I spent my first night of freedom in a stable together with the horses. The Sudeten Germans had a custom of never taking people into the house for the night, but leaving them in the stable with the livestock. Still, one was grateful for it. The hostess cooked a pot of potatoes, gave me some salt and sweetened black coffee. For breakfast, potatoes again, bread and sweetened black coffee. One thanked God for all of it. It was worse for those prisoners who had only striped uniforms and no other clothing. The Volkssturm had received orders to shoot everyone returning in striped uniforms. The Germans did not want the world to learn what they had done. I had absolutely no civilian clothes; I threw my striped dress away on the way. I put on a light, prison-issued blue dress, a sweater inside out, and a sack on my back as a backpack to cover the cross and the word "Haftling" (meaning prisoner), painted on my back in oil paint, because it could not be removed. Thus, happily, we marched eastward and, despite our exhaustion, covered 12–15 km a day.
On 7 May 1945, I successfully crossed the border into the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia. Crossing the border cost us a great deal of anxiety, as we could see German troops in full arms all around us. They were soldiers who no longer wanted to fight and were hiding.
On 8 May I was already in the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia, and together with the Czechs I experienced Freedom Day, shedding tears and thinking of my homeland. I was already heading east through Czech lands. The Czechs showed great kindness to prisoners returning from concentration camps, supporting us with whatever they could.
After Germany’s capitulation, marching was dangerous because SS men were hiding in the forests.
In Czech Pilsen, a committee and a camp had been organized for those returning from Germany. I therefore went to Pilsen, waiting for transport eastward. It was American military transport.
At the beginning of June 1945, the first transport was organized, and I returned on 16 June. I returned to four empty walls, hungry, cold, barefoot and naked. I found my youngest sister alive; the middle one had been murdered at Majdanek before the Polish and Russian troops entered, while to this day we know nothing about my brother and his family. Only two of us remained from the entire family.
After a short rest, I went west to the Recovered Territories. In September 1945, I arrived in Bolesławiec. There were neither school authorities nor schools in the town. I temporarily began working at the county office, while thinking about organizing a school. For this purpose, I went to the School Inspectorate in Legnica to obtain information. The School Inspector in Legnica instructed me to organize a school. The County Head and the Mayor were helpful in this effort. An announcement was made to the public, and registration was carried out. A total of 58 children enrolled. The building of a former German vocational school was designated as the school. On 1 October 1945, a solemn service and the opening of the first Polish school took place. Those present at the opening included: Deputy County Head Wiśniewski, the Mayor and the School Inspector. And so 1 October 1945 will be written in golden letters in Bolesławiec, because after more than 600 years, a school was established in the Piast Lands, in the Polish town of Bolesławiec. In the first days I taught alone; after a few days, a second teacher, Eugenia Trzaskowska, joined me.
Bolesławiec, 8 October 1945. Stefania Tajcher (Editor’s note: we have retained the original spelling)