Biographical notes

Dear Kids,
You have repeatedly asked me to write down my so-called Holocaust experiences. I will try to do this now. but I have to warn you that you may be disappointed if you expect to read some really horrifying things. Not that what happened to me was very pleasant. but by comparison with the experiences of others, it is a rather mild Holocaust story. 

The author of this text, Gabor Markus, was Suzanne Balkanyi’s cousin. He wrote it for his children, and not for general publication.

The text is copyright © the heirs of Gabor Markus 2014, 

and may not be reproduced without the copyright holders' permission.

Suzanne was known in the family as Zsuzsi. Edith and  Kalman Balkanyi referred to in the text were her parents

Well, where shall I start? As you know, we lived a rather comfortable, well-to-do middle class urban life in Budapest between the two World Wars. While there was a great deal of anti-Semitism in Hungary, our civil rights were not infringed upon. Thus we could do anything we wanted, go anywhere we desired, marry anyone we wanted. There were, however, a few areas of restriction. For example, admission to universities was subject to the so-called numerus clausus (= closed number), which meant that Jews could be admitted to these institutions in numbers that represented a fixed, small percentage of all those admitted. (It was, in fact, due to just this restriction that I didn't get into med school for one year after my graduation from high school.) But, as I said, otherwise we were quite free to do whatever we wanted. In this cultural environment, we grew up as Hungarians, and not really as Jews. My parents did not observe any aspect of the Jewish religion, except for fasting on Yom Kippur and imparted to us only a rather vague but definite belief in God, rudiments of which I am still carrying. But Hungarians we were: we knew Hungarian history, knew hundreds of Hungarian poems, and inspired by Bartok and Kodaly - hundreds of old folksongs, rescued by them from oblivion. While we were not religious Jews, we were proud to belong to the Jewish race, and sometimes got into fights in school with Jew-slandering classmates. A definitive influence on us, and particularly on me, was my maternal grandfather. Joseph Vészi. a prominent journalist. editor and politician. He was not religious either, but it was he who instilled in me, as he put it, “the pride of belonging to a persecuted race”. 

With the outbreak of World War II in September of 1939. the Hungarian government, always right wing and reactionary. openly attached itself to Hitler's Germany. One of the reasons that appeared compelling to them was the promise by Germany that they will return to Hungary the territories given to our neighbours following the Versailles Treaty at the end of the first World War. This, of course, brought with it a substantial increase in official anti-Semitism, and concretely, the enactment of laws severely restricting employment and ownership by Jews. It was in this period that I entered medical school in 1941 in Szeged. then the second largest town in Hungary. In my class of approx. 60 first year med students. there were seven Jews. including myself. Despite the steadily worsening political situation, the first three years of medical school were happy times for me. I worked very hard, but I really loved medicine and was full of unrealistic aspirations for a glorious research carrier in medicine. We all worshipped one of our professors, Albert Szent-Györgyi, Hungary's only Nobel Prize winner (discovery of Vitamin C, and other contributions), and we were all going to get the Nobel Prize. This time, however, was not without incidents. One evening, a room. mate of mine and I had a beer in the Rathskeller of City Hall (a favourite hangout for students), when, on the way home through the poorly lit main square, we were accosted by three med students one of whom, a six footer, politely asked for a light. They immediately started screaming accusations at us, such as “You are traitors, you are the traitors of this country, etc.” and proceeded to beat us with fists. We fought back for a while but then made the quick and useful decision to run away. After this, we didn't go out much anymore in the evenings, and no longer felt secure.

Hungary was already in the war, sending soldiers to the Eastern front, trying to help the Germans to hold the line against the rapidly advancing Russians. Each succeeding Hungarian government was more and more subservient to the Germans, partly for fear, partly, as I said above, for the naive expectation that after-a German victory Hungary will get back all the lost territories. Increasingly stronger legislation was passed restricting more of Jewish civil rights. These governments, however, were still trying to have it both ways: there were still secret diplomatic approaches to the Allied powers, trying to make sure that in case Hitler loses the war, they could document that they were really not that enthusiastic about the German cause. 

