3. THE YELLOW BAND. FLOWERS. FORCED LABOR CAMP.

Shovels & axes

The Hungarian Government issued an order, that from the age of sixteen until the armed forces called in all the recruits, every young male has to report once a week to a Para-military unit, called "Levente", or in English: Voluntary Cadet Brigade. They drilled like in the Army, ran, hiked, fought, used old single-barrel rifles, and in the advanced group sometimes live ammunition.

After the spring of 1942, the Jewish boys were restricted to serve in these units being not trustworthy for the country. Instead, they created a Special Supplementary Volunteer Labor Service for them.

Once a week we assembled in a school, put on a yellow arm band and picked up some shovels, pick-axes and with armed escorts went to a field, outside the city. On the way the people made nasty remarks about the Jews: enemy of the true Hungarian people. Some even spat on us.

We did dirty, unnecessary earth-moving jobs, digging holes one day, covering up the next time around. The four hours spent there passed slowly, not because of the physical work, but the verbal abuse from the armed guards. They were cruel, uneducated, and took every opportunity to humiliate us. They liked to play tricks on us "filthy, dirty Jews."

The fire brigade

In 1943 I read a poster calling for volunteer fire fighters. Next day I reported to the City Fire Department and a week later I was accepted for training. From now on, I did not have to go to those special units.

The training was very efficient. We learned how to recognize different causes of fire, when to use water, when foam and when other fire retardants. After a week's full-time training, about half of the students graduated and received a document with their picture. I was assigned to a unit at the University's Veterinary Hospital. The rotating schedule consisted of twelve hours duty and twenty-four hours off. When my off time fell on daytime, I would work in our factory. (One shift was daytime the next one was nighttime.) It was not easy, but better than earth moving.

We had a portable, self-standing pump machine, and a truck. They supplied overall work clothes, fireman belt, (very heavy) and everything we needed to fight a fire. We were practicing all the time to be ready to fight small fires. We faced the only problem during air raids, when we had to run kilometers to the station in pitch dark to serve as a backup team. We considered the falling bombs, as a small inconvenience.

I was involved in a few small fires and one of the biggest fires, when a Shell Fuel Depot caught fire. Many units were needed to fight the impossible. On the way to the location, we encountered a close call. A bomb exploded in the next street.

The Eastern front

The date was April 1942, when my father was called again to report to a labour camp. They advised him to take lots of warm clothing. Almost every Hungarian unit was sent to the Eastern front for very hard work. German, Hungarian and Italian brigades fought the Red Army.

The Jewish units were digging trenches, did all the dirty work. Sometimes they had to crawl forward to check whether the place was mined, or not. Many died there, as numerous places were full of land mines.

Sorry to say, but when my father was away, it was a great relief for the family; we had less argument and tension.

In 1943 the Red Army broke through the German lines, pushed the Nazis back from Stalingrad (now it is called Volgograd) with lots of casualties. Many, many Jewish men were killed there. Some units were lucky to be captured by the Soviet units, or some, like my father, who broke away from the Germans and was able to find the partisans. Then they were working for the Red Army, doing about the same thing, but their life was not in immediate danger.

The Red Army was advancing fast suffering heavy losses. They did not trust the Jewish refugees and shipped them eastward, many of them to Siberia. The cold and insufficient food did not sustain them for long. Medical facilities were in limited supply, not only for Jews, but to the local people as well. My father told me; half of the "liberated" Jews died there.

Middle of summer 1943, the Government sent a "sorry" letter to my mother, saying: your husband died in the Ukrainian front, not knowing, that he escaped.

The Dance Studio

Leslie Toth whom I met in the printing shop and played an important role in my later life, was a regular customer in MRS. ADORJAN's DANCE STUDIO; on the corner of Kšrut, and Doh‡ny utca (corner of Circle and Tobacco Street) It was within walking distance from my home. He took me there, introduced me to the head instructor and to the owner, also paid my first dance lesson.

