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Emery Gregus Occupation and
Liberation 1944-1945
Epilogue In the previous pages I have tried to relate and describe, in so far as it is possible after 55 years, those 11 months that began with the German occupation of Hungary and ended with the liberation by the Russians. These 11 months proved to be fatal to the Jewish community in Hungary. Within a mere number of weeks, Jews disappeared from the countryside where they had been living for centuries. They disappeared as a community, as a family, as parents, as brothers or sisters, and as children. When today, I look back on it all, and I try to grapple with the realization that my parents died at the age of 56 and 57 and my sister and brothers at 31, 29, and 25 respectively, the more and more uncomfortable I am that I lived to such an obscene old age. At the time when we tried to save ourselves, we were driven by an instinct to hide, to run, to survive---but by now, I think we all feel somewhat guilty; not because we harmed anybody on the road to survival, but we feel guilty thinking that we had to save ourselves when the others were driven to the slaughterhouse. And now we try to excuse ourselves by recounting what hardships we had to endure, what dangers we were exposed to and what deprivations we had to face--and in this way we try to expiate ourselves! But
now, primarily and most of all, I feel the duty of a survivor to relate,
especially to my children, what became of my family and what, if any,
morals can be derived for their future. The
lesson learned is that for those of us who harbour good intentions,
the cruelty and evil of man is far greater than is imaginable. I managed
to survive under very special circumstances and by extraordinary luck;
but for me, even after 55 years, the words of the poet will always ring
true:
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