And then it happened. Early in the morning of March 19, 1944 the German Army invaded Hungary: they no longer trusted the wishy-washy Hungarian government. There is no doubt in my mind that that day was the worst day of ay life. We knew already what happened to the Jews in the countries Hitler had invaded, and we had little doubt that the same will happen to us. The radio played incessantly military marches but no news, yet still everyone knew what was happening. Soon we could hear the rumble of heavy tanks as they rolled by our house, and the noise of the airplanes circling the city. Szeged was invaded. My recollections about this period are no longer completely clear. I know that we continued going to lectures and labs for a few days, but soon all Jews were expelled from the university, and some days later we had a yellow star sewed onto our jackets. I wanted to get back to my family to Budapest as soon as I could, but travel of all kinds was forbidden to Jews. Somehow my father arranged that a gentile lawyer (the cousin of Kiki, our former “governess”) would come for me armed with a special piece of paper entitled “Jew-transportation permit”. Incidentally, the Hungarian word used for this permit was “barca” whose only other use was to describe the permit given to prostitutes to enable them to practise their trade legally. Well, this man did succeed in delivering me via railroad to my parents in Budapest. It was a rather tense trip with me sitting there decorated by my yellow star, and everybody looking most interestedly at this new phenomenon. 

Budapest was in a turmoil. The Germans installed a Hungarian puppet government, which was completely subservient to them. Everybody knew what was going to happen, but nobody knew just when. One restrictive government ordinance came after the other. The worst was when Jews were ordered to move into apartment houses marked by a big yellow star: Jewhouses. Since our house was not one of these we had to move into another one. It so happened that my uncle Kalman Balkanyi's house, on the Buda aide, was one of these and we moved in there. We lived under rather crowded conditions, but at least the family was together for the time being. I remember one hair-raising event: one day my father came home from work (he still. had his job) accompanied by a big burly man. It turned out that he was 8 detective and was. going to take my father away. We didn't know where, but people who were taken away in this manner usually found themselves at Gestapo Headquarters up in a beautiful hotel on top of one of the lovely hills of Buda. These people were never seen after this. My mother was a real heroine then. She pleaded and pleaded with the man until he gave up the idea of taking my Dad and left. So, for the time being our family was intact. Soon, however, all able-bodied men (or just young ones?) were ordered to perform ·civic duties·, which in my case was to go every morning to a place in the outskirts of Budapest and help clean up the site of. a mill which had been bombed by the Allies recently. The grain was all over the place and we were shovelling them into barrels, as I remember. One day while I was out there the Allied bombers came again, and started to drop their load at the oil refinery next to our site. We laid flat on the ground and I remember my whole body resonating to the thump of each bomb. Somewhat later at a different site while working at something I don' t remember. Russian bombers came and they were greeted by the Hungarian antiaircraft guns. There was a lot of noise and we were again flat on the ground. Then all of a sudden I felt that something kicked me in the ass: I received a fragment of one of the anti-aircraft bullets that came down from the air. It made a hole in my pants and slightly injured my sacral area. This was the only bodily injury I suffered during these times. Speaking of the bombings, I want to mention that after the first bombing of Budapest by the Russians, one of the well known Nazi sympathising journalists by the name of Ferenc Rajnss, proposed that when an air attack is imminent, all Jews should be concentrated on the roofs of the houses. This will either deter the enemy, or if not, well, that will be just as well ... 