I excelled and at the end of the course they offered me a position with a small pay. It involved teaching in the studio three times a week and dancing with the paying students on Saturday morning for hours. I had to teach ballroom dance to young adults evenings. Sunday at five o'clock, they had ballroom dance for everybody with an entrance fee, but for me it was free. Happily, I took the offer.

I began teaching mostly very young girls how to walk nicely, a few basic steps of ballet. This gave them a better body posture and lot of fun for me.

Ibolya

Evenings, I was teaching ballroom dances to 16 - 20 year old young ladies and young men. A girl came with a round face and nice figure on Saturday morning for the all-student dance. Later I found out, her name was Ibolya Rosner. Her younger brother and her cousin of same age accompanied her.

When my turn came to dance with her, she was shy in the beginning and a slow dancer, but we moved around and chatted away. This went on a few times until one day she introduced to me her brother Andrew Rosner, and her cousin Tibor Weiner. They were very nice people, but had reservations about my fast moving friendship with Ibolya.

I asked her about the Sunday dance, but she declined. Next Saturday they came again, and we danced again, and again. This time she agreed to come Sunday but only with the boys. It was fine with me. I lined up young ladies for them, and I had my chance to dance with Ibolya most of the time.

While I walked home with them, she told me about her family. The father, John (Jancsi) Rosner was a shoe repair supplier (it looks like I moved around only within the footwear trade); he had a store on Baross Street, in the same building, where they had a big three-bed room apartment. Tibor and his parents were living with them. Ibolya's mother, Kate (Kati) and Tibor's mother, Klara were sisters.

Ibolya was working in an art studio, drawing face plates for water and oil pressure gauges. We had a few dates and were dancing as much as was possible. No more escort.

One day, after work, I had a free evening and I decided I would show up unexpectedly at her door. Flowers in my hand, like always, I rang the bell. She was surprised, but not because I came so unexpectedly; in fact, she said that I was welcome, but I failed to shave before I came to see her. I shaved all the time in the morning, or before I went to the studio, unfortunately, not this time.

She asked me very nicely if I want to come back. I ran to the nearest barbershop, had a shave and headed back to her. I was very much welcomed.

Since then I am never unshaven and would do it sometimes twice a day. I learned my lesson in a pleasant way.

The Rosner children and Tibor were constant guests in our home, as we were in theirs. My sister Barbara and Tibor loved each other. We visited museums, sometimes four of us, but mostly Ibolya and me. Concerts and operetta was our best entertainment. In the summer, we went day hiking. We loved nature.

I have never gone to see her without flowers; a bouquet for her, and one in my lapel. I still love cut flowers! Later on, I will return to the story of her life.

A 'sole-mate' invention

In the mean time, we became very busy in our factory. There was shortage in every material, mostly upper leather and hide for leather soles. To replace the upper leather we started to use pig, rabbit and dog skins. To replace the sole leather, we had an invention, worthy to talk about. We bought old, or new canvas and lots of old movie-reels. With acetone, we made a paste from the celluloid films and joined one layer of canvas with one layer of paste, then canvas and paste again. With four or five layers, we had a sheet, pressed it slightly and let it dry. When a sheet became dry and hard, it was ready to cut for soles. We could not produce enough.

The only problem was the heavy fumes; harmful for the lungs. I prepared it in the morning and went skiing, or hiking in the afternoon.

I went to see a doctor to check my lungs; he told me, if I do not stop smoking, within six months I would be dead. I was not a heavy smoker, yet I wanted to show that I was a grownup man. The next minute I gave away my silver cigarette case (it was not mine anyway, it was my uncle's). Since than I have not smoked and avoided smokers, or smoky places.

Sometimes you can stop the wind, but a new one just started to blow!

The Horty era

Horty Miklos, our Governor General, who acted like a king, did not cooperate fully with the German Government, and the result was: the German Armed forces occupied Hungary in March 1944.

