Josef Klat

* 1922

  • "We arrived there and they put us up on the top [in the former Mauthausen camp - ed.]. I still smoked at the time, and I had my car parked where the new museum and the offices are. There was a phone booth there and this kind of small parking place, and that's where I had my car. We were sleeping up on the top, and I had forgotten my cigarettes in the car, so I got up to fetch them. It was a lovely summer, a wonderful evening, the kind of summer evening with millions of stars in the sky, as there were no lights to get in the way - it really was possible to see them and there really were millions of stars. I took the cigarettes, and it got dark rather quickly, I went round by the steps that led through a short cut to the 'Rusenlager', the medical camp. You don't have to go round along the path, but you can take the steps which they happen to be repairing at the moment. And I walked up to them, they lead downwards, so I sat down, lit up and looked at the stars. It was really nice, kind of romantic. And then the crickets started, the crickets down there. But not just five or so, a million of them... The music of crickets! And all at once! And it was telling me: Jesus! Those are the souls of the dead, those that died. The ones you saw lying here... I had to run, do you know? I had to run. I couldn't take it, it creeped me out so badly, my heart was having a fit. I was completely weirded out by it... It's ridiculous of course, but it was such an awful feeling, I ran back inside, didn't speak a word, got in under my blanket, didn't tell anyone about it, not until later... And when I go there with a group, it's nothing. Not one bit, not when there are lots of people around. But when I'm alone there, when the fair isn't there, when I'm walking down there by myself, it can get pretty bad - because I see something here, something there, something reminds me... And it can get really bad then. The worst is when you see the friends that aren't any more."

  • "We started to get worried, life was getting pretty tough - everything was in short supply and a lot of people were being killed. Like when I drove the bread van down to the 'Rusenlager', I noticed there was a bus there, and that's when Bardoň and Láďa Vybíral... he killed himself on his motorbike, well they worked at the depot, they both worked on those buses, the ones that had their exhaust pipes leading to the inside. And now I saw the bus, and we didn't know what it meant, we just didn't get it. I saw the bus there, and there were people getting on it, with the windows painted blue, blinded, not really a big bus, I'd say it could take some twenty people. The bus left and then when we were back up top, we saw it come back, but right to the camp, right to the crematorium. We only found out later that people actually got on the bus for Gusen, there they unloaded dead bodies and loaded up the same amount for the way back: eighteen this way, eighteen back. We didn't know at first, but when we did find out, we started avoiding it. Then it got really bad down below, they got one loaf of bread for twelve people, but just twice a week. So you can imagine what that meant. We could see how bad things were, and we started experiencing the rough conditions in a completely different way; we were also wiser and hardened by the tough life, and tough life it was, just we didn't want to admit why. One [day] they sent us down below with a dung cart to block 4. So we drove down there, and we had to stop like this, the block is where you're sitting, the forehead would be the entrance, a large gate it was, and next to it was the entrance to the medical station, a window from this side, and then a door here, and we were to stop the cart in front of the door. I looked around, there was this line of Mussulmen [those inmates at the end of their strength and giving up completely - transl.] - starved out, skin and bones. They stood there, and inside there was one prisoner. I could see him walk here and there, and suddenly the door opened and they threw out a dead one for us to load up. So we loaded him up, and the same a moment later. So I started to realise that something was going on here. It was probably known, but we didn't want to admit it. So I peeked into the window, I saw two SS doctors in white coats, and standing beside them was Přemysl Dobiáš, a Czech, and he always came outside and took one of the prisoners in, and said something to him. And he noticed me and gestured for me to get out of there, so I did and that's where they were being injected. And he had to tell them they would be receiving an immunity injection or something, and we had to cart the dead up hill to the crematorium. He told me later on when we were talking about it, because I hadn't known him before that, he told me: 'Don't be silly! If they'd have seen you there, you'd have ended up the same.' "

