Hana Totušková

* 1926

  • “Back then we told ourselves we had had enough of carrying that typewriter down into the shelter. I had a beautiful Underwood – I wasn’t drawing yet, but I was in the copying department of the construction division. I stuck that beautiful machine under the table and covered it with a work coat, and we all rushed outsie. [Civilian Defence] Commander Man told us there were some American planes en route from Vienna, so we had to quickly clear out the factory. So we legged it all the way to Vršava, there was this one spot on the top of a hill with a wonderful view of Zlín. And the planes flew up, what a din, so many planes! They kept flying overhead, and then the last squadron, that was three time four – twelve of them, turned round above the factory and made as if to go back, and started emptying out the bombs. They came tumbling down like when you open a box of matches. And it started exploding, the noise, the smoke! They hit the gas works as well, the gas tank got a leak. It whistled so. Dreadful.”

  • “After the liberation in 1945, we awaited our dad. We had no information. They had a quarantine set up there. Buchenwald was liberated by the Americans, and it was rife with typhus. So we were really frightened. When Dad finally came back, he was in a terrible state. He weighed only 48 or 47 kilos. Skinny, his teeth knocked out, no fingernails. Or toenails either. They’d stick things under their nails during interrogations, to torture them. He was in a terrible state.”

  • “Then I worked in the clog shop, where they made clogs. And I always had to come to work early. I had this one tall machine which had a kind of last on it. And as the clogs came by on the ring, I had to take the clog, place it on the last and burn out the mark and number from the bottom. But it had to be red hot. One time I came a bit late and didn’t heat it up enough, and it didn’t burn the marks. The foreman found out, he took all the badly marked clogs, came and threw them at me. It was terrible. He said: ‘Girl, don’t you know you shouldn’t continue work that started badly. If it doesn’t work, you have to stop the ring.’ When we stopped the belt, a red light lit up overhead. The foreman came running to see what was going on. When our machine broke down, he immediately sent for a mechanic. Then we paid a fine. We were supposed to make a quota of, say, two thousand pairs a day, and when there was some delay and we didn’t meet the quota, then the foreman got less money too. And he then cut a part of our wages. We got our wages every week. I got 420 crowns on my first payday. That was a lot of money for a week.”

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    Zlín, 17.03.2018

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I learnt to do honest work at the Baťas, to respect work, and to economise. That stuck with me my whole life

Hana Totušková / Zlín / 2018
Hana Totušková / Zlín / 2018

Hana Totušková was born on 25 September 1926 in Litomyšl. Her father was a painter and letterer. She had three younger brothers. Her father was active in the anti-Nazi resistance during World War II. He was arrested in 1941 and imprisoned in Terezín and Buchenwald until 1945. When her father was interned, Hana Totušková moved to Zlín and enrolled at the Baťa School of Work. She was employed in a factory and sent her mother money. After the war she led a Scouts Wolf Cub Pack. In 1950 she married the architect Miloslav Totušek, with whom she raised three children. They lived in Luhačovice and then moved to Zlín. Her husband was the director of Stavoprojekt, a construction firm. Following the normalisation purge he was deposed from his post for failing to agree with the occupation of Czechoslovakia by Warsaw Pact forces in 1968. Hana Totušková worked as a draughtswoman at the Zlín water works until her retirement. She attended the University of the Third Age and was active in the Club of Baťa School of Work Graduates.