A Solemn Farewell...

A few miles prior to reaching Budapest, the milk truck that my father was traveling in was stopped at a Soviet checkpoint. The soldiers were looking for contraband weapons and my father sat struck with fear that they would find out who he was. The truck driver insisted that everyone on his vehicle were his assistants and, once more but with the grace of God, they were able to pass through the checkpoint and on to Budapest.

My father got off of the truck at the railway station and walked 21 kilometers to his sister's apartment. At the time, Eva was already 5 months pregnant and his niece, Judit, was 8 years old. He found that they were all ready to leave and early the next morning (November 22nd) they were on their way. They took the long walk back to Kelenfold Railway Station arriving at approximately 9:30 a.m. They found an enormous crowd of people already waiting in the station. At 10:15 a.m. the train approached and everyone anxiously got to their feet. To their dismay, the crowd realized that the approaching train was already overpacked with passengers.

My father and his family were struck with the fear and realization that they may not be able to get on this train. People starting running towards the train cars and forcing themselves in however they could. All around was panic and chaos. My father and his family remained as calm as they could and walked alongside the train cars observing and calculating how they could manage to get inside. They found that one train car towards the middle had a little room left in it. Some of the passengers inside started motioning to him to climb in through the windows...they starting offering their hands for help. Pali and my dad lifted up Eva and then Judit into the train via the windows after which they followed in the same manner. They were packed tightly, unable to move, but grateful to have found a place inside the train car. As my father looked out the window he realized that the steam locomotive was being disconnected from the rest of the train. Would they end up stuck, like sardines in a can, at a station soon to be overtaken by the Soviets? He could not help but imagine the worst.

As panic was once again mounting inside the train, my father noticed that a new, electric engine, was being connected to the train and by 11 a.m. the train was on its way moving faster and ever faster. They were headed West and my father stayed at his spot by the window watching his homeland go by in a blur. He was leaving his country. The country where he had lived for 27 years, 15 of which had been happy and normal, 1 year of German occupation, and the other 11 of insufferable Soviet rule. His emotions at that moment were mixed, and painful. The train continued on gaining momentum and everyone in the train car prayed as they knew they were still in danger.

The train didn't make many stops, but it did halt at a few larger towns like Gyor where some people disembarked to catch another train to Sopron. My father and his family stayed in their train car until they got to Horvatkimle. That is where all of the remaining passengers got out as they were warned by the conductor that at the very next stop, Mosonmaggarovar, there would be a Soviet checkpoint. Everyone walked out of the station and headed West by foot. It was 3 p.m. at that point.

After a few miles the passengers started to separate and my dad and family found themselves walking with a group of thirteen other people. Among them were three little children ages 3,4, and 5. They walked 45 miles towards Austria always with the hankering fear that at any point Soviet soldiers could show up and they would fall into captivity or worse. My father remembers how quietly his niece and the other three children walked alongside their parents for hours on end without complaint. Somehow they understood that they must remain quiet and that they were in great danger. Everyone was vigilant and kept their ears and eyes wide open lest they hear or see soldiers coming their way. It was a solemn farewell to their Motherland.

The Journey Towards Freedom Begins...

When the fighting ended, on November 10th, my grandfather, Istvan, was forced to return to Dunaharaszti where he and my grandmother were living. He was under Communist police surveillance and expected to return from Budapest immediately. On November 13th, my father and grandmother headed to Dunaharaszti to join him and wait on further developments.

Six days later, a young boy arrived at the small house with a message for my dad. The boy was one of Eva's neighbors and had made the trip from Budapest by bicycle. The note that he delivered was for my dad and it simply said that he must return to work. My father knew immediately what the message really meant as it was written in his brother-in-law's hand....it meant that he and Eva had decided that it was time to leave Hungary and head to the free West. Now my father would have to make the decision to go with them or stay behind with his parents.

