Mira Kovacs: My Life - Autobiography for my Grandchildren
In twentyfour hours they put me o v er the border
I was born on the fourth of January, back in twenty-seven, in a Romanian town called Temesvár (Timisuara). My mother's parents lived in Babarc [1] and Pancova, [2] which was at the time in Yugoslavia. My Mom was born in Babarc, to a wealthy and religious Jewish family. I don't know how she met my father, I never asked her, but it was certainly by him that she wound up in Romania, first in Arad, then on to Temesvár.
My sister Klári was born in Arad , she is still alive thank God, though she is not in good health. They proceeded to move on to Temesvár, a very beautiful town, that is where I was born. My father studied to become an optician, but changed course and entered the printing trade. When they were married my mother had a considerable dowry, as was still in fashion back then, and my father founded a print shop out of that. T hey made very pretty labels for jars and bottles. My father's brother Laci worked in that shop, he was an engraver. He made the casts used for printing the labels. We had Hungarian citizenship, and had to pay a certain sum each month to be allowed to stay in Romania. My father had a large family, with all six of his brothers clinging to him. Sinister it may be, they stole from him, so the printer's went bankrupt and we couldn't go on paying our fare of residence. In twentyfour hours they put us over the Romanian border to Hungary, being Hungarian citizens. We left a beautiful furnished apartment behind. My mother packed our belongings in two enormous chests depositing them with a transporter f or safekeeping, and in thirty-four we crossed over.
My mother's elder brother lived in Budapest. He was ten years her senior, married a harpy who was jealous of my mother, adored by her brother. My grandmother had her own separate room in his apartment, however, he treated her so badly that my mother fell out with him and broke off all contact. Thereabouts my grandma died, and we buried her. When we arrived, our living conditions were abominable and we felt really dejected. We slept in with a Jewish family, we were allowed there nights only, to sleep. We spent the day wherever we could. There was a little diner where we had our lunch. We could afford to even in that poverty. We got friendly with the owners and I was allowed to stay there during the day. I must have played there, I can't remember exactly. I wasn't scared yet, back then.
We stayed here half a year, then gathered our stuff, I can't remember what my father did, but we went back to Temesvár. We got our belongings back. Again we settled in a beautiful apartment, but in thirty-seven we went through the whole process all over again. All this on account of my father saying he's Hungarian and wants to lay to rest in Hungarian soil, refusing Romanian citizenship. He put the whole family through such an ordeal, it devastated my mother. So back we came. First to Szeged, as mother was afraid of big cities and she had relations living there. An extended family, lots of cousins. None of them ever returned… I never asked about it, I wasn't interested in family relations back then. When my curiosity arose, there was no-one to ask anymore… There was a large apartment in Szeged where I remember visiting several times. Then my father set up another workshop here in Budapest, and we came on up after him.
I jumped one-oh-five high
It was already in Pest I finished elementary year four, this was very difficult for me, before I had attended a Romanian Jewish school and studied everything in Romanian.
I landed in fourth year without knowing Hungarian spelling, so things were very tough. After finishing four years in elementary, my mother enrolled me in the civil girls’ school on Aréna út. It was a great school, there was a great deal to learn, though there already I was mistreated extensively. At the end of the thirties whatever I got into I got to it full swing! Like becoming a girlscout. I loved being a girlscout! I had to have good grades, and I was present at every meeting doing all the tasks.
That was when the Anti-Jewish Laws [3] came into force, and one day to the next I was expelled from the scouts on account of Jews can't be scouts [4] . You should note I had a hard time getting my girlscout's outfit together, it cost so much money. You needed brown socks, brown high-top shoes and a brown skirt, a pretty shirt with lots of accessories, the belt, tie and of course the hat. By the time I had all this together they turned me out of the girlscouts. When I'd been so proud to wear the outfit! After that I couldn't recover for three whole days, I just kept crying and my head hurt. We had a very good classmisstress, Dr. Wensky Elemérné. I'll never forget her name, she was such a kind person. We also had a German teacher who was really horrible. I was good at German because my mother always spoke to me in German and I'd translate for my father, who didn't speak a word of German. It happened that this German teacher told the class - there were I guess about five of us Jews in the class - that the Jews were the bottom of the class. She stated this in front of the class just like that. Well this really upset me and I went to Wensky Elemérné crying, and she tried to console me. She said this German teacher's husband and son were both killed in the war. But after all this, I couldn't pity her.
I was a very good gymnast! I was short, but I jumped one-oh-five high, a very high score. I jump with my left, and I executed a scissor-jump. I was expert rope and pole climber, it was such a thrill! The gym teacher called me aside and told me, "You know, I'd give you the highest grade, but since you're a Jew I can't do that." This was all like being stabbed with knives. I had both Jewish and non-Jewish friends. I felt no anti-Jewish sentiment among children, but my girlfriends were mostly Jews, we stuck together. Zsuzsi Weinberger w as this very good girlfriend of mine, small as I was, we sat together in the front row paired up for all four years. They took her away and she never made it back. She was an only child. So I lost my best friend. It is still painful.
Come to the synagogue for the day of Atonement
We weren't all that religious, but we observed holidays. My mother was religious. Not a bigot, but she did light a candle every Friday evening [5] to a formally laid table. At Passover [6] we ate nothing but mazzoth [7] . My father wasn't religious, he had no idea about religion! I remember when we went to the synagogue on Bethlen tér for the day of Atonement [8] - this synagogue was the closest to us - my mother told my father "You come along to the synagogue, today's the day of Atonement!" So my dad came along all right, but at two he got up and sneaked out. I could read Hebrew, but I only knew the prayerbook. I'd read without really understanding what I read. We had Jewish Bible classes at the Aréna út Girls' School, we also studied Hebrew there. So I could read the prayers without difficulty. Still can. But one could forget it, Hebrew is such a difficult language. I've had language lessons since then, and visited Israel four times. When we had Israeli girl students here in Budapest, they gave us lessons, sweetie pies! I told them to hold the final lesson at my place. Fifteen of us were there, my husband Gyuri was given a kippa because the cantor from Frankel Leó út [9] was over with his wife, also attending the course. So there I was with my big table laid and all of us eating and talking.