The "Fifth Column," German sympathizers, the Schwabs (of German origins), and many Hungarian fascists were ready to help the occupation forces. They organized their own police force, did everything possible to push the Jews out of their business, or positions and then expropriated their apartments.

My first encounter with the Military police

In April 1944, they put out posters and published in every newspaper that all the Jewish men of eighteen years and over must report to one of the forced labor camps with one luggage. Those, who ignored the order were rounded up by the most despised Military Police a few days later and taken to their Headquarters.

I was on duty, when I received my order. The Chief of the Fire Department took it away, saying that I have to stay with them. My job was more important, than to be enlisted into a good for nothing camp.

Ten days past when I received another Notice. - Nothing doing -.

Four days later, on May 7.1944 I was on duty again, when armed Military Police came looking for me. I asked them to call my Fireman Superior first. The police ordered me to follow them, while my Superior Officer advised me to stay put. He told them, they need me in the Department. There was lot of yelling, until one of the Police took out his side arm, pointing toward me. I had no choice, but go with them. They escorted me to my home.

Interestingly, they were friendly, laughing a lot about my importance to the country, knowing how strongly they were in control of the situation. They mused, that the Jews controlled not only Hungary, but the whole world. Not so anymore, because the great Hitler and the faithful Hungarians, the true Aryan people took over the reins and dictate their terms to the Jews.

They took away my Citizenship Documents and ordered me to report next morning in an assembly point on a field, outside the city. - There was no cheer in the field.

Unit number 101/301

We were dispatched to one of the locations of an Army Depot on Lehel Street. This Department supplied several Army Units with some food, tools and firewood. Our commanding officer was Lieutenant Ujvary, who in the civilian life was a teacher. He had a plump wife and three young daughters. This officer happened to be a mild mannered man and not a Nazi sympathizer. Consequently, it was easier to deal with him. He was shy enough to keep our meager weekly pay ($1.) in his pocket. We did not complain about being short of money, as most of us had a way to get some spending money.

Our biggest problem was Under Lieutenant Wiesner; a husky killer-type, in full uniform, with a white arm band, indicating that he, his father, or his grandfather was a Jew, but converted to become a true Christian.

He yelled all the time and found extra work for us. He wanted to show that he was a better Hungarian than the best of the real Aryan people. Hitting somebody for fun, kicking without any reason was his contribution to the war effort.

Our unit was divided into four sections; each had about 100 people with a commanding sergeant. Ours wore also a white arm band. His name was Beer. He was much worse than Wiesner, so bad, that upon the transfer of the unit to Germany right after our liberation, he was shot dead by one of the Jewish men.

Me, the boot expert

Upon arrival to our first location on Lehel Street, they asked for a shoemaker, tailor, general repairman and a medic. I volunteered as a shoemaker. Somebody became a self-professed tailor, and George Deutch, a medic. He finished the first year of medical school.

There was no instrument, material, or any necessary fixture. I asked Mr. Ujvary to give me a pass to go home to pick up material and tools for the shoe repair. He failed to question whether I knew anything about boot repair. - I did not!

I went back to my home, bringing lots of food from our kitchen, and material from the factory. I was in the repair business. Most of the time I intentionally found one of the guy's boots beyond repair, giving him a chance to go home and bring a new pair. He received a pass for days to do this.

We were in the Depot approximately for three months, then moved to a new location. It was a tavern before. Four weeks later, the Germans took over the place, and in September, we moved to Gomb Street, into a large building. This was a school before. We set up the shop and everybody was busy. The other units had to work in different places: digging out people and valuables after the air raids, assist Fire and Rescue Units. The work was not easy, sometimes the wall collapsed, or the floor caved in.

My job was easy, repairing shoes and boots, but many times, they needed everybody on the field and I had to join the comrades. Once I was working in a unit whose task was to dig out all the paintings, linen and fine dishes from a high-ranking officer's house, which had had a direct hit during the bombardment.

