Life Before War

Jozef lived quite an ordinary life with his daughter and wife in a small town called Badice in Slovakia. Like most people at that time, life was hard but simple, it would take a full day’s work just to pull up his household, but Jozef managed, and despite the full day’s labor he still had time to have fun and tried to have a smile on his face all the time. Perhaps to hide how hard his day and his life really were.


WW I

When the First World War began, Jozef was amongst the first wave of those recruited into the Austria-Hungarian army and sent to eastern front. As a simple man living off the land, he was not mentally prepared for the horrors of war. It wasn’t long until Jozef deserted from his post in the trenches and ran towards his homeland, his family.

The rear lines were full of military police, ready to strike at the first man to run in the wrong directrion. Jozef was not a thief but he was a hunter, and knew that escape from detection was much more likely in urban areas than in the open trenches, so he headed towards the nearest town and hid in an abandoned warehouse until the front line moved.

Two days he hid from the front lines, and for two days Jozef starved alone, in the darkness of old warehouse, accompanied only by the hay stacks which he used to sleep. As the battle moved on, so did life in the town. Residents who fled when the battle raged began to return. It wasn’t until the smell of food cooking on oven hit the nostrils of Jozef did he realize civilians had returned. But he can‘t allow anyone to spot him, or they may hand him over to military and he will be executed! But food is a must, and Jozef had not eaten in many days, so the decision to venture outside was obvious.

Hunting in the wild teaches a man many things, but perhaps the most useful is to learn how to keep one-self hidden. Jozef sneaked through the town effortlessly looking for food, but when he when touched the door of the house which he planned to enter, his skills failed him. The front door opened before his hand had even touched it, and a young woman with a basket stood before him and his soaked army clothes and rifle. They stared at each other with a gaze that can easily be mistaken for romance, but in reality is one of sympathy, both for the skinny man and his desperate look of hope and for the young woman who could have been robbed of her dinner. They stared at each other until two silhouettes with rifle appeared on the wall beside them. The woman knew that they are patrols that are knocking at doors and searching for deserters, so she pushed Jozerf into house and closed the door. She gave him food and dried out his clothes also used a handkerchief to tie up his wound sustained from a wild rose. They did not know each other or even other’s languages, only a few words, sounds and gestures, but Jozef quickly learnt that kindness is an universal language, he began to smile again. That night they talked to each other in whichever way they can for the whole evening and slept just a few hours until they were woken by a patrol repeatedly knocking at the door.

What happened next was a blur. The woman opened the door to find that a neighbour had reported an unknown man in the house. Jozef did not understand the frantic chatter but the sound of desperation was also universally known. Jozef tried to reach for his rifle but found a soldier was already aiming at him. Perhaps out of instinct or of desperation not to see what had happened to her husband unfold again in front of her eyes, the woman rushed forward trying to push the aiming soldier away. Just as quickly, the second soldier shot her down. This moment of madness gave Jozef time to grab the rifle and return the favor to them both.

Was it sadness he felt? Was it guilt? Or was it anger that he could do so little for someone who had staked her life on him for a reason he never knew. Jozef approached her bleeding body with a heart full of despair and prepared to hear her last words.

“Ži!“ cried the woman! With that last word, she died, and Jozef followed her dying wish in a word that is known to them both...

“Live!”


WW II

Jozef lived on past the First World War, but the world apparently did not. A second, more destructive war had broken out across Europe and for a second time, Jozef was drafted into the army.

This time, Jozef spent his time in the rear on the Southern Front, guarding supply lines and escorting supposedly important people along. He spent his days carrying out his duty or writing letters to his family. Reading the frequent replies he would get was the highlight of his days, sharing the experiences of his family away from home. Through the passage of written language, it did not seem like he was far from home. All seemed well, until the Allies gained the momentum. When Jozef was eventually called towards the front, most men knew the front was being decimated on all sides. Supplies eventually stopped arriving, and so did the letters.

Jozef did not look like one to fear the worst, but he did fear the worst for his family. Two weeks went by without a single correspondence from his wife or daughter until Jozef finally grabbed hold of a man from the neighboring village of Podhorany. His news was grim, people in his village and nearby villages were being rounded up on suspicions of being partisans. Men, women and children, none were spared. Jozef could only assume the worst now, but he could not go back now… not when he is so far away on the southern edges of Germany.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. Four months went by and not a single letter from home. Jozef was heartbroken… for a second time. One day his sadness overcame him, and tears swelled in his eyes. He reached deep into his pockets for something to wipe it away, but found only a gritty handkerchief. Jozef thought back to the young woman he met all those years ago… how he was unable to rescue her, how pathetic he was standing by that doorway, looking down at the heroin who gave her life for him, how useless he had been.. and now… for a second time. But Jozef looked down again at the handkerchief, was it a memento of his failure? Or a souvenir of what was required of him?

“Live!”

But what was the point of living if you only watch others dear to you perish?

It was only then that Jozef understood the meaning of the young woman’s words. “Live!” was not just a word they could both understanding through coincidence. “Live!” was also a universal language, a shout to life, a cry of survival!

If he was to do one last thing in his life, it will be to save someone who wants to survive! Someone who is desperate to live on!


Jozef Smrek story background contributor: *K@BEL*