Vaclav Michal’s 2nd world war

My Great Uncle, the favourite uncle of my father as well as the favourite brother of my grandmother, Vaclav Michal was a born adventurer.

He was born in Pisek, (Czechoslovakia) in 1910. At that time this part of Central Europe was in the hands of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire. Only after the First World War did Czechoslovakia become a free democracy – at least till the Second World War. At the age of 19, in 1929, my great uncle joined the French Foreign Legion. He was in the Foreign Legion till 1934 where he achieved the rank of a Sergeant. At the start of the Second World War, although Czech, he had Austrian nationality (as well as the Czech one) and therefore was conscripted to fight at the German side. Both his two brothers had to join as well. None of them wanted to stay in the German army. One of his brothers escaped and joined the Russian army to fight the Germans, where he died, the other, died on the German side before he could leave.

Vaclav fought in the German army for three years, first at the Russian Front, where he was wounded and then in Africa, before he saw his chance to abscond. As a NCO (of the 44th Division) he tried to subvert his men and was jailed. The prisoners were taken to Tunis for labour. At this point there are at least two different accounts of how he got to Britain. One (from an UK Interrogation report) he surrendered to the British army and via a POW camp was send to Edinburgh. From another report Vaclav made his way to his former Foreign Legion colleagues after escaping and asked to be transferred to the UK. What is documented is that he arrived in the UK at the end of 1943 on the ship Alcazar.

He was also in touch with the Czech underground while on leave in early 1943. During his leave he of course came home, and my father remembers the shock if seeing his favourite uncle in a Whermacht uniform.

In any case, once in the UK there was great interest in my Great Uncle from the SOE (Special Operation Executive). He knew France well and spoke French, German, Russian and Czech. After the establishment of SOE, the Czechoslovak intelligence officers founded a special department responsible for the training of men for special operations – Special Group D. SOE formed its own Czech Section, called MY, for operations in the Protectorate in the summer of 1940-41. (Therefore all the documents are from “MY” to x)

Eventually Vaclav joined the SOE (12.2.44) and was trained in Scotland, Arisaig (see Czech Memorial (see also first photo) unveiled 12th Nov 2009). SOE allocated special schools for Czechoslovaks near Loch Morar – namely, a hunting lodge; Traigh House and Camusdarrach and Garramor Farms, known as STS 25 (Special Training School 25).

After training, the Czechoslovaks, bound by an oath of silence, returned to their units and awaited to see if they would be selected for further training. It was only an elite few that progressed to the next stage. Vaclav was one of these. The final stage of training – the Finishing Course – was only for individuals selected for specific operations. The last stage of training involved a period of complete isolation of an individual or a group; briefing on specific tasks, maps, contact addresses in the area of activity, material equipment and the group’s drop on Protectorate territory ( number of documents that I have deal with these issues).

His undercover name changed from “Bartenfels”, to eventually “Josef Barta”

(This is Traigh House today)

His operation was code named OCHRE. He was to be the sole operator to be parachuted into France and the travel to Prague. There he was to carry out reconnaissance and gather intelligence before boarding a train back to France, near Lons Le Saunier, where he would be helped by the SOE to return to the UK.

Waiting to be send abroad he was residing in London in Bayswater (134 Piccadilly) and later at 47 Pentonville road in a lodging house of Mrs Willington under the name of “Franz Felsner”.

Sadly for him, the operation was cancelled, by the Czech command and I get the impression against the English desire. Subsequently, Vaclav Michal wanted to join the RAF, if not to fly as an air-gunner, then as a mechanic. To this end he was supported by his English Section Officer F.E.Keary. However, again this did not happen and somehow he ended up in an anti tank division.

(Francis Edward Keary became the longest serving ally of the Czechoslovaks. He had worked as an intelligence officer in Czechoslovakia before the war, under cover as a private English tutor and spoke Czech very fluently. In January 1943 he took command of the entire Czech Section.)