The decision proved to be extremely difficult. My father asked his parents to join him, Pali and Eva and leave together, but they declined. My grandfather was already very ill as he had been administered poison while in the forced labor camp. The poison was slowly thickening his blood and would eventually kill him. He knew he would not be able to make the journey and that he and his wife would only slow things down for the others. He told my dad to go, as he was still young and would have no future if he stayed in Hungary. The threat of being taken back to a forced labor camp or worse was also plausible. My father had to face the fact that he would have to leave his parents behind and possibly never see them again. He also knew that he would be thrust into a foreign land not being able to hear or understand the new language which only added to his anxiety, but he knew he had to do what was best and made his decision to go. His father's words, "Be brave, and you will overcome. God bless you and help you. Go ahead in whichever direction life points you.", would stay in his heart and mind forever.

Tearfully, my grandmother started to put items on the kitchen table...toothpaste, a toothbrush, a towel, underwear, some shirts, socks and a shaving kit....all of the things my father would be able to carry in a small case. My father got dressed and together they walked to the nearest roadway. In about 10 minutes a milk truck stopped to let some people on. My father hugged and kissed his parents good-by with an aching heart, then climbed into the back of the truck and sat down watching as they waved farewell until they became nothing more than specks in the horizon.

Hearing this from my father and writing it down is more than I can bear at the moment. As a mother, I cannot imagine how painful it must be to watch your child leave not knowing if you would ever see them again or if they would actually make it alive to their destination. As a child, I cannot imagine the converse. To leave behind aging and ill parents in a country overrun by a nefarious government. It kills me that such a kind and lovely soul as he is should've ever had to endure so much heartbreak. Ever.

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.

Angels and White Envelopes

After my father's high school graduation in June of 1948 it was time for him to decide what field of study he wanted to pursue at the University. Although he had originally wanted to study agriculture in order to become the director of his family's estates and properties, the fact that the Communists had confiscated all of the land that belonged to the Makays shattered his aspirations. He found himself looking to pursue a degree in architecture instead. In September of 1948 he entered the University of Sciences and quickly became enamored with his studies in architecture. He enjoyed drafting and planning buildings and looked forward to someday becoming a success in his newfound passion. Little did he know that this too would become nothing more than a dream destroyed.

On December 8th, 1948, shortly before midnight, the Makay family was rudely roused from their sleep by the incessant ringing of their doorbell. My grandmother ran to the front door to see what the commotion was all about only to find one Hungarian and two Soviet KGB officers standing there. They forcefully made their way into the apartment and told my grandfather that he was under arrest, then commenced ransacking the home. They opened, overturned, knocked over and raided everything in the two room dwelling for two hours while my father and his family stood watching in horror and helplessness. At 2 o'clock in the morning they left taking my grandfather with them. My father and grandmother were left in shock and my father remembers attempting to comfort his mother as she cried inconsolably. He then tried to clean up the mess that the officers had left behind.

After about 15 minutes of straightening up and trying to put things back together, my father and grandmother discovered to their horror that all of my grandfather's Swiss bank account documents were missing. The KGB officers had stolen them, which meant only one thing...the Makays had lost every last cent that belonged to their family. They had, at this point, lost absolutely everything.

As if any more insult could be added to the injury already imposed on my father and his family, two weeks before Christmas break my father was called into the University's Communist Superintendent's office. The conversation went as follows:

Laszlo (my father): "Good morning, Superintendent, my name is Makay Laszlo, I was told that you wanted to see me."

Superintendent: "Yes. I wanted to tell you something. You know that Hungary is a worker's country. I have just received a report that your father was working for those Capitalist rats, the Americans. Therefore, you are nothing than an undesirable blue blooded bastard and I am letting you know that as of now you are expelled from this University. You must leave at once."

Laszlo: "Thank you, Superintendent. I understand."

