Calgary, May 2020.
I, Simon Hanus, sergeant of Infantry, Imperial Army of Ferdinand III of Austria, write this memoir to clarify what happened on Charles Bridge in Prague, in August of the Year of Grace of 1648. It was one of the last battles of that terrible war which lasted for 30 years and left no winners, only losers and a continent devastated by death, famine, and plagues. I often ask myself if the defence of Charles Bridge was a mistake. Perhaps my friend Jan was right, we should have let the Swedish army pass through to occupy Prague and push the Imperial soldiers out. I have no illusion that the Swedish occupation would be less brutal than the Austrian occupation we have now, but at least it would be a Protestant occupation. Our nation could maintain its faith and speak our language, which the current Austrian Catholic oppression ferociously denies.
In Prague, the Year of Grace of 1649.
I was born on 21 of June 1623, exactly two years after the execution of twenty-seven Czech leaders of the Bohemian uprising against the Hapsburg king Ferdinand II. My father was an official in the Protestant council in Prague, and after the disastrous defeat in the battle of the White Mountain in 1620, he narrowly escaped execution by hiding in the estate of his Catholic friend, Jan Kolar z Hostivic. Later on, my mother was able to join him and thanks to the kindness of Mr. Kolar, my parents have lived there until now. Also, our host took care of my education and sent me to the Catholic School of Hostivice Monastery, a short distance from Prague.
Regrettably, my life changed dramatically in the summer of 1639, when I was sixteen. A band of Ferdinand’s soldiers attacked the property of Mr. Kolar, they stole what they could, raped the women and gave me a choice: join the army or a bullet in the head. It was an easy choice to make. However, since I, unlike the other young men kidnapped from the nearby villages, could read and write, they made me an officer and gave me proper military training. I was involved in various armed confrontations, mostly with the bandits and deserters who were terrorising the land. Then, in 1645, came the battle of Jankov, a small village south of Prague. At that time the Swedish king also entered the war and his forces were well established in Moravia and in the north-eastern part of Bohemia. It was obvious that their main objective was to occupy Prague. The battle of Jankov was brutal, bloody, and ended in a crushing defeat of Ferdinand’s Imperial army. I hesitate to say "crushing defeat of our army," because I never felt I belonged to them. After all, I was forced at gunpoint to join. At Jankov, the Swedes effectively destroyed the Austrian forces, and the regiment I was commanding fell under intensive artillery fire; we suffered heavy losses. The survivors, myself included, were taken prisoner.
When the fighting ended, the Swedes took us to their army camp; the first thing they did was make us an offer to join their forces. Again, the choice was simple. The mercenary soldiers of my regiment couldn’t care less for whom they fought, as long as they got paid and could keep the loot. Therefore, not surprisingly, they all joined, all except me. That evening a Swedish officer came to me, and in a perfect Czech, with a nice Moravian accent, asked me why I did not want to unite with them.
"Look around. Don’t you see the devastation your soldiers are causing? I don’t want to have anything to do with it."
"And you think that your soldiers are better?"
"No, they are not. They are the same as yours or as anybody else’s. But then, I did not join that army, I was kidnaped and forced to fight. I do not consider myself to be one of them."
"Well, your story is similar to mine. As you have probably guessed, I am Moravian and when the Swedes attacked Brno two years ago, I was also faced with a choice: join them or die of starvation, because, as you already pointed out, the land was devastated. I don’t belong to them just as you do not belong to the Austrian army. By the way, my name is Jan Horak."
"Simon Hanus is my name. As I can see, we have a lot in common."
"Yes, we do, and I would be happy if we can become friends. After all, in this time of cruelty, when people are losing everything including their soul, friendship is the only merit left to us."
I liked him. He was supposed to be an enemy, but in fact he was my fellow countryman, another individual lost in the violence of the war. Indeed, we could become friends. The next day he came to see me again. We talked some more, and he invited me for dinner. "I will pick you up in the evening," he promised. For me, as a prisoner of war, it was a very generous treatment. In the evening he did come, we had dinner and when it became dark, he leaned towards me and whispered:
"The northern entrance to the camp is not guarded. There is a horse waiting for you; if you leave now, you can make it to Prague before morning."
I could not believe what I was hearing. "Why are you doing that? You are risking your life!"
"Well, that is what friends are for. We have to help each other. Maybe one day you will do the same for me."
I did make it to Prague before morning and reported to the military high command, which was in a state of total chaos and panic. The king Ferdinand III was frantically trying to salvage what was left of his army and was begging the other Catholic kings for help to defend Prague from the Swedish attack that was sure to come. I was asked to stay in the city and wait for orders. They assigned me a room in the officer’s quarters of the army barracks and paid me enough to buy a decent meal at the local pub. It was a comfortable service.
One evening I was in a tavern called "U Fleku," drinking their famous dark beer, when a man appeared at the door. He looked like the typical local who came for a glass of beer to finish a hard day of work, but there was something familiar about him. He walked to my table and when he was closer, I recognized him.
"My God, Jan, what on earth are you doing here? If they catch you, they will hang you."
"I know, but you will not denounce me, will you? After all, we are friends."
"Yes, we are friends, but I presume you came here for more than just to remind me of that."
"You are right, there is more. You know, when we met for the first time, I was not quite honest with you. I have more obligations than just to be friendly with the prisoners of war, I collect information."
"In other words, you spy for the Swedes."
"Yes, you might say that."
"So, when you let me escape, you were not risking your life."
"That is true. It was all arranged."
"And you also lied when you said that you are not one of them."
"No, in that I did not lie. I am not one of them and I hate what they are doing to our country."
"So why do you spy for them?"
"Because I want to be on the winning side, and Simon, they are winning. Look what happened at Jankov. Their next objective is Prague and they can capture it in one of two ways. Either through heavy fighting, which would result in a mountain of corpses and a destroyed city, or by some other means."
"And you want me to be the ‘other means.’ Am I right?"
"Yes, you are."
"If I understand you correctly, you want me to betray the soldiers in my command and cause their deaths."
"You yourself said that you are not one of them. And as far as causing their deaths, you are totally wrong. Without the fight there will be no death and when the Swedes occupy Prague, they will not commit mass murder. Just as in Jankov, they will ask the defeated troops to join them and, as you know, most will. Undoubtedly there will be looting, but not murders. After all, the Swedish king wants to maintain friendly relations with his fellow Protestants. Also, under Swedes we could maintain our Protestant faith and the Czech language, which we cannot do under the Habsburgs. On a personal note, there might be some perks left for you, in the new army or in the government. Think about it."
With that Jan smiled and calmly left, as if there was nothing in this world which could disturb or worry him. I admired Jan; he was certainly a brave man. Also, there was a lot of truth in what he said.
The war was developing exactly as Jan predicted. During the summer of 1648 the Swedes attacked Prague, captured the castle, occupied the eastern bank of the river Vltava and were preparing to cross to enter the city center. My orders were to defend the only bridge big enough to allow the enemy to enter into the center of Prague, the Charles Bridge. I got a company of Czech musketeers to do it, and just as I was hoping that Jan forgot about me, he appeared.
"So, did you think about it?" he asked.
"Yes, I did."
"Are you going to do it?
"Yes, I will."
"Good, I am listening."
"I have a company of Czech musketeers to defend the bridge, but the Austrian generals do not trust us. They think that we might desert and join the enemy, therefore the day after tomorrow we will be replaced by Austrian troops. I can order our retreat from the bridge before the Austrians arrive, leaving it unguarded for a short time. Be ready a day after tomorrow early in the morning."
"Thanks Simon, we will be ready," and Jan disappeared into the crowd.
I stood for a long time on the western bank of Vltava, looking at the castle and at Charles Bridge, and wondered what the next few days would bring. Then I went to see my commanding officer.
"Sir, the day after tomorrow, in the morning, the Swedes will attempt to cross the Charles Bridge. We have to secretly build the defence line."
He looked at me and asked: "How do you know?"
"Never mind how I know; we have to do it!"
Perhaps it was the urgency in my voice that convinced him. "OK, get your men ready!"
Why did I do it? Why did I betray Jan? Was it a mistake? I keep asking myself those questions and I do not know the answer. The only thing I know is that when I was standing there by the river, watching the castle, the idea that Prague, the Capital of my land, would be occupied by a foreign enemy was unacceptable to me. Prague was occupied by Austrians and they were the enemy, but not a foreign enemy. We had a love-hate (mostly hate) relationship with them for centuries and we knew what to expect. With the Swedes it was different. I did not think they would commit mass murder, but how would they treat our city? Will they steal everything they can? Will they destroy the beautiful Catholic cathedrals? Will they use the cathedrals as a storage space for their army, as Ziska’s forces did two hundred years ago? It was impossible to know, but I was not willing to risk it.
Two days later, early in the morning, I was waiting with my fifty musketeers on our side of the bridge, staring into the distance and wondering if I will see my friend Jan one more time. I did not have to wait for long. He appeared on the other side of the bridge, leading a group of soldiers, and as soon as he saw our defence line, he knew what happened. He looked at me, his hand moved towards his pistol, but I just waved at him and smiled. At that point he could have easily killed me. All he had to do was to aim and fire, but he did not do it. Instead, he also smiled and waved back. We were friends, and our friendship was more important than the loyalty to a dubious cause.
The Swedes made a half-hearted attempt to break through our defence, but everybody knew the war was coming to the end. All the powers involved in the conflict were bankrupt and there were neither resources nor willpower to continue fighting. We also knew that the fight on the bridge could be the final combat of the war, and nobody wanted to be the last man to die in it. There was a little bit of shooting, some yelling and screaming, and after a short skirmish, the Swedish soldiers retreated.
The war lasted two more month and in November 1648 Swedes gave up the siege of Prague and left the devastated land. After their departure the oppression of the catholic church increased, and I think that my friend Jan was right. The defence of Charles Bridge was a mistake.