On 1st of September 1944 he was sent to France with the Czechoslovak Independent Armoured Brigade to Dunkerque. On the 4th of April 1945, age 35, he was killed. The last battles in this area – to capture the fort of Dunkerque, were fought in April. In the night of the 4th to 5th of April, there was a German attempt to re-capture the western part of the allied parameter. My great uncle fell in battle on the 4th of April 1945 – so I assume he was killed in this battle. He left a wife behind. Whether he had any children is not know.

He was awarded the Czech Memorial medal and was allowed to wear the French War Cross (Croix de Guerre) and colonial medal while in the Czech Brigade.


He is buried at Longuenesse (St Omer) cemetery in France

Beware when booking a ticket on line with British Airways.

If you make the smallest mistake and have booked a non-refundable ticket you cannot change it even if you phone them (BA) immediately.
I was booking a ticket for myself and my mother, I have to travel Business class for various reasons, and my mother asked to go economy for financial reasons. So I was booking her ticket. There was a question on the website asking if the person paying for this was travelling as well...I was...so I clicked yes. Doing that meant, I learned later, that my name was put on the ticket automatically. Booked it – paid for it...and then I saw that the ticket was in my name. So I immediately phoned my membership BA club. Explaining what happened. Could they possibly change the name to my mother’s? No! I had to buy a new ticket. All that was refunded was the airport tax. I lost £250 pounds.
This is not the first time it has happened to me with BA. When it happened last time, I wrote a letter to BA, and didn’t even get an answer back.
So beware and check and check again before paying anything to this airline.
Apart from that I love flying BA. But their online ticket sale is dangerous business.

The Search for my great uncle, Vaclav Michal, who fell in the battle of Dunkerque on the 4.4.1945.

The photo shows the part that we missed!!

Part 1 – The trip to Calais (first trip)

This all started innocently enough, when I was trying to put together our family tree, for me, my nieces and nephews. I have always heard about the favourite uncle of my father and the favourite and youngest brother of my grandmother. The adventurer, who went off and joined the Foreign Legion, who escaped from the German army to which he was conscripted (us originating from the Czech lands) to the UK and dying in the 2nd WW.

Well, as I was searching through the web, as you do nowadays, I found that he came up in the National Archive, UK, in the Special Operations Executive, personnel files. (Vaclav MICHAL - born 1910 . Special Operations Executive personnel files. Information on individual subjects and access conditions is available at item level. Vaclav MICHAL - born 1910 Date range: 1939 - 1946.). Interest peeked. But the files are closed unless I can prove that he died!

We have no death certificate!

More in detail searching of the internet revealed some more interesting information (see later) and from my aunt I heard that he was buried in Grave 37 row 1 in a cemetery whose name started with St and was near Calais. A photo of his grave would be prove enough I was told, so I decided to go and take one.

I persuaded a friend of mine and a work colleague, (AG) to come with me and we set out on a day of travel.

Now, the border crossings at Dover and Calais are turned round, so there is a French border on the Dover side and a British border on the Calais side. So once you have passed those borders you are, in fact, already in France or Britain without having left the country. Well, we drive past the empty French border check points in Dover as I say that we need the passports. AG then says “(*%&)!, I forgot my passport!”. I try and drive out of the area – back to the UK, but can’t and so am forced to continue to the ferry, where we ask if there is anything we can do. “Nope, take your chance in France”. On to the Ferry. We come up with the idea that her daughter can cross into Calais and give AG her passport on the French side before our return. All that is arranged and I take AG to France without any form of identification. On out way back we have daughter and all passports. Which is good because we come under close scrutiny by the British border patrol – I forgot to mention that AG is Chinese in origin!!!.

