Josef Radim Jančář

„Z té doby si vzpomínám na takovou kuriózní věc, kaplan na Dómě páter Pavel Kupka... Ke mně chodívalo několik vojáků, kteří tu byli na vojně, byli věřící a chodili ke mně. A byl tam tenkrát u mě nějaký Slovák, Jano se jmenoval. A my jsme spolu šli po ulici tady myslím po 8. května – a teď proti nám šel páter Pavel Kupka, dómský kaplan, s dvěma takovými velkými taškami, a já mu říkám: ,Prosím tě, kam jdeš?‘ A on říkal: ,Ty, člověče, je u mě StB, vyslýchají mě a já jsem jim řekl, že mám schované tiskoviny, a oni mě pro to poslali.‘ A ten Slovák v tom okamžiku skočil po těch taškách, vyrval mu je z ruky a utekl pryč. My jsme tam s tím Pavlem zůstali na sebe koukat, nevěděli jsme, co s tím, ani já, ani on. On potom odešel domů, nevím, to už jsem se ho ani neptal, co jim tam potom vysvětloval, jako že mu to někdo ukradl. Takže tím pádem ty tiskoviny zachránil.“

„To byl Lízna, Ruda Smahel, pan Vlček, Krumpholz a ještě kdosi, to mi vypadlo. Pět jich bylo, kteří tu tiskárnu organizovali. Já jsem v tom byl také trochu zapojený s tím, že u mě se shromažďovaly papíry, co se nakupovaly po papírnictvích. Pak když to tedy prasklo a oni se dostali do vazby, tak s mojí fotkou chodili po papírnictvích v Olomouci a ptali se, jestli jsem tam nekupoval papír. Nekupoval, to kupovali jiní, ale u mě na Kaplance se shromažďoval a pak se vozil na Kopeček do té tiskárny. Když je zatkli, byl jsem do půlnoci u Františka Lízny. Měli jsme dlouhý hovor a asi o půlnoci jsem odcházel. Na druhý den, on bydlel na biskupství v jedné místnosti dole na dvoře a já jsem tam celou dobu parkoval auto a ráno jsem si pro něj přišel, protože jsem měl jet se sestrou představenou z biskupství někam do východních Čech jsem ji měl vézt. Tak jsem tam přišel pro to auto a teď jsem viděl, tam bylo plno lidí, František tam stál mezi dvěma muži, od té sestry jsem se dozvěděl, že to je StB a že tam u něho dělá domovní prohlídku. Ve čtyři ráno ho tam přišli zatknout. Takže zřejmě mě viděli, poněvadž oni prý je sledovali už čtrnáct dní a ve čtyři ráno ten den, myslím, že bylo pondělí, je všechny najednou zatkli. To jsem já ale ještě nevěděl, tak když jsme vyjeli, jel jsem ještě do nemocnice tam některé varovat. Když jsem přišel na oddělení, tak jedna sestra mě hnala, říkala: ,Okamžitě vypadni, je tu StB a vyslýchají nás.‘ Tak jsem viděl, že je zle. Odtamtud jsem s tou sestrou jel ještě do Uherského Brodu, varovat Rudu Smahela, ovšem všechno bylo marné, protože on už byl také vyslýchaný a byla tam domovní prohlídka. Pak jsme ještě jeli k mamince pátera Františka Lízny, když jsme jeli do východních Čech, tam už byli také. Takže ono to sklaplo všechno najednou. Takže potom to období bylo poměrně těžké, protože to jsme čekali, kdy pro nás každou chvíli přijdou. Když jsme viděli jet šedou Volhu, už jsme měli obavy, jestli pro nás nejedou, na chodníku jsme chodili vždy u té vnitřní strany, aby nás náhodou nemohli vtáhnout do auta.“

