suburb, Gabcik stepped to the edge of the

kerb. From under his raincoat he removed

a submachine gun and pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened: the gun jammed.
Kubis stepped out from the other side
of the road and threw a grenade, but it fell
well short of the rear of the car. Heydrich
was soon on his feet, very much alive.
Gabcik escaped on foot whereas Kubis
got away from Heydrichs SS bodyguard
on a borrowed bicycle. The bicycle was
later traced to a family who would soon
be sent to a place from where few
returned: Terezin.
A 45-minute drive north of Prague,
Terezin is an 18th-century fortress town
built in the shape of a star. More than
150,000 Jews and several thousand
political prisoners were brought here
by the Nazis. Just metres from the gate
of death a short tunnel that led to the
execution zone youll stumble upon a
disused swimming pool, built by starving
prisoners for the commandants family to
enjoy. In all, about 35,000 men, women
and children died in the squalid condi-
tions of the Terezin ghetto, and 87,000
more including households who had
sheltered the would-be assassins in the
months before the attack passed
through here on their way to die in
other concentration camps.
In the church crypt in Prague, good
news reached the paratroopers eight days
after the bungled assassination attempt.
Horsehair from the cars back seat had
entered Heydrichs body as the grenade
detonated and was the probable cause
of the infection that eventually killed
him, on June 4, 1942.
Hitlers desire for vengeance knew no
bounds. The memorials and museum at
Lidice, a 25-minute drive northwest of
Prague and a must-see for the historically
inclined, chronicle what happened next.
Early in the morning of June 10 the vill-
ages 173 men (defined as aged 15 and
up) were put in front of a police firing
squad specially selected for the task:
its members had travelled 300km from
Halle an der Saale, in Germany
Heydrichs birthplace.
Most of the women of Lidice would die
in concentration camps. Eighty-two child-
ren were loaded into the back of a lorry
and gassed to death by exhaust fumes.
Today, the faces of those children look
out from heart-rending memorial statues.
The Nazis destroyed the village, even
removing the foundations of almost every
building. After they had finished off the
living, they dug up the headstones and
coffins in the village graveyard. They
realised, however, that there were still
signs of life in Lidice: thats when they
uprooted all the trees.
The hill where the village once stood is
now covered in grass and punctuated with
memorials, including a rose garden and
trees. The foundations of the church and
school the only remnants of the original
village make for an arresting sight. Half
a kilometre away, the new village of Lidice
hosts a gallery that commemorates the
child victims of war through annual
exhibitions of artwork by school pupils
from all over the world, including China.
But why Lidice? The assassins were
not connected to the village. The truth is,
Lidice was chosen because of illicit sex.
An adulterer wrote to his lover seeking a
heroic exit from their affair, so he gave
the impression he was involved in patri-
otic resistance activities that would force
him away. The letter was intercepted and
the couple arrested. Desperate to give the
Gestapo, the Nazis secret police, some-
thing they wanted to hear, the couple said
they knew of a man from Lidice who
fought in Britains armed forces. It was a
false lead, but the fate of the people of
Lidice had been decided.
Eight days after Lidice was razed,
before the sun rose on June 18, the SS
surrounded the Church of Saints Cyril
and Methodius. Thick bullet holes still
pockmark the stonework surrounding
the crypts street window. Inside,
flowers and messages from all over
the world adorn the beginnings of a
tunnel, less than two metres deep,
which the Czechoslovak paratroopers
had burrowed in a frantic attempt to
forge an escape route.
Each paratrooper fought down to his
last bullet which he saved for himself.
To stand in that cool cellar today is
to stand among martyred heroes from
a region that provided more than its
fair share.
For more on the authors novel A Chance
Kill, visit www.paulletters.com.
May 25, 2014 Post Magazine 55
Clockwise from far left: ancient spires make up
the Prague skyline; bridges, including the 14th-
century Charles Bridge (centre), straddle the
River Vltava; bullet holes pepper the crypt win-
dow of the Church of Saints Cyril and Methodius,
the hiding place of Reinhard Heydrichs would-be
assassins; SS security chief Heydrich; an archway
at the former Terezin concentration camp bears
an inscription that translates as Work makes
you free; a memorial to the murdered children
of Lidice.