Mother
My mother was very talented. She spoke perfect German, and she had a whole library of German books that she read. She also spoke French and Serbian, and of course spoke and wrote perfect Hungarian. My father's wages weren't enough to get by on, so she took up handkerchief ironing and adjusting. I helped her, as she would sometimes work until midnight. She gave children German lessons so we would have a little more money. She had a graduation certificate in economics, and it pained her to see we had to do without graduating due to the Anti-Jewish laws, so she tried to make up for it. To this end we were attended by an English teacher, and took accordion lessons, though later the accordion went missing. Everything went, only photographs remained. One taken of me at age sixteen, before I got my hair cut. We went to the Bristol [10] for afternoon tea with Mom, and nobody would ask me to dance. I felt dejected thinking it must be because of my hair, two pigtails down to my knees, I must look like a little girl. My hair made washing a regular torture. My mother braided it loosely, then washed it as if it were clothing. I couldn't have washed it by myself. The weight of my hair also gave me headaches. I had thick, strong hair, as thick at the end as it was at the root. My mother fretted for it but in the end she made me a stylish haircut. Some people were outraged!
My eccentric father
To say something about my father, he was an eccentric man. He was high spirited and knew how to recite poetry. He had some relationship to Oszkár Ascher [11] , a fellow nonprofessional [12] . He taught me my first step-dance moves. I too was restless as a kid, always bustling, so my father said he'd take me out to learn to dance. And he took me to Kamill Feleki [13] , whose wife Fini used to be a circus performer. When he married her, Kamillka Feleki told her, "here is a dance school for you, you can fulfill yourself, your jumping days are through." Aunt Fini and Kamill were both adorable people. Dancing went really well, and after the first month I was leading the group, so I was enjoying it, I liked doing it a lot. But this couldn't last long. My father brought me there too late. I was out of school by then, as I had finished my four years at the civil girls’ school. Meanwhile there came the Anti-Jewish laws.
My mother fell ill in forty-four. She died that year on the third of March, and we buried her on the fifth. The Germans came in on the nineteenth. It was just the three of us left there with Dad. It was a terrible loss for us, we loved Mom so much and she left behind such an unbridgable chasm.
My dad was on to something because he did try to gain some ground. He found work for my sister Klári as an escort lady with a very nice family where the grandmother was Jewish, and she was employed to converse with her. So that left the two of us, Dad and myself stay together. My father wrote all the time, even poetry. I remember I had many stage performances at the Bethlen tér community's shows, and he wrote lines for my interludes and prologues. He wrote political poetry too, I remember one of his poems had the chorus "László Endre [14] , you'll be hanging from the gallows!” - and he had a point, the man was indeed hung. My father had a friend, a non-Jewish man. My mother had a good sense of human character, and always said „Beware, that man isn’t honest with you.” My father would tell him about everything, and read out his poems to him. And this man reported him to the police. One August day in forty-four I was home by myself, when there was a knock on the door and it was two men who said they were from the State Police, they came with a warrant and that my father is hiding arms at home. I told them my father had no weapons, but to come on in. They ransacked the whole apartment, and it struck me that they were leafing through my notebooks. They found one of the prologues and asked me who had written that, and I told them my father had. I didn't know what all that meant. They were there quite a long time, searching, and all of a sudden my father showed up. The housekeeper told him not to come up, there were detectives with me, but my father said "the kid's alone, I'm not going to leave her there by herself!" He came up to the flat deathly pale. We had a beautiful ornate coal scuttle with a brass relief top, and my father hid his poems beneath the coals. How he came to the idea, I can't tell! If they had found them, they would have killed us both. They went out in the kitchen and looked under it, my Dad looked like he was about to faint. In the end they found nothing, but he was obliged to attend the Pest County Courthouse .
My every wish was a bicycle
My first love was Laci, I was still at school and we pushed the toy pram in the street together. It was still quite a childish affair. I was a late bloomer. When anti-Jewish laws came into force, I was about to finish with school. I also loved children, and even at age fourteen I was still sewing doll's clothes. So I went on to study sewing children's clothes. That is where I met Iván - I took sewing lessons from his mother. He was my second love, and attanded the high school in Abonyi utca. [15]
When I was learning how to sew, I always got a little pocket money that I saved. My every wish was a bicycle! And my father bought me a used Höfer bike, dreadfully heavy. We lived on the fourth floor, no lift, but I carried that bike. It was always standing upside down because the tyres needed constant attention, and I made all the repairs myself. I adored my bike! Then the anti-Jewish laws came, and we were forced to hand in first our radio, then the bike. I'd just taken all my money and the bike to a bicycle repairman, he sprayed it a beautiful blue color, it was good as new, dynamo, lights and everything! To my distress the bicycle had to be handed in. I couldn't hand it over myself. I had someone take it for me, but wrote down my name on the tube. How naive I had been! What did I know? It had to be handed in, I thought I might get it back, might as well know which one's mine. We handed it in, as we did gradually everything. Then came the yellow star, and we were moved to the star-marked house [16] under 38 István út, with one piece of furniture and our belongings, that is, two great wooden chests. We left the rest of our furniture in our apartment. Klári wasn't with us, as she was an escort. The house she was staying in also came to be marked with a star, a beautiful villa on Fasor. We lived in the starred house and my father went out to work whenever he could, t hen came back home before the gate was locked. Who did the cooking I don't know. There were many young people, and Iván was there with his family. This was a good turn!
There was great unity in the house. Zsuzsa Vadas was there, Zsuzsi Winkler by her original name, my schoolmate who went on to become a singer. She was a very pretty girl and sang at the Savoy, the Astoria and places like that. She also united the residents to some extent. We wanted to arrange a small performance for the cellar - I was preparing a stepdancing piece - so when people had to move down there we could entertain the audience. Curiously enough, a great many non-Jews lived in that particular building, and they refused to move out of there. Zsuzsa Vadas sang, Iván played the violin beautifully, and the clarinet, he used to have his own band. So everything was fantastic! Then we were required a police permit to hold the performance, which we didn't get, so we had to cancel the whole thing in the end.
