Suti had just turned eleven a month earlier or, as he preferred to say, had recently "stepped into his twelfth year." Now that he was older, he felt he understood the world so much better and, this afternoon, the story seemed secondary. He simply couldn't take his eyes off the little bee caught in what he viewed as a life and death struggle to find his way to freedom.
His daydreams on this particularly warm day in April were interrupted by the principal, who bounded through the door quite suddenly. He spoke a few quiet words with his teacher, turned, and scanned the classroom.
"Sandor Weisz," he said loudly. Suddenly shaken back into reality, Suti felt as if the little bee was buzzing right inside his head. He stood up. He was embarrassed at being singled out and was painfully aware of the blood rushing to his neck as he followed the principal out the door.
But as he sat across the desk from the principal in his office, his fears quickly abated. The principal, no doubt with some advice from his teacher, had chosen Suti to help in the town's library. The chief librarian had signed up for military service, the principal told him, and it was the school's responsibility to keep the library operating with the help of young volunteers. About half a dozen students had been recruited to work a few hours after school every other day in rotating shifts, and Suti was among them. There had only been one requirement: all the students had to share in the love of books. Suti realized that it was a great privilege to be chosen. He felt there was no place of greater importance than the local library, where he was surrounded by so many stories about faraway places and fascinating individuals.
Hedy noticed changes in her little brother as soon as he started working in the library. He would arrive home and talk incessantly and proudly about his after-school job. Suti was her cream-faced, darling younger brother who was unabashedly loyal to his sisters and older brother. She dearly loved the way his deep brown eyes became rounder and more pronounced when he launched into one of his stories.
Although he didn't say one word about his secret admiration for the librarian, Krisztina, anyone who saw Suti as he followed her around in awe could easily spot the utter devotion the young boy had for the older woman.
Suti was in love for the first time in his life. Thoroughly enamoured from the first time he saw her, he was attracted to Krisztina's delicate face and hands and her sensitive, warm personality. He had never experienced this feeling before and didn't want to admit to himself, or anyone else for that matter, that when she smiled at him, he felt his heart pounding loudly in his chest. Around her, he felt as if his feet didn't quite tread on the ground. Spending every bit of free time he had at the library just to be near her, Suti was determined that someday he would marry her. There was only one slight hitch: Krisztina was a number of years older than Suti and was already married to a Greek Catholic priest. But Suti pushed those details away from his mind. It simply didn't matter. She was the one. He would just have to be patient and wait a few years.
Hedy knew what Suti was feeling but felt that, with time, this infatuation would pass. She didn't say anything to him about it even though, with his new maturity and sensitivity, they had become even closer and confided in each other. Especially regarding her own love life, Hedy's younger brother had very definite and often pointed opinions on the many teenagers who came to court her. Hedy had come to realize that Suti was wise and pragmatic for his young years. He usually let Hedy come to her own realization about the prospective suitors but told her, well in advance, that David Klein was not smart enough for her despite the fact that his family was quite well off. Mor Rothmann was a genius in math but, according to Suti, he just wanted to win the heart of a stunning young woman like Hedy to offset his unappealing looks. The Steinmetz twins came to court Hedy together. When they came, Suti was the one Hedy entrusted to go and make excuses as to why she wasn't available. He would come back shaking his head. "There is something weird about the twins," Suti told her laughingly. "They probably want to share you as a common wife for both of them."
Hedy hugged her brother close at those times and sighed heavily. She loved Suti and couldn't help but feel a coldness grip her heart as she breathed in the scent of soap in his hair. Sometimes she felt as if they lived in a cocoon, protected on all sides from the chaos and turmoil surrounding the country. Even more than the refugees from Poland that reminded them of the fighting and furor around them, the arrival of the Jewish refugees from Slovakia had truