Radomír Žingor

“Approximately two weeks before Christmas, one sir from Bystrička came on a horse. Only few of us remained there, because my father’s family had already left to Martin and Bystrička by train. They got safely there and we waited for this waggoner to take us to Bystrička, where my mother had her natal home. The house was big, a mansion of 4 – 5 rooms. It was a big homestead, which stands there until today. The first surprise was that we, being two small boys, ran into the kitchen and there were two German officers! They asked us who we were and what did we want, but we didn’t speak German. We actually didn’t understand them at all. Then our mom came and began talking with them. They were quite calm, absolutely non-aggressive and they didn’t ask us anything. They used to sleep in the best room. Then we left from grandma’s house to our aunts’ house, who lived a bit further.”

“As the front was approaching closer and closer, they said: ‘Well, we have to go to the mountains again!’ So we went on Prašivá, into such lumberjack’s hut. There were about 15 or 18 people just from our family, and then others, who were already there before us. After Banská Bystrica was crushed, all of the people were dissolved and spread out. According to the command of general Viest or Golian to be on retreat, it was the end of defense. Those were terrible moments in that hut, though. One morning we woke up, I think it was on November 2, 1944, the weather was cold, damp and foggy, and suddenly – shooting and grenades were exploding around the hut. My father’s brother Bohuš Žingor divided us into groups; I was with my brother and my cousin. The three of us went to hide to place of windthrows, there were such glades, where my uncle hid us under blankets and said: ‘Here you have to wait, until I come back for you.’ This chase lasted, I would say, for about an hour, maybe two. The soldiers were running back and forth, the horses running around; back then I didn’t get it all. We just stared, squatted and waited until he’d come. There was big shooting, of course, around us. When it all subsided, they gathered us together; we were quite a big group. There was also a deputy of the police office, Mr. Kuna, a driver Mr. Vorba and my uncle Bohuš, my father’s brother. They were all hairy, they didn’t shave themselves as they didn’t have time or tools to do so, I think. Then my uncle told us: ‘Now you have to go down to the village and manage it by yourselves.’”

“So we went to the village of Pohronský Bukovec, back then it was only named Bukovec, and there were the Germans already. Firstly they questioned us who we were and everything. We were lucky our mother went to school to Český Těšín for two or three years and she spoke a bit German. We had in our IDs names after her maiden name Vilimová, what probably saved us. I was the eldest from all boys and my sister was even two years older, so they set us apart immediately. I don’t know what those Germans wanted to do with us. I remember they threw my sister on the horse and wanted to take her somewhere, but my mom started crying and screaming. She went to the commander, who helped and even found us a place to stay in Bukovec. There we were for 3 – 4 days living in a barn, literally, and you know, my brother still needed some milk. Those were terrible situations. On the next day, a drummer came; there were drummers in villages, since there wasn’t PA system, yet. We as boys were very curious about what were they going to announce. Suddenly, they said there were three partisans killed. And those were these our three mentioned men.”