DAN SHARE Prag Czechoslovakia 1968 was producing hopes and yearning far beyond its borders when it was crushed this August by Russian imperial- ism. As the one satellite country where west- ern art had fairly extensive contact with a communist people, Czechoslovakia was rapidly turning into a focus of friendly international sentiment.. To Western Europe in the wake of the Paris riots, Czechoslovakia held out a hope that socialism could work without repression in an industrialized society. To Eastern Europe it gave rise to long suppressed hopes that a meas- ure of freedom was, in fact possible under Russian rule. And' in Czechoslovakia people responded, worked and played as if born anew. The Communist party under Alexander Dubcek was running with the people. Dubcek's attempts to give the Czechs a measure of per- sonal freedom and to lessen Russian economic domination produced a new hope and solidar- ity in the country but gave rise to grave fears for the sovereignty of Czechoslovakia. Headlines in the western press in early May made a Russian takeover sound probable. My trip along the East German-Czechoslovak- ian border made it look imminient. Russian jets-patrolled the border all day, breaking the sound barrier over Dresden (47 kilometers from the border) every 15 minutes. The woods in the hills of Saxony were full of bivuaced Russian soldiers and the roads were packed with troop carriers. The local population travelled through the area only reluctantly. The Russians were feared. East Germans I spoke with were incredul- ous that the Russians hadn't moved into Prague by the middle of July. The opening of Czechoslovakia to the West would poke a serious hole in the Warsaw Pact military and psychological protection {plans, opening breaches to East Germany, Poland, Russia, and Hungary. Moreover Walter Ulbricht, Comnunist Party boss of East Germany re- garded in the Communist world as more Rus- sian than the Russians, was making ominous noises in the direction of the Czechs. East Germans who had vacations planned in Czech- oslqvakia for mid-August openly doubted that the border would be open. MICHA EL T-HC ie s Sprin And the Czechs? They were the only people who remained unconcerned through the sum- mer. No Czech thought the Russians would come to take their country. As one Czech who drove a Russian's copy of a jeep and seemed to specialize in picking up hltcnhikers put it a month before the invasion, "The Russians are too smart to invade us. We are too united." The Czechs proved not only united but effi- cient at psychological warfare-but to little avail. Before the invasion, Czechoslovakia drew thousands of tourists from east and west. Prague teamed with French, Dutch, Swedes, Italians, Poles, East and West Germans (it was a favorite meeting place of long-separated families), Hungarians, Romanians, and Yugo- slays. People met in the taverns and parks of Prague on an equal level a phenomona ex- perienced nowhere else in the Warsaw Pact countries. Czechoslovakia had actually re- placed Hungary (famed for its beautiful and accommodating women) as the favorite tourist spot for Communists. It would be foolish to think that either the reforms or the influx of tourists made any difference. Czechoslovakia had mammoth social problems. What little industrial progress had been made since World War II had been absorbed by the Russians The industrial valleys of the northwest, a result of wartime German industrial expan- sion, wear the grime and hate of long years of toil. On cobblestone streets lined with partly old houses, trams lose their electric guide wires every few minutes. People wear old clothes, the women are old, the men sullen and Slavic. The children, however, are enthusiastic, and play and dance and sing, calling to those who pass to exchange sullen overworked glares for smiles. Some sort of spiritual fire still glows. The roads are packed: an army of motor- cycles, small Czech Skodas packed with fami- lies and vacation gear, long ugly Tatras re- served for diplomats. Hitchhiking isn't fast, but the cherry trees by the roadside are ripe with fruit by early July, and nobody complains if a few are eaten. Prague is even older than the countryside. By a fluke of history, war had not damaged it Air until the summer. Buildings in Prague date to the early 15th century. The streets are narrow and the buildings crowd darkly up to the walks. In Prague the wealth of the Bohemian kings built great palaces and halls. The Char- les Bridge, lined with statues dominates the river Ulatava and connects the old section of Prague with the "new"-built before the United States existed. A