Our happiness was short-lived, because one day my father left and didn't come home. For three months I neither saw him or had word of him. They must have taken him from the street, he could never keep his mouth shut. They held him at the Pest County Courthouse for three months, then they let him out. How I ate, what I ate for three months? Not that I cared about eating. I had no money, so I got work cleaning rubble away. I still have a certificate from the contractor saying I was a rubble cleaner. While I could, I went out wheelbarrowing during curfew and earned some money doing that. I worked hard. On the way home I paid Klári the occasional visit, and she gave me hot lunches. I'll never forget, it was cabbage and tomato with roast bacon. What a treat it was! I can't even describe it... I like my tomato cabbage ever since.
My prayerbook and lace petticoat
Then my father came home. I never asked him about it, I was just glad to have him home. That is how I know very little of what happened to him. Then a week after that, members of the Arrow-Cross militia [17] gathered up all the men from our building and took them away. That was in October. They put up posters obliging all women aged sixteen to fifty to report to the KISOK field [18] on the 15th of October, bringing three days' food rations and a backpack with their necessities. I of course obeyed, being a law abiding citizen, if I see it written out, I'm obliged to go. My mother gave me a Mirjam prayer book when I was thirteen, I packed that. At age sixteen I got my first petticoat, it was lacey and beautiful blue - I packed that too. But what food I had packed, I have no clue. I went out to the KISOK field alone, where as God would have it, I ran into my sister! We were overjoyed to see each other. Then we stood at the track all day until evening, when they took us away. I knew our first station may have been the Budaörs airfield. We spent the night there on the concrete, then they took us on to Gyömrő [19] , where we dug trenches. We were lucky to have very decent overseers [20] . We were housed in a school building and went out to dig every day. I was very industrious even there, and they'd call after me "What's the rush?" - I always wanted to get everything done fast. If that's the task, that's what I do. There were gendarmes there on horseback, stick in hand, they didn't hesitate to use force, so you really had to work. We weren't there long, only a week or two.
Then I said this really is the end of the world
The Germans were already on the retreat from the Russians. Before we went on from Gyömrő, our overseer told us the Germans were marching the whole width of the road, so we will walk in the ditch, but that we should pretend nobody spoke German! "Nobody. Understood? If questioned, do not reply." Isn't that just precious? We were given equipment, I got handed a pick. That is the heaviest tool. Then we set off marching. I banged my leg up so badly with that pick, the scars are visible still. My leg was bleeding all the way, then when they saw how I was they took it away from me. But they didn't tie up the wound or anything like that. I was lucky it wasn't infected, and I came through alright. Only the scar remained. We started off in the rain, marched all night and arrived in Rákoskeresztúr [21] about noon next day. There was a square where all these groups arrived at from all over. We had everything there, shootings and panic, a terrible pandemonium! We were stopped and ordered to hand in all eating utensils, money, jewelry and watches. If we resist, we will end up like those before us. We had heard the shooting, so we handed everything over. My sister and I put one of the shot-up men into the ditch, so he wouldn't be trampled on. He wasn't dead yet. Then I said this really is the end of the world. I saw there were wagons, and I saw the tracks. I laid my backpack on the ground, slipped it off as I was walking, assuming the end is now near. I miscalculated. It happened otherwise. We kept walking till evening. At the Tolbuchin food-market [22] , people spat on us. We looked terrible, we were in horrific shape! I just cried, what else could I do, I always cried... I suddenly found a backpack, and picked it up on the march. I thought, if it isn't over after all, at least I should have a pack. The overseers kept changing shifts. A young attendant came up to me, comforting me. He said "You're going across a bridge now, there are gendarmes on it. They're really vicious so don't say a word. But after the bridge the overseers are taking over your group again." And that's what happened, we went over the bridge and walked out to Budafok [23] . They showed us a loft there, told us to go upstairs. We had to climb up a hen ladder, I was surprised my sister could climb it. She didn't like exercise and had an excuse from physical education classes. She was scared of everything, we were entirely different characters. She is a placid person.
We climbed the ladder. There was a bit of bread and a can in the pack I found. I think there was also a blanket in there, and a mess basin. Others were practical minded, not like me! We ate that up, soaking wet and cold as we were, and laid down to sleep. There was a draft, the house wasn't quite finished yet, and there was a gap between the wall and the ceiling where the wind came in. We fell asleep right away regardless, after two days on the move with no food or drink. We woke to a man's voice asking: "Is there anyone here from number 38 István út?"
We opened our eyes, and there stood my father! It was a miracle and dramatic too. All the men from number 38 István út were there! They were quartered downstairs. It was a chance meeting. They found out there were women above them, and my dad came up to investigate. That is how we met. There was a large construction site, a pretty wrought-iron gate across from it and a factory behind that. My father and the men stayed there, but the women had to go over to the factory grounds. As it happened they had a cooking pot and some potatoes, so they cooked potatoes. We stood at the gate and I asked an overseer if we may go over to my daddy over there? The potatoes were just ready. And he let us! We ate some potatoes and got back again.
We had two more such meetings with my father, in different locations. We met them coming one way with their tools, while we were going in the other. On our third meeting my father turned away and cried. He knew, could feel what was coming.…
We were taken on to the Lőrinc school [24] , I fell ill on the way with tonsilitis, I got feverish and felt sick. One of our overseers, a villager said he had a daughter my age who even looked like me, inviting me to come with him and that he'd take me in. I told him thanks for being so kind with me, but they had taken my father and I have a sister here as well. I share their fate, what would I do by myself? I couldn't imagine running off on my own and leaving it all behind. No... The overseer knew I was sick.
Meanwhile we were handed over to others and this helpful man had gone. Then all at once he came after me with a two-kilo bread loaf and a bottle of red wine! He was a really decent man. They always go on how the overseers this, the overseers that - I know there were a great many kind people among them. Those we came across were always good to us. Those who escorted us to the Lőrinc school or those in Gyömrő [25] , it's a pity I never knew their names to thank them if I had known I would be coming back, that I'd stay alive. At the last station, the Óbuda brickworks [26] there were Arrow-Cross servicemen, youngsters quite like the ones that I see marching now. Those were very, very mean. Imagine those brickworks so that by the time we arrived there, little brick huts had been put up for shelter. Those bricks were just laid on top of each other. What did these people do at night? They toppled the brick rows on top of us! They were rowdy, they ate bacon, sang and drank. They were messing around, and we were subject to their outbursts of vengefulness and rage.