I noticed, that Mr. Ujvary had an old pair of riding boots. I offered to make a brand new one at no cost to him. Gladly, he said yes. I requested a pass on three occasions to go home for material.

I took the best material for pairs of boots and gave them to a real boot maker. He took the measurements, made an excellent pair of boots, and kept the rest of material for himself. So, I did not have to pay him anything. I made the Lieutenant very, very happy and developed a good relationship with him.

Everyday the camp's kitchen had to deliver food at noon to the units, which were working far away from the camp. One day I asked Mr. Ujvary to give me permission to "help" the kitchen people to deliver the food. He agreed.

The food was carried in three big barrels: One for the soup, one for the "main dish", potato, some meat, and one barrel for chicory coffee.

On a mission, impossible

We went first to my house and gave plenty of food to my mother and sister. The boys left without me. My family needed the extra food. It was a good supplement for a whole week. Later they came back for me, and we returned to the camp, where I finished the daily shoe repairs.

I did this trip on four different occasions, when one day during my stay at home four Military Police entered the building. They were looking for people in hiding, Jews or not, who left the military units illegally. The main gate was locked all the time, and only the superintendent had the key to it.

As soon, as the Police came in, the super's wife told me to run up to the attic, above the 3rd floor, to hide. She opened the lock for me. I heard lots of noise downstairs. By searching every floor, they found some people hidden in different apartments.

They ordered the superintendent to open the attic door. I crawled under the wooden walkway and heard them walk over me- - fortunately unseen. It was so dusty in the attic from the chimneys' soot that they left shortly.

Once the Military Police left, my food delivery unit returned a few minutes later to pick me up. Everybody started to yell my name, and the officer was really mad for wasting so much time. He foresaw some problems for returning late to the Depot.

Finally, I made my way down and reported to him in a military fashion. He asked me, if I were hiding in the chimney? I replied no - otherwise I would be black. He and the whole unit and everybody else in the yard started to laugh. The officer told me to take a look in the reflecting window. I did, and saw a black face, full of black dust. By then I realized, why all the laughter.

Because of this dangerous episode and also much tighter camp security, this was the last time I was able to join the food delivery group.

The Army established a Prisoner Of War camp in the empty side of the building for the Romanian soldiers, who were fighting the German Army.

More inspectors came to check the camp. Our work became harder. More air raids, cleaning up and rescue operations became the order of the day. End of September about 100 Jews, age 18-20, joined us from some broken units. Some others might have been hiding in houses and captured by the city police; they were lucky, not by the Arrow Cross.

In this new group was Tibor, my sister's boyfriend. He was a "Mama's Boy." Delicate as he was, he had to select his socks and shirts by himself the first time in his life. Physical work was very difficult for him. I tried to help him a lot.

The escape

The Red Army crossed the Hungarian border and with heavy fighting, they advanced rapidly. It was October 12, when Ujvary commanding officer called me into his office and said: "My boy! I am sorry to say, that you have to pack your repair shop into boxes - everything. We are not just moving to another location, but will be going very far. If you have some plans in your head, talk to Private Jozsi Denes, a gypsy soldier, and have some money ready. I wish you good luck, and if we survive this unfortunate and terrible war, we will celebrate together. What I said is confidential!"

With a handshake, I said, "Thank you very much, and wish you good luck. You have been a real gentleman. Take care and God bless you."

I told Tibor and eight other close friends, I am planning an escape for good, and will take a chance to be on my own, because the unit will go to Germany the next few days. We will have to pay somebody a ransom to close his eyes over our escape. We put together a large sum of money.

Next evening, I asked Jozsi, the guard, to come to the repair shop, I want to adjust the heel on his boots. I revealed our plan to him and asked for his cooperation. I gave him the money. He was happy with the amount, worth maybe a pig. According to our plan, he will be on duty in days at the side entrance, made up with a fence of wood planks. He will not notice anything for ten minutes. This will be enough time for the ten people to escape by moving away a loose plank.

