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“My Gutsy Story” by Ian Miller

December 26, 2011 by Sonia Marsh

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The last day

For summer vacation, some people go to the beach, some go to touristy places, but in 1968, I elected to take my little near-clapped-out Ford Anglia behind the Iron Curtain. Early in the morning of August 23, 1968, the day my Czech visa would expire, I left Praha and headed south. The day matched my mood: sombre and deflated. The heads were down; the protests were over. I had a small Czech flag tied to the aerial of my Anglia, and where before this had given me quite amazing support from the Czech people, now it was ignored by the very few people who were venturing out.

I had memories that would last forever: while driving at high speed in the dark, narrowly avoiding colliding with a tank parked in the middle of the road with camouflage netting; entering a Russian military base from the rear, which was unguarded because the road behind had been deemed impassable, then driving through, flag still flying; heading a procession of tanks into Praha and forcing them into continual graunching gear changes while hundreds of thousands cheered, and even threw flowers; the rattle of machine guns; people hugging the walls while I walked unconcerned (the noise was clearly in another street, and I favoured the gutter if necessary); a marriage where bride and groom emerged, looked around and burst into tears; protestors marching into Wenceslas Square to be confronted by a yellow line painted across the stones and about a hundred men with submachine guns on the other side; me leaving and shortly after, the rattle, the screams, the ambulances; talking to a Major on Charles Bridge while the soldiers below took off boots and I noticed they had rags wrapped around their feet rather than socks; the Major wanted to know why the people were removing the food. Then there was that which cheered the Czechs and annoyed the Russians more than anything else. One town only refused to protest and meekly did everything ordered by the Russians: Lidice.

Finally, a night in an apartment with the Heitlegnerovs (I apologize for the spelling if it is wrong.) The father was a Jew, who had spent the war in the forest resisting Hitler, he had helped organize the Communists come to power, then he was back into the forest in a hut with a dirt floor and no heating because he was a Jew. With Dubcek, he got this neat apartment, and now he feared, back to the forest. I was given one task in return for the bed: he had a daughter on holiday in England and I was to take her best belongings and carry the message that she should stay there.

About twenty minutes short of the border on the road to Linz I picked up two Czech hitchhikers, who were carrying a petition with about 250,000 signatures that they wanted sent to the UN. Would I smuggle them and it out? My problem was, I was involved. I had stopped knowing they wanted to get to the border, so I could hardly just up and leave them. There was no way I could conceal them, but I thought I could manage the petition, so I agreed to let them off 100 meters short of the border. I would wait on the other side for so long, assuming I got through. Then the decision: what to do with the flag? The guards were Czech, so I left the flag and hoped it would work. I wrapped the petition in a large plastic bag and put it in the bottom of a large box that I was using for storing waste.

At the border, the guards searched, and when they got to the rubbish box, they took out the rather dried rye bread I had not eaten, then over-ripe fruit, then smelly empty tins, and they asked me why was I carrying these? As I pointed out, there are no public rubbish receptacles behind the Iron Curtain, or if there were, I never found them, and I did not want to dump rubbish. They accepted that, and I was half through. All I had to do then was to enter Austria.

Then I saw the two triumphant Czech faces and a border guard who knew. I can still almost scream. They thought the Austrian authorities would support the Czechs: how stupid!

Those days in Czechoslovakia were days I shall never forget. It almost certainly strengthened my individualistic tendencies, and it certainly diluted my desire to be with a group of tourists. Now I have taken up writing fiction, there are perhaps three influences over all else. Big events, violence, etc tend to be very sudden, except to those planning them. The second is that groups do not necessarily behave the same as individuals, and that is an issue that literature tends to steer clear of. The third is that I want to explore why some people want power over others, how they get it, and why others let them have it. This makes my writing somewhat different from others.

Alenka received her belongings, stayed in England for about 6 months, then voluntarily returned home. I pray she lives long and has prospered.

*****

IAN MILLER
I am a semiretired independent research scientist (chemistry) who has taken up writing fiction. Besides a strong interest in scientific theory and work on seaweed polysaccharides, including the development of skin-care products, I have been working on and off on biofuels and recycling for most of my career. The intermittent nature of this has been due to the corresponding interest, or lack thereof, in the provision of funding. This habit of governments to ignore problems that do not have imminent consequences has influenced my fictional writing, and I am intending to self-publish a series of futuristic thrillers. I am married and live on the Western Hills of Lower Hutt, New Zealand, and the photo shows us with our front yard in the background.
*****

Thanks Ian for sharing your Gutsy adventure back in the 60’s. As you mentioned, those days in Czechoslovakia influenced you and your writing. We look forward to reading your future novels. Please check out Ian Miller’s website, and join him on Facebook.

*****

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*****

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Please leave your comments and questions for Ian Miller below and please share his story.

