Radomír Žingor

“Well, I don’t know through what connections again, but my mom arranged two waggoners with horses. There were two big wagons and one morning we got on them and wanted to leave Bukovec. My family, as well as my father’s whole family, was leaving even by trains, because all of us didn’t fit onto those wagons. On the wagons we travelled through Šturec to Turčianske Teplice, however, we were really lucky! It was raining during the whole night, and even though we were covered by military blankets, we were completely soaked. There was German control at each of the curves, but since we had those IDs, they let us go. It was so huge luck! We came to Turčianske Teplice through villages Horná and Dolná Štubňa and Malá Vieska. There the waggoners brought us all safely and I hope, they also managed to luckily return back home. We haven’t heard about them anymore. We stayed in Turčianske Teplice, and again, some new people helped us with lodging; we were divided into different houses. There we were for about two weeks and we left before Christmas. They fed us, dried us.”

“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.’”