Around this time a concentration camp was established on the Pest side of the city, all around the Institute for the Deaf and Dumb, a place well known to me, since as a five year old both I and my cousin Zsuzsi used to go there for anti-stuttering lessons given by its director, a speech therapist, Dezsó Kanizsai. The Germans now made him the administrator of the camp. This was not an ordinary concentration camp. There was an understanding that the Germans will let all the people who were admitted to this camp to emigrate to Palestine. I believe one had to deposit a lot of money to get into this camp, and the people who got in, at least at the beginning; were either those who paid; or those whom the “Jewish Council” (an organisation set up by the Nazis to carry out their orders) had elected. There were quite a few rabbis; some University professors; and some families from around the country who were; one way or another; saved from the cattle wagons that were taking the rest of the Jews to Auschwitz. We are now in the Summer of 1944. We had a fairly good time there: there was plenty of food. I even Organised a little a capella chorus. Of our family. besides us; the Balkanyis were also there. My cousin Marta. and her children were already hiding at this time under false names. There were frequent visits from the Gestapo. and my mother later recalled that the notorious Adolf Eichmann was among them. We slept in barracks. side by side. and there were bathroom barracks also. which were kept very clean. Some of the families there were from Szeged; with young girls I had known. We made friends with two young blind pianists. one of whom had an uncanny ability to imitate people's voices. In short; the young people had a lively time there. What we didn't know was what was really happening to the rest of the Jews. As I said. this was the Summer of 1944. the time at which the Jews from the rest of Hungary were dying in the gas chambers of Auschwitz. I later found out that some of the Jews from Szeged were taken to a camp in Austria. Among those was my best friend from the medical class. Miklós Halphen. an uncommonly handsome guy. and by far the smartest in the class; as well as another classmate. Judith Kiss (pronounced Kish) with her family. I was told that they found out that the next day they will be killed. Judith had been Miklós’ girlfriend for some time; and they decided to get married that day. The next day the guards locked the doors of the barracks where they had been staying and then set the barrack on fire. Quite a few others from Szeged whom I have known have perished there; including a 15 year old girl, the sister of a med school colleague with whom I have played music a few times: she played the violin. When Mom and I were last in Hungary and visited Szeged, I looked up her brother; who somehow survived the events. He was by then a retired physician with a family. It was a very emotional reunion, at least for me. 

So. we are now back in this concentration camp 1n Budapest; on Columbus Street, and it is the summer of 1944. We knew that the Allied forces will invade Germany very soon and were hoping that it will happen in time. It did. in June. as you know. This was the situation in Hungary: the Jews from everywhere; except from Budapest. had already been deported. This we knew. but had no concrete information about where they were. and what would have happened to them. While everybody suspected the worse (we did know that the Jews from the neighbouring countries had already been deported). many preferred to believe that the Germans were just using the Jews as labourers: “The Germans would not be so foolish as to kill .such a big potential work force!” -. This was. of course. just wishful thinking. The Hungarian Government; which was trying to play a clever game of pretending solidarity with the Germans. while at the same time secretly letting the Allied know that they really are for them now became increasingly convinced that the German defeat is inevitable (D-day already happened, and the Russians were nearing the Hungarian border), and decided to ease up on the remaining Jews. I don't remember what this really meant in concrete term., but I know that many felt that it would be better to go back to the Yellow-Star houses, than to stay in the camp which was guarded by German soldiers. It was possible to leave this camp, strange as this may sound, and my family decided to do just that. So, in September back we moved to the my uncle Kalman Balkanyi's house in Buda, and a comparatively normal period followed, during which young Jews, like myself were doing some stupid physical work around Budapest. (I think it was at this time that I received the shell fragment in my ass). 

On Sunday, October 15, I was hiking on one of the Buda hills with a girl I have known from Szeged (she too was also at the Columbus Street camp), the sun was shining, and everything looked foolishly hopeful. When I got back to the house, 1 found out: in the morning Admiral Horthy, the governor of Hungary, went on the air, denounced the Germans and asked the people to resist them. Within an hour, however, he was captured by the Hungarian Nazis, who, with German help, now staged a coup d'état, took over the radio and all government offices. Now the real horror started. Most of the decent political figures were arrested,. Jews were ordered to stay in their houses. (1 think we did get out just to go to stores, but I no longer remember clearly.) The Hungarian Nazis were the absolute dregs of society, their emblem was the Arrow cross, and they wore green shirts. Many of them were recruited from the ranks of the ethnic Germans who had been living in Hungary for centuries without ever causing any trouble. They knew that their reign will not last long and they had to do whatever they wanted to in a hurry. The result was a nightmare that lasted until February 1945, when the Russians drove out the last of the Germans from Hungary. During this terrible winter people were driven during the night from the Jewish houses in hordes to the banks of the Danube, and shot into the river. A nun from the Catholic Order that saved me later had been hiding two Jewish women, and when this was discovered, she shared that same fate. A first cousin of my mother was also 1n a group like this. When they started to shoot, she pretended to have been hit and jumped into the river. She swam half a mile, dragged herself out the river, and succeeded in getting to a safe house. Most were not that lucky, or that heroic. You remember Andris Rác, the artist, who was one of the closest friends of Anna and me at that time. His father was a well-known surgeon and physician-in-chief of a small Jewish hospital in Buda, where a year before 1 had done a short surgical rotation with him. Now his wife was working as a nurse in the hospital. (See, however, addendum). When the arrow cross guys came he was operating on somebody. The Nazis shot to death all the patients, ordered the doctors and nurses down to the court yard, and shot them all. It turned out that my father’s choice of leaving the Columbus Street camp was a lucky one. During this same period the Gestapo (or SS?), led by Eichmann I believe, entered the camp, lined up the Jewish administration and randomly shot a number of them, including a very nice country doctor, who befriended me during the summer. One of the people who were taken away during this time was the artist Istvan Farkas. father of Charlie, Polo and Jutka, who was also director of a large publishing house. He died in Auschwitz. His former wife, Ida, also an artist, lived under a false identity like many others. Her Aryan identity could have been quite credible: she was an elegant, tall woman, not more Jewish looking than Charlie. Yet she was recognised by a green-shirt as she was walking on the street, and was shot to death right then and there. 

