Chapter 4 Chapter 1 Twenty-Four Hours

Five minutes to strike ten.It was April 24, 1942, a beautiful and warm spring night. I hurried on—as fast as my role as a crippled old man allowed—to get to Yelynyek's house before the gates were locked, and my "assistant" Miley K was there waiting for me.I know he won't have anything important to tell me this time, and I have nothing to tell him, but by not showing up for the appointment, it's likely to cause a panic—mainly, I don't want us two good-hearted The owner has unnecessary worries. They served me a cup of tea.Mirek was already waiting for me there——in addition to him, there were also the Freeds.This was another careless move.

"Comrades, I'm glad to see you, but I don't want to get together like this. This is the easiest way to lead us to prison and death. If you don't abide by the regulations on secret work, you have to stop working, because it is not only harmful to yourself , and it will hurt others. Understand?" "Understood." "What did you bring me?" "Red Entitlement, May issue." "Excellent. How are you, Milek?" "As usual, nothing news. Work is going fine..." "Okay, that's it. We'll meet again after May Day. I'll let you know. Goodbye."

"Have another cup of tea, sir." "No, no, Mrs. Yelynyek, we are too many here." "At least one more shot, I beg you." The freshly poured tea was steaming. Someone rings the bell. Isn't it midnight now?Who could this be? The guests who came were impatient and knocked on the door loudly. "Open the door. We're the police." "Go to the window. Run. I've got a pistol, and I'll cover your retreat." late.The Gestapo were already standing under the window, aiming pistols at the room.They smashed open the door, smuggled through the hall into the kitchen, and then broke into the room.One, two, three... nine men.They didn't see me because I was standing right behind them, behind the door they opened.I was able to shoot without rushing.

But nine guns were aimed at two women and three unarmed men.If I shoot, they will be killed before me.If I shoot myself, the sound of the gun will cause the shooting, and they will still be the victims of the gun.If I hadn't shot, they might have been in prison for six months or a year, and the revolution would free some of them alive.Only Milek and I can't get out of there, the enemy will torture us, - from my mouth they can't get anything, but from Milek?This man fought in Spain, spent two years in a concentration camp in France, and secretly escaped from France back to Prague during the war—no, such a man would not rebel.I thought about it for two seconds, maybe three seconds?

If I shoot, it will not help, only I will be spared torture, but four comrades will die in vain.Isn't that so?Exactly so. So it was decided. I came out of hiding. "Ha, there's one more." Hit me the first punch in the face.The punch almost killed me. "Handeauf." (German: "Hands up.") Then came the second punch, the third punch. I had expected this move. The neatly tidy room has now become a pile of overturned furniture and various debris. Another burst of punching and kicking. "Marsch." (German: "Go.") They pushed me into the car.The pistol was pointed at me the whole time.

On the way, the interrogation began. "Who are you?" "Master Horak." "you are lying." I shrugged. "Sit down, or I'm going to shoot you." "You shoot." Instead of bullets, there were punches and kicks. We passed by a tram.I feel like the tram is decorated with white festoons.Is there still a wedding tram at this time, in the middle of the night?I probably started to have a fever. Pecek Palace.I didn't think I'd make it here alive.Now it's almost running up to the fourth floor.Ah, it turns out that this is the famous II——Al Anti-Communist Section.

I'm a little curious. The lanky head of the arrests put the pistol in his pocket and took me to his office.He lit me a cigarette. "Who are you" "Master Horak." "you are lying." The watch in his hand read eleven o'clock. "search." Start searching.They took off my clothes. "He has an ID." "What's the name?" "Master Horak." "Check it out." Call up. "Of course not registered. The papers are false." "Who gave you your ID?" "Police station." Hit it with a stick.two sticks.Three sticks.Do I need to count?Friends, you may not need this statistic at any time and anywhere.