Wallenberg appeared
The next morning we were lined up on the big, grassy meadow across from the brickworks. That was when Wallenberg [27] appeared with his car, and announced that those under 16 of age are to step forward, and he's taking them to a protected house 28 . They were pushing me to step out, but I wouldn't. It was my second chance to leave it all, but I couldn't do it. My sister was standing there next to me. I couldn't do it... She was older than I and showed it.
We were taken along, thirty kilometers a day, on the highway to Vienna. We were hungry and thirsty, we didn't get anything all day. W e would actually beg in the villages! In one village they cooked up a big cauldron of bean soup, but it was being sold for money, and they let us come into the house. My sister - perhaps with money she got from Daddy - payed for two bowls of soup. That bean soup was delicious! I felt better by then. Somehow I always recovered, another accident, I know .
Where we go every year to remember
Then we arrived in Gönyű. So many had given up there! Some brought poison with them and took it, they couldn't bear any more. Some fell into the river Danube when we had to cross a narrow plank to board a barge. I was surprised to see my sister walk it all the way, as I have mentioned she wasn't especially agile. I was so happy to see her walk across! We entered the barge and saw there were rats and water on the bottom... I lost sight of Klári there, but we met again in the morning as we alighted from the barge. The day before, a great number of people fell to their death into the Danube. There are two hundred and eighty buried in the grave where we go every year to remember.
Five years ago I met someone, an old man, who told me how he had lost his daughter. He wasn't Jewish, he was a resident in Gyönyű. His daughter brought food to the group and handed it out. When she stepped away from the group, the Arrow-Cross men shot her, they thought she was trying to escape. One can imagine the atmosphere of the time…
We arrived in Harka [28] . We slept in stables there, and went on digging trenches. The TODT [29] organizations were our wardens there. There was a young doctor there, a very nice man, he comforted us and kept entertaining us with his doggerel. He wrote songs too, he was ever so cute. They shot him in the neck, he never made it through.
F rom there they took us on to Lichtenwörth [30] , Austria, some six kilometers from Wiener-Neustadt. It was a village of about three thousand, with a factory building we were put up in, all steel and concrete. W e lay on the ground with a little hay under us. We were very weak by then from all the marching and starvation. Under normal circumstances I weighed forty-four kilos, not thin and not fat. Forty-four kilos quite suited my build. By the time we got there I must have been much less. We were fed from Wiener-Neustadt but no delivery came during bombings, and there were a lot of bombings. We were given some black liquid and bread in the morning, to be divided into three, at least that's the way we did. We cut the bread slice into three to save some for lunchtime and a bit for the evening too. We were given turnip soup for lunch. That was it. They were methodically starving us to death. Everywhere the Scharführer [31] was brutal. What else could he be? What kind of person would serve that ideology? There were three halls, maybe two thousand of us were crammed into the largest one. About 400 women lay in the smallest one. Lichtenwörth received no publicity because it wasn't an international camp. It was close to Mauthausen [32] , we were linked to that camp and that is where they were planning to move us. But then the medical officer came and disallowed it, there was diptheria and a serious typhoid epidemic. Every day, several people died of diphteria! There was one doctor who performed laryngotomies by hand to give them a breath of air, but they all died within an hour. There were no instruments, nothing.
I had my eighteenth birthday there
I went to work of course, digging trenches, I always volunteered for work. Those who didn't work stayed in, though some couldn't even get to their feet. One day I went out, but came home with a fever. Then I stopped going out. One time I remember the Scharführer was so bored that he gave out an announcement that everyone who could present him with entertainment shall receive thick, white bread. What did bread mean? A morsel of bread... I of course stood up again, to do a dance for him. I was so scared the while though that my heart was beating in my throat! Imagine what I must have looked like! There was no change of clothes, it was a horrible state to be in. And that I should jump around to top that... Well it was ridiculous and terribly sad too. I finally didn't get in though I saw others singing there. There was no selection, in they went one after the other. Everyone sang or recited whatever it was they knew. I would have danced, but I didn't make it in. All at once the man got tired of it, bored. And at that point I swear I was glad for it. I was so scared I was actually happy not to get my turn. It was as if I had to enter a lion's den.
There lay next to me a girl from Kolozsvár (Cluj), Romania, her name was Rózsi and she was a really sharp kid. She sneaked out into the village and always brought back bread, she got helped out. The villagers were really decent. One time she was caught. The lights were turned on, she had to lie on the floor with her pants down, and she got twentyfive lashings on her buttocks. They called some man over from the other hall, and he had to hit her. The Scharführer told him if he didn't hit her hard enough, then they'd both be getting it from him personally. If the Scharführer had hit her, he would have broken her spine. Rózsi didn't cry, she was a real tough one. But we did cry! There she was in front of us, and not a sound escaped her all through the ordeal! She took the twentyfive lashes, she only started crying when she lay down next to me. Her backside festered, they beat her sick! She recovered, and didn't get infected in that maggoty hay and filth. A small miracle…
I had my eighteenth birthday there. My sister presented me with a slice of bread. I couldn't swallow it. How could I have eaten hers, her own ration! I don't know what became of that bread but I couldn't eat it, I asked not to have my birthday celebrated. The time was inappropriate.
Then Klári and Rózsi cooked potato paprika
The Russians came in on the second day of April, with horses, and told us we were free. By then I had a fever of forty-fortyone degrees, typhoid. I could barely mill about. The Germans had a stash of food across from us. Some people broke into there and literally gorged themselves to death. The villagers presented a large cauldron of boiled potatoes. I had two pieces from that. Many of them stayed on, they opened up a local palace for the sick. The locals tended them, fifty-two villagers caught the disease and died. We didn't stay, the five of us with my sister and three other girls, we started off towards home with them taking turns supporting me. We made very slow progress. I don't even know how we knew which way home was. We spent one night in a forest, after that I don't know where we slept at all because I was very very sick by then. One time we found a railway hut beside the tracks, an arrowcross flag lay on the ground. It was a house complete with furniture: two beds in the bedroom, and another room with another bed. We five girls went inside. There was a cellar and fruit preserves… clothes and bedlinen in the cupboard. Klári and Rózsi cooked potato paprika. There was another sick girl and we were put to bed. The door was open and all at once at night we hear someone coming. It was a Russian soldier. Rózsi spoke Romanian and the Russian went right up to her, Rózsi was really sharp. They chattered all night in Romanian and Russian, then the Russian left. I told them next day, let's get out of here because I'm scared!