One morning in early November the order was issued for all men and all women under a certain age to assemble with minimum provision. at certain plazas. We knew exactly what this meant.: this was the beginning of the deportation of the Jews. At this point there was no way to get out of this. My father and I went dutifully to one of these places, and my sister and my cousin Zsuzsi went somewhere else. My recollection of this period is rather vague: for instance, I don't know where my mother and my aunt went. Did they stay in the house for" a while, or were they taken to their respective hiding places already then? (Of this more, later.> That same evening we found ourselves in a big open space in the outskirts of Budapest, with thousands of yellow-star-decorated men milling around. It may have been the yard of a brick factory, as these were to become the favourite collecting places whence Jews could be easily deported via rail. But there were women too, and we were desperately trying to see if Anna and Zsuzsi were there. We had a Secret Sign: the beginning lines of Ravel's Songs of Madagascar. I started to whistle this, and soon there was an answer. For just a few minutes we were together again. We thought it was the last time, and it is hard to describe what it felt like. I don't remember how the night was spent, but in the morning we were organised into units and were marching on a country road surrounded by the arrowcross guys, carrying automatic rifles. and constantly threatening everyone who couldn't keep up. I was worrying about my Dad, because the rucksacks we were carrying were very heavy and he had trouble keeping up with the rest. We were now organised into the Hungarian Army as a labour division. We were not allowed to carry arms, but we did have shovels. This was the beginning of a real nasty period. and for most of our comrades it was to be the beginning of the end. In the coming weeks we were shuttled between locations in the country side near Budapest, but mostly we were used to dig a huge tank trap all around Budapest to prevent the Russians from entering the capital. But since the German and Hungarian armies still had to go in and out of Budapest. the highways going into the city had to be left intact. As it turned out. at the end the Russian advance was so fast that there was no time to blow up the roads, and so the tanks just rolled in to the city without any difficulty. It was now November, cold and rainy and we were ail the time freezing. We slept mostly in haylofts and had minimum rations. In the morning we were given a coffee substitute (chicory), for lunch there was some kind of soup with no meat, and for dinner we received our rations which was a loaf of bread and an imitation quince jelly. Soon everybody was starving and I remember marching along a road and having a dream while walking. The dream was that I was spreading korozott on a big piece of rye bread. At one point 1. like many others developed diarrhoea. My dear dad succeeded in getting me pieces of a boiled chicken from a farmer. We also had with us a young doctor who brought along his medicine bag, and he gave me some opium drops to help my condition. One time, as we were digging the tank trap, the Russians, who were just a mile or so away, started to train their canons on us. A few impacted quite close. but I don' t remember being very much alarmed by this. Everything had two sides: you didn't want to be killed, but you also wanted the Russians to hurry up and drive the Germans out. 