Everything was set. I put my repair equipment into the boxes, left all my clothes hanging from the nails. At five o'clock in the morning, we left the room very quietly. I organized the movement one-by-one. Jozsi was there as he said. I was the last one to go. One leg was outside, when a German Army unit, about fifty soldiers passed by, looking at me, but not stopping. I was pretending I was repairing the broken fence. In the last seconds of the ten minute pause, I was outside! - Close call!

I removed the yellow band. With money in my hand, I took the first streetcar. Luckily, it was almost empty. The conductor was an elderly man and could not care who I was.

Remembering fellow travelers

I remember people who were with me in the camp.

- One was George Glass, a very friendly, but a hard working guy. One day, instead of delivering wood to the transport train, he fell asleep. When the guard caught him sleeping, he spent a few nights in the prison. He was in one of the working units, but many times just left the unit and went home to see Baba, his wife. This caused him and the whole unit lots of trouble.

He happened to be at home in November, when Horty Miklos, the Chancellor (Governor) of Hungary, made his declaration of intent to make peace with the Allied Forces, including the Soviet Union. George did not return to the main unit, instead he went into hiding.

After the war, he became in Hungary, then later in Montreal a well-known dispensing optician. At the age of 77, he is an active sports man.

Beginning of December there were posters all over the city warning and advising people in hiding to return to their units, or report to the nearest one. He did just that, but reported with a few items of regular civilian clothes. When he learned, that the unit would go to West a few days later: to Austria or Germany, he took the backdoor again and went into hiding.

-The second one, George Deutch was a medic in the camp, as I mentioned before, he finished the first year of Medical Faculty. He did also lots of "home visiting," not exactly of a medical nature, staying mostly in their basement with a small window open to the back street. November 12 was the date when he wanted to sneak back to the camp, but found out that the Germans intended to transport every Jew to Germany and already surrounded the building. He went into hiding, too.

After the war, he became Dr. George Daniel, one of the very famous surgeons in Budapest, later in Montreal. When George retired, they moved to Toronto, where he died of lung cancer in August, 2001.

As for Tibor, I learned after the war, that he went home. While hiding behind the door, a search party found him, took him away to a westbound marching unit. He was too weak to keep up with the group. When the Hungarian guard saw him sitting on the side of the road, he shot him dead.

The road was littered with young Jewish, innocent bodies, for the glory of Hungary, German culture and a terrible shame for humanity.

None of the eight friends came back alive. What was their sin? I have not found out what was their or their parents' fate.

In every Jewish home of survivors, there are empty seats of those killed or missing.

On Memorial Day, there are lot of candles to light, prayers to say, and tears to drop.

Can anybody forget this?

Can anybody forgive this?

4. BEING LESLIE TOTH IN HIDING.

Home coming, without a home

I went home without my yellow band, though very carefully. I found many strange people in our home. Because the bombardment damaged many apartment buildings, the city relocated the homeless people to share living space in apartments, or houses with only a few occupants.

I greeted my mother and sister, unlike a son, or brother, - just as an acquaintance. My mother and sister were ready to go away with the help of a former factory worker to a farm with a new identity of a refugee from Kisvarda. We said good-bye, like see you Ilonka (my mother) and see you Borka (my sister). They told me: "Take care Laci" (it was my name then)

The date was October 15, 1944 --- and I saw my mother again in Canada sixteen years later. My sister was sixteen years old in 1944, and when I saw her again in Israel twenty-four years later, in 1968, she was forty years old with four children.

New identity

After the heart-breaking good bye, I went to see my friend, Leslie Toth. When I was working in the printing shop Mr. Leslie Toth, whom I referred to already in the 'Dance Studio' section, came to pick-up some printing. We had a friendly, long discussion. Many times, we ate lunch together. He was seven years older than I. His mother died a year before. She had not been married; her name was Ilona, same as my mother's. This became an important factor later.

