Things I Learned on Liberation Day

on 10-05-2006 02:02

Published in : , Misc

by Erin Donaghue

Before I left my home in Connecticut for the Czech Republic, my 94-year-old Grandpa informed me to “have a good time in Czech-o” and to “keep my nose clean.” On May 6, 1945, my grandfather was one of the American soldiers who marched into the town of Plzeň, ending the Nazi occupation there. Knowing he must have been speaking from personal experience, I got the hint that he was telling me to stay out of trouble—though I'm not sure if he was aware of the modern connotations of the term.

Blanka Chimelickova in Plzen

My knowledge of his seven months in Plzeň is limited. There are a few weathered photographs of the town square with American tanks rolling through, the old inked cursive at the top reading “Czechoslovakia, 1945.” There was an old canteen with the names of countries and dates scratched into the veneer. And there were his garbled stories and a small photograph of a young Czech girl who did his laundry in exchange for pilfered Army rations. With little to go on, I decided to strike down to Plzeň for the yearly Liberation Day festivals to learn some more about what happened on that day 61 years ago, gain some glimpses into my grandfather’s murky war history, and, of course, drink the world class Pilsner lager that made the town famous. Our first mission upon entering the sleepy town with ample parking and clean, broad streets, was to look for the signs to “Hell.” Peklo was the main area in which the Liberation Day festivities were being held. What followed was an odd clash of American symbols with Czech culture.

Plzen May 6, 2006

American flags were as abundant as Pilsner Urquell billboards. A teenager with a very metal haircut played country-western guitar on a USO-style platform. Young children wore military gear and rode in U.S. Army tanks around town. And upon meandering past the very crowded replica Army camp, we heard a mom assure her child, “Don’t worry—the soldiers won't really shoot you.” A stroll through the Patton Memorial shed some light on the history of the festival. The Liberation Festival commemorates the day that General Patton ordered his troops to liberate Plzeň from German occupation, and Liberation Day commemorates the end of WWII, which followed 2 days later. But the festival has only been a May 6 tradition since 1990. The Patton Museum displayed newspapers, magazines and documents from the1948–89 Communist regime that obscured the facts about the liberation of Plzeň by the U.S. Army. It was an attempt to shun all things Western and boost Soviet morale. Under communism, Liberation festivals were centered around the date two days later when the Soviet army entered Prague. After communism’s fall here, the festival in Plzeň has been moved back to May 6 and the American liberation has been celebrated ever since.

US GI, Blanka & Frank Donaghue - Plzen 1945

The photos of the days directly following the Nazi occupation were highlights of the Patton museum. These included images of burning Nazi propaganda, leaders of the Wermacht lined up with their arms over their heads, and the house on Klatovsk· street where General Von Majevski shot himself hours after the liberation. But for me it was the pictures and relics of the U.S. soldiers that made it worth the trip. Looking at the ancient packs of lucky strikes, tin eating kits, canvas tents and photos of baseball matches near Bolevec Lake, I began to piece together what life would have been like for my grandfather that summer 61 years ago.

Frank, Blanka, Blanka's mother - Plzen 1945

As the day wore on we found ourselves tired of the festivities and ready to head to a pub and drink some Pilsner. It was a strange feeling that I could be doing some of the same things my grandfather did in the months following the war—of course, minus the rationed food, drills and regulation outfits. Most importantly, Liberation Day then and now found Czechs and Americans partying together in the streets. In 1945, it took a world war—these days it takes little more than a pint of world-famous Pilsner beer. And in spending just about as much time as my grandfather did in a country that drinks more beer per capita than anywhere else in the world, I'm beginning to understand his wise warning.