The Tanks Come Rolling In....

As time went on and my father continued his top secret assignments, it became more and more clear that the Soviets were becoming stronger and their regime more nefarious. My father had to remain completely under the radar in order to carry out his assignments and not endanger himself, his family, and the Americans he was working with. In order to stay as out of the way and incognito as possible, he found a a safe meeting place outside of Budapest where he would meet and deliver news, plans, etc. to the Americans.

Every week he would travel to this small village outside of Budapest by bus. He would walk down a quiet, rural road waiting for the Colonel or his deputy to arrive so that he could hand over the reports and information he had compiled over the course of the week. If no one was around, the Colonel's car would stop, my father would hand over the information, and they would each go on their separate ways. If another car, or traveler, happened to be on the road, my father would keep walking and the Colonel would continue driving only to return every 20 minutes or so until the coast was clear. This became my father's life from May of 1954 until October of 1956.

During those years my father traveled throughout the countryside as often as he could to glean and observe as much information as he could. He was the the first person to report that the surveying company he worked for was measuring out land for a new air force base at Mezokovesd. Not long after that another base was being planned out....proof positive that the Soviets were strengthening their military might.

On October 21, 1956, towards the end of his time working as a spy for the Americans, my father was sent by the Geodetic Surveyor's Group to a town called Oroszlanbanya to assist on another project. He was in charge of finding accommodations for himself, three other surveyors and his boss who was to arrive on the 23rd. He did as he was told and then set out with his workmates to discuss the location that was to be surveyed with the engineers at the town's City Hall Engineering Dept. On October 23rd, at noon, my father went to meet his boss at the train station and update him on what had been achieved on the days prior to his arrival. The train arrived 40 minutes late, yet his boss was nowhere to be found. My father was puzzled, and as he did not have his hearing aide with him, he could not make out what was being said all around him. The only way he could understand anything was by communicating face to face. No one was willing to stop and speak with him, yet he saw in their expressions that something was not right.

He quickly made his way back to the guesthouse where he was staying with the other surveyors and asked the caretakers and cleaning lady if they knew what was going on. He told them that his boss had not shown up on the appointed train and that everyone looked upset at the station. At that moment, another guest, a schoolteacher named Josef Chaszar, arrived and the cleaning lady asked him if he knew what could have possibly happened. The man responded with somber news. He said that in Budapest, all of the University students and workers had gone out to the streets for a peaceful demonstration. They were asking for freedom. When they made their way to the radio station, the AVH started shooting at them and before anyone knew what was happening an uprising had broken out. Josef told my father that that was his best bet as to why his boss had decided to stay behind and not risk traveling. Budapest was once more in the midst of a nightmare. My father, shocked, thanked the teacher for the update and went to his room. Within an hour, Josef knocked on his door to give him yet another terrifying update....the Soviet Red Army had entered Budapest with tanks and were shooting. All he could think about now was that his parents were in Budapest...in the midst of this carnage and turmoil and he could do nothing to help them.

Everyman's James Bond....

So that was how my father became something of an "everyman's" James Bond. No martinis, no gadgets, no exotic women with ludicrous names....just a man working undercover in order to survive and to do good by his motherland. A hero who would remain unsung to this very day.

My father's sense of loyalty and pride to his ancestors and country made him think about how this mission he had decided to undertake could help fight against the tyranny of the Soviets. Just as he was starting to come to terms with what he was doing, my grandfather began to get very ill. With the passing of each day he became sicker and sicker and the doctors that treated him found that he had been poisoned while at the internment camp with chemicals that thickened his blood, slowed his circulation, destroyed his liver, and would lead to his death. This was the straw that broke the camel's back. My father knew then and there that without any hesitation he would do whatever he could to retaliate against the Communists.

My father also knew full well that many Hungarians had been arrested, tortured, and executed for taking a stand against the Communists and that he was making a very dangerous decision. Yet he decided that he would do so alone, without anyone seeing or knowing what he was up to. His first step was to find out who he could contact in American intelligence safely. In his spare time, my dad would spend hours walking around the American embassy and observing the diplomats as they came and went. He memorized the makes, models, and colors of the diplomats' cars as well as their license plate numbers.

It was just a matter of time before my father noticed one car in particular. It was a green Chrysler that he'd seen parked at the American embassy, but he had spotted it while on the streetcar in front of a building on Pasareti Street (number 8). He walked up to the gate and saw a small plaque stating that the villa was a diplomatic residence. This was the opportunity that he had been waiting for. My father continued to walk around the embassy every Saturday until he finally saw the owner of the green Chrysler leave the building and walk towards his car. The following Saturday my father waited by the diplomat's home on Pasareti Street and when he saw the green car approach he quickly made his way towards it, and handed the diplomat a note as he exited his vehicle.

In the note, my father requested that the diplomat please meet with him at a convenient time and that he would return the next Saturday at 1 p.m. to see what his response would be. True to his word, my father returned one week later and was met by the diplomat who handed him a slip of paper written in Hungarian requesting his presence in yet another week, Saturday at 10 a.m., in his home. That week seemed to last forever, but finally the Saturday arrived in which he would meet with the diplomat and he made his way to the villa where quickly slipped into the building. The diplomat showed him into the living room where the US Air Force attache, Colonel Welwyn F. Dallam Jr., sat waiting.