With this, my father turned and left the office. He made his way out of the University saying his goodbyes to friends and classmates who all shook his hand quietly. Their faces showed their shock and sadness, yet they kept quiet in order to not get expelled themselves. He remembers that only one "brave girl" said anything to him...she said "Take it easy, nothing lasts forever."

My father, then only 19 years old, was devastated. He found solace only in his mother's kind and encouraging nature. In the weeks that followed they visited with their lawyer in order to find out more about his father's whereabouts. Finally, they received word that the Communists had discovered that my grandfather had been secretly cooperating with two Americans diplomats, Selden Chapin and James Lee, which was why he was arrested and taken to a prison in Kistarcsa. They were told that he was being held indefinitely but that they could leave Hungary unharmed. The notion of leaving while my grandfather was being held prisoner was not something that my father and grandmother would even entertain as an option. They decided to stay, and make do with what little they had. My grandmother took on jobs knitting sweaters, baking, and cleaning furniture. My father, the little prince who once slid down palace bannisters and was patted on the head by the world's greatest dignitaries, found work as a delivery boy, drafter and janitor.

Much to their surprise, as they tried to scrape by with odd jobs here and there, my father remembers that white envelopes started to appear under their apartment door once a month. While nothing was written on them and no notes were to be found inside, there was always a small sum of cash in them. Try as they might, my father and grandmother could not figure out or find out who was leaving them this money. Could it have been one of the Jewish families they helped save? The American soldiers they kept out of harm's way? To this day it remains a mystery....yet it is those small sums of money, so generously given at a time when everyone was struggling to survive that kept my family from complete destitution. Whoever the angel or angels were that did this for my family...may they have a special place in heaven saved for them.

Hell Gets Worse: From Jail Cell to KGB Dungeon...

Immediately after being "released" from jail, my father found himself in even greater peril. He was taken by an armed guard along with a Benedictine professor, a Jesuit professor and another student to a car that was waiting outside of the Communist Headquarters. They were instructed to enter the car by another armed Communist agent who made a great display of loading his pistol in front of them. They entered the car as ordered and were sped away to a destination unknown.

After approximately half an hour, my father and the other prisoners arrived at their destination. They were met by a Soviet KGB guard at a gate that led to a three story villa. My father knew at that moment that they had been handed over to the Budapest post of the KGB and felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He was led with the others to a room in the villa where they were searched and had their belts and shoelaces taken away. One by one, they were led out of that room to cells in a dungeon underneath the villa. My father was the last to be taken to his cell. My father's cell was #7...he remembers it vividly to this day. The guard opened the iron door and my father was made to enter. After his eyes grew accustomed to the dim light he saw that there were five other prisoners in the cell with him, one of which was Andras Kallay who was a distant relative of his. They stood frozen staring at each other in disbelief.

Andras then rushed over to my father and asked why he, too, had been brought to the dungeon and my father responded that it was due to his affiliation with the Boy Scouts. Because of the fabricated allegations against the Scouts, all of the young members were being imprisoned and tortured. Andras understood that to be true, as the other boys in the cell were also Boy Scouts. He then took my father under his wing and explained to him what he should expect over the course of the next few days. As Andras had been in the dungeon longer he was able to warn my father that every night the KGB agents would come in and start interrogations usually around 11pm. Those interrogations would last until 2 or 3 in the morning. He told my father to be brave and careful during his times being interrogated and to remember it was better to be brave and endure the torture than to be sent to Siberia for the next ten years.

My father greatly appreciated the advice and tried his best to mentally prepare for what was to come. He also struggled to understand why his relative was also incarcerated. He had been a war hero and on October 15, 1944 opened fire at the Royal Palace against the intruding Germans. He was later captured by the Germans and was a prisoner at Dachau...the Soviets should have considered his heroism against the Germans, yet here he was in an underground cell. Andras explained that when the Americans liberated Dachau in 1945, he too was let free and he and his father went to Capri where they were able to regain their health. When Andras returned to Hungary to reunite with his fiancee, the Soviets arrested him with the false allegations that he was returning to Hungary as a spy. It was clear that no one was safe from the Soviets. Anyone, at any time could be considered a spy or as working against the government and could be abducted and tortured.