Filed Under: Inspirational, My Gutsy Story, People, Travel & Adventure Tagged With: "My Gutsy Story" Ian Miller

Comments

  1. Sonia Marsh says

    December 26, 2011 at 8:26 am

    Thanks Ian for your Gutsy story. It’s interesting to go back in time and read what you experienced behind the Iron Curtain. We look forward to your upcoming novels.

  2. Lady Fi says

    December 27, 2011 at 8:22 am

    What an amazing story Ian! I lived behind the Iron Curtain way back when, so can definitely connect with your story.
    Lady Fi recently posted..December rosesMy Profile

  3. Loren Nason says

    December 27, 2011 at 11:36 am

    test comment

  4. Penelope J says

    December 27, 2011 at 12:13 pm

    Thanks, Ian, for an exciting read about your experiences in 1968 Czechoslovakia. That Dubcek Summer should never be forgotten, but a first-hand account personalizes what was happening so much more, and made me feel as if I were there, at your side. In a way, 1968 was a forerunner of what is happening in many countries in the world right now though the reasons are entirely different.

    It’s also interesting to learn the three themes that you are exploring in your writing. Should make for thoughtful and insightful reading.

  5. Miss Footloose | Life in the Expat Lane says

    December 27, 2011 at 12:16 pm

    Fascinating story! I can well imagine that so many years later these events are still with you. I hope never to be this scared!
    Miss Footloose | Life in the Expat Lane recently posted..Expat Foodie: What to Do With Goose Fat?My Profile

  6. Doreen Cox says

    December 27, 2011 at 12:29 pm

    Phew, Ian! Glad that you are here to share your gutsy story with us. It is especially interesting for me to read others’ stories; to “walk a mile in their shoes” for a bit. Your gutsy adventure certainly held my interest! The passions that came from your adventure also interest me, especially the influence of groups over individuals and empowerment issues (bullies). It will be interesting to read your futuristic novels so keep us posted!
    Doreen Cox recently posted..Please make your local bookstores and libraries aware of this great book. The mo…My Profile

    • Sonia Marsh says

      December 29, 2011 at 6:15 am

      Thanks Doreen for coming over from LinkedIn to comment. Good luck with your “Mother-Sitting” book.

  7. Rhonda Hayes says

    December 27, 2011 at 2:17 pm

    Wow, Ian thank you for your gutsy story and the reminder of what was happening in your part of the world in August 1968. I enjoyed the personal history lesson as well as I will be traveling to Praque this coming June. I will certainly think of you and your story while I’m there. What took you to New Zealand? A beautiful country I explored back in 2002-2003 on a Harley Davidson.

    Rhonda Hayes
    http://www.rhondahayes.com

  8. Jill Bradley says

    December 27, 2011 at 2:46 pm

    Fascinating account of a terrifying summer experience Ian – a clear ‘gusty story’ winner – gripping. Looking forward to reading your future novels.

  9. Ian Miller says

    December 27, 2011 at 2:52 pm

    Thanks for the comments above. You may be interested in a postscript. A bit over a decade later I visited the Soviet Union with a visa issued by the State Committee for Science and Technology, and beside official business, I stopped off in Tashkent and Samarkand. It turned out I was considered “important” and had really strange respect from lower level officials. The menu in the hotel was printed in 1957 and the prices stuck! At the last night in Samarkand, the few foreigners there decided to thank our Intourist guides with a small party and Georgian “champagne”, and at the end we thought we should escort them home. Totally unnecessary, they cried. Any young woman could walk anywhere at any time without fear. There were three reasons. Consumer goods were very hard to come by, but reporting evidence of crime got some. So, witnesses to crime reported it. The second reason was, if the victim was a party member, the sentence would have added harshness. The third reason was if the victim was a committee member, every effort would be made to catch the villain, and they would get the worst sentence available: three years! What was interesting was that the Russian girls were quite happy to trade the lack of western goods for the lack of crime. Oh, and that visa – it turned out that that was from a subcommittee of the KGB – and they got respect.

  10. MuMuGB says

    December 28, 2011 at 11:43 am

    What an adventure! It almost sounds like a James Bond story…thanks for taking us back in time!
    MuMuGB recently posted..Greetings From DubaiMy Profile

  11. Richard says

    December 31, 2011 at 3:11 pm

    Ian, your story is truly inspirational. My father and mother lived in Russia for three months in the mid-nineties, and have very fond memories of the people they met. I hope to follow in their footsteps someday.
    Richard recently posted..Joy To The WorldMy Profile

  12. Nari says

    January 1, 2012 at 1:57 pm

    Wow, Ian, what an amazing adventure you had! You just never know, when you wake up any given morning, how your day will unfold. And, what a day your had! Thanks, my gutsy cousin, for sharing your life changing story.

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