One day we had a harrowing experience. We found ourselves in a clearing in the middle of some woods, and were told to line up. Our arrow cross commander, a young jerk, ordered everybody to hand in all our money, our watches, and whatever other valuables we may still have had on us. After a few minutes he declared that one of the guards (we always had a number of arrowcross guys surrounding us) has found some American dollar bills hidden behind a tree, and unless the person who did this identifies himself the unit will be decimated. Minutes passed and nobody volunteered since it was obvious that the money was put there by the guys themselves. The jerk kept on repeating the threat when the doctor in our unit stepped out and said that he did it. This heroism seemed to have come quite unexpected to this fellow because he knew damned well that the doctor hadn't done it. He muttered a few things, like “don't let this happen again, or else,” and the crisis was over. I don't know whether he would have followed through if nobody had volunteered, but it would not have surprised me. 

These were the darkest times of this whole period: none of us could imagine how we could ever get out of this alive. I had a friend in the unit, a young doctor (another one) whom I have met one summer while working in one of the hospitals. His name was Feri Holitsch. I have been once to his house and met his beautiful sister, Eva. His bunk was next to mine in this hayloft where we slept and one night he told me that he buried a fine brass, or gold chain that he had with him, in a corner of our barn, and asked me that in case I would survive and he didn't, to come with his sister (i.e. if she survived), dig up the chain and give it to her. -This I did indeed, a year or so later: I went out there with Eva, and found the chain. Feri died, probably in Auschwitz. My recollection of this period in the labour camp is all rain, freezing and hunger. I don't even know how long we were in there, though not much more than a month.

This is how it ended. One day we were marching through some small town and were spending the night in the gym of a schoolhouse. There was_,.a public phone there and my dad succeeded to get in touch with Géza Petényi, a long time friend of my parents, our paediatrician, and physician-in-chief of one of the paediatric hospitals in Budapest, and a gentile. There were rumours that we will be marching through Budapest the next day, headed toward one of the train stations and thence?.. My dad told this to Géza. What he expected from this I don't really know. I think he just wanted to talk to him or send messages through him. The next day we were indeed marching through Budapest. We got to the intersection of two large avenues, the so-called Heroes' Plaza, full of statues of historical figures. By now we were joined by other units, similar to ours, and we all had to stop to allow the passage of the regular Hungarian army on the avenue at right angles to us. We put down our heavy rucksacks and waited. Suddenly I spotted a man standing on the side walk in a grey suit wearing a hat, intensely scanning the street. It was Géza. How he figured out where we will be I never found out. I said to my dad, let's just very calmly walk over. There was so much turmoil on the street that nobody seemed to pay attention to us as we left our rucksacks right on the pavement and crossed over to the side walk where Géza stood. He didn't look at us, just murmured under his breath: “There is a taxicab waiting at the corner, get in, I will follow you.” That's just what we did. I was told to get down on the floor, so I won't be seen. (Young men were either supposed to be in the army, or in a labour camp... ). This was on the Pest side, and the taxi crossed over the Chain Bridge to Buda, and stopped in front of an old two-story house on Fo Utca (the ancient Main Street of Buda). Here was a little mimeographing store run by my mother's friend, Mrs Waldbauer (known to us as Sanya). She and a friend of hers were using the facilities of this little shop to furnish Jews with false documents: the first floor was for legitimate work, the second was the secret workshop. Soon there arrived Zoltan Horvath, my cousin Marta's divorced husband, and Eszter's father. He was a Jew but was running around town with false papers testifying to the fact that he was a correspondent of one of the Nazi newspapers in Budapest. I was furnished with a set of civilian clothes and soon Zoli was to take me away. I said good-bye to my dad, not knowing if we will ever see each other again. Zoli was going to take him to a house in the outskirts of Buda where he had earlier taken my mother. They both got false papers showing that they were refugees from Eastern Hungary, fleeing from the approaching Russian army. Zoli told me to behave as nonchalantly as I could, while we walked to a streetcar stop. The streetcar, almost empty, took us to a lovely woodsy part of Buda, called Mariaremete. This is where the Gray Nuns had one of their convents. The order, called now in Buffalo Sisters of Social Service, was founded by a remarkable woman Margit Schlachta, a religious humanitarian activist and first woman member of the Hungarian Parliament. She and her order took it upon themselves to save as many Jews and other endangered species as they could in the several houses they had in the greater Budapest area. When we arrived there I found my aunt Edit and her husband, Kalman, my cousins Zsuzsi and Eszter, among a total of about 30 people whom the Sisters were hiding. The convent consisted of two houses next to one another, and we were housed in one of them in what must have been a parlour at one time. Others stayed in the attic apartment. For our and the Sisters’ safety we were not allowed to leave the house or stand by the windows. Not that too many people would have come there: the houses were off the main road and were facing the woods. Only Eszter and another girl could go out because they were disguised as maids. In fact, that's what they were, and they were the ones who brought us the meals from the main building. The nuns were marvellous. They were polite, tactful, and did not try to convert us to Catholicism. Some of the Jews hidden there had been converted earlier, and they participated in the Sunday Masses the Sisters celebrated in the little chapel located in the basement of our house. It was during this time that a sister of the same order, Sara Salkahazi (she was not a member of our convent) while taking two Jewish women from one house to another, was arrested by the Arrowcrossers and shot into the Danube. 

