Crossing to Freedom

Hours passed and the group kept walking and praying that they would not be discovered. Daylight started to subside and evening was upon them when they heard the rumble of military tanks approaching. Without a moment of hesitation, my father and his companions all jumped underneath dense bushes that were lining the road and held their breath. Within minutes three Soviet tanks drove past them, less than 200 yards from where they lay hidden. After about half an hour, when the coast looked clear, they climbed back out of their hiding places and continued their trek.

Before long, night was upon them and they only had the light of the moon to illuminate their path. My father and the others made their way through cornfields, pastures, forests, ploughed up fields and over frozen creeks. Everyone was exhausted but knew that they could not afford to stop and rest. On they went, throughout the night until dawn began to break. Knowing that once again they would have to walk in the daylight, more exposed to the danger of being caught, everyone became desperate. They knew that even if they got to the border, crossing it by the light of day would be unsafe.

Just as everyone was starting to feel as if they could not go on, a lone woodsman (who I cannot help but think was another angel watching over my father and his companions) walked up to them and advised that they not walk any further. He led them to his remote cabin. It was 8 o'clock in the morning at this point, and everyone knew that this would be their only chance to rest in relative safety. The woodsman's wife made a hearty breakfast and after eating, everyone fell asleep on the floor. In the late afternoon, they woke up to a nice dinner and pooled together all of their money to give to the woodsman and his wife. They knew that their Hungarian currency would get them nowhere once they reached the West, so better to leave it with someone who had shown them so much kindness. Once it became dark enough they set off again with the woodsman who generously offered to guide them to the border. A short distance away from the Austrian border, the woodsman told my father and his group to walk straight ahead with caution, wished them luck, and made his way back home.

The group carefully made its way across an empty field zone that had been clear cut and before they had a chance to get to the other side of the field, the Soviets shot up flares....less that 300 yards behind them. The dark of night that was keeping them hidden was now as bright as day and the group was exposed. Terrorized, they ran towards the Austrian border which was just over 200 yards in front of them. Eva's feet were bleeding yet she managed to keep up with everyone. As they were crossing the final stretch towards freedom, they heard the Soviet soldiers start shooting. Would they lose their lives only inches away from freedom? Suddenly, a pair of Austrian border guards ran up to my father and his family and shouted for them to hurry and run towards them. They sprinted and made it across to Austria where the guards made it clear that they were safe and under their protection.

My father, his family and a few others hugged each other with tears of joy and relief. They were finally free after eleven years of oppression, yet their elation would be short lived for as they were celebrating this moment of victory they heard more gunshots and the other refugees that had been walking behind them, tragically, were robbed of their chance to gain their freedom.

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.