Luckily, he was home with his girlfriend. For reason of his own, he wanted to help me. He gave me his own official release paper from the army, stating, Leslie Toth was released from duty, because of chronic arthritis, and being unfit in any of the armed forces units.

He also gave me an address of a religious Jew, about thirty years old, selling birth certificates. These papers were original blank documents, with official stamp and signature on it. Even the serial numbers were real. I asked him for one, but his price was 100 US $, which I did not have. I just could not convince him to give me one. I was very desperate, and knew, that my life was in his hand. After many no's, I lost my patience with him and hit him very hard. I told him, that when the Germans will capture him, they would take away all his money, jewelry and papers.

He gave me the paper! I returned to my friend, Leslie, and his girlfriend filled out the form: My name became Leslie Toth, my mother's name, Ilona (her real name), father's name not known. The paper looked real, cramped, dirtied a little. Later I found out, that the girlfriend was working in Buda, in a Gestapo office as a clerk.

Leslie took away my Army Book, took out my picture and went to a big bakery. They made bread mostly for the Army and also for the public. The owner was his relative. Leslie asked him to give me an official document; I am working in the bakery as an important person for the war effort. He inserted my photo, put the official stamp on and he signed it.

I became a new person and was able to cover up my past. My papers made me into Leslie Toth, but in my body I was still a Jew.

After returning to Leslie's house, I spent days with them. It was time for his girlfriend to go back to her apartment and to her work. By then the Margit Bridge (between Pest and Buda) was damaged because of heavy bombardment. The Army built a temporary bridge. Everybody had to present a pass; giving good reason to cross the bridge. Armed soldiers were stationed on both sidewalks.

Leslie approached the bridge on one side and showed his papers. His girlfriend and I went on the other side, not to have Leslie Toth crossing at the same time. I was afraid of the guards reading my name and his loudly, causing us more, than a bit of problem. It went smoothly, the lady said I was her boyfriend.

She had a nice, one-bedroom apartment, one block away from the Gestapo building. This was very "reassuring" for me. We left two days later. Next night a bomb destroyed the Gestapo building. Leslie and his girlfriend went to a large farm, South of Budapest. I did not have any choice, but to risk my life and walk back to the Pest side of the city. I did it in the rush hour without any problem. For a few days, I was hiding in a bombed-out building, and ate whatever I was able to find.

'Raid' of a different kind

It was very tricky to avoid the police raids; again, I had to take a chance by going to the city office and applying for an apartment, or a room. The office was on Rakoczy Street. There was a big line-up of homeless people waiting to go in. I took my place at the end of the line. One hour later, I saw a group of police stopping everybody for identification and coming closer to the waiting line.

I sensed trouble even with my "good" papers. Slowly I walked away. In the afternoon I went back and I heard that the police had arrested many people. Second time around, I did not have any problem; I said my old address is not good anymore, because it became a ghetto and I need a new place to live. They gave me a room on Kiraly Street, in a big three-bed room apartment.

A waitress, who was working in a hotel's restaurant, occupied one room. The hotel housed some German officers. I had to have a roommate, a fifteen-year-old boy. Next day I found out, that he was a Jew, too. The third room was damaged.

I grew a mustache. A pair of high-laced boots, like hunting boots, used by the Arrow Cross Nazis, and a very wide belt left over in the closet, which I put outside my coat - gave me enough confidence, that I was really Leslie Toth.

The Air-Raid Captain

A week later two officers came from the Fire Department, and called everybody downstairs in the courtyard for a tenant meeting. Every building must have had a volunteer Air-raid Captain, who would be in charge of sending people to the shelter, to fight small fires, or organize small rescue operations. I told them about my little experience and they gave me the job happily. They supplied me with a foreman's helmet, a heavy fireman's belt, axe, rope and a flashlight.

Boy! Was I ever happy and official to boot!

The Hungarian Nazis, the Arrow Cross guard came almost daily to find Jews, or even regular soldiers hiding. Every time I gave them a proper, official salutation, and reported for duty. I escorted them to different parts of the building, avoiding places where some Jews were hiding. They found a few Hungarian, even German soldiers.