Back to grave searching.
From my searching on the web, I had decided that the best possibility was St Omer military cemetery. We found it, and looked at the Check section, looking for grave 37 row 1. Nothing. We did find a whole section of Chinese Labour corps from WWI.
So on to the next place, which is the Czech cemetery 70 km further south. Interesting, but nothing. I phone my aunt in the Czech Republic. “He is in Dunkerque” she says.
We decide to take a later ferry and go to Dunkerque communal cemetery. There I get a lot of help from a very nice lady who looks after the graves. We go through names, look at far too many graves, and I have a long conversation in French, but not a trace of my uncle. Disappointed I return to the UK and text my aunt.

The next day I get a message that my uncle is in St Omer, row 1 grave 37. But that’s where we where!!! I can’t believe it. I decide to phone the Common Wealth Grave Commission who looks after these areas. “He is in St Omer” I am told, “Plot 4, Row AA, Grave 46”. Looks like we have walked so near but did not see – now I will have to go back. At least I know he does exist!!!

The last resting place

This holiday in France we put the ashes of my father into his final resting place. It is a nice spot, with beautiful views of the village and mountains.

We played Amazing Grace (bagpipe version) and Don't stand at my grave and cry on a very hot an sunny day as the ashes were placed into the grave by my brother. Then the top stone was sealed and it was all over. It was a very final act. And that made it more painful. But it was also beautiful and had to be done.

Sailing in Holland

July 24 very early in the morning.
I wake up with a start – look at my watch and horror of horrors the alarm hasn’t gone off. It is 03.35. I was supposed to get up at 03.00am. Still, not all is lost, I will just have to forgo the cup of tea. I rush out of bed, do all the needed stuff and get my cats ready and am just in time for the taxi, which is outside my door at 04.15am.

The journey to Heathrow and the flight are uneventful – which is nothing to complain about. And on arrival I am fast tracked though and there is Ellis waiting for me. We spend about 30minutes trying to get out the right way – funnily no one, who works at Schiphol, know the way either. In the end we find the car and via Ellis’s house we arrive in Monnickendam to “our” boat, the Ijsvogel.

After settling in we decided to take the Ijsvoge for a spin. With only the small headsail. It was wind force 5 to 6. We left the “haven” and all was ok – although I was nervous – till we got out quite far and had to turn the ship. Then it got all very busy and nerve-racking, so to spare my heart we went back. In the evening after supper, Ad played the guitar and Ellis and I sang. We also had a lesson in navigation. At about 2am we went to bed. And after a rather noisy and impressive thunder storm I fell asleep at last.

Saturday 25th.
After a very relaxed morning we put everything away and tightened everything and went on our merry way. All the way to Enkhuizen. That’s about 18 miles. With an average speed of 4.5 knots we estimated 5 hours of sailing – especially as we also had to go through a lock.

After initial nervousness, mainly due to the high waves – as we were still only using the headsail and making good speed with 5 to 6 knots, I relaxed. It was nice sailing and the coastline was smaller and smaller. There was a week sun with a few clouds. Then a dark, black cloud appeared. We all put our rain-clothes on. Suddenly it was upon us. Now, rain would be ok – but with rain comes more wind and more waves! I did not enjoy that bit at all – and wondered why I was on the ship at all. Thankfully, the rain, clouds and wind passed and after a bit my fear passed too. Especially as we were nearing the land again and the lock so the waters calmed down a bit. I found a really nice place to sit as we slowly motored though the lock.

It was then decided to visit Ellis’s friend Etty & Han, who were moored nearby on their very large ship (where they live all year round in Amsterdam). So we came next to them and used their ship as a mooring place. We spend a very nice hour chatting, drinking beer and bobbing on the waves. After we said our goodbyes Han accompanied us to the harbour on his small sailing dinghy.

We moored at Enkhuizen. This was a very busy place, but we got good mooring. In the evening we went out for a meal and spend the rest of the time again singing and deciding on the next day.

Sunday the 26th
Early start this day. We had a time limit as I had to catch the plane back to London.
So before 9am we left and had breakfast while sailing. Again we started with the head sail only, although the wind force was only 3-4. But there were still pretty big waves.

