The bus stopped somewhere in Moravia, before the border, at a roadside inn — I no longer remember the town. We spent the night there and continued to Vienna the next morning. At the border crossing between Czechoslovakia and Austria, the guards came onto the bus and searched it. I was nervous, even though I had nothing to hide, since I had deliberately not taken anything that could raise suspicion — I had only the allowed 75 crowns and I left behind any documents like school report cards or anything else that might suggest I was not planning to come back. The guards checked everything and let us through without incident.

After we crossed into Austria, the 2 doctors opened a bottle of slivovic to celebrate. Since my mouth was still swollen and I was in pain from the extraction, they passed a shot to me as well. It was a kind gesture and the slivovic helped. They also noticed I had a slight fever and gave me penicillin, which I was glad to have.

We arrived in Vienna around 10 in the morning and parked in a large parking lot in the center of the city that was full of buses from various tour groups. We were given 2 hours to walk around and look at the stores. Since it was a cool day I was wearing my raincoat, the Sustak, and I carried a small briefcase with spare underwear, a shirt, and toiletries. I left my borrowed suitcase on the bus naturally, since I did not want to attract any attention by taking it with me. My plan was to slip away during those 2 hours, but a young man around my age attached himself to me and stayed with me the whole time. I could not get rid of him without being obvious about it. He most likely just wanted company and someone to talk to, but I was not completely sure of that, since I could not afford to trust anyone at that point. As long as he was with me I could not go anywhere.

At noon we gathered back at the bus and the whole group was led to a nearby restaurant several blocks away for lunch. I ate as fast as I could and before anyone else was finished I got up, said that I did not feel well and that I would go ahead back to the bus. As soon as I stepped out of the restaurant I sprinted, took a right turn at the corner — but for just a second before I turned that corner I hesitated, since I knew at that moment that I would most likely never see my family and friends in Czechoslovakia again. I did not know at that time that there would one day be a Prague Spring, or that communism would eventually collapse altogether. I turned the corner and flagged down a taxi.

I told the driver to take me to the British Embassy. That was Kudibal’s instruction, since he was not sure if Vienna had an Australian Embassy and he knew the British Embassy would be able to point me in the right direction. At the British Embassy I told them I wanted to emigrate to Australia. They told me that Vienna did have an Australian Embassy and sent me there.

At the Australian Embassy there was a Czech speaking lady who was very nice and helpful. I explained to her briefly my political background and Kudibal’s story — that he planned to leave Czechoslovakia with his 4 children and join me in Melbourne. She helped me fill out an application for emigration to Australia. Regarding Kudibal, she said that for his 4 children it would be straightforward, since they were taken to Czechoslovakia while they were not yet adults and could get Australian passports at the embassy in Yugoslavia. But she said that with Kudibal it would be a different story, since he had once escaped from a Communist country, voluntarily decided to go back on his own, and now wanted to escape again, and she did not think they would allow that. She also explained something I had not known, which was that I could not go to the Austrian police to ask for asylum until the bus left Austria the next day, since until that point I was technically still part of the tour group and I had to be in Austria illegally for the police to even process me. She sent me to the AFCR, the American Fund for Czechoslovakian Refugees, and told me they would help me find a place to spend the night.

When I arrived at the AFCR office there were 2 men there. One was a very old gentleman sitting at the desk, I think his name was Papanek. The other was a younger man who introduced himself as Major, I think his last name was Jerabek. Major Jerabek looked me up and down several times and then started almost yelling at me — of course you don’t speak German, of course you don’t have any money, and of course you don’t have any toiletries. I yelled back at him that of course I did not speak German and had only 75 crowns, but that of course I did have toiletries. The older gentleman stepped in and took over and I had a nice conversation with him. Major Jerabek calmed down eventually and called a hotel and arranged for me to stay there overnight, with AFCR paying for it. Since I had no papers at that point, it was the kind of hotel that rented rooms by the hour and had prostitutes. He also gave me written instructions in German for the next day, telling me to wait until 4PM before going to the police station, and wrote down what I should say when I got there.

The next day I walked around Vienna and stopped at a restaurant for lunch, which cost me more than I expected. After paying I was left with about 50 shillings, which at the exchange rate of 25 shillings to the dollar meant I had 2 dollars to my name.

At 4PM I went to the police station as instructed. They called in a Czech speaking interrogator and questioned me for about 2 to 3 hours. I made sure to tell them early on that I had already been to the Australian Embassy and filled out an emigration application, which was Kudibal’s advice for making sure they could not quietly send me back. They did not explain what would happen next. When the questioning was finished they put me in a police paddy wagon and drove me through Vienna to a prison. At the prison they searched me, took away my shoelaces, belt, and anything else like that, and locked me in a cell. Lying there that night, I was thinking about the rumors that Kudibal had dismissed — that Austrian police would return refugees back to Czechoslovakia. Kudibal was sure it was not true, but I was not as sure anymore, since I was now sitting in an Austrian prison cell and did not know what they were planning to do with me. It was not a pleasant night.

The next morning they gave me breakfast, fingerprinted me, took a picture of me with a number under my chin, and drove me to another location in Vienna. There was a group of people there from Traiskirchen under civilian guards, and later that day they drove all of us to the refugee camp at Traiskirchen, about 30 kilometers south of Vienna.