Magyar News, 2002. szeptember-2003. augusztus (13. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
2002-11-01 / 3. szám
Everybody is greeted with a warm welcome tiny stuffed doll. When she saw what had happened she burst out crying and hugged her children to her. We did our best to restore the articles to the family. This episode and many like it brought forcibly home to us the incredible courage of these people. We tried to picture ourselves giving up everything we had worked and saved for, except what we could carry, then striking out with our children to run the gamut of Russian soldiers, border guards, and police patrols through swamp and bush country, to escape to an almost unknown new world. We came to the obvious conclusion that whatever motivated them must have been very compelling indeed. One woman had managed to sell most of her belongings before she left and had her sweater stuffed with Hungarian money. On learning that it was next to worthless in Austria she at first looked dismayed, then brightened and said, "Well, at least I’m free". Being foggy, it was a fairly heavy night for refugee traffic. There is very little activity on the clear nights because Communist patrols set off flares along the border. The escapees are either driven back by shots over their heads, or picked up and deported to the East. Consequently, the Hungarians hide out in tall brush or in bams along the route. Refugees tell of many poor Hungarian farmers close to the border who share their food and homes with escapees every night. About 3:30 in the morning we had a startling experience. We reached down in the darkness to pull out of the boat not a refugee, but a uniformed, armed Hungarian soldier. As we were on Hungarian territory at the time, this was a disconcerting development. As the men came ashore, we had been giving them cigarettes and we did the same with the soldier. We soon learned through our interpreter that he was engaged in helping the refugees escape. He, himself, intended to cross over eventually but he wanted to remain at his post as long as possible to assist others. Each night he made one trip across the canal to cadge a cigarette. After a few moments of smiling conversation, he pinched his cigarette, tucked the butt into the pocket of his quilted tunic, and stepped back into the dinghy for the return ride. As he disappeared into the mist, we wondered whether he would be able to estimate correctly the critical point at which he had to make his escape before his anti-Communist acts became known to his superiors. We sincerely hoped so. One Hungarian youth bounced ashore with a grin from ear to ear. He had obviously been keeping his strength up with the aid of a bottle of Slivovitz. He clasped us in his arms and proceeded to demonstrate, pointing his fingers like a gun and ducking behind rocks, how he had dispatched 10 Russian soldiers. We quickly bundled him off to the waiting Volkswagen for fear that his colorful antics would attract less friendly soldiers than our previous guest. It was 4:00 a.m. when the trickle of refugees stopped. It was still dark but faint fingers of dawn could be seen on the Hungarian horizon. For the first time we began to feel weary, and decided it was time to leave. We bounced our way down the "World’s Worst Road" and stopped once again at the Andau reception center. The influx of refugees had completely swamped the limited facilities at the dancehall. We had to push our way into the hall. There was simply no room to sit down, let alone sleep. All around us were the same blank, heavily creased faces of utter exhaustion. One young couple, to keep awake, were reading poetry to each other in turn from a well-thumbed book. Three old ladies, whom we had helped out of the canal hours earlier, elbowed their way to us and one, who spoke excellent English, pleaded with us to help them get a barrel on which to sit. They didn’t expect a place to sleep; merely something on which to sit. They had heavy bundles strung to their wrists and we could see the string cutting into them. We sought out the camp supervisor, who by that time looked as depressed and weary as the refugees, but she patiently explained that it was impossible to attempt to organize the available accommodation. This was our first experience, she realistically contended, but she had to face these tragic situations night after night. It was dreadful, she agreed, but nothing could be done about it. Many of the men who had sitting space had walked twice as far as the old women and were at least as tired. Who was to say which ones most deserved a seat? As we returned to the three old ladies, we saw this look of hope drain from their faces as they read the decision in ours. However, one of us searched around and found three old Cigarillos in an inside pocket. We went to three men who were squatting on barrels, heads hung over in utter fatigue, and by gestures got across our offer of the small cigars in exchange for the barrels for the old ladies. They discussed it for a moment and then agreed. As we left the Andau reception center, the three old ladies were contentedly perched on their barrels and the three men were puffing happily on their cigars. It was daylight by the time we got back to our Vienna hotels, and after a short nap, we resumed our work on the arrangements for the aircraft’s entry into Austria. Because we had made bulk purchases of new goods in England, the League of Red Cross Societies requested that we turn over the aircraft’s load to the Central Depot in Vienna, for distribution to refugee camps all over Austria. They pointed out that it was unlikely that any one camp could use the entire shipment of 1000 dozen diapers immediately, and that these very necessary gadgets were in short supply everywhere. It was another foggy day when the Bristol Freighter landed at Vienna’s Schwechat Airport. Mr. William. Barton, new First Secretary of the Canadian Embassy, and Miss Mary Dunlop, Second Secretary were on hand to welcome aircraft captain F/L Charles Thrasher, of 30 AMB, and his crew. Two large International Red Cross trucks, white with red markings, backed up to the open nose jaws of the Bristol and seven Austrian soldiers helped the crewmen unload it. In addition to the diapers, the shipment included blankets, children’s underclothing, and kit bags picked up at No. 4 Fighter Wing. When the Bristol was unloaded and the trucks on their way to the depot, we ran the staff car up a ramp and into die aircraft, and started the return journey. But that isn’t the end of the story. Since that time, a second Bristol has landed at Vienna with another four tons of new clothing, diapers and blankets, and there is still more to come. As we write this, plans are being made for another truck convoy to Austria, containing both new and used materials. We have also learned that the American student with whom we worked on the canal, has been captured by the Communists, and there are rumors that he has been executed. The story is far from over; refugees are still crossing the border, living in squalor, requiring food, shelter, clothing and care. Many individuals and groups in 1 Air Division recognize this continuing need and are acting accordingly. Signed by: (ES Light) W/C (WM Lee) S/L SORA (P) SOPR Page 5
