Evening star., 1953-12-25


Europe.
the anti-Nazi underground in
Czechoslovakia. I know how both
relationships treat their enemies.
1 know now that today's Reds
learned a lot from the NaziS.
They know how to break a mans
will. They never broke mine, but
not because I was some sort of
hero. They never broke mine be-
cause God was with me.
I was a member of the anti
Communist underground in
Czechoslovakia and knew the
Czech secret political police were
after me. They got me when
was hiding at my sister-in-
laws apartment, and I was in
their custody until last April.
Back in Pilsen Jail.
At first they took me to the
same jail where the Nazis had
beaten me up 10 years earlier:
The former Gestapo prison in
Pilsen. They tried to break me
there, but I prayed and God was
with me and they never learned
the names of my friends in the
Czech underground or where our
arms were hidden.
After a while they gave up
and sent me to the district Jail
in Pilsen, place which had spe-
cial cell blocks for "politicals"
like myself. I have a broken
ear drum to show for their ef-
forts.
They put me in a cell just II
feet long. 10 feet high and an
arm's-breadth wide. It had
window with frosted glass and
iron bars. higher than a mans
head. We weren't allowed to
look out.
My cellmate was a farmer
about my own age. I don't
want to give his name because
might get him or his family
into more trouble.
He isn't as lucky as I. I'm
free. He's still freezing in some
Red cell.
Months in Tiny Cell.
We'd been there for months,
starving and cold in that tiny
cell. We slept on straw mat
tresses on the floor. Three
ragged, thin blankets given each
of us never kept us warm at
night. Bread and a watery soup
and some bitter coffee substi-
tute for breakfast were all we
had to eat.
Then it was Christmas eve.
In the old days. Christmas eve
was the big holiday for us in
CzechoSlovakia. bigger than
Christmas Day, and always filled
with laughter. singing, prayer
and good food.
But we were in our cell. lonely,
aching, hungry. miserable. I'm
ashamed to say that we had
been reduced to not much more
than animals. My cellmate and
both were religious men, but
We hadn't so much as crossed
ourselves since we entered that
cell. We'd lost all hope, all faith,
all our ability to love.
When prisoners refuse to talk,
the Reds often put a spy in
their cell. We disturbed all new
comers. And so. when the guard
suddenly opened our cell door
at noon and showed in new
man. we looked at him slowly.
He was a man of So, thin, but
holding himself erect and dig
nified. He was without tie or
collar. When I looked into his
eyes I trusted him. He smiled
and spoke in a tired voice:
God greet you, my brothers
in suffering. My name is Joseph
LimpOuch, I am a priest"
Newcomer MOnSignOr.
found out later he was a
monsignor, a dignitary of the
church and a professor. But
more. I found out he was
sanity, simple man.
Suddenly happy to meet him,
we asked him to sit down.
Brothers, talk to me as
friend" he said. I'VE are all
brothers in suffering here and
we will want no formality. We
must take hope from God"
He asked us why we were in
Jail. We told him; suspicion
never entered our minds. Why,
! don't know. We simply felt
that here was more than a
friend.
He was tired and spoke with
difficulty, but he gave us cour-
age and his words filled our
hearts and warmed our cell and
made us feel that, somehow, God
was among us.
Look" he told us, "I have
spent years in Nazi concentra-
ton camps. I endured only be-
cause I believe in God. I never