"Quiet, you're in worst shape, what're you talking for, just lay low!"
Then the following day, the Russian showed up again. The four of us slept in two beds head to foot, and Rózsi slept alone. Then Rózsi ran up to me, the Russian had unstrapped his gun, laid it under the pillow and lay down next to Rózsi. I got up sick as I was, walked to the outhouse and hid there, shivering all night. By morning it appeared that the Russian didn't get his way, they wrestled all night long. But I was so scared… I felt like I just can't stand this any longer! In the morning we packed our stuff and started off, the girls put up no protest this time.
We ended up in Győr and reported to the Jewish community there. I recall we were decontaminated in a large courtyard. By that time I couldn't even stand, I just fell over. A man came up to us, an old man was how I saw him then, and he told us he was expecting his family home, so until they get back we may rest a while at their place, seeing the condition I was in. He was a Jewish man whose family had been deported, and he somehow managed to make it back home. There were only three of us then, the two other girls went on after the decontamination, they were in better shape. I have no idea how I got there, I don't remember, but the man put me in bed and called the doctor. The doctor said I should be taken to hospital with my typhus. My sister kneeled down and begged for them not to take me in. The hospital wasn't equipped yet at that time and conditions there were terrible. It made no difference whatever where I lay without medication. They finally left us, and we lay there for a week. There were some women there who were reputable for their cooking, like excellent potato dumplings with poppy seed, for example. I was absolutely incapable of eating. One night I dreamed, I remember this vividly, that Daddy arrived. He had a shiny suitcase that he opened, and it was full of fruit preserve bottles. I pined for fruit preserves... In the morning I said Dad must be home waiting for us, so we have to get back. They wanted to stay on, but I was impatient and couldn't stay. They carried me out to the station in their lap, I couldn't walk. They put me in a wagon that made haphazard stops and starts, and that man gave us fifty Pengős [33] .
There came a man with a two-wheeled barrow
In the end we made it home to Budapest, arriving at Józsefváros station. There we sat down on a pile of rocks, I couldn't go on in spite of being so near to number 38 István út. A man came with a two-wheeled barrow he'd been using it to cart coal, it had quite a large top. We asked him to take us, and he pushed all three of us home, the third girl also lived close by. We gave him the fifty Pengős. We had no idea what it could have been worth, nor do I know to this day, but what did it matter! I staggered into the house, someone was cleaning their apartment and there was an armchair in the courtyard, I sank into it and the residents came and just stared at me, and we didn't recognize each other at all. Except for one lady I did recognize, Mrs Frenkl. She was a little lady up on the first floor. Her granddaughter was a friend of mine, dead. She had come back earlier from the ghetto [34] , we only got back by the end of April. Someone picked me up and carried me up to the fourth floor like that. They put me in bed, I even felt the weight of the blanket too heavy to bear. They called a doctor who used to live there and knew me from back in the starred house. He examined me and told them to leave me be, there was no need to go to hospital. Let me die here in peace, no need to drag me around.
It was no good by myself
Since we had nobody, different people gave us lunch each day. Non-Jewish residents included. They were really decent people. I also had night blindness from lack of vitamins: I couldn't see a thing at dusktime. The typhus made my hair fall out, not all of it, but it got very thin. I resented being given food! With some difficulty I admitted something had to be done. We were close to Bethlen tér, so one day I made up my mind we should go down to the synagogue there. I held on to the wall and trudged along. We were given a little money too, and could go there every day for lunch. When I had recovered I went back to Margit néni and the sewing shop for a couple of weeks maybe.
We had relations living in Romania, my father's brothers. My sister went to Nagyvárad, to Uncle Miklós, the druggist. It was a wealthy family, the old man and his son Gyuri both had a pharmacy. Gyuri's sister Cella emigrated to Israel, regrettably neither are among the living. Gyuri's wife Mártika and her daughter live in Israel. Another of my father's brethren, the engraver emigrated to America back in thirty-seven and founded a great soap factory there, which delivered soap to the American Presidents. We didn't keep in touch after that, he wasn't a good brother. He used my father while he could, then turned his back on him. He knew very well after the war, where my sister and I had come home from, how we were penniless, and he didn't bat an eyelid, though we'd written him. My sister studied to become a nurse in Nagyvárad, and came back five years later to become a scrub nurse. She worked in the Health Service for forty years, and retired as head scrub nurse. She worked very well, and was much loved.
I went around to Aunt Fini, because that is where I left my clothes. I told her what had happened. She said I could come anytime and she'd teach me for nothing. I didn't want to, it wasn't important anymore. Priorities had become all different. It's true I used to love dancing, but by then not so much. I lived by myself. I got a bigger room, but it was no good. It was no good by myself.
From number 38 István út, nobody made it back
My father was not yet declared dead. I kept going to see if he's been found. [35] When they did pronounce him dead, they put it down to the year he was drafted: December, forty-four. My father was a sick man. They said he had sciatica, but it was probably a hernia. I had it too, at age twenty-eight I had surgery so I know what it's like - terribly painful! To march along a highway in such pain... Impossible . They probably shot him on the way. He had a limp too, so he certainly didn't make the trip. From that group, from number 38 István út, nobody made it back. Iván, my old love had escaped with his brother while still in Hungary, and so they had come back. At the time of their escape, my father was still alive.
The home on Bácskai utca
Then came my first suitor Laci, who was a married man by then with an adopted daughter living in the children's home on Bácskai utca. He asked me if I wanted to go to that home. That is how I got there. They needed a madricha [36] for the girls, a governess. By then I had made up my mind to work with children. Later I enrolled to a kindergarten teacher's school and graduated with honors. But before that, from the end of '45 I was at the home in Bácskai utca, which belonged to the Dror Habonim [37] Zionist organization. I was the last to leave from there, by then we had aliyahed [38] everyone out, only those who didn't want to go had stayed. That home was then closed. We were moved to the Szabadság hill home on Rege utca, there were little kindergarten children there. I didn't work with the children there, I was a storekeeper. I had a husband by then, and I studied down in the city.
