William Penn Life, 2011 (46. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
2011-10-01 / 10. szám
Facing the harsh realities of a revolution squashed, Hungarians had a life-altering decision to make: live in false safety under an oppressive regime, or risk all for a life of freedom. Vh*WPA member Maria Aczél Schauer recalls her family's choice. ^S ilen tly, w e slipped away November of 1956 turned out to be an extraordinary month for my parents, John and Irén Aczél, my brother Karcsi and me. This was the month when our family, along with some friends, set foot on the free land of Austria. A great deal happened to us in just a few days' time. The decision to leave our home, family and friends was so sudden that if I would have had more time to think about what was going to take place, I would have stayed in my old home with my grandmother. It began on a Monday night, November 20,1956. Our family was gathered by the government-issued, brown box-type radio, listening to the foreboding news. Indeed, the uprising in Budapest had been crushed, and the Russian Army had turned around and repossessed the city of Budapest. All the political prisoners that were released a few days earlier would soon be gathered and returned to prison. We were all speechless and somber. My father, who was in prison for six years working in a coal mine, just returned home a few days earlier. My brother, who was in prison for four years, would also be going back. In those years, most of the prisoners, like my father and brother, were of a political nature. Crime was virtually non-existent. During my short life of 13 years, there was only one murder committed in our village. Later that evening, a friend dropped in informing us that, after hearing the newscast, he was leaving along with his wife. There was no future for him here and he did not wish to return to prison. "If you are smart and know what's good for you," he said, "you'll come with us." It was a difficult, yet obvious decision to make. If we stayed, our family would be split again. So, we decided to leave, and two hours later we were on our way westward along with the two friends. The full impact of that decision didn't hit me until years later when we were reunited with our relatives and friends. They were doubly hurt: we hadn't told them of our decision and left without good-byes. It was as if we had died and disappeared forever. My best friend cried and cried for days. We left with heavy hearts, taking along the clothes on our backs, a bottle of whiskey and some home made pogácsa (biscuits) made by our neighbor, for our travels. Another neighbor took us in his truck to the nearest city, and the six of us were on our own. My father was well traveled and had a great sense of direction, so we followed his lead. By now, I was excited and curious as to how this venture would end. Would we be captured and thrown into prison? Would we be shot? Would we be turned into the authorities? But these thoughts didn't stop us. We walked on boldly, hardly noticing the cool, frosty wind that was ripping at our clothes. We all said lots of silent prayers that day, and I do believe in guardian angels. Our first obstacle was crossing a river at Zalaegerszeg. It was about as wide as the Mahoning River, but without a bridge. We discovered an old, abandoned mill in the middle of the river which was connected to the embankment with some planks. Overhead, was a frame with some chains which dangled every few steps. My brother—our "scout"—decided to try it out, and soon he made it to the other side. We kept on walking silently, not wanting to attract any attention. The new day was dawning, and people were going about their daily tasks. Soon we were joined by four more countrymen, two young women and men in their late teens. All we did was look at each other, and we knew we all had the same destination and probable destiny, too. The day moved on. We rested a while, shared some of our biscuits and kept on going. People were sympathetic to us, invited us in their homes and offered us refreshments. By the end of the day I was very tired. I leaned against a fence post and promptly fell asleep. At about 10:00 p.m. we entered a village and knocked on the first door we came to, asking for directions. We were told about a wide river on the other side of the village that we must cross, and the nice people directed us to a house where we would find a guide and a boat. We were also told that the border was only a few hours away. We found the river, surrounded by large pine trees with branches touching the ground and big enough for the 10 of us to sit and lay under. That's what we did while two men went to find the guide. We rested and waited and listened to the sounds of the evening. There were shouts and dogs 10 0 October 2011 ° William Penn Life