“I guess they suspected me of some collaboration because I had to leave Olomouc in ’80. I was not summoned for interrogation, probably nobody told on me or they could not find a reason, but I had to leave. It was Christmas 1979 and Father Nerychel, the new parson, was celebrating the holy midnight mass. I read a sermon during the mass. The St Mauritius Church was packed during the mass; there was a church secretary, Dr Engliš, upstairs. I read a sermon; I think it was quite ordinary, with nothing really provocative. But then, in the vestry, I asked Jan Kouřil from Olomouc to read the prayers of intercession. I don’t remember if he was an altar boy or a lector; he was there with his father. Jan took it as a challenge. He read the prayers of intercession that I gave him, and in the end he said: ‘Let us pray For Father František Lízna, Father Rudolf Smahel, Mr Josef Vlček, Mr Adámek and all the others who are in prison.’ The entire church says: ‘Please hear us.’ They say the church secretary upstairs ran to the choir gallery to see who said it and what happened. The holy mass went on and finished. I came back home after the mass and Father Nerychel called me over the intercom, saying I had terribly upset the church secretary with the intercession. I said, ‘Wait, I did not write or read the intercession.’ ‘Well, the church secretary is convinced that it is your job and you will pay the price. They will withdraw you state consent.’ I said, ‘Well if I lose my consent I will do another job. What can I do?’ The result was that while I did not lose my state consent I had to leave Olomouc.”

“Then the raid went on. People were in detention and interrogated all the time. There was no knowing who would be taken away next. One day, I visited my parents briefly and came back in the morning. When I went to the church, to the confession booth, at about half past five, Ms Janýšková was waiting for me; she was Tonda Janýška’s mum and she told me that Father Kupka had been arrested and taken away yesterday. I saw the circle closing; they were closing in on us. I got all the books and samizdat that one was not supposed to keep at home. Then I would carry it all to St Mauritius Church all night; organist Antonín Schindler advised me to hide it in the back of the organ. Not in the machine, but in the very rear; there is some crawlspace there. So I took it all there and it stayed there until the revolution. At this point, I would like to say that Mr Schindler was accused of being a StB collaborator. I want to defend him; I don’t think he was. If he was a collaborator, this would have been the easiest opportunity for him to get some credit with them. He could have given them a tip. This never happened. So I doubt that he collaborated, personally. Well, I managed to hide everything there; it took me until the morning, and I thought it would be a pity if it were lost.”

“Of course, when you are going in there you are scared. I was no hero. I always say that it was easier being a hero in Prague than elsewhere. When they picked you up in Prague and took you to the StB in Bartolomějská Street, Radio Free Europe and Voice of America would cover it instantly, the same evening. But when you got lost in a village, nobody knew. So, every time I went, I would always tell some friends where I was going so they knew if I didn’t come back. You know, if I was detained or whatever. When I first went there in Frýdek-Místek, the StB resided on the sixth or seventh floor in a new tall building. The StB man Měrka came downstairs and picked me up at the reception; the receptionists called him because they didn’t know where to send me. Then they moved the sheet and saw it was from the StB. So, he came to pick me up and took me to the fifth floor by lift. Then he would lead me to the seventh floor through three bars he had to unlock, open and then close and lock again, making a lot of noise doing it. It was intimidating from the very start. He wanted me to realise that the bar could stay locked when I wanted to go back. That was unpleasant, of course. Then he put me in a room and had me wait for a half an hour or an hour. They had a semi-permeable glass there, so they could see me but I could not see them. They watched how the person behaved. I would always grab my rosary and pray all the time. I tried to stay calm as much as I could. When they interrogated me I would always answer with one word. Yes. No. Yes. No. They asked me: ‘Can you put a sentence together?’ ‘I can.’ ‘So why won’t you?’ ‘I am answering questions. You ask, I answer.’ ‘You are a Salesian.’ ‘I am not.’ ‘We know you are.’ ‘Why are you asking me if you know?’ On and on like that. They never got much from my ‘yes’ and ‘no’. The worst thing was when people started talking and thought they would deceive the police. That was very wrong. The police were always able to take something from it that they could use against you or others. It was not easy for them with me. It was never easy for me either, of course. I was scared every time, but thank God it always ended well.”