W e had very happy times there in the Bácskai utca home, I really loved it there, the familiar atmosphere. There were regular aliyahs from the children's home. W hen the house was empty, they filled it whenever it was possible. Mostly they were orphaned country children. There were also half-orphans unable to be supported from home. There was no employment, no proper homes. There were three apartments on one floor: a bachelor flat, a two-room and a single-room flat. My little children had the bachelor flat, with their own bathroom and everything! We were on our own in the evenings, and I gave them baths, put them to bed and told them bedtime stories. I had ten children aged six to eight, I was responsible for them.
The older girls, teenagers, were quartered in two separate rooms, they had turned their larder into a library. Down on the ground floor was a sickroom, a study room and the madrichas' room. There was also a sewing room, everything we needed. The boys lived up on the second floor, they also had a larger and smaller group. Each group had a madrich and a singing teacher. There were also adults living but not working there. In the basement there was a kitchen and dining area, we'd sing on our way in, and then danced the hora. [39] We learned everything there, it all went straight into our heads somehow...
W e'd wake at a proper time in the morning and tidy up. My group was very pedantic! T here were inspections, points were marked for everything, and we always won. We were the tidiest group. Then we went to the flag raising and sang, everyone made a report. "Chasats v'ale! Strengthen and Rise!" - that is what we said and sang. It all passed playfully.
I have all those badges with me, my first husband had said they'll be safest with me. And so they are: the children will inherit them.
M y first husband started courting me in Bácskai utca. He was head madrich and also an acquisitor.
I never told my daughter I had had a first marriage. My second husband wouldn't want it, so I never talked about it. My first husband's a very decent, very kind man. We decided that we had been created for each other, and we were married in the Dohány utca Synagogue. We lived up on the hill, and were driven down by a jeep. The church was completely empty, it wasn't such a cheerful wedding. The chupe [40] was up, I don't even know who the witnesses were. We were married in proper ordinary clothes, then driven back on the jeep. Later we got a two room and kitchen cotenancy, so we moved on down to the city. I got settled at the kindergarten, and my husband was such a talented and skilled man, he started off as a projectionist, then repaired radios and television sets, finally he became a sound engineer.
N obody said anything
However terrible, we did not talk about what had happened. Neither I, nor him. Only sixty years later when we met again, did I learn that he had had four siblings, his parents and grandparents all killed. He too, only learned then what had happened to me. We never discussed it. We were so stupid! We never talked about it to the children in the home, they never talked about it either and we didn't ask them. I wouldn't dream of asking! Nobody said anything. It's utterly incomprehensible, but it was good at the time, very good this way.
My best girlfriend was Metuka, I also met her at Bácskai utca, later she emigrated to Canada. She was the coat check attendant. We loved each other so much, we really were like sisters. She had been to Auschwitz with her three siblings. Two had become severely tuberculotic in the lager, one of them had to be operated on. One had a leg shot off during an air raid, another's ankle was smashed, Metu had a bit torn from her calf too. We were given these Hebrew names at the home. We only called each other by these names, we didn't even know each other's ordinary names. My name was Mirjam, but even there everyone always called me Mira.
The Dobogókő camp
Sliachs [41] came from Palestine [42] and came up with the idea of holding a sports seminar in Dobogókő [43] , to train children in case the boat couldn't dock in Haifa [44] . Because they would have to climb ashore on a rope then. Only madrichs attended Dobogókő, there must have been about thirty of us, only me from Bácskai utca. One person from each home. Then we started off with loaded backpacks, and all the food we had on the way was lemons you could lick. A teacher also came along to teach us Hebrew, but some of us already spoke it and translated. It was a memorable month! We lived in tents that didn't quite reach the ground, we took lessons in Judo and fencing, vertical and horizontal rope climbing. Every night there was a campfire, songs and hora dancing. It was fantastic! We weren't religious, but I remember in the other neighboring camp in Radvány [45] there were religious Mizrachites [46] .
We had to walk up to Dobogókő. I think the food came from the Jewish community, no concern of ours. We woke at six in the morning, took our morning exercises, straightened ourselves out to get ready for the activities. We had an exam at the end of it all: going through the forest, someone would leap in front of me with a stick, and I had to defend myself. When we went home a month later, I was so strong people didn't recognize me. I went home a prize fighter! I could fling a very tall boy over my shoulder with a Judo throw.
I considered an aliyah
I had thought of emigrating to Palestine, but several circumstances deterred me. One was that we heard of a camp established in Cyprus where the English would round up everyone they had caught. I said I wouldn't go to a lager all over again! That was one of the reasons. The other was my mother's grave. The third was my sister: should I leave her here? She was in Romania at the time, but I didn't know what would become of her and I couldn't convince myself to leave her here. Still the strongest dissuasive force was the Cyprus lager. Otherwise I would have been happy to go.
I didn't meet Iván straight off because he was graduating in Debrecen when I came back. They had moved back to their own apartment in Hernád utca, then he left for Israel. He was persuading me too, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to hear him asking me to come. It didn't seem honest to me. One feels these things. He emigrated and took his mother after him. I kept in touch with her, but not with Iván. If he were alive, I'd be glad to meet up with him. He was a great character, and an excellent musician. He studied violin for eight years, and played beautifully. He got a clarinet and learned to play it in two weeks, that's how talented he was!
I started to live
My first husband and I had been apart for two years by the time I met Gyuri. We didn’t get the divorce because I had been seeing anyone. I had nobody and never thought about it. We'd been living together for five years.
Then I moved to a rented room in Vas utca, took my own room's furniture and left the rest. I worked, I went folk dancing, the central group, I started to live. We divorced in mutual agreement, and I tell you, we cried! That's how things turned out. Then I lived forty-six years with Gyuri in happiness. His death devastated my spirit. I was depressed for two years, I took medication and had a very hard time without him.