How did we spend our time? We did have a few books, but they were quickly read by everybody, and the supply was rather limited. We talked with my cousins about times passed, and sang some 2-part choruses from a book with Eszter. To kill time I engaged in a rather silly enterprise: I tried to write down in the greatest detail the apartment where we had lived earlier in the big house facing the Danube. But I got tired of this Proustian pursuit and never finished it. It was now December and Christmas was approaching. The Sisters decorated the chapel and they created a festive spirit that was caught by everyone there. But now the booming of cannons was becoming louder, and we knew that the Russians were approaching. The big question that was now on all our minds was: will the Germans try to defend the area, or will they just leave and let the Russians take Mariarellete? If they decide to defend the town, they will fight from house to house, and that will be the end of us. If they give up the area, this may mean the end of all our troubles. Christmas Eve came. Now we heard not just cannons but the discharge of automatic weapons coming from the woods opposite the convent. The Sisters collected all of us into the little chapel and tried to infuse their own courage into us. That night everybody prayed. Then in the middle of the night gradually the war noise died down. We went back to our sleeping quarters, and, as I remember, I actually slept. In the morning a very young soldier entered our house: he was a Russian. We were liberated 

Soon there were more Russians coming, and it turned out very fast that they did not have the faintest idea of who we were, or why we were where we were. But they were friendly enough. They left us alone, and they treated the nuns with respect. It was a gorgeous winter, with the sun reflected by the snow from the pine trees around the house and I was overcome by an irresistible urge to get out. I was seized by the irrational feeling that once I have survived this, nothing can happen to me. Also, I was 22 at this juncture, and though having only completed 3 years of medical school, I fancied myself as almost a doctor. I have decided therefore to go around the village with a little case that looked like that of a doctor. Just what I really had in mind, I don't remember anymore. My dear aunt Edit made me a white armband on which she embroidered the word VRATCH, which means physician in Russian and sewed it around the left arm of my huge, long winter coat. And off I went, wandering around the little streets and orchards of this lovely hilly town. I don't remember whether anybody was interested in my services but I do recall making people happy to be able to talk to somebody about their aches and pains. This little pastime of mine almost landed me in Siberia. One morning, walking along the central highway of the village I was stopped by a Russian guard who stood in front of what turned out to be the Russian commandant's headquarters. Since we didn't speak each other's languages, I repeatedly pointed to my armband and kept saying vratch, vratch. It was to no avail. He took me into the house, where in the anteroom there were already some 15 men of all ages waiting. Nobody was allowed to leave. After some time I got a brilliant idea. I stepped up to the guard who was stationed by the door leading to the commandant's office, took off my watch (it was really my aunt's) and gave it to him. Now you have to know that it was common knowledge by then that all Russian soldiers collected watches. He took the watch, put it on his left wrist, where there were already two other watches  and gave me a little smile. When the commandant's door opened he ushered me in and told something to the officer. I gathered that he was explaining that I was a vratch and should be treated as such. This incident was my stroke of luck. Not only did they let me go, but they gave me a piece of paper attesting to the fact that I was fulfilling an essential service in the community, signed it, and - most importantly - put a triangular stamp on it. Such triangles were respected by all Russians. I was never bothered after that. 