"What's your name? Say. Where do you live? Say. With whom? Say. Where is the secret point of contact?Say, say, say, if you don't say it, I'll kill you. " How many times can a healthy person withstand such beatings? The radio broadcast the midnight signal.The cafe is closed, the last customers have gone home, and the lovers linger in front of the door.The lanky Gestapo chief came into the room with a cheerful smile: "Everything is cleared up,—how is it, Monsieur Editor?" Who told them?The Yelynyeks?The Freeds?But they don't even know my name. "Look, we know it all. Go ahead. Be smart."

specialized vocabulary. "Be smart" means betrayal. I'm not smart. "Tie him up. Give him some power." one o'clock.The last tram has returned to the factory, the streets are deserted, and the radio is wishing its most loyal listeners good night. "Who else is a member of the Central Committee? Where is the radio station? Where is the printing office? Say, say, say. " Now I can count the strokes more quietly again.The only pain I felt was from that bitten lip. "Take off his shoes." Really, the nerves on the soles of the feet are not yet numb.I feel the pain.Five hits, six hits, seven hits, and now it's like a stick going straight to the brain.

two o'clock.Prague is snoring, maybe somewhere a child is crying in his sleep, a husband is touching his wife's shoulder. "Say. Say." I licked my gums with my tongue, trying to count how many teeth had been knocked out. But how can not count.Twelve, fifteen, seventeen?No, that's the number of those Gestapo who are "interrogating" me now.Several of them were visibly tired.But the god of death never came. three o'clock.Entering the city from the suburbs in the early morning, vegetable vendors come to the market, and street cleaners clean the streets.Maybe I can live another morning.

They brought my wife. "do you know him?" I licked the blood, not wanting her to see it... It was kind of childish, because my face was bleeding, even my fingertips were bleeding. "do you know him?" "do not know." She replied without showing a trace of fear.Dear.She kept our promise and never admitted that she knew me, although it was now useless to do so.Who on earth told them my name? They took her away.I bid her farewell with the happiest eyes I could.Maybe the look wasn't happy at all.I have no idea. Four o'clock.Is it daylight or not?The heavily-draped windows give me no answer.And death still hasn't come.Should I go and meet him?How should we welcome it? I hit someone and fell to the ground.They kicked me and kicked me.Well, it will die faster that way.A Gestapo in black grabbed me by the beard, lifted me up, and smiled triumphantly to show me a freshly plucked beard in his hand.It's ridiculous.Now I feel no pain at all. five o'clock.Six o'clock, seven o'clock, ten o'clock, noon, the workers go to work and leave work, the children go to school and leave school, the store is doing business, the house is cooking, my mother may be missing me, comrades may find out that I was killed Arrested, taking security measures... in case I confess... No, you don't have to be afraid, I will not betray, please trust me.Finally, not far from death.It was all but a dream, a feverish nightmare.After a while of torture, cold water was poured on it, and then another round of torture, and again: "Say, talk, talk." But I'm not dead yet.Mom, Dad, why did you raise me up so well? At five o'clock in the afternoon, they were all tired.Tortures are now sparse, with long intervals, and most of them only beat twice based on a kind of inertia.Suddenly, from far away, from that far away place, there sounded a peaceful and quiet voice like a caress: "Erhatschongenug." (German: "It's enough for him.") And I sat up, and the table Shaking in front of me.Someone gave me water to drink, someone handed me a cigarette, but I couldn't hold it.Someone tried to put my shoes on and said they couldn't.Then someone half-armed and half-dragged me down the stairs, into the car, and off we went.I thought it was funny that someone pointed a pistol at me again.We passed a wedding tram with white festoons, but maybe it was all just a dream, a fever, the agony of dying, or death itself.Being near death is heavy, but this time I didn't feel it. It was as light as a feather, and it was all over with one breath. It's over?Not yet, never finished.Now I stood up again, I really stood up, standing by myself, without the help of others.In front of me is a dirty yellow wall, what was splashed on the wall?It's like blood... yes, it's blood, I raised my hand and tried to wipe it with my finger... and it was still fresh, my blood...someone hit me on the head from the back and ordered me to put my hand up Do a squat together; on the third time, I fall... A tall SS man stood in front of me and kicked me a few times, trying to kick me up.What's the use?Someone poured cold water on me again, and I sat up, and a woman gave me medicine and asked me where the pain was. At this moment, I felt that all the pain was in my heart. "You have no heart," said the tall SS man. "Ah, I mean it." I said.I felt a sudden pride in the fact that I still had enough strength to defend my heart. Then everything disappeared again: the walls, the woman with the medicine, the tall SS man... Now in front of me was the open cell door.A fat SS man dragged me in, took off my torn shirt, put me on a straw mattress, touched my swollen body, and ordered that I be wrapped up. "Look," he said to the other, shaking his head, "look what a neat job they do." Then again from far away, from that far away place, I heard a voice as peaceful and quiet as a caress: "He won't live till tomorrow morning." Five minutes to strike ten.April 25, 1942, a beautiful and warm spring night.