"You know, I was too young for that because I graduated in 1956. The collectivization took place even in such a small village. And it was done under duress. I already had some sense, it was after the fiftieth year when the hospital was united. So we had two farmers in the village whose property was expropriated and taken to another district - so things like that happened. At that time, I could not judge it politically. And very bad things were being done - there were political workers, even in such a small village, they had some weapons in the office, in the national committee, and people had to sign the accession to the agricultural cooperative. Everyone thought it was terrible because these people, these farmers, used to give people work during the season. For some, even in the winter time - that was cattle care. And when they forcibly took their cows, horses, and tractors, those people cried. So, you know, no one dared to oppose in such a small village. In the fiftieth year, in 1952, what kind of resistance could be done? So even the awareness - since only the radio existed and only a few families had one, the countryside was completely behind."
"As the crow flies, the village of Livina is about six to seven kilometres far from the village of Chynorany. And according to the map, the route from Bratislava and Nitra divides in Chynorany. One branch goes to Trenčín, and one to Prievidza. And this was a railroad junction that the Germans deemed very important, so they bombed it. As the Russian army and the others advanced, they had to destroy it. So I remember the bombing because it was at night, there were huge flashes, but mainly such loud thundering. That's what I remember today - the screeching sounds of engines. So to be safe, grandma and grandpa drove us into the bunker where we hid."
“But I remember that in the spring of forty-five, sometime in April or March, it was very nice outside, they went past our house. We had like a wide pathway there. They were such giant rumbling machines. I almost peed myself when I saw it. It was so huge. My grandfather knew a little Hungarian and German. So we didn't have any violence problems, not even with the Germans, because he could negotiate with them. He knew how to treat them. And then, when the army was passing through, those were Romanians, and it was not possible to negotiate with them. And my father managed to escape from the labour camp with two friends. They got deep into the mountains in Germany. I think it was southern Germany, Bavaria if I'm not mistaken. And there, they came across a lodge, and the owner was pig-slaughtering at the time. They were afraid to confess, but then they dared to approach him. He was just a normal German. In 1945, the Germans already had a different philosophy - they knew the war was about to end. So he took them in, fed them, and then got- The Allied army found them, and he came home in the summer of 1945. It was a celebration. I recognized him so instinctively. It was such a happy moment."
Stanislav Ďureje was born on August 26, 1941, in a small village called Livina in Slovakia. His parents were poor casual labourers on the farms of wealthier farmers in the region. Stanislav’s father, Alfons Ďureje, joined the Slovak National Uprising in August 1944. He was captured and taken to forced labour in Germany. He escaped from there at the end of the war. He returned home thanks to the help of American Allied soldiers. Stanislav graduated from grammar school in poor conditions by the light of a kerosene lamp (because the village was electrified only in 1957). After graduating, he went on to pursue his childhood dream – he graduated in medicine at Charles University in Prague with a certification in surgery. Here, they also offered him to become a member of the Communist Party, which he accepted. However, he was expelled from the party during party inspections. Nevertheless, in 1976, Stanislav Ďureje became the head of surgery in Partizánské, where he remained until retirement. During his tenure, the department was significantly expanded and modernized. After 1990, he ran for the city council in Partizánské, where he remained for three electoral terms as deputy mayor. He and his wife Anna raised two daughters, Daniela and Jana, who also became doctors. At the time of filming the interview, Stanislav Ďureje lived in Partizánské.