I had one big problem, food! I had to find something to eat. I had to take a risk to go out and buy, or exchange something for food.

From Air Raid Captain to the life-saving Air Raid

One Sunday, late afternoon, when I was going to see a woman to exchange a ladies scarf for bread, the Arrow Cross guard stopped me and without asking for any documents, escorted me and later many more to the Nagykorut (Grand Circle), a major road in the city). All the stores were closed with the metal shutters, some with wood panels.

We had to face the stores and then without any reason, they started shooting randomly everybody. In this instant the air raid sirens went off. The guards ran away as fast as they could.

I collapsed when the shooting started and a wounded girl fell upon me. After the guards left, I looked around and saw only dead people. I pushed away the bodies and went to the nearest apartment building. There, everybody was in the bomb shelter. I entered the first apartment. Luckily, I found some man's clothing to change the blood-soaked coat. Avoiding the patrols and the falling bombs, I went home to my Kiraly Street room, put on my firemen-helmet and avoided people, not to reveal my pumping heart and scary face. This was my first very close call.

The major problem was still the food: where to get it and how to pay for it?

Food for thought at a price

The next day I took a bed sheet and a blanket and went to see a woman, who was working in our factory some time ago. She gave me a small bag of beans and a very skinny duck. For more than a week, we had the duck and beans to eat, adding more and more water to the pot. This way it lasted much longer. Three pairs of shoes gave us a kilo of flour, a nice Herendy dish and ten potatoes.

Somebody told me, that the corner store sold sugar and some salt, too. Late afternoon as I was going there, armed Arrow Cross guards stopped me to check my papers. The older one said my papers were OK, but the younger one, who was about 17 years old, said no. He insisted on taking me to the headquarter, at number 60 Andrassy Street. This was the infamous place for interrogating, torturing and killing people. I knew I will not survive this place and gave up all hope; I will die before I knew life, happiness, family, or old age.

Turning toward the hated place, there is a small park between Kiraly Street and Andrassy Street. At that park, I heard some loud noise and somebody pushed my back and yelled: "Run! Run fast!" I did, but before I turned around the corner, I looked back. The younger soldier was lying on the sidewalk, bleeding profusely and the older one was running away, too.

Then I remembered I saw the older soldier somewhere and I realized, that he was a Jew, hiding in the Nazi unit, as a non-Jew. He saved my life. I have been thinking of him since. I hope he survived the war and took revenge for what they did to us.

After the war, many Jewish ex-forced labourers joined the new police and army forces and captured many, many Hungarian Nazis.

The Swedish Consulate

I heard about Raul Wallenberg, the Swedish diplomat, who gave "Protecting Visas" to many Jews, to save them from deportation.

One morning I went to the Swedish Consulate, located in a beautiful villa. There was a long, slow moving waiting line already. About 2 pm. I was in the next group to go inside. This was Swedish territory. - I was not lucky.

A large Hungarian Arrow Cross unit passed by and we ran away from the gate. Many were captured and taken away. Their future was in the hand of the Nazis. Next day I tried again, but the same group surrounded the Consulate.

After the war, Wallenberg was snatched by the Red Army as a spy and taken away to the KGB office in Moscow. It took more than 55 years until the Russian Government released some unreliable findings of the investigation. Wallenberg was most likely killed in that jail.

The Blue Danube Waltz

The Vienna waltz is my favorite dance; everybody loves and enjoys one of the best waltzes of Johan Straus; the Blue Danube Waltz.

The river Danube runs from the Black Forest in Germany through the middle of Vienna and divides Buda and Pest. Buda was the place for the kings, the barons, princes, and princesses. Many of the wealthy landowners lived the Buda- side of the city. The middle and working class people resided on the Pest side, where the commerce and industry offered employment.