My father spent three months in the KGB dungeon....the months of June, July and August of 1946. He remembers those months as being the most painful of his life. When he describes the cell to me, I cannot imagine how such a kind and gentle man could have ever been placed in conditions like that. Five men had to share a small, concrete cell with only a sink and a bucket. They had to sleep on the slab floors without any blankets or pillows. Every fourth night at 11pm my father was taken upstairs to be interrogated by Major Igor Simolov. He recalls being yelled at by the Major in Russian and whose interpreter spoke poor Hungarian. Between my father's hearing impairment and the broken Hungarian he was being communicated with, my father had an extremely difficult time understanding what the questions and allegations being thrown at him were. The office was thick with cigarette smoke which made him nauseous and he was terrified of responding in a way that would further incriminate him in their eyes. Twice he was made to sit on a stool with a Jupiter lamp aimed at his face with an agent standing behind him who would intermittently hit my father on the head, slap, punch and kick him. One evening, my father found himself so tired that he fell asleep on the cell floor and as he could not hear the agent calling his name to go upstairs for his interrogation, he was kicked by one of the guards in the face with a steel toed boot causing damage to his jaw. To this day my father will often cry out in his sleep from nightmares induced by memories of those months spent in the KGB dungeon. It breaks my heart that he ever had to endure such a nightmare....and to think that it would be just the tip of the iceberg....

On Air Raids, the Advancement of the Soviet Red Army, and the Saving of American Soldiers....

It is with vivid detail that my father tells me how on April 3, 1944 he experienced his first air raids. It was 9:30pm and even with his lack of hearing, he could feel the tremendous blasts of the falling bombs and their explosions. The family hid for hours in a shelter and waited, unable to truly breathe, for the bombing to stop. During this time, no one was able to sleep well, schools held lessons erratically, and the streetcars ran on an intermittent schedule. By the middle of May, all of the schools had to close down due to the amount of air raids Budapest was experiencing and my father continued his studies on his own. He moved with his family from Budapest back to Pusztamonostor where it was still somewhat more quiet and safe. At this time my father was 15 years old.

He remembers watching with his sister as what seemed like hundreds of American aircraft bombers flew over their country home, and even in their idyllic, quiet village, the tremors could be felt with each falling bomb. At night they would go out and watch the skies light up as explosives landed and destroyed great portions of Budapest. The death and destruction lasted the entire summer of 1944. With hope and anticipation of some sort of liberation, my father's family would gather around the radio every evening listening to stations which had become forbidden for Hungarians to listen to....the BBC and the Voice of America. It was during those newscasts, that my family discovered with sinking hearts that the Soviet Red Army would be occupying Hungary.

At the end of August, my father, his sister and parents, along with their chauffeur packed their belongings into the car and headed for what they hoped would be a safer haven. They would be driving to Nyirbator to stay with their Uncle Joszi (Jozsef). While driving through Budapest, they had to abandon their car and seek shelter from a bomb raid which lasted for over 2 hours. When they exited the shelter they found that all of the windows of their car had blasted out from the explosions, however it still was able to start up and they went on their way. After four hours of driving and seeing military plans flying overheard, they arrived at their destination and had a somewhat peaceful night at Uncle Jozsi's house.

This feeling of peace was short lived, as the next morning the household was abruptly woken by the sounds of loud motors in very close proximity. They ran outside to find out that there was an air raid taking place in nearby Debrecen and the planes were flying right over the house. They watched as one plane was hit and exploded mid-air. Within seconds they noticed four parachutists fall towards the earth and land in Uncle Jozsi's cornfields. My father, his uncle and my grandfather ran to their car and raced towards the cornfields. Four American airmen lay stunned next to their parachutes and Uncle Joszi called out to them in English, "We are your friends and want to help you. Do not worry!". My grandfather then told them that the Germans would soon be combing the area looking for them and that they must act quickly in order to not be detected. The airmen buried their parachutes in the ground and then followed my grandfather's orders to dig a large hole in the cornfield that they would lie in and hide from the Germans.

