My 1968
Unbelievable that it happened almost exactly 56 years ago. I remember that night of August 20–21, 1968, as a six-year-old boy vacationing with my parents in a log cabin near Chata Slovanka (http://www.slovanka.eu/) in Jizerské Hory mountains. We were woken up in the predawn hours by massive rumbling of cargo airplanes over our heads, and I heard my parents whispering to each other: "What the hell is going on?" My mom was especially worried. Later in the morning, while walking to breakfast, I saw some people locking their doors with suitcases in their hands, running up the hill. “They are running,” someone said. I had no idea what “running” actually meant, since it was quite obvious they were already running.
© Libor Hajsky
When I grew older, I learned that “running” actually meant leaving the country and never returning, which was exactly what I did many years later. In the cafeteria at Chata Slovanka, the TV was on, showing war images. At the time, I couldn’t comprehend that it was my hometown on the screen, not far from where we lived. The cafeteria was unusually loud, full of shouting men, screaming women, and crying children. Soon, I found myself hiding under a pool table, trying to comfort another crying boy.
We stayed another week and then returned home to Prague by bus. Along the way, the scenery often looked like the pictures above. Whenever our bus passed a tank column, people shouted incomprehensible words at the Soviet soldiers through the open windows. To my relief, our home was still intact. A couple of days later was a big day for me: I started school. That morning, walking with my mom, we passed a water treatment plant guarded by soldiers. I wasn’t too worried, because I was told they were “ours” and not the bad ones. Strange times indeed.
It didn’t get much better in the days and years that followed. Even when the Soviet soldiers moved out of sight to their barracks, I could still feel their gun barrels pointed at my head. And that’s why 16 years later during the George Orwell's year of 1984, I too left and I “ran” never to return.
Not too many color photographs survived from that day of August 21st, 1968. Here are the ones by Libor Hajsky: https://www.rferl.org/a/prague-1968-invasion-photographer/29430254.html
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