Fraternity-Testvériség, 1958 (36. évfolyam, 1-11. szám)
1958-11-01 / 11. szám
8 FRATERNITY I turned on the radio. It was Nagy’s familiar voice: “Today at daybreak Soviet troops attacked our capital ... I notify the people of our country and the entire world of this fact.” It was November 4, 1956. I ran to the telephone. “Operator, long distance, press call, please . . .” “It is too late, oh it is too late . . .”, I heard the woman’s sobbing voice. “I can’t connect you any more . . .” About four weeks later, when mail again began to arrive from abroad, I got a letter with an Irish stamp on the crumpled envelope. I knew nobody in Irelaud. “I read your article on Julia in the paper. I am 19 and live with my parents. We all think she should get her pink dress”, the letter said. “And maybe she would like to come and live with us. We would be happy. Would you tell her? “I’m very excited. She must be a good and kind girl. I trust your description was true. Do find her, please . . .” I was downhearted and yet proud. Very proud. The journalist’s work is ephemeral. This time I felt I did something that would last. I found in my notes the factory’s name where Julia said she worked. I drove out. The general strike is defiance of the Moscow-installed regime was still on. Workers guarded the factories. Western newsmen were welcome guests. I was led to the chairman of the workers’ council. I inquired about Julia. “How do you know her?” he asked. I explained. There was a long silence. “She died . . . the poor thing”, the man said. His grayish head hung deep on his chest. Julia died defending the Killian Barracks, the Alamo of the Hungarian revolution. General Maleter was no more with them. He walked into the trap of the Russion secret police on the night he was asked to come to the Russian headquarters “to negotiate the withdrawal of Soviet troops.” The Barracks fought desperately without a leader. The whole area was shot to smithereens but its defenders did not capitulate.
