Fraternity-Testvériség, 1956 (34. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1956-06-01 / 6. szám
FRATERNITY 11 ing their depredations . . At the same time, so-called Hoover kitchens were feeding nearly 100,000 Hungarian children three times a day in Budapest alone. Winter was approaching, a season seldom mild and often exceedingly severe in most parts of the country. Rolling stocks were being rapidly depleted, nearing the point where the available meager produce could no longer be transported out of the provinces. As if anticipating what actually came to pass some three decades later, Bandholtz noted that “intentionally or unintentionally, every move made was in the direction of turning Hungary over to Bolshevism and chaos.” Amid the manifold activities crammed into working days often stretched to 18-20 hours, he observed with growing ire how the looters “were proceeding merrily with their seizure and general raising of hell; all this cannot last indefinitely, and something is sure to pop up before long.” His protests to the Supreme Council as well as to the Rumanians themselves — genuine Bandholtzian remonstrations complete with banging of desks and slamming of doors — soon became almost daily occurrences. He even traveled to Bucharest to see the King of Rumania who “said that the Rumanians had taken no foodstuffs. As it is bad form to call a king a liar, I simply informed His Majesty that he was badly mistaken; and that I could give him extra facts in regard to the thousands of carloads of foodstuffs that had been taken out of Budapest alone . . .” His concept of his task is summarized in the Diary in unequivocal terms: “Neither my country nor myself had anything to gain; we desired nothing but fair play; America has always sympathized with and endeavored to aid unfortunate nations and people; if I had succeeded in impressing that idea, I had really accomplished my mission.” But the policies of the Supreme Council were much less clear, its methods far less direct, and the General often registered considerable chagrin and even outright resentment over its directives. Perhaps the mildest criticism he expressed was this: “The Council sent ANOTHER LAST ultimatum to the Rumanians” (capital letters his). The General’s uncompromising straightforwardness alone would have made the blunt soldier-diplomat irreplaceable in those days of confusion. The Great Museum Robbery As Bandholtz had expected, things indeed began “to pop up before long.” Item: “October 6, 1919. Last night [it was] reported that the Rumanians were at the National Museum with a whole flock of trucks and proposed to take away many of the works of art. At a meeting of the Military Mission on October 1, it was decided that . . . they should have none of these articles until passed upon by our committee . . . On the same date the Rumanian Commander-in-Chief was notified of our decision. “Accompanied by Colonel Loree and one American soldier”, General Bandholtz instantly marched out of the Palace and had himself driven to the Museum. He was armed, as always, with his trusty ■— riding whip. The stick had already become a sort of magic wand in the eyes of Hungarians who looked upon the American as their undoubtedly omnipotent protector.