  • "Those were also from Auschwitz, and the appellplatz was full of them. That was a lot of people, but they weren't Jews. They were normal prisoners, well, normal - Jews were also normal, but this wasn't a Jewish transport. But they did come from Auschwitz, as the Russians had already got that far. And now they arrived, and now the commander arrived and said that whoever was sick or weak, that they can take this sort of holiday for a while, and then they'll go back to work, when they're cured. And there were some hundred and eighty prisoners, about a hundred and eighty of them signed up for this, I was surprised at the time. I think there were a hundred and eighty of them, but that might not be quite accurate. They stood them up in front of the gate, but not by the laundry, but by sections 1, 2, 3, that's where they stood. The others went off to the wash room and through all the usual entry procedures, that was normal. And these others just stood there, and stood and stood and stood... That was in February [1945], night fell and they ordered them to the wall behind the laundry. They stood there, and it was dreadfully cold that day, eighteen degrees below zero some said, and what with the wind and all. We heard how they started, me, I was in section 6, so I saw and heard everything, and it went 'whooooo', how they started moaning... A friend came for me in the morning, Franta Kubík, who worked at the laundry, he also slept there, and he said: 'Come have a look at this.' So I went with him to the laundry. That wouldn't be possible normally, but things were already getting wild, that was in February and we dared to do all sorts of things by then. So I went there, and I looked out of the window, and there might have been twenty of them still alive. They were a sort of a tangle, how they had been pressing up to each other like bees. But the firemen had come to them in the night and sprayed them with water. So they were really frozen up. And now there were some eighteen twenty of them still alive, and an SS man came up to them, Farkač was his name, he was a Slovak German, and with him the head fireman Proschke, but he was a red prisoner, a Polish German. They had iron bars, and they beat the survivors to death."

  • "Those women really did survive. Not women, heroines. That's something I'll never understand, men couldn't survive that. One time I was doing drainage work, so I saw where the drains led, so me and Emanuel Blahoun and my friends the Spaniards... and I knew that there were cesspits in between the sections. That still has to be there, of course, so we went to get it. They had a cesspit there, and they had to squat above it like hens to do their business. Now when we arrived and they brought in the women for the first time and herded them into the wash rooms, behind the laundry room is where they had to be stopped, they rushed them down, and now we undressed - some upstairs, some down - but the women weren't to undress until down the bottom. And just before the shower room there's this other room, and they would send about a hundred of them in there, and we that distributed the bread, we had to take in the laundry, and their laundry, the stuff they took off, we had to put on piles outside - some was deloused, some burnt, I don't exactly know what was done to it. The Efektenkamer did that, they went through it and the women then got new prison uniforms. Of course we were curious how come we had women arriving. We saw how it was packed full in there, how they were herding them into the showers, and then there were barbers sitting in a circle all around them, and they had a bucket, a razor, and a brush like mason's used, really, a masonry brush, cross my heart... And the bucket was full of carbon, it smelled like carbon, but it was probably some sort of disinfectant for the lice, what do I know. And then the women came up, they had to stand there - some of them they cut their hair, some of them not, I don't know according to what rule or what, just that some they did cut their hair, they shaved them and painted them with the brush, and that was terrible, because some were bleeding how it scratched them, and [the barbers] were enjoying painting them even in the most sensitive places, it was just... That was mostly to start with, they quite get the kicks out of it afterwards. The first ones had it worst, because that was something new. It was terrible what those women had to endure, and did endure. Then they herded them out, gave them clothes - a shirt and trousers - and that was it. And clogs. And I reckon there were women there who didn't even undress for their husband. And now they had to undress in front of those SS men. And hearing their remarks and those of some of the prisoners... I wonder how they felt... One of them, she seemed like a granny to me, small and shrivelled - she mightn't have been more than 35 to 40 years old, but I was seventeen or eighteen myself at the time, and she was sick and worried... I didn't know if she was Czech, German, or what. And she was crying so piteously, the tears pouring out so, she could only sob, couldn't speak... And she was making one step after the other and falling again and again. She was dressed only in a long shirt, the trousers still clutched in her hands. She fell and I caught her and helped her up the steps, and she looked at me and said: 'Give them my greetings, my boy...' And died... She was Czech I guess, but I don't know who she was, no idea... And now when I'm walking down those steps, I see her and I see those women, and what they had to endure... And then they divided them up into the sections, and just imagine, they were capable of doing something that none of the men were, they even stood up against an SS man once."

