My Father the Prince...My Father the Freedom Fighter.

Once in a while, the workers were allowed to go back to Sap from the factory in Debrecen and visit with their family members. My father looked forward to those days and the chats he could have with his mother over dinner. During one such dinner my father found out that Stalin had died and that the new Soviet leadership had executed Stalin's KGB chief, Beriya. Dare he hope that things would start to change for the better? It would be too soon to tell. During another weekend in Sap with his mother, he was woken early in the morning by to hear the news delivered by a kindhearted postal employee (who was one of the only people in town with access to a radio), that Rakosi was gone and Imre Nagy would be the new prime minister.

They both hoped beyond hope that soon Hungary would go back to being what it once was. At 5 o'clock that evening, they joined the postman at his home and they gathered around the radio to hear the news and Imre Nagy's speech. He gave a 30 minute speech in which he told everyone that he had taken over Rakosi's post, that he abhorred the injustices that had taken place and that he wanted to restore law and order. He commanded that all forced labor camps and illegal internment camps be shut down. My father was flooded with relief, and my grandmother cried tears of joy at this news. This meant they would be able to leave their forced labor camps in Debrecen and Sap and finally be reunited with my grandfather after five long years.

Gradually, the camps were shut down and the prisoners/forced labor workers were released. My father and grandmother found themselves back in Budapest after three arduously long years, yet they were only given permission to stay there for three days to sort out their affairs. My father's sister and brother-in-law found them a small house in the outskirts of Budapest in a town called Dunaharaszti where they were soon joined by my grandfather. My father found employment with a Geodetic Surveyors Group as an assistant to a surveyor who needed help with some outdoor projects.

After a while working in the outdoors, my father was given a position working in the Geodetic Surveyors' offices. My father was happy to accept more responsibility and be able to work indoors....that is until the day he found out that the company he was working for was making maps for the Red Army. He felt that by working with this group of people, he was collaborating with the enemy. Guilty by association. My father had to make a decision and battled with himself...should he quit? Should he stay and continue to make some money to help his family? Finding another job would be practically impossible, and going back to the University would not be allowed as he was blacklisted as an ex-deportee. In the end, he decided to stay put, but his conscience would not allow him to stay "silent". With extreme caution, my father was able to make copies of the new military road maps and every Saturday would forward them to the US Air Force Attache. In this way, my father started his lone freedom fight against the Communist military. He was following in the footsteps of his ancestors who since 1301 always did whatever they could to fight for Hungary's independence and freedom. He was only 25 years old.

Deportation and Forced Labor Camps...

The truck and officers that came to take my father and grandmother away from their home made its way through Budapest, finally stopping at a commercial railway station just outside of the city. It was a gathering place for all of the deportees and my father remembers vividly that the platforms were teeming with hundreds of victims waiting for the next step towards their fate.

One truck after another would stop at the station and drop off more and more families. Everyone was expected to line up and be checked out by a police officer after which they were led to their trains and commanded to enter them and find a seat. As it was already towards the end of June, the 23rd of June to be exact, the weather was warm and as the sun grew hotter so did the inside of the packed train cars. Everyone was forced to stay seated or standing in the sweltering heat as what seemed like a neverending line of deportees were made to check in and board. The deportation process was finally wrapped up by 11:30 a.m. and the the train my father and grandmother were in started to move. They arrived at a little village named Sap after midnight where horse drawn carts were waiting for the passengers to transfer them over to assigned houses owned by "Kulaks" (Kulak is a Russian word used by the Communists to describe a peasant who owns more than 10 hectares of land). These "Kulaks" were forced to open up their homes to the deportees by the Communist soldiers.

My father, grandmother, and several of the other passengers from their train were given a small room to sleep in for the night. Everyone was exhausted from the day's journey and the emotional turmoil they were undergoing, so despite the heat and discomfort in the room, they all fell asleep quickly. At 9 a.m. everyone was herded off to the town's administrative building in order to hear the village mayor give a speech. After the speech, the Communist chief ordered that the deportees be split up to create four "working brigades". Four men were chosen to be the brigade leaders and my father was placed in the group being led by a man named Barna Jancso. Thirty men and ten women formed his brigade. After everyone was placed in their groups, they were fed a meager lunch and taken to their lodging.

The following morning all of the working brigades had to report at their designated meeting places by 5 a.m. They were given hoes and rakes and then taken to work in the fields. Each day was a different assignment, but they always worked in the State owned fields...sometimes all day and sometimes all night. They worked 6 to 7 days a week with little time to recuperate from the difficult and taxing labor. My grandmother, thankfully, was not sent to pull weeds, or till soil, she instead was ordered to sit in a room and knit sweaters to be sold in the State run stores. When Winter came, everyone continued to work despite the bitter cold and stormy weather. My father's uncle, Kamillo, died that winter at the age of 75 and the family was not allowed to go to his funeral. This caused deep sadness for my father as he had been very close to his uncle throughout his childhood. Yet, the laborers were not allowed to leave the forced labor camp for any reason....and my father continued to toil despite the great loss to his family.

In the Spring of 1953, the Communists decided that they needed more forced labor workers to work in a factory in Debrecen. 100 men and 30 women were forced to leave the labor camp in Sap and head to Debrecen...my father was one of them. He now had to leave behind his mother who would stay working in Sap. More painful good-byes....