beautiful Old European city Prague has, until recently, refrained from the expansion and modernization characteristic of so many Central European cities. But now the main shopping district is in chaos; the streets have been torn up, and pedestrians routed through alleys to accommodate a new subway system. The Czechs had started their first under- ground transport network long before the Rus- sians announced that one of the benefits of "normalization" could be a new subway system. The atmosphere on the Prague streets is different than in the rest of the satellite coun- tries. The Peoples' Police, who in many Com- munist capitals outnumber the pedestrians, are missing in Prague. Unlike Budapest, Ber- lin, and Dresden, Prague is filled with a bustl- ing populace engaging in all kinds of busi- ness. The hurried pace seems more like the West than the East. The U Flecku, Europe's oldest beer hall, is packed with tourists, soldiers, and native Czechs. Trays of dark beer pass down the long wooden tables as Czechs explain the wall writings to Westerners, Communist tourists apologize to their hosts for any seeming un- friendliness on their nation's part, and soldiers sing the traditional ballads to the accompain- ment of a brass band. After hearing a French Canadian describe the Paris uprising, one, East German student from Leipzig said wistfully: "That will not happen in Germany for a long time. Ulbricht is too strong. But when he dies . . ." Mean- while a Czech was explaining the different positions of the presidential candidates: Cisare and Svoboda. A new openness characterized the whole country-not just Prague. An old farmer near Teplice admitted that "things aren't as good as they were in the Republic, but then this Dubcek is tloing a lot and has to contend with the Russians." Czechoslovakia was turning to- ward the West in its spare time. The artistic climate of Prague reflected this trend. Movies from all over the West could be seen in Prague's theatres (four shows a day). Movies had long been a national obses- sion in Czechoslovakia and the government has been gradually relaxing restrictions. Rock music also made an invasion. The Olympia Club in Prague was known through- out the satellite countries as one place where really good Western dance music could be heard. In East Germany the state regulates the dress, number of electrical instruments, and songs of a band. (Normally only one-third of a group's songs could be pop music from the West.) In Russia Bill Haley and "Rock Around the Clock" has just gained popularity. But Prague has had unregulated, long-haired groups for some time. Long-haired kids play Beatles songs and display sidewalk paintings in Prague's Powder Tower Square. Mod dress and flower power have made their advent and appear to be accepted by all. Unlike their socialist counter- parts the long-haired Czech kids report en- countering no difficulties in the job or at school because of their style. Bohemia, the name of the area before Czechoslovakia was created at the Versailles IRYN Vie Sfirst word a Michigan family receives that a son has died in the Vietnam War is delivered at its front door by a military officer, usually a uniformed sargeant. Practical jokers who phone false death notifications have forced the armed services to deliver their messages in person. Mrs. Ronald S-, 22, was washing Sunday morning breakfast dishes in her parents' home in Warren, a growing lunchbox suburb of Detroit, when an Army master sargeant ap- peared in her open front door. "He's dead," Mrs. S- sobbed. The master sergeant only nodded. Mrs. S- had been married eleven months. Only two weeks had she spent with her late husband. The master sergeant, like all Marine, Army or Navy officers who deliver death messages, carried a telegram explaining the fatal cir- cumstances. Sometimes the only information is "killed in action," because many who die in Vietnam are infantrymen who fall in chao- tic combat. A, letter from the dead soldier's command- ing officer usually comes later. Unless the commanding officer is killed in the same action. SOMETIMES death is communicated in a series of laconic wires. One family whose Death only son eventually died of "wounds" received five telegrams. In the first, the son was injured, but "not seriously." A day and another wire later, the wounds were "extremely ser- ious." In three more cables his condition worsened. He died in a Saigon hospital, a computer programmer as a soldier, a demoli- tions expert as a soldier. The last telegram any of the services sends is the longest. It lists benefits the government provides for the family of a