My husband Gyuri worked at the House Planning Company. I worked in the company kindergarten. I took a teacher and a pianist to that company and gathered the young people together for a dance. We both attended folk dance sessions. But I didn't like him! I was worried we would be paired up for a dance. And sure enough, that's what happened! He wasn't suited for folk dances, only for traditional dances. I helped him out with the order of dance moves. He soon changed his mind and went over to the acting group. We had a party one time where we performed for each other's entertainment: the choir, the folkdancers and the theater group. There was a large dinner and we went out to dance, I did a girl's folk dance and also a boy's dance, I knew both. After that there was regular dancing, and Gyuri asked to dance with me. That is where it all began. I fell for him head over heels!
When I married Gyuri he had his own circle of friends, he graduated from a Cistersian high school and those boys really stuck together. They were nice enough, but I never really felt right in their company. I was always a bit of an outsider. After Gyuri died, we broke contact.
He would make up for what had been taken away from me
My husband stood behind me one hundred percent. He said we can celebrate the holidays if you want to, you can light candles on Fridays. Sometimes I did, and I always observed the Day of Atonement, and never missed Kol Nidre. [47] Partly it was for the memory of my parents I felt I had to. I needed it, for my spirit. My poor departed mother's Jahrzeit [48] is on the fourth day of Elul [49] , I think. There was no distinction between us. My husband would come for me to shule, he came into the synagogue. On the Sukkot [50] he came into the booth with me and was completely familiar. He came to the Mitzve club [51] in Frankel Leó Synagogue with me for a seder [52] night. He said if he were to marry again, he'd still choose me. He said he'd always received help from Jews rather than his own folks. He underlined for me what I should read in the newspaper. He read ahead for me. When he saw that collections are being made for maintaining the Jewish cemetery in Tiszafüred [53] , he telephoned and asked to make a contribution to the cemetery's refurbishment. He went to visit the man reponsible, introduced himself, saying his father was a grocer in Tiszaörs [54] and always bought his stock in Tiszafüred. The tradesmen there were all Jewish, and he was very grateful to these people for helping his father, so he would like to make a donation to the cemetery maintenance. He couldn't attend the ceremony, he was too sick by then.
I told my husband my story, though not right away. He knew something about me. He knew where I'd been and what had happened. He told me he would make up for what had been taken away from me. He was a very good man.
The child should never know the word scared
For a long time I wouldn't leave the house. A terrible fear hung onto me. I was so terrified of uniforms that whenever I saw someone wear one, I'd duck into a doorway and wait for them to pass. I never went to bureaus or the police, or anywhere for always being so scared. I'm afraid it still often comes over me, so either I'm happy staying at home or in company somewhere. I don't like being out walking at night. When we walked the street and I heard footsteps behind me, I kept looking back. My husband always said, "you're with me, so don't be scared, don't keep looking behind you!" But I couldn't kick the habit. Even though I had been such a daring little girl! I was never afraid of anything. When my only daughter was born, Gyuri and I agreed that the child should never know the word scared. W e wouldn't use it in her presence. And she never was scared of anything.
That is how I turned the family back again
T he family, now that's very interesting! My daughter married a Catholic boy who was irreligious, his parents were left wing and never went to church. He's only Catholic by descent, uninterested in religion himself. They had two children. One time I told my daughter there's this camp down in Szarvas [55] , it would be nice to send the children there. It is a Jewish camp, but I hope that's no problem for my in-law. There was an introduction and a film about the camp, and as God might have it my daughter was busy so my in-law went with both kids. The little boy was still tiny and sat cross-legged on the floor. My son-in-law was quite taken with the freedom, the hora dancing, swimming and all the activities. So let's give it a try then! That is how my granddaughter went to camp, and had a fantastic time. My grandson was still little and wouldn't go to Szarvas to leave his mother. I told him, you should go to camp in Szarvas sometime. To this he replied, "I'm not a Jew". In the end he went. My sister asked him, where are your sympathies now? He says "well I'm a Jew!" He's been a madrich for two years now. And he is a Jew, active in the community with many Jewish friends.
My granddaughter has long ago vouched for her Jewish identity with great success, she is now an agegroup leader in the Szarvas camp. She's very active and works a lot. That is how I turned the family back again. And I am so happy. It is very hard being a Jew in the world today though.
I have written my story down for the children. I wanted them to know so that they wouldn't end up like me, not knowing about their ancestors. When I handed it over, the older one read it, and I told her to read it out to the little one. She said she couldn't read it out. Then the little one came over, and I read it to him. They have a copy, in case they should want it...
[1] Babarc: settlement in the East of Baranya county, in the Borza creek valley ten kilometers from the river Danube
[2] Pancova: town in Vojvodina, 16 km N/E from Belgrade on the Danube’s left bank
[3] Before and during WWII Hungarian legislation enforced several restrictive laws against citizens who are Jewish or legally pronounced Jewish by the state. Most important of these were: 1938 article XV. „ Ensuring the balance of social and economic life ” , 1939 article IV. „On limiting Jewish encroachment on public and economic space” and in 1941 the so-called Third Jewish Law „Amendment and modifying law 1894:XXXI. On marriage, and necessary racialist measures thereof”.
[4] In 1942 the Ministry of Interior accepted the Hungarian Scout League’s modified constitution banning all member scouts deemed Jewish by law from the league. This constitution also ruled the disbandment of all Jewish scout groups.
[5] In the Jewish religion Saturday is the holy sabbath day of rest. Sabbath „comes in” on Friday evening and lasts until its „going out” on Saturday evening. In Jewish families, communities and synagouges the Sabbath is greeted in celebration on Friday evening, a female family member lights a candle, then blessings are given for the bread and wine before the celebratory feast.
[6] Pesah or Passover is an eight-day-long Jewish holiday to commemorate teh Exodus from Egypt and the liberation of the Israelites from slavery.
[7] Matzo or mazzoth is an unleavened cracker-like bread used in the Jewish Seder feast and rites of Pesach commemorating the exodus from Egypt, and for 8 days the consumption of leavened breads is strictly forbidden.
[8] A part of the Jewish New Year celebration is Yom Kippur, also known as the day of Atonement. Religious or traditionalist Jews are required to refrain from all food and drink, to hold a complete fast.
