Not long after my father lost his hearing, the Makay family was subjected to more changes, more turmoil, more life events than they could not have imagined would happen in a lifetime, much less in such rapid succession.
In the Spring of 1939, after nearby Czechoslovakia was occupied by Hitler and split into the Czech Republic and Slovakia, Hungary was able to re-establish a Polish-Hungarian border. Since one of the Makay family relatives was Istvan (Stefan) Bathory, one of the most beloved Kings of Poland, my grandfather was elated and went to celebrate this victory with the Polish Generals. Sadly, this celebration was to be short lived. On September 1, 1939 war broke out between Germany and Poland, and while the Polish Army fought valiantly, they could not overcome the new German Wermacht. Germany's tactical Blitzkrieg broke up the Polish resistance and Poland was split between Germany and Russia. At this point, thousands of Polish refugees poured into Hungary and Romania. My grandfather and great-uncles rushed to the Polish border to help as many of the refugees as they could.
My grandfather was able to offer sanctuary to three Polish colonels and their families. He had them move into the elegantly appointed apartments that had been vacated by the Austrian diplomats who had left Hungary to find refuge of their own in Canada, as they were anti-Nazi. The Austrian Embassy was closed down and the feeling of impending doom was becoming more and more palpable. My father, his family, and all of Hungary were caught between two vicious, totalitarian forces, Germany and the Soviet Union.
During this time, my father, who was 10 years old, befriended the Polish colonels' children, as they spoke some French and my father was fluent in the language. He played with them and tried to make them feel as comfortable as a young child is capable of. His mother invited them all in to their home for dinner, and my father remembers all of the wives crying, brokenhearted at having to leave their homes, and possessions behind with no knowledge of if they would ever be able to return. On Sundays, the Makays took these families to Church with them and on outings to the Zoo, the Royal Palace, and Cegled. When Christmas came around, all of the families were invited to spend the holidays with the Makays at Keszthely, and while the children tried to make the best of it, my father remembers the atmosphere being rather somber as the parents were all too wise as to what was brewing on the political front as well as melancholy about holidays past in a home country they were not able to return to. New Year's Eve was just as dismal with the women worrying about their childrens' futures and the men trying to analyze the political situation and what it would mean for all of them.
After the holidays, the families returned to Cegled and the children went back to their studies. Besides learning their lessons, my father and his sister were also taught protocol and etiquette. On Sundays, they continued to visit the Polish colonels' families and play with the children, until my grandfather was able to secure safe passage for the Polish families to Ankara, Turkey with help of a high powered Turkish attache. Life was made to be as normal as it could be under the circumstances, even though my father remembers that more and more government VIPs were coming in to consult with his father from Budapest and both my father and his sister were instructed to keep quiet about who was visiting. The months to follow would see Europe broken and faltering further and further with the passing of each day, and the Makays would find themselves saving more families from certain death.
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