On the way back to Uncle Joszi's country manor, they stopped on the highway, got out of their car and acted as if they were looking in the opposite direction in order to misdirect the German soldiers that they saw were already on their way searching for the American airmen. When the German soldiers came up to my father, he, his uncle and my grandfather all told them excitedly that they had seen a plane fall "over there" which was of course, opposite of where the plane actually crashed. The soldiers left and my father and family members went back to the house. Upon arrival, Uncle Jozsi went to the cellar and found four farm shirts and trousers and then they returned to the cornfield to find the Americans still hiding. They removed their uniforms and dressed in the workclothes which made them look like and pass as Hungarian peasants. Their uniforms were buried in the ground. Then, they were safely transported back to the manor where they would be able to hide in the attic until they could be safely transported out of Hungary.

I will forever be touched and so proud of the selfless acts my father and his family partook in. The lives they saved....it is humbling. They did this for no other reason than that they were kindhearted, and had a sense of civic duty that was innate. Truly noble. Heaven has a special place for people like this.

Quo Vadis, Europa?

Much of my father's early childhood, aside from those very exciting occasions that I posted about earlier(!), were spent enjoying time spent with family, playing with his sister in the countryside, attending puppet shows, traveling throughout Hungary to visit relatives, going to school, traveling to France and Austria. He recalls these years as being very peaceful, happy and normal. It was not until 1938 that things started to go awry, and I know that is an understatement.

During one of the family trips to Austria in 1938, the Makays only made it as far as Monichskirchen and not all the way to Vienna as was accustomed. As they traveled to this smaller Austrian city they noticed that the traditional red and white Austrian flag was being replaced by flags bearing the Swastika. Austria had started its dark descent into Naziism. Being that the Makays were of nobility, it was decided that they should stay as under the radar as possible in order not to gain the attention of the Gestapo (Geheimstaatpolizei). This prompted my father and his family to stop traveling abroad soon after. With Austria as Hungary's neighbor to the West, Nazi propaganda quickly passed over the borders and into Hungary and became accepted in great part by many German expatriates who were living in Hungary at the time. This greatly shocked and saddened my grandfather and great grandfather, and their worries only grew as they watched more and more newsreels showing the people of Austria cheering Adolph Hitler on and welcoming them to their country.

My father recalls that when 1939 rolled around, his father and grandfather, as well as the other adult members of the family, started deeply worrying and discussing the political situation in Europe. They could only foresee a very dark future, especially since Hungary no longer had any form of strong defense with their very weak military. With Hitler to the West and Stalin to the East, Hungary was a sitting duck. My dad still recalls his father asking aloud "Quo vadis, Europa?" in consternation, and his grandfather stating "Someday we will all be homeless". A bitter prophecy that would all too soon become a reality.

A Brief History in Pictures

This past weekend, my father came over with the two albums of family photographs that he was able to acquire after his escape from Hungary in 1956...which is a story for another day. He sat with me over tea and patiently showed me each and every photograph, reliving the moments as if they were just yesterday. I find these moments with my dad both fascinating and heartbreaking. I have heard all of his stories time and again throughout my childhood, but the older my dad gets, the harder it is for me to see him so sad at the bitter memories of having his life and family literally torn apart by the invasion of Communist Russia....again, another story for another day.

In the meantime, I want to share some of the pictures from my father's albums.

1.My grandfather, Istvan Makay

2.My Aunt Eva, my father, and my grandmother Erszebet Makay.

3.My grandfather (on the left) with one of his assistants.

4.Our family's Coat of Arms.

5.My father's Aunt and Uncle, Margit and Kamillo Karpathy.