[9] A synagogue in Buda
[10] The Bristol was among the most popular hotels on the old Danube front of Pest. Along with the other hotels, the ground floor with its huge windows overlooking the river and the summer terrace were a favorite meeting spot for the city „peers”. The war destroyed the waterfront and most of the buildings there. The Bristol survived the war, but was finally demolished in the mid-60’s
[11] Oszkár Ascher (Budapest, 1897– Budapest, 1965 October 25th) actor, performer, drama teacher, theater director
[12] Ascher originally pursued an engineering career, after finishing the Technical University he worked as an engineer at a Budapest factory. Even during his university years however, he studied acting under Árpád Ódry.
[13] Kamill Feleki (1908-1993) actor, dancer, choreographer
[14] László Endre
[15] High schools founded by the Budepest Israelite Community in 1919, a Boy’s School at number 44 Wesselényi utca and a Girl’s School at 12 Síp utca. In 1923 the boy’s school moved to the new building on the corner of Szent Domonkos utca and Abonyi utca. Today it houses the ELTE Radnóti Miklós Gyakorló Gimnázium.
[16] On May 16th 1944 a mayor’s notice was posted on message boards requiring legally determined Jewish citizens of Budapest, over 180 thousand affected residents to be interned in 2600 houses, marked by yellow stars. Jews were effectively locked up in these buildings. On the 25th of June the curfew was only lifted between 2PM and 5PM, the former was later abated to 11AM.
[17] Arrowcross: followers of the 1930’s Hungarian far right named after their emblem. They only came to power following Miklós Horthy’s defeated attempt to surrender on October 15th 1944. Their leader at that time was called Ferenc Szálasi.
[18] KISOK: Middleschool Sportsclubs National Center. The Budapest track was used as an internment camp in 1944. It stood near the end station of the Millennium underground at Mexikói út.
[19] Settlement about 20 km east of Budapest.
[20] Soldiers on duty guarding labor service detainees.
[21] Rákoskeresztúr was an autonomous town at the time of the war. It was annexed to the capital in 1950. It is a central neighborhood of today's 17th district of Budapest.
[22] The main Market Hall was named after Marshall Tolbuhin of the Red Army before the 1989 system change. He played an important role in the battle to liberate Budapest from German occupation.
[23] Budafok was an autonomous town at the time of the war, and has been part of Budapest's 22nd district since 1950. It is south of the town center, by the Danube, on the Buda side.
[24] A school now called Hunyadi Mátyás Gimnázium, its classrooms were used to house labor service detainees in 1944 in the town of Pestszentlőrinc, part of Budapest's 18th district since 1950.
[25] A town about 100km west of Budapest, near Győr. One of the stations of the death marches.
[26] Main internment camp of Budapest Jews destined for deportation in today's 3rd district, number 134 Bécsi út. Death marches to Germany started here under the Arrowcross administration.
[27] Raul Wallenberg (1912-194?) Swedish architect, tradesman and diplomat. In 1944 as First Secretary of Swedish Embassador Danielsson in Budapest, he took part in a series of rescue operations. In January 1945, he started for Debrecen and went missing. His fate is unknown, according to official Soviet sources he died in a Moscow prison in 1947.
28 Buildings protected by the embassy of one of the neutral states. People owning protective passes issued by one of these states were allowed to ove in here. Most of these buildings were located in district 13 on and around Pozsonyi út. This area was also called the International Ghetto.
[28] North Hungarian town in Győr-Moson-Sopron county, in the Lower Alps region 5 km south of Sopron, near the Austrian border. A station of the death marches going west.
[29] The Organisation Todt was created to boost the production of the German arms industry, a paramilitary organization implementing forced labor during WWII.
[30] There was a women's labor camp operating in Lichtenwörth. Several women deported from Budapest and force-marched west ended up there.
[31] German commander in charge of detainees.
[32] Concentration camp established in occupied Austria in 1938, extended to a complex of some 40 sub-camps by the end of the war housing about 60 thousand detainees. Of the two hundred thousand deported here, one hundred thousand people died.
[34] Originally a separated Jewish quarter in medieval European towns. During the Holocaust it was the appointed area where Jewish deportees were collected.
[35] The synagogue on Bethlen tér housed the offices of DEGOB, the National Committee Attending Jewish Deportees. Lists were posted here of the names of returned survivors.
[36] Senior female leader in Jewish youth organizations.
[37] Zionist youth organization. Members assisted the founding of Israel state, then evacuated Jews to Israel before and during WWII. After the war they maintained several children's homes for the orphans . See: http://www.emlekezem.hu/text/zsidootthonokattila.html
[38] Immigration to the territory of Israel, or since 1948 to the Israeli state.
[39] Traditional Israeli circle dance
[40] Jewish tradition requires a marriage tent or chupe for the ceremony.
[41] Envoys of Palestinian Zionist parties or organizations. They arrived in Hungary in the summer of 1945 to organize illegal emigrations to Palestine.
[42] Territory named after the (Biblical) Philistines, location of the first Jewish states (Judea, Israel). The Roman province Judea was later named Palestine. From medieval times it is referred to as the Holy Land. Around 1516 Palestine became part of the Ottoman Empire. Between WWI and 1947 it is a British colony. This is when the Zionist movement started to organize Jewish emigration (aliyah). In 1947, the founding of Israel State was declared.
[43] popular resort in the mountains in Pest county
[44] Third largest town in Israel, and largest in Northern Israel, a harbor town on the Meditterranean, in the bay of Haifa, about 90 km north of Tel Aviv. Most illegal immigrants arrived here by ship.
[46] Mizrach (Hebrew). Religious Zionist organization. The word originally means East.
[47] Evening prayer the day before Yom Kippur (see note 8)
[48] Death anniversary, day of remembrance
[49] The final month of the synagogue year, the "month of repentance". Usually occurs between August-September.
[50] Festive week commemorating the 40 years' wandering in the desert after the liberation from Egypt.
[51] From Hebrew "Micve" meaning a good deed. Micve clubs aid the health and welfare of elderly, sick and needy people
[52] Seder is a religious ritual feast held on the first and the second nights of the Jewish holiday of Pesah
[53] Town on the north of Jász-Nagykun-Szolnok county.
[54] Village south-east of Tiszafüred
[55] Town in Békés county, the Szarvas Lauder Jewish Camp is situated here