In December 1944, the Arrow Cross changed the colour of the river from blue to red. Mostly young, 17, 18, 19 year old teens joined the Hungarian Nazi group, the Arrow Cross guard, committing the most heinous crimes. They captured many, many Jews on the streets, or in the homes and escorted them to the Danube. They made the Jews line up and without any hesitation shot everybody into the river. Group after group of unknown numbers of people were floating down the river. Red blood painted the Blue Danube all the way to Yugoslavia and Romania, where the river emptied into the Black Sea. After a killing spree they went to the nearest tavern to celebrate, laughing and bragging about who killed more Jews.

The liberation of the city was only months away!

What did they think one, or five years later? Have they ever regretted their "heroic" act? I wish that they and their leaders would rot away in jail for a very long time. Yet I know, this is not the case. Many of them found refuge in Canada, and lived, or are living a "normal" life without any punishment.

The last chapter of Ibolya

True to my promise, I continue the story of Ibolya. At the beginning of 1944, I was engaged to Ibolya, hoping that she will not be deported to a women's forced labour camp. Unfortunately, the engagement did not help her, or me. At the end of May, she received a notice to report to a collecting place with one luggage only. Thousands of Jewish girls were there, even married ones.

Ibolya's mother was a very strict mother, always watching over us. She never left us alone in the apartment, or gave us much chance for kissing. In spite of

that, when she had to report, she told her: had she become pregnant, perhaps she could have stayed at home.

Ibolya had a slight heart- murmur condition. This did not free her from the camp. All of them had to march to Austria, to one of the killing camps. She became ill because of her heart problem and was admitted to a hospital in March 1945. The Red Army was very close by then.

On April 4, 1945, a Hungarian Mounted unit went to the hospital, full of sick Jewish women and killed them one by one on their sick bed. Only one girl survived the killing. Next day the district was liberated and she was able to tell the Red Army officials what happened. The Army sent a special unit after the Mounted unit to kill, or capture, as many of them as possible.

On that last day of her life, Ibolya was twenty-two years old!!!

Why the wind blew in the wrong direction?

Innocent people were blown away...nobody came to stop the wind.

Would anybody listen to our cry? The wind blew away those, too?

Is assimilation the answer?

The history of the Jews in Hungary had a sad fact: the majority made a great effort to become "good & true" Hungarians. They said: "We are Hungarians first, Jews second." Mostly in Budapest and big cities, they assimilated in many ways: by mixed marriages, and by conversion to the Christian faith.

My fiancŽ's father John Rosner had a brother, who became a Catholic merchant in Vienna, and cut any connections with his Jewish relatives. My future mother-in-law, Kati had an older sister, Klari and her husband Zoltan Weiner, they kept their Jewish Identity.

Kati’s older brother Erno (Ernest) Neuman and his wife Anna, were the irony of our times. They were living in the city of Matyasfold, home of the famous IKARUS autobus factory. The products were sold not only in the domestic market, but also all over Europe. To advance the position of Erno, the directors advised him to change his name for a real Hungarian name and to convert to the Catholic faith.

They did in 1934, before their twin daughters were born. They became Mr. and Mrs. Nemes (noble), and devoted Christians. In every room, there was a large cross. Every Sunday they went to church and celebrated Easter and Christmas holidays in a grand style within the family. When the girls were ready to go to school, they enrolled them in the best parochial school, run by nuns. When we visited them, nobody ever talked about religion, or made even a hint of it. The Rosners and I were different.

In 1944 March, when the Germans occupied Hungary, everybody had to prove their origins, going back to their grandparents. Erno lost his job; the girls were thrown out from the convent. They contemplated committing suicide when they learned that they were of Jewish origin.

Erno went to the special forced-labour camp with the white arm band (worn by converted Jews) then to the front. Nobody knows, what happened to him there.

Close to their home, on Matyasfold, there was a small airfield for local traffic, but now used by the military. The Allied Forces destroyed the field and with it the nice home of the Nemes family. Their mother Anna and the girls died in the bomb shelter.