Col. Dallam Jr. spoke Hungarian quite well and my father was able to speak to him of his intentions. He volunteered his services to the American Intelligence Agency and gave him copies of the plans and pictures he had smuggled out of his work of a large chemical plant being built by the Communists. He told the Colonel everything he knew about the new Red Army bases, and the Soviet Air Force's activity as well as their deployment. He asked what more he could do to help and from that moment on would spend as much of his spare time as possible wandering the countryside outside of Budapest observing what he could and taking pictures that he could pass on to the Americans.

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.

Saved from the Horrors of Nazi Germany....

In 1942, the Makays grew tired of splitting their time between Cegled and Budapest and made the decision to stay in Budapest full-time. My father enrolled in the exclusive and very strict Budapest Benedictine school to continue his studies, and in the evenings the family would gather to listen to the BBC's radio reports to keep abreast of what was happening. In early March of 1944 the Makays were feeling optimistic enough to celebrate my father's 15th birthday a month early. They rented a box at the National Theater and watched a play alongside other dignitaries. That would be my father's first official public appearance.

The family continued to live with as much of a semblance of normalcy as possible, and were grateful that at that time, Hungary was relatively quiet compared to other neighboring nations. Sadly, not long after my father's birthday celebration, everything took a turn for the worst. On Sunday, March 19,1944 Germany invaded and occupied Hungary. The Prime Minister at the time, Miklos Kallay, escaped in the early morning hours and sought asylum at the Turkish Embassy. While this was all happening, my father was attending mass at his school's chapel, and once mass was over he and his classmates were greeted with the shocking news that the Germans and Gestapo had arrived in their city.

When my father got home, he found his parents devastated, and his uncle, Kamillo, shaken at the news that his friends had been arrested by the Gestapo. The family's somber mood only grew as they discovered the very next day that Edmund Veesenmayer, who was Hitler's personal representative and Gauleiter had arrived in Budapest accompanied by General Winkelman the Gestapo Chief. All Hungarian Jews were then ordered to wear a yellow Star of David and register themselves with the new Nazi government. The populace went into a panic.

My grandfather started taking meetings with several of his Jewish friends who came to him for help. The Makays had to be very cautious about who was seen entering their home or calling them as they suspected their phones of being bugged. Although he knew he would be risking his life as well as that of his own family, my grandfather made the decision to do whatever he could to save the people who had come to him for help. He had the family's loyal butler drive six Jewish families and their belongings to a remote hunting lodge in the mountains that the Makays owned. Once the families were settled in the lodge, my grandfather warned them to make sure all windows and doors remain closed at night so that no light would escape and draw attention. He promised to return the next day with news and more provisions.

When the next day arrived, the Makays not only came back to the hunting lodge with whatever they could to make the families feel comfortable, but they also brought along one more family. As they were getting ready to leave for the lodge earlier, a young Jewish boy arrived at their residence on his bike pleading for my grandfather to save his family. So, once again, the butler drove his truck to pick up the boy's family in a town called Nagykata and took them up to the join the other six families. This made for close quarters with 35 men, women and children in a four bedroom dwelling. Extra beds were brought in, sheets were hung up to create separate rooms, two outdoor toilets were built to accommodate the extra occupants, and my father attempted to occupy the kids by playing with them.

My grandfather had the difficult task of telling all of the families that now Hungary was completely under Nazi occupation. He had to ask them not to use the fireplace or wood stove for fear that smoke would escape the chimneys and attract the attention of German planes or surveillance patrols. Instead of cooking for themselves, my grandfather told the families that he would have his chef prepare them their daily meals which would be delivered by either the butler or my father. They would be given a petrol heater to keep warm and the children would have to play indoors and quietly. He offered them what little hope he knew of himself...that the Anglo-American forces as well as the Soviet Red Army were both advancing and that soon they would be liberated from German rule. He warned them that should they hear any suspicious sounds coming from outside the lodge that they should all immediately leave the building and run into the woods in different directions and find cover. Seven families to run in seven different directions....always on alert, always fearing the worst.

My grandfather kept true to his word, and the families were fed daily by his chefs. They did not have access to kosher foods, but he provided them the cleanest foods possible and made sure the children had plenty of milk and fruit. The butler made it a point to take different modes of transportation, horse and buggy or motorbike, and varied his routes daily on his trips to deliver food to the families in order to avoid raising suspicion from the Germans who had declared martial law which stated that violators were to be promptly executed.

The seven Jewish families lived in my family's hunting lodge from March 23, 1944 until March 2, 1945 for a total of 344 days. While they lived there in hiding, the Makays bore witness in horror to so many other Jewish families being taken to Germany or to forced labor camps in and around Hungary, and feared themselves that somehow it would be discovered that they were hiding those seven families. Luckily, the families remained undetected and safe, yet sadly, this would not be the end of the nightmare that Europe was enduring.