

Havlík did not feel he was a good enough actor to pretend to be ill. Although it ran in the family somewhat, as his grandfather, the father of four daughters, had avoided conscription and having to go to World War I by following the advice of a doctor he knew, running up and down the stairs in their house all night long. He also drank something and smoked a pipe, which was very popular at the time. In this case, the rule that advice is worth its weight in gold was truly confirmed. The chairman of the draft board found him completely unfit for military service due to a severe heart defect. Grandpa thus saved his life. It seems absurd that damage to one's health can save one's life, but can we even talk about anything absurd in the military and in war? There is probably nothing absurd about it individually, because it is all absurd as a whole. There are many known cases of self-harm. Some soldiers put their own legs under cannons to get out of the war. They lost their legs, but they saved their lives. My grandfather lived another forty years. He was certainly lucky that, unlike Švejk, he did not encounter a military doctor like Dr. Grúnstein at the draft, because that would probably not have helped him.

Havlík's father fought in World War I and then served in the army for another two years. In 1938, during the mobilization, he was ready to face the German troops. He often talked about it at home. During the Austro-Hungarian Empire, it was on St. Anne's Day, which is often emphasized, probably because it was a very popular name at the time. In 1914, conscripts were called up by a mobilization decree to report for duty within 24 hours. Everyone delayed their arrival until the last minute, going there with considerable reluctance and against their convictions. This was a fundamental difference from the mobilization he participated in in 1938. Within minutes of the announcement on the radio, the first reservists reported to their units, and in the following hours, the stream of soldiers continued to grow. When this call came, everyone immediately left their places and prepared to leave. Some were at work, others at home or in company. People immediately paid their bills in pubs, and reservists ran through the streets of Prague to the nearest tram so they could quickly pick up their belongings at home and leave on the first train. There was a case of a reserve officer who, thirty-five minutes after the mobilization was announced, was standing at the station in uniform, ready to leave. This was not an exception; there were thousands of such reservists. They were supposed to report for duty sixty-six hours after the mobilization order was issued, but everyone tried to report earlier. They took food for two days, cutlery, and a blanket. They also took needles, thread, buttons, and cleaning supplies for clothes and shoes, which was the biggest problem for my father, because he was still single at the time and didn't even have these things at home. Many men volunteered to join foreign armies.

In peacetime, when there is no immediate threat of war, the situation is different. Conscription is different in wartime, different in peacetime, different in times of international détente, and different again in times of international tension. In the 1960s, there was a certain euphoria, socialism was declared to have been established, the name of the country changed, and it seemed that there was no threat of war. Conscription was more of a formality, a show for the public, and this made the task of the assessment committee easier.

Havlík underwent conscription, which was something like a more complicated medical examination, while still in high school. Conscription took place in the district national committee room. Elsewhere, it took place in army barracks, which essentially served as cultural centers. It was a solemn event. The decorations drew attention to the aggressive plans of the imperialists against socialist countries and included pictures and graphs showing how many soldiers, aircraft, and tanks NATO had in Europe. It was vividly stated that our western border was on the border of two opposing military-political groupings: the defensive Warsaw Pact and the aggressive North Atlantic Treaty Organization. Socialist Czechoslovakia and the German Democratic Republic, as East Germany was officially called, were fighting against a common enemy, international imperialism, and thus also against West German imperialism.

The bulletin board also stated in large letters that the Soviet army was our role model and that its experience in peace and combat was the most powerful tool for our education. Havlík was terrified that the Soviet army should be our role model, because he believed that Soviet youth were probably much more resilient and less spoiled due to historical developments. As was sometimes said, what a Soviet person can do, no other person can do. Soviet films gave him the impression that this was indeed true, and he thought that there were many things he really could not do. Perhaps this would be true if it were really about our freedom and our interests and not foreign interests, but the last time such a situation arose was in 1938. The bulletin board also featured photographs of our soldiers from a military parade on Letná Plain or from exercises at the Spartakiad in Strahov. He was terrified that he would also have to participate in such events.

At the draft, participants were first asked to fill out a questionnaire about any illnesses they had suffered in the past or were currently being treated for. There were also general questions, such as who your favorite singer was and so on. Why did they want to know the answers to such things? To find out about their interests and hobbies? What was the point? Was it supposed to be a guide for assigning people to different units? The draft board consisted of several people, probably military doctors, and the chairman of this board was the soldier with the most gold stars. Havlík did not know military ranks at the time, but he came to the conclusion that the chairman probably had the highest rank. The recruits appeared before the draft board wearing only their underwear. The examination consisted of listening to the heart and lungs, measuring blood pressure, weighing and measuring, which had its own specifics. While no one remembered their weight, men usually reported their height throughout their lives, even though their stature had undoubtedly decreased in old age. Considerable attention was also paid to examining the genitals. And, of course, it was essential to check things important for military service, such as hearing and vision. Havlík had problems here because he was unable to read what was hidden behind the colored shapes they showed him, whether letters or numbers; the colors merged into one illegible shape. The doctor conducting his evaluation was already a little nervous about this. Because if he did not recognize someone as fit for service, he could have various problems himself. So he reached into the drawer, took out a red pencil, and asked what color it was. When Havlík replied that it was red, he breathed a sigh of relief and, to be sure, showed him yellow and blue. Havlík recognized those colors as well, so the doctor wrote it down with satisfaction. After the examination and evaluation of the results, the conscript was summoned before the commission again and was solemnly informed, as if he were receiving some kind of award: fit for service and drafted. Havlík was given a restriction, which he welcomed to a certain extent, namely fit not for 3ab,9,12,14 cit, number and degree of illness, 388 m, 380 d. He didn't know what it meant, but he thought it would allow him to avoid some heavy weapons and shooting. During subsequent examinations, they specified it further as unfit for III. 1,2,6, color vision 3770st.I. But was it an advantage? Who knows?

Before he went to the draft, he leafed through his father's military book and was surprised that the date of his draft, April 29, 1964, was exactly the tenth anniversary, April 29, 1954, when his father was removed from the records for reaching the age limit. Is it a coincidence or is there something more to it? Here we see the changing of the generations, with the father leaving the army and the son joining it. His father was 53 years old, and how old will he be? Maybe a little older.

In his father's military service record book of the Czechoslovak Republic, he was struck by the fact that, according to the book, he went to war before being drafted. Is that possible? A brief record of his basic or substitute service states that he entered service in the former Austrian army with the 28th Infantry Regiment in Bruclau on March 1, 1918, while the date of conscription is given as November 5, 1920. Was the army already in disarray at that time? Or did he go to the draft twice, once in Austria-Hungary and once in Czechoslovakia?

Even office work could sometimes be difficult. For example, a friend of Havlík's joined the army in Slovakia. There they asked him, "Can you type?"

"No, I can't!"

Today, everyone types on a computer, but back then, few people had a typewriter, and typing was taught in secondary business schools.

"Never mind, you'll be a clerk and a draftsman."