William Penn Life, 2011 (46. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
2011-10-01 / 10. szám
barking and shots rang out in the distance. That was it for me, as again I fell asleep on my mother's shoulder. The next thing I knew there was the boat in front of me and we were being rushed into it by a very nervous and up-tight guide. He said he was risking his life doing this for us and that the patrol came by every once in a while, so we had to move fast, and we did. Just as we got to the middle of the river, with the moonlit night making us perfect targets, the boat hit a heavy current and suddenly turned around, taking us back to our starting point. Now our nervousness was bordering on hysteria. The guide didn't want to try again because it was too close for the night patrol, but we begged and pleaded and offered money as payment. Our money wasn't too enticing, but he took the jewelry, watches, necklaces and nylons, which we gladly gave for his valiant services. On the other side we were given instructions on how to lay low when the patrol came, to cross the highway one by one, to watch out for tripping wires in the woods and to keep an eye out for the watch towers and the guards sitting in them. We were now wide awake and alert. Before we knew it, a ribbon of highway lay in front of us. Remembering our instructions, we sat and waited and listened for a few minutes. Soon we heard the shouts of the patrol in the distance, but going in the other direction. We decided it was safe to cross, so one by one, we crept across. In front of us was a great hill, and on top of the hill were the woods that our guide talked about. My brother was in the lead now and next thing we realized he tripped and rolled down the other side of the hill, making a racket that could be heard a mile away. Finally, he stopped rolling, and we froze in our tracks shaking nervously and listening, waiting for someone to come out of the bushes. But everything remained quiet, and we moved on. Soon our fearless leader came upon a clearing and found himself right smack under a watch tower. He didn't know what to do. If he ran back to warn us, he could be shot from the back. So, he laid low and waited for a sign of life up in the tower, but there was none. Cautiously, he crept back to us, and we took off in another direction. Suddenly, the woods disappeared, and there it was: the border. We faced a wide clearing protected on the other side by the infamous "Iron Curtain," a tall fence which was ripped and cut open. But where was the minefield that we heard about? Did those crazy young men care? No! They threw all caution to the wind and ran straight across the border. My dad was more sensible and made us wait, but nothing happened. So we followed, our emotions running wild. This was it. Would we ever come back? Good-bye homeland, dear little beloved Hungary. To our great surprise, there was another river in front of us to cross, and that jolted us back to reality. We were aware that even though we had crossed to the "other side," the border patrol's bullets didn't know the difference and didn't care where we were. We had heard tales of people being shot on that side: they were just as dead. We walked north along the riverbank, being aware that, if we went too far south, we could wind up in Tito's Yugoslavia, and they weren't too friendly to the Magyars. Finally, we found a crossing shallow enough to walk across. The men checked the depth with a large stick. The river at this point wasn't too wide, but it was dark and fast moving and very, very cold. My brave brother volunteered to cross first. He took off his shoes and socks, rolled up his pant legs and waded in. Luckily for him the water was reasonably shallow, below the knee. It was decided the men would carry the woman across, so my dad picked me up and in we went. It was a dizzying experience. It felt as if we would be swept away any second, but we made it and so did the rest of the party. Now it was really cold. The poor men with their bare feet were shivering from the chill. We wrapped their feet in dry cloth and moved inland, out of sight of the border. Dawn was breaking, frost was heavy on the ground. This was the time to sit down in a friendly circle and open the bottle of home brew and share the remainder of the biscuits. Now was the time to say a silent prayer of thanksgiving and to celebrate our first Thanksgiving in a new land. My mother spoke for all of us: "Istend veled szülőhazánk te kis Magyarország." □ Maria Aczél Schauer is a member of Branch 28 Youngstown, Ohio. The illustrations for her story were drawn by a local woman who was deeply moved by the Aczél family's flight to freedom, but whose own identity is now a mystery. William Penn Life 0 October 2011 0 11 'KJe crossedtfie border, our emotions running wild.