  • "I don't know what the occasion was that I wasn't at work. But anyway, simply, off we go, but he said he'd stop by his house, and he took some of the [incendiary - transl.] boxes with him. And as we drove along, we passed the haystacks, we were driving from Vienna in the direction of Mikulov. Well, and first one had to go pee, then another had to go pee... and so we did it like that, and the boxes were supposed to start burning after twelve hours. We reckoned that was just enough time, we could get there, load up, and get back home, done. Right... We got there and loaded up the cucumbers, but the chap [the salesman that drove them to get the cucumbers in Znojmo - ed.] got drunk, he just sat somewhere and drank and drank... And it was dark, and he still didn't move, still said we wouldn't leave yet. Until at last we got going. And off we went, and we're driving along, and we suddenly see a fire go up, and then another, both on the spots where we stopped before. And suddenly he says: 'Look, that's where you went to have a pee.' And then another fire and he shut up. When we got to Floridsdorf, he gave each of us five marks and a sack of cucumbers and said: 'I never saw you, I never heard of you, and I don't want to see you, so scram!' So he must've suspected something. But the situation just got worse after that, after the Houdek's were arrested and they started arresting individuals. But we didn't know that, we weren't told about that in Florisdorf, the seven of us. Until one day, it was summer, they told us to meet up at the Metlíček Inn, that was a pub in Gerasdorf, a village close by to Florisdorf. So we met up and we talked. Nepožitek was there as well, and he gave me a parcel, saying it's thermite, that's the material used to make those incendiary boxes. And he told me to try it out to see how it burned. I was excited to try it out, but it smelled something awful, so I didn't want to use it in the pub, even though we were the only ones inside. I stuck it into the rain gutter. And he told us to be at the Czech House in Brünnerstrasse at ten a.m., that's this bit between the rails, there used to be gates there, but there aren't any more. Next door to the Czech House, from the left, there was a factory called Brevilia Urban, and they made screws there. They had already closed it down for production, there were just the warehouses there, and the Germans used those for storing finished trucks. They took them there straight from the Sauerwerke factory, that's where they stored them. And when they had some six hundred of them, at least that's the number I heard, they loaded them up and sent them straight off to the front. And at the time they were actually fully stocked. We were supposed to go there round about ten o'clock, and from the right side there was this wooden fence, and from the other side by a railed fence - you could look through and see the factory - and then there was the gate. You could sort of go into the factory courtyard, there was this little house there for the gatekeeper. We were supposed to paint slogans there..."

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    v bydlišti Josefa Klata, 18.10.2008

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    nahrávka pořízena v rámci projektu Stories of 20th Century
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If you didn‘t help out, no one helped you out.

Josef Klat was born on the 16th of June 1922 in Vienna into a family of so-called Viennese Czechs. His father and uncles had left Czechoslovakia one by one and settled down in Vienna shortly after the Republic was formed. His mother was also of Czech origin. As Josef Klat was growing up in a foreign country, he took part in patriotic clubs like Sokol or Omladina Komenského [Komenský‘s Youth - transl.]. The so-called Anschluss of Austria was the first occasion that young Czech patriots in Vienna saw as a sufficient reason to show their defiance to the dictatorship. Josef Klat joined the resistance immediately. He became a member of the Group of the Czechoslovak Section of the illegal Communist Party. As he himself stresses, his reasons for entering the Communist Party were not those of ideological communism, but purely those of organised resistance. He was active in the 21st district. His superiors were F. Nepožitek and Leo Němec. His first duties comprised of distributing informational pamphlets and also of painting communist slogans onto various Nazi buildings or important businesses. He later took part in various sabotage missions. As a member of the Austrian state, he was required to complete military service. Czech youngsters did however make use of the chance Hitler himself gave them, when he declared that he did not want Czechs in his army. In this way, most of the young Czech generation in Vienna avoided being drafted. However, this courageous step did mean receiving a negative entry on their record - they became politically suspicious persons. In July 1940, Josef Klat took part in another sabotage. It was successful, but he came under the scrutiny of the Gestapo. In November 1941 he and some forty other Czechs were arrested and brutally beaten. There was one SS man who was actually willing to help the youngsters and who advised them not to sign the confession, which would also be their death warrant. Those who listened to him survived. Klat was imprisoned in Mittergeis for almost a year. On the 27th of September 1942, a group of Viennese Czechs was transferred to the concentration camp Mauthausen. The conditions in the camp were quite bearable for the Czechs by that time, in 1943. There was a considerable number of Czechs there that helped each other out a lot, some of them held very good positions (H. Maršálek, J. Tobiášek and others). Josef Klat did switched through various labour gangs - he made tiles, cleaned the camp drains, hauled rubbish, distributed bread. He later even became foreman of a labour gang, and as such was able to take part in helping the prisoners in camp - Czechs, Slovaks and others. Probably the biggest and most dangerous operation was the smuggling of three thousand loaves of bread into the Rusenlager sub-camp. The SS men had decided to starve the prisoners of that section to death. After the liberation of Mauthausen on the 7th of May 1945, Klat became a member of the International Committee of Political Prisoners of Camp Mauthausen. He took part in negotiations and recorded minutes of the meetings, but refused to take part in the Mauthaus-Gusen Camp trials. He returned to his family in Vienna. However, his family decided to return to Czechoslovakia due to the political atmosphere. Josef Klat settled down in Mariánské Lázně. He applied himself to his craft, working as a locksmith, later becoming master of a locksmith shop. Due to his experience and also his excellent knowledge of German, he also acted as a guide for those interested in or related to Mauthausen prisoners. He is still a member of the International Mauthausen Committee, he regularly attends memorial services at the Mauthausen camp.