dead soldier. One benefit is shipment by jet of the body to America at the recently accelerated rate of one week. Another benefit is $500 for burial. Early each morning before businessmen reach their desks, wire service teleprinters peck out the list of the dead: "The United States Department of Defense has announced these men have been killed in action in Vietnam . " At hundreds of newsdesks in America, city editors circle in their heavy black copy pencils the names of hometown dead. Reporters are assigned short pieces on the soldiers. They cannot do such stories by telephone; that would be too callous. Instead them must call the bereaved and arrange to interview them at home. Although reporters expect grieving parents would be unwilling to see them during morn- ing, most parents are quite willing to talk to Letter Bli reporters. Many parents explain they don't know their sons' friends, and they hope news- papers accounts will inform friends of the death. F OR A reporter to go to the home removes luridness of his task and in addition the family can give the reporter a picture which can be reproduced and mailed back. So I would drive to the home, park the car, and walk slowly to the door, using my steno book as reporter's identification. Ofter the father was in the entranceway, staring through me. So it was when I went to the home of Mr. and Mrs. Johnson in Royal Oak, Mich., cover- ing the death of their son, John Jr. As usual, father was at the doorstep. I shook his hand and touched the damp palm of-his wife. Who motioned me to a large chair in a corner of the living room. Her husband's chair. The one he occupied to read his news- paper and watch the television .. . The house was small and neat. Like all houses on the block and like most in the neighborhood, it was built after World War II and would sell for $15,000. The living room chairs were arranged for conversation, with the television intruding. A dining room with a large wooden table aj oined. "Did you son want to go," I asked. "Was he married?" "HIS LETTERS home spoke of the necessity of the U.S. effort in Asia. 'Remember that freedom is a right not a privilege, and it is a right not always come by easily.' He wrote his father he thought peace talks were for the people back home. The father, a World War II veteran who did not get over- seas, disliked the Vietnam war. "With all the infantrymen we have over there, we haven't won," he said. "It's not like World War II. We can't clean out the enemy with man-power. "We're in a box in Vietnam," he observed, "and we can't get out." Opinions on the War between son and fam- ily are often sharply divided and understand- ably contradictory. Letters home supported the war. Some, however said nothing at all about Asia. One dead soldier's two-page letter talked exclusively about the weather and hopes that everyone was well. Families were not informed -,.> 4 ^ wro . .D ~h nit- daughters discussed their deceased {son and brother, Jerry, quietly and at length. A sargeant and a platoon leader, Jones died under mortar fire during his second 13-month tour of duty. Five friends with whom he went through basic training in 1963 died during the first tour. AFTER GATHERING the necessary informa- tion, I asked a question that had been pulling on my developing conscience for some time. Did they resent that I, a year younger than, the dead son was a civilian and safe from the war? "No" Mrs. Jones said. "Why would we?"' 'God gives and God takes away. It was his choice," Mrs. Jones said. God chooses more men in poorer cities. The prosperous city of Troy, that gets the popula- tion overflow from rich Bloomfield Hills, low- ered the city flag to half mast until one Troy man's funeral. The man was the second from Troy's 36,000 to die in the war. Flags do not fly at half mast in Warren, where the average family income is about half that of a Troy family. 'If we did, the flag would be down almost all the time," a city official said. Late in the summer, my suburban daily collected the obituary figures and published the tallies from local communities on the edi- torial page. The short story chided citizens not to look on the figures as "some kind of con- test." The blue collar suburb of Hazel Park lead with 12 deaths since 1966. The dead men were not college students. For the most part they were enlistees who had seen little chance of missing the draft call. Many left high school early and went to work. Or they entered the service "To get it over with." Their jobs were the necessary tasks that college students step over searching for hap- piness and fame. They were clerks, tile setters, factory