We sailed to the harbour of Hoorn, where we stopped for lunch. This is a very very pretty place and we cracked open a bottle of champagne to accompany our lunch. At 13.00 we left Hoorn and made our way back to Monnickendam. The wind had died down a bit and the waves had died down a lot. So I felt much more relaxed (it may have also been an after-effect of the Champs). I dared to take the wheel. I also dared to go to the front of the ship – I think this has become my favourite place (apart from when it’s too windy). It is very comfy and you are quite high above the water. Then to my great surprise I even asked that the Main sail would be used. And so up it went – all the way. And we went a bit faster but not too much leaning with the ship. I was allowed to have the rope that would release the sail if I found that we leaned too much. But instead of releasing it, I would ask Gus to sail into the wind a bit, and then the ship straightens up. So we sailed happily like this till the entrance to the harbour.

There a few things started to get a bit messy. There was a problem with the motor rotor and the keel. Something seemed to hold it back. So I panicked a bit, and the sails went down. We made our chugging way back to the berth place. We found a whole salad of seaweed around the motor and keel. No wonder that it was difficult to steer.

After a change, quick supper- whipped up by Gus. Ellis and Gus took me to Schiphol. I checked in, had a drink brought some chocolates and went through the gate. The plane was late of course (some problem plane in Heathrow). Flight was ok – a bit bumpy. We arrived at Heathrow and there was no assistance for me. BA forgot to book it. So we had to wait. In the end one of the stewards found a wheelchair and the captain of the plane wheeled me half way out till we found the appropriate personnel to take me through to my taxi which had already waited for 50 minutes – so that will cost a nice amount! Got home at midnight.

Wimbledon

Today I went to Wimbledon. This was my first time and we had tickets for centre court for all the games. The first was the ladies final, and this was between the Williams sisters. It was a short but exiting game. To be in Centre court and be a part of the whole experience was wonderful. In the end Serina won.

After a break of strawberries and cream we went back to watch the men’s double finals. This was incredibly exciting. What a game. We staid to watch the lady’s double final and welcomed the Williams sisters back on court. They won.

The whole thing was a wonderful experience.

Year 2009 - the year of death

Ok - I too will write this down as so many people will today. Michael Jackson has died at the age of 50 of a suspected sudden cardiac arrest. I was not a fan of MJ, but it just never occurred to me that he would die, and so young. Everyone in the UK was looking forward to his forthcoming concerts. Some did think he would cancel, but not in this way.

Another death occurred but was overshadowed by MJ's. That is the death at only 62 of Farrah Fawcet, one of the original Charlie's Angles (CA). Now her I liked, I liked them all in CA, and they became, to some extent my role models when I was a kid. So I mourn her death. Mainly I hope that all the children of these two people can find some peace and comfort.

Just here

5 months. And it gets more painful, the loss the empty feeling. It hurts, yet I cannot cry.

A song - need some music. For my dad and Mama-Hensen

I don’t want to seem rude
But I am in a crying mood
I don’t know what to say
Please do go away.

I am in a crying mood

The tears burn behind my eyes
I cannot cope with telling lies
I want you to come back
I want you to be un-dead

I am in a crying mood

I do go on and try
I don’t go around all the time and cry
But sometimes I miss you so
Why did you have to go - I feel so low

I am in a crying mood

Sometimes crying’s good
It lightens your mood
And life is lighter for it
At least for some time for a bit

I am in a crying mood

So actually I am wrong
Please stay, don’t go, give me a song
That I can sing
And hope to the world it will bring

I am in a crying mood
Crying mood
Mood

That is good.

DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT - for my father too

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas

To my father

I am still angry that you left us, that you allowed death to take you. Even though our moments in the last few years of your life were so few. Moments, when you didn’t suffer so much that you could not talk. Moments that you enjoyed my company. I am angry at death and at the existence of cancer.

