In Prague

Three forces carved the landscape of my life. 

Two of them crushed half the world. 

The third was very small and weak and, actually, invisible.

Old Town Square, Prague

Living in Holland does not seem possible without the nearly constant reminders of the effects of WWII. On a recent trip to Prague in the Czech Republic, the same was true. The lingering effects of the war seem as real as the ineffable, unthinkable destruction over such a large area—affecting so so many lives. In Prague the story is just as horrible as anywhere else; the difference, of course, is that it is their story. To summarize it is to diminish it. To describe it requires an unfair prioritization of grief.

The more I see and the more I learn, the more I believe that “life is timing.”

It was a shy little bird hidden in my rib cage an inch or two above my stomach. 

Sometimes in the most unexpected moments the bird would wake up, 

lift its head, and flutter its wings in rapture.

A view toward Prague Castle

On March 15, 1939 German troops marched into Prague—the one and only time Adolf Hitler visited. The reactions were as mixed as the loyalties of the locals. Germans living in Prague waved and cheered while Czech nationalists shouted insults.  The immediate result was the independence of Slovakia, which under Nazi control was headed by the former Catholic priest Jozef Tisa. Soon after the occupation, the Czech press became a tool of Nazi propaganda. Books, jazz music and theatrical dramas were banned, although comedy films were permitted so long as they included German subtitles (and the content was approved, of course). Many Czech authors, poets, and artists emigrated, but many were arrested and killed. All museums and most theatres were closed.

In 1942 German administrator (Deputy Reich’s Protector for Bohemia and Moravia), Reinhard Heydrich was assassinated by British-sponsored Czech resistance fighters. The retaliation was swift and barbaric. The Czech village of Lidice was razed, every man murdered, and all the women sent to concentration camps after separation from their children. Two weeks later the village of Lezaky suffered the same fate.

By 1944 most shops were closed or their shelves empty. Because private cars were forbidden, the tram system was overcrowded and subsequently failed from overuse. By 1945 the average workweek was 65 hours including ten-hour shifts on Sundays. Exhaustion and poor diet coupled with the lack of municipal services such as trash removal resulted in widespread disease.

Wenceslas Square

Early in 1945, the citizens of Prague rebelled. German street signs were torn down, tram conductors refused to accept German currency, and some 1600 barricades and roadblocks were set up to resist German troop movement. German soldiers were captured, hung, and burned. The German response included the near total destruction of the Old Town city center.

On May 9, 1945 Soviet troops arrived, one day after the Germans abandoned Prague, but not before they executed countless innocent Czech citizens.

Of the 90,000 Jews living in Czech territories in 1939, 14,000 survived the war.

WWII Czech Resistance Memorial

Then I too would lift my head because for that short moment, 

I would know for certain that love and hope are infinitely more powerful than hate and fury, 

and that somewhere beyond the line of my horizon there was life indestructible, always triumphant.

—Under a Cruel Star (A Life in Prague 1941-1968), Heda Margolius Kovaly