It was now February, and I have been there for about 4 months I and had no idea what happened to my parents, or my sister. The last information I had about my parents was that they were in the suburbs south of Buda with false papers attesting to the fact that they were refugees from Transylvania. About my sister, I didn't even know that much. It was thought that the Germans have already given up Budapest, and were retreating toward Austria. 1 decided that it was time for me to leave, try to get back to the city and find my family. I said good-bye to my relatives and to the sisters, and set out to walk toward the city in my long overcoat decorated with “vratch” , hat, and my doctor's case. I knew this area very well: we used to go there in the Spring and walk in the valleys and hills. How everything was covered with snow, and there was no traffic at all. After having walked for an hour or so I passed a woman dressed in a fur coat, going in the same direction. house. It was almost unbelievable~ she was Maria Wolleman, one of my classmates from Szeged and a good friend. She had been hiding in the Insane Asylum at Lipútmezó together with one of our former professors. She had also decided to set out to find her parents. So we continued together. As we crossed over a snow-covered field, we heard rifle shots, and found that we were the target. We ducked for a while and then continued. When we reached the outskirts of Buda, we parted ways. I continued toward where my aunt and uncle Balkanyi had lived (along the route where many years later Chris and I stayed in the Budapest Hotel). As I was getting close to the house. I passed a dead Russian soldier on the sidewalk. and several dead horses, and once again there was shooting. It was now obvious that the Germans hadn't really given up Budapest. I reached the house and found people in the basement, including a woman who used to work for my aunt. They didn't .know anything about the whereabouts of my parents, and all of a sudden a couple of Russian soldiers arrived and started to question me. My triangular stamp saved me: they let me go. So I continued to walk toward where I supposed my parents were. It seems that I had known the address, or else I couldn't have known where to go. It was dark already by the time I found the house in a run-down old neighbourhood. The family who were staying there were also Jews with false papers, and they told me that, yes, my parents had been staying there until a few days earlier, but had left already for a place in Pest. I no longer remember whether they knew where that place was. It was late now and they invited me to stay for the night. We slept on bunches of hay in the basement. Next morning I left, determined to cross over to Pest, a difficult task since all the bridges had been blown up by the retreating Germans. When I reached the Danube, a Russian officer stopped me, pointed to my armband and kept talking to me in Russian. I finally got the idea that he wanted me to look at somebody. He also kept saying the magic word “Sulfidin, sulfidin”-the Russian word for a sulfa drug. I followed him down the steps to a small covered boat anchored next to the quay. The patient was a woman soldier. Somehow I made the diagnosis that she had gonorrhoea (not a rarity in those days), and gave them the only vial of sulfa drug, I think I must have acquired from somebody in Mariaremete. The officer was very pleased, kept shaking my hand and gave me a big loaf of bread as my honorarium. The strange thing is that I don't remember how I have crossed over to Pest. It must have been via a ferry boat, but I have no recollection of this. The next thing I remember is that I was already walking on Andrássy út (the beautiful broad avenue leading to City Park) and going up to an apartment where old Mrs Lax had lived, hoping to find her there. She was there indeed, plus some of her relatives. One of them, a man, wanted me to give him my loaf of bread, but I refused since I was saving this for my parents. They did know where my parents were: they were in a small Jewish hospital located beyond the end of the Andrássy út. I continued my walk. When I reached Octagon Plaza, the intersection of Andrássy út and the Ring boulevard., cannon balls were exploding on the street and everybody scrambled for shelter. But then, this passed too, and I continued. By mid-afternoon I have reached the hospital, and there I have found my mom, my dad, my sister and my grandma, safe and sound. It was an unbelievable reunion, especially since it was just a few hours before that my sister had also arrived there. She had been sheltered by a family who were relatives of Kiki, our former governess. And so ended this long quest. 

