The very next day my grandfather and Miklós went to scout out the situation at 106 Király Street to make sure that it was safe and ready for our family to move back in. A peasant family from the country who had occupied our home was asked to leave, and by nightfall the next day we were back home. Fortunately, we didn’t have to walk too far because my grandparents’ home was just a few blocks from the ghetto. Who carried me back remains a mystery, as does what happened to the meat grinder.
A couple of days after the liberation of Budapest, Raoul Wallenberg was captured by the Red Army, and for decades the Soviet Union refused to provide information about his whereabouts or whether he was dead or alive.
10. Members of the International Red Cross examining a pile of dead bodies in the Big Ghetto following liberation in January 1945.
Once we were liberated, there was chaos on the streets. Whether it was deliberate or not, for about a week the Russians let people break into stores and allowed them to grab anything they could find. A large chocolate factory was broken into, resulting in big chunks of hard chocolate being taken home. It was helpful to eat the hard pieces of chocolate to offset the diarrhea from the molasses that we ate. The food situation in Budapest remained critical for a long time. However, it didn’t take too long to get back on my feet within a few days once I got some nourishment into my body.
Shortly after our liberation, Aunt Klári asked me to go with her to gather some wood for our stove at home. She found a bombed-out store that had a few scraps of wood, which were probably the remnants of the store’s shelves. She started gathering the wood in her arms when all of a sudden a woman showed up and started screaming at Aunt Klári not to touch anything and that everything in the store belonged to her. However, Aunt Klári was not deterred and proceeded with her mission, at which point the woman attacked her, beating her with both hands.
Within seconds they were wrestling each other amidst the rubble in the store. Suddenly, I heard someone laughing behind me. I turned around and saw a Russian soldier sitting on a pile of rubble with a machine gun in his lap, elbow on his knee, and a cigarette in his hand. He was laughing hard and watching with obvious enjoyment the two women fighting over a few pieces of wood. This soldier, who risked his own life just a few days ago to liberate this part of the city, watching two women fight over pieces of wood was a welcome relief from combat.
This surreal scene frightened me, and I didn’t know what to do. I somehow missed the humor, seeing my aunt being beaten by another woman. I have no recollection of how the altercation ended or whether Aunt Klári had escaped with any wood.
Within days after liberation, the Stern cousins,19 Pisti and Gyuri, together with their father, decided to go home to a small town named Eger, about one hundred kilometers from Budapest, where they used to live. They walked the whole way home since there were no trains available yet. Shortly after, Aunt Piri and her sons, Miklós and Tomi, left for Eger to join them.
There was no word yet from my mother, my father, or any of the other missing relatives. My grandmother was ailing, and the decision was made to send me to Eger as well. Again, Miklós was given the task of taking charge, and he returned to Budapest to take me back to Eger with him. Food was more plentiful in the country than in Budapest, and I needed some fattening up. In addition, Aunt Klári’s hands were tied with caring for Iván, and my grandparents were too old to care for me. Miklós and I took off for Eger around March 1945.
This was my first train trip ever, which I will never forget. Cousin Miklós and I went to the railway station early one morning. I had never seen so many people all jammed together on the platforms on both sides of the rail cars. It seemed like everyone in Budapest was trying to leave. Miklós figured out which train was going in the direction of Eger, and we were soon standing in front of a long train with all the rail cars full.
There were people sitting on the top of the rail cars with their luggage and situated between the cars, standing or sitting on the bumpers that connected them. Others were hanging on the steps by the doors on both sides of the cars with absolutely no room for anyone to enter. The windows were open, and you could see that people inside were jammed together like sardines. These people must have gotten there hours before we did.
Not certain whether I was more scared or amazed, I was hanging on to Miklós as he went to work. He begged people in the windows to take me in and offered them bread in return. Finally, a woman from the inside called out to Miklós, “Come over here, my son. I will take this little boy in here with me.” The next thing I knew I was shoved through the window and placed on the overhead luggage rack without my feet ever touching the ground. Miklós disappeared after telling me he would claim me when we get to Füzesabony. All alone I was scared to death, wondering if Miklós would come to get me.
There was no direct train connection to Eger. Even during peacetime, travelers had to change trains at Füzesabony, about seventy miles from Budapest, and take an additional short ride of about ten miles to Eger.
In war-torn Hungary in 1945, we were lucky there was a train at all. Our trip lasted many hours, and I had no idea where we were at what time. Finally, at Füzesabony, a small town along the train tracks, my Cousin Miklós arrived, and from there we walked to Eger.
My memories of staying in Eger with my Aunt Piri and my cousins are vague. I went to stay with my family in Eger many times during my summer vacations in subsequent years, and it is difficult to separate my memory of this first visit from some of the later ones despite the conditions being quite different. Nevertheless, I am sure this first experience could not have been as joyful and happy as my later visits.
It was not until April 4, 1945, that all of Hungary was liberated by the Soviet Army when I had already arrived in Eger. Hungary was liberated, but for the surviving Jews, like my grandparents, my aunts, my cousins, and me, complete liberation was still out of reach. We had to agonizingly wait to see which family members had survived and which had perished in the Nazi killing fields.
One of the first to come home was my mother’s brother, Uncle Béla. Unfortunately, his wife, his daughter, and a baby son perished in Auschwitz. His woeful story illustrates the fatefulness of one mere decision. Uncle Béla and his family lived in Újpest, a near suburb of Budapest, literally translated as “New Pest.” When word spread that the Nazis were rounding up the Jews in the countryside in the summer of 1944, they were asked to come into the city and live with my grandparents. For some reason, Uncle Béla’s wife, Szidóra, didn’t want to move, which was a tragic decision that sealed their fate.
Then, two of my mother’s sisters returned from the concentration camps. Aunt Bözske returned from Auschwitz with a number tattooed on her arm. Aunt Lili returned from the Bergen-Belsen20 concentration camp. First, she was also taken to Auschwitz with her two sons, Imre (thirteen years old) and Gyuri (ten years old).
Upon arrival at Auschwitz, the old and the young were separated from those who could work, and her sons, too young for work, were sent to the gas chambers. Aunt Lili was sent to Bergen-Belsen where she worked at a munition factory for the Germans until liberation. My Uncle Laci, the darling son of my grandmother, also ended up in Bergen-Belsen, and miraculously, he and Aunt Lili found each other and he was able to bring the very sick and malnourished sister home after the British liberated the camp in early 1945.
In the middle of the summer we got word that my mother had survived and I would be taken back to Budapest as soon as possible. By now, I was comfortable living with my aunts and cousins in an apartment building located next to the ramp of a medieval castle.21 I made some new friends, and we spent many delightful days playing on the castle grounds. Within days of the news about my mother, I was on a train, guarded by Miklós, and excited to see her again.
My mother was liberated by the Allies in Lichtenwörth, Austria.