Evening star., 1953-09-16

IOrmaClOn IN CZeCnOSlOVak1a Is
a type of espionage punishable
by three months to three years in
prison. actually, the law deal.
with SECRET military informa-
tion.)
I had been made to feel that
to deny facts, however damaging
would only make my situation
worse. So I signed the paper.
I was still wearing my own
clothes, eating meals from the
police headquarters canteen and
sleeping on a cot in an Office,
under guard. l was encouraged
to believe, against all logic,
that I might go on that way
if I only kept talking.
Helped Police Read Notes.
you don't have to worry
about Pankrac," one man told
me, naming the Prague prison.
On Thursday I helped the
police read my notes. and was
allowed to take a tub bath
On Friday, / must have turned
stubborn again. That night, a
policeman brought me sinking
old houseslippers and shapless
blue burlap pajamaS. When
had put on this prison uniform
was led around the corner to a
cell.
At about 4 am. Saturday a
uniformed guard banged on my
cell door. He blindfolded me
with black cloth-covered goggles
and led me into an immense
blackneSs. Suddenly out of that
blackness, from what seemed
an enormous distance, I heard a
loud and menacing shout.
1t was none the less sinister
for being in the Czech language,
of which I understood hardly a
word. At once, just as loud and
menacing, came the interpreta-
ton:
You are now facing the state
power of the Czechoslovak re-
public!"
I knew the voices. They were
voices of Communist secret
policemen that had arrested me
five days earlier and questioned
me from early morning till late
at night on each succeeding day.
Now. boasting of their author
ity, they started in again, three
or four of them talking by turns
The chief interrogation shouted
questions about the list of mill
tary sites.
Where did you get that?" he
demanded.
From Col. Atwood.
What did you want it for?
Just for my own information
I didn't intend to use it in a
story"
There were perhaps two hours
like that. Then I was allowed to
take off my blindfold.
Questioned About Man.
The Office had a table and
chairs and was not nearly SO
large as I had imagined. Soft
morning light came through the
second-floor windows.
Two plainclothes detectives
got me some breakfast.
I was asked about a man
named Vladimir Komarek, alias
Josef Kulhanek. l had seen the
name Komarek for the first time
on a police document a few
days before. I had heard about
the man from my Czech en-
ployeS. But I had never met
him. All I knew was that he was
Czech refugee from Paris who
was in and out of his homeland
from time to time on mysterious
missions.
But three of my employees were
acquainted with him, and they
were under arrest. And the
police said Komarek was a for
eign agent. and that another
acquaintance of his had shot and
killed one of their men some two
months before.
l insisted l had never even
seen Komarek. So they asked me
about another man-Jan Stran-
sky a former employe of the
United Press in Prague.
StranSky, on a Sunday pass
from a labor camp where he was
serving time for plotting to flee
the country, had visited my Of
f1ce, saying he was hunting fol
Russell Jones, the UP chief ir
Prague. He said he was going tc
get out of camp in a few months
and hoped he could get his job
back. I agreed to take a note
from him and give it to Mr.
Jones when I saw the latter
Next day l saw Jones at ''vorlc
student congress-" and gave il
to him. He read it and tore il
up. throwing away the pieces.
Now the police asked:
Do you know what was in that
letter."
NO" I said. IT didn't read
it."
Gave Right" Answer.
They handed me the letter
pasted together. StranSky hao
advised Mr.. Jones that he sus-
pected another United Press en-
ploye, a Czech, of being a police
spy. He had given the grounds
for his suspicion-incldentS the
police had questioned him about
before putting him in the camp
rs that espionage?" an in
terrogator said.
Yes" l replied.
I should have said, Il don't
know"
Instead, I gave the answer the
police expected; they were in.