But I am also relieved, in my rational self, that you are not suffering any more, that you have freed us all from continuous fear of the worst to come, for it has come at last.

I put a tape on where you read a story for me, your voice is so strong, the story is a funny one and there is laughter in your voice. It was you as I remember you at your best. Full of humour, compassion, laughter and a love of life, learning, languages, food and good wine. A teacher always, but a student as well. Your intellect scared some, and delighted others.

You were there, always for me to talk to – however difficult the issues were. I love you for that. You were there to always walk with me up that hill/mountain, for you loved them as much as I did. We made up a new language together, when I was ill at home with a broken leg. I introduced you to StarTrek and you were brave enough to change you mind about SciFi. You welcomed my friends with open arms into your home. You played host to them and spend time with them. There are so many good memories; they far outweigh the few bad ones that exist between any father-daughter relationship. They are the memories that will now walk beside me as I go through life without you. I miss you so much and I will always miss you – but you are still alive in me, and those who knew you and even those who you only touched through your work. Goodbye father (tati) and friend.

In Memoriam

The mother of my best (soul-mate) friend has passed away. It was expected, but I had hoped that there would be a little bit more time for her and her daughter. Only 3 months ago we were at her house for St Nicholas. She was playing tennis on the new Wii, although very ill already. We were all laughing – giggling like small children, we stayed up late having a good time. That is and will be the last most recent memory of her for me. She was so brave, throughout her long-term illness. She had a zest for life and she knew how to laugh. Laughter with her is what I will remember most, as well as the feeling of cosiness when we – as children and later teenagers – would be at my friend’s house, drinking tea (hot chocolate) with cookies, chatting away. She also always had good advice on things, sometimes it was easer to talk to her than to my mum, because she wasn’t my mum. She was also the one who had the patience to teach me to ride a bike. Thank you.

B – You will always be in my mind, your laughing face, your understanding of silly jokes, your patience and kindness and your very brave fight and will to live.

Loosing a parent

It is just over a year since I last wrote. And a lot has happened, but the most difficult and traumatic is the death of my father on the 17th of January 2009.

Why am I writing about this? Because I searched the web so see if other people had the same emotional experiences as I did so far. But, although there is some information on children loosing a parent, there is nothing (or very little) on adults loosing a parent. So here goes, and this is just personal ramblings.

At first is a sense of shock, even if the news was not unexpected as in my case. Yet you never quite believe it is going to happen. In the immediate time after being told, my mind and body went into an adrenalin overdrive; sorting things out, letting other people know, getting tickets so I and other family could get to France in time for the funeral etc. Basically I was keeping my self busy and the first day I hardly cried.

The next day, I had some emotional relief when I listed to Mozart’s requiem. That set the sobs going. But that was all. The day after that (a Monday) I went to work, as I had to organize leave etc. Again I was doing things, and this type of avoidance continued right through to the funeral.

The funeral forced me to acknowledge the finality of what has occurred and allowed me to show some emotion. But then again I had to organise a few things for my mum, catch the plane back to the UK, etc kept me busy. When I got back I was kept busy with getting my flat ready for when my mum comes to visit me for longer periods of time. Again I was keeping myself busy – and I marvelled at how well I coped. Apart that is, from feeling really really tired. As well as the fact that my concentration on any one thing didn’t last long.

Now, just over 3 weeks after the death, I have nothing left to organise, there is quiet time, and the inner grieving is taking place. It hurts. I know I will not see my dad again, never speak to him, never hear him say how much he loves me; never have heated discussions with him. I keep wishing I had spent more time with him, embraced him more, and told him how much I love him. All these “I wish” now keep coming and it is difficult to keep tears away.

So, although initially you may think that you are okay – and that the grieving process is not as painful as others say. You may be mistaken, and like me the grieving may take place a bit later. I am sure it too will pass. And I am sure it is normal and I am not the only one feeling this way.

I hope these few lines may help someone who is also going or going to go through this process.