Magyar News, 1998. szeptember-1999. augusztus (9. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1998-10-01 / 2. szám
After four decades one could still find a couple of handy rowboats on the 25 wide channel near Lake Fertő. This is where Alice 's parents crossed on their way to Austria. over their goods, and writers and students still voiced their opposition. Soldiers, students, and others took to the streets to battle the tanks. Contempt for the system was most evident among the emigrants, those strong, courageous individuals who decided to seek freedom beyond the borders of their homeland rather than be crushed by the Soviets. For them the decision to leave was the only option. Among those who left were Ilona Vajda and Alajos Bauer, my parents. A Time For Parting My mother and father both realized that it was time to leave their homeland. Like other emigrants, what they didn't know was if they would ever be able to return. For some time, trouble had been brewing in all of Budapest and in other university towns as students spread word of their revolution to the rest of the population. Students at the Technical University of Budapest, where my father was enrolled, had plastered the city with copies of their demands of the government. Soon life took on a dangerous and uncertain quality. Students began to "disappear." When friends, colleagues, and acquaintances of my father began to vanish, he knew it was time to go. My mother's father encouraged his three oldest children Piroska, Ibolya, and Ilona to leave the country. His only request was that they remain together. My father, because of his position as a student at the University and the uncertainty of his status with the authorities, knew he had to leave without telling his family. To tell them would have endangered their safety. Although they were planning to many, my parents were not yet wed when they left Budapest with my mother's two sisters and their husbands on November 21. 1956. (One sister, Piroska, and her husband, István, had to leave their 2 year old daughter behind with her parents.) The first leg of their journey took them by train to Székesfehérvár where my father's aunt and her family lived. Arriving late at night, my father found their house and entered alone. His Uncle Guszti immediately asked, "You're going west, aren’t you?” “Yes!” my father replied, but I am not alone. That didn’t matter to Uncle Guszti, who welcomed them all inside. Using their winter coats as bedding, they found rest on the hard, bare floor. Acts of Grace and Grandfather, Too The following morning, acting on advice from my father’s cousin who worked for the railroad, they headed toward Celldömök where they changed trains again to reach the village of Fertöszentmiklós near the Austro- Hungarian border. Their strategy was well advised. Since the Soviets had taken over most of Hungary's transportation system, authorities were more likely to stop and Page 4 empty long, directly routed trains rather than trains on shorter, local routes. At Fertöszentmiklós they planned to cross the border at night at a nearby bridge. Shortly after their 10 p.m. arrival, providence intervened. By chance, István Kövér, my mothers brother-in-law, met a friend’s uncle, a railroad manager, who warned them against a night crossing. Instead, he invited them to spend the night - the men with him and the women with his daughter. Later the same night, they heard the movement of Soviet troops in the vicinity, along with a considerable amount of shooting. Tire next day they regrouped and continued on foot to the border village of Fertöszéplak where they hoped to find someone to guide them across the border. Ever fearful of encountering the authorities tire group had to be ready with ’’invented reasons for their presence in the area.” At any point they might be challenged by soldiers demanding to know their purpose or destination. For this reason, it was always best to be ready with an alibi. There was also the persistent fear of being caught with a fabricated story. To help suppress the anxious in his throat, my father reached down and picked up some soil from the frozen ground which he added to the only other possessions he carried - a few photographs of his family. Luckily for all, they were never challenged. At Fertöszéplak. by another act of grace, my father met a former classmate who told him that nobody knew the border area better than his "nagypapa" (grandfather). Rather than use the nearby bridge as originally planned, the group (now about 20 strong) was advised to cross a cliannel of Fertő Lake. The cliannel was about 25 feet wide. At one time, two boats had been linked together to form a “bridge” of sorts, but now only one remained, the other having drifted downstream. Linking their arms to make a human chain, the group helped my father enter the water, reach a rope on the second boat, and draw it back upstream. They had nearly linked the boats together again when two Hungarian border guards suddenly appeared. Much to their surprise, the guards told hem not to be afraid - they would not shoot -and not to abandon their efforts. They also told them that the Mexikói Puszta bridge, their original route about a mile away, was already heavily guarded by Soviet soldiers. This Soviet presence at Mexikói Puszta offered a logical, yet eerie, explanation for the sounds of gunfire they had heard the night before. Timing and circumstance, it appeared, were on their side again. When they asked the Hungarian soldiers to join them in their flight to the west, they refused. After all, the guards explained, they could cross the bolder any time they wished. Finally as light snow began to fall and in broad daylight, the group crossed the border. Separation and Reunion In America The noon Angelus greeted the group on the Austrian side. They saw this as a good omen, a sign that their wishes had been answered, and they were on their way to freedom. Tears of joy, relief, and pure exhaustion were shed. They had arrived in Burgenland, a region of Austria which for 1,000 years had been part of Hungary. Here they encountered a Hungarian farmer who greeted them, "Isten hozott Magyar testvéreim!" which means. "God brought you, my Hungarian siblings." Not knowing how to respond, they simply stood there, choked up, in silence. Here, too, they were welcomed by Austrian soldiers who directed them to the nearest village and a shelter