EPILOGUE 

The Germans did not give up Budapest, and by the time the house to-house fighting was over, Budapest was a ruined city. Food was hard to come by and there was no electricity. We moved back to what was our apartment before. Food was mostly beans, and my mother cooked them bravely three times a day on a Franklin stove in our dining room. Gradually though everything normalised: electricity came back, food was again abundant. a bridge was built to connect Buda and Pest again, theatres and movies opened and there were even some concerts in unheated halls. It was now March and I wanted to continue my studies. One day my cousin Marta her daughter Eszter and myself set out to go to Szeged. We got on a freight train, bundled up on an open flat car, and after some hours arrived in Szeged. That city was spared from destruction and there was free food given once a day for surviving Jews by the American Joint Committee. Marta rented a little one-room apartment and earned some money by repairing torn clothes by something like “invisible darning”. All three of us slept on the floor, until I moved to an abandoned dormitory, the Luther House, already populated by other students. When the semester was over I transferred back to the University of Budapest and finished there two years later. 

We survived but many of our friend. and some of our relatives did not. Marta's husband. the writer Gyorgy Sarkozi, died, and two of my cousins my father's sister's sons, never returned from the Ukraine where their labour camp took them. My best friend, Sanyi Goldziher died in a concentration camp in Germany. and many other friends and acquaintances perished. But some who were very dear to me did survive like my cousin Sári Balkanyi (Suzanne Balkanyi’s sister) and some others. Our own survival was due to a few extremely courageous people, to a few quick decisions, and to a great deal of luck which so many others did not have. And so ends this story. 

Some corrections and additions

After having read the above account, Anna called me on the phone and drew my attention to some mistakes and some omissions, and then sent me a written account of them. I am glad to have this, because as I told you, my memory of these events which took place 55 years ago, is spotty and not always reliable. Anna was only 16 at the time, but her memory is better than mine. The most important correction concerns the circumstances relating to the time when my dad and I were taken away into the labour camp. On p. 6, I described this as having started by us voluntarily going to one of the plazas to be inducted. Anna's correction is as follows: 

“We have been only for a short time in the Jewish House [the one marked with the big yellow star outside] when the arrow cross guys came and took all men from the house. It was allowed to take one rucksack (which everyone had kept in readiness. fully packed). When you have left [i.e. me and my dad] mother wanted to jump out the window. We pulled her back which was not hard because she was not on the windowsill yet. A few days later the notices appears on the houses announcing that all Jewish women above the age of 16 (1 don't remember the upper age limit) have to appear with their rucksacks on a certain day on the Vermezo. [Literally: Blood meadow, a large grassy area behind Castle Hill, used mostly for military parades, but originally the site of the execution of a group of conspirators by the Austrians in the 18th century.] Kiki [our former governess] wanted to take me away but I didn't go because you were taken away and I wanted to go too. I copied my favourite poems, took with me Heine's Buch der Lieder and we left for Vérmezó. [We = Anna and Zsuzsi). We were taken to Csanád and to Imrehaza to dig tank traps. After about three weeks they announced that we will be discharged and started us marching. By then they had stopped giving us food and Zsuzsi was barely able to carry her rucksack, so I helped carry that too, together with another  girl. The situation was not good. The arrowcross guys handed us over to the gendarmes {the police force of the villages, well known for their brutality], and they took us to the beach of Pünkösdfurdö by the Danube where there were some small wooden cabins with overhanging roofs. This was a collection camp where there were also men. We started to look for people from our house [the yellow star one] and it was in this way that we hit upon you and father. Somebody, I think it was Kalman Biro, [the husband of one of our mother's a cousins] gave me some chocolate because I have almost fallen over from hunger. You then told me in the evening that that night some divisions will be taken away, but yours will not be. For the night we huddled with drawn-up knees on the porch of the little house (a woman went crazy that night) and it vas then that I heard that they are calling your division. You have whistled and I whistled back, and then you were gone.

Anna and Zsuzsi after some time escaped from their camp, something that took a great deal of guts, and went into hiding. Anna also told me on the phone that it was not Kiki's relatives who were hiding her, but Kiki herself. in her own apartment. Her aunt, uncle and their son were also there because they were afraid of the bombings. But they were also afraid of getting in trouble were the arrowcrossers to find Anna there. and wanted to persuade Kiki to let Anna go. She refused and so they moved out. By the way, Kiki's real name was Ilona Gyorke, a very sweet person who was an important part of our childhood. She lived with us for a long time and kept in touch until she died.

Another correction: Andris' mother (the surgeon's wife) did not work in the hospital as a nurse. She had been hiding out somewhere, but came to visit her husband on the day when the arrowcross guys shot up the place.