“And then (the outraged German soldiers) came and drove the men out of their houses. Our father was only dressed as when he fed the livestock; having the holey work shoes and old, worn out clothes, and that´s how they forced them out. Our mom, being in a high stage of pregnancy, dressed us as well as she feared what could happen. The Germans drew all of the men up the village and we, the women and children, went to the upper end (of the village), where the last house was. There was much snow, and as they burned the back wings of buildings, barns, and stables, the snow was melting and the water drained down the road.”
“When we, children, walked down the village, after the situation calmed down a bit, the fire burnt out, suddenly there were partisans walking down the village, as well. They had a leashed man on ropes; it was the spy. He was black as a stogie, beaten and he shouted: ʻDo not kill me, please! Do not kill me! For ten years I will carry timber for building up this village!ʼ No way he would carry it all in ten years! And we, the flock of children, maybe yet fifteen of us, ran behind him and screamed: ʻKill him!ʼ”
“Our grandfather came on the next day. We laid (the hay) on the sledge and went home. The road is called Kropánska and it was formed by the valley to Baláže, because the citizens of Baláže used to go this way back from shopping in Slovenská Ľupča. There were our fields and such a little valley. It was February, the snow was melting and the water drained down this way. Back then, however, there wasn´t a road anymore, but a solid ice. We were supposed to pass this part of the way and get to the road behind, where nothing drained. On the ice, the sledge were being pulled down to water, and so our grandfather shouted to me and my aunt: ʻHold the sledge!ʼ But what could I do, such a ten-year old kid! We tried to hold it, but it dragged us completely to the other side, when we suddenly stopped. My grandpa said: ʻThanks God!ʼ, and then as we were about to set the sledge right, we saw we stopped on a frozen dead man. He lay down dead and as the water was running, he froze and we leaned against him.”
“For five years our mom didn´t receive any orphan's annuity, as our father was considered to be a farmer. And then we had to hand in everything. Many times we even had to buy eggs, we washed away the mark and handed them in as if ours, since we didn´t have that much poultry. We had four hectares of fields and according to that they counted how much of what are we obliged to surrender. When we wanted to kill a pig, we had to cut off the skin from the biggest pork fat, and back then people used to count every single bit of fat to be able to survive and live on it. And then see, that´s how they took care of us.”
Anna Koppová, nee Čížová, was born on January 9, 1935 in Priechod as the first of five children. Her family had a smaller farm, which made their living. Since 1944 there were partisan groups coming into the village of Priechod and even the Anna´s family had to participate in supplying them. The situation escalated in February 1945. Nazis set the village on fire, during which also the family farmhouse burned down. Moreover, Anna´s father was together with other men from the village kidnapped by the German soldiers. He managed to run away from the camp in Nováky, but with significantly weakened health. Even after the 1948 the family was classified as a farming one, what meant they had to hand in food contingents, and later on they were forced to enter the cooperative. Anna got employed as a workwoman and worked in Banská Bystrica.
Hrdinové 20. století odcházejí. Nesmíme zapomenout. Dokumentujeme a vyprávíme jejich příběhy. Záleží vám na odkazu minulých generací, na občanských postojích, demokracii a vzdělávání? Pomozte nám!