workers, and part-time students. THE DRAFT BOARD asks if a young man is a full-time student so a son of the lower mid- dle class attending Macomb Community Col- lege at night furthers his education doing jun- gle training in Panama or in the Philippines. He goes to Asia for graduate studies. ues conference, had a long history of domination by Germany and Austria-Hungary. Throughout these long years of subservience the court did not suffer. The riches and splendor of Prague's public buildings attests to that. But there was no national leader to embody the desire of the people for complete Czechoslovakian in- dependence, the way King Vaclav, now called Saint Wenceslas, and later King Wenceslas I, have for centuries. Saint Wenceslas who ruled in the tenth century was the first great proselytizer of Christianity and introduced the first element of continuing Bohemian solidarity. King Wen- ceslas I, a 13th century monarch, successfully consolidated the country against the incur- sions of nearby empires. The two men hold a place in the hearts of Czechoslocakians as rules who held to the glory of Behemian independence. Not until Edvard Benes, president for part of the first and all of the third republic, did' a leader arise who gained the respect of the country. He was forced to resign first by the Nazi's in 1938 and then the Communists ten years later, but his devotion to the idea of an independent Czechoslovakian republic has placed him on the same level as the ancient Kings. The Czechs remember the pride and per- sonal freedoms attendent on the republic and felt Dubcek was working in a strongly estab- lished Czech tradition of independence, from foreign powers. In Czech eyes he was rapidly approaching the status of Benes and Masaryk, the last non-communist government minister, who "committeed suicide" during the Com- munist takeover in 1948. Tht Czechs didn't need to be rallied to the cause the morning of the invasion. Anti- Russian feeling had been building for years. During the summer when Poles, East Ger- mans and Hungarians were warmly received in Prague, despite their governments' denun- ciations of Czech reforms, the Russians were given the cold shoulder. Prague's cabarets rocked with laughed and music to the na- tional songs of socialism until la Russian would start to sing. Then all was quiet. Street signs, very often the barometer of social change, told the story east of the iron curtain: "USSR go home!" and "End Soviet imperialism". What the U.S. represents to nationalist in Latin American and Asia Russia is to Eastern Europe. The signs post-dating the invasion tell a deeper story reaching back to World War II and beyond. The conduct of the Rusian peasant during war has never been overly civilized, and during 'World War II the Russian soldier made an in- delible impression upon the conquered satel- lites. Killing people for wrist watches and rap- ings are the two most noted antics. Thus the sign put up the morning of the invasion in Bratislava "Hide your wife and watch: the, Russians are coming." Other favorite taunts included hints at infidelity of girl friends at home and the blunt question: "What are you doing in my country?" It is the liberalization process that probably gave the Czechs the courage to be so open in their contempt. Revulsion with the Soviet occupiers is standard in Eastern Europe but nowhere is it practiced by so much of the populace. Though things are beginning to settle down in Prague and return to the "normalcy" that the Rusians so desire, things Went too far this summer. The Czechs have tasted the best of both worlds both culturally and politically. They have found that it is possible to work toward equitable solutions of long standing problems under socialism,. The lesson was not lost on Eastern Europe where, though the spectre of Russian power still looms uppermost, it is the conviction that freedom from Soviet domination can be won. Nor is it lost on Western Europe which learned that socialism need not mean repression. The Czechoslovakian reforms helped the radicals gain a new respect in their home countries. Repression is in order for this part of Czechoslovakia's historical cycle but as one Czech intellect put it: "Their guns and tanks have silenced us now until they cannot stop the march of history. After the night, the dawn will come again." W :t?}""; ' S: .::' :i; :i}Srti i} 2:< 24Y::rx" ; : xi: r;: ;::. .ti>.: ; ::;r :; ;;:' ,y . .;. :t.,:". ":r:,:":'LV.9::::' ',-::4,s;,; ":' {refa:._.":"."::"::"'":;. .;:;'+': :4?,....MM ..kW ' _._ ^.. .","z'..":" ""st C x4:.2". :.{vrv:;.".".yv...d.:.xkL;.;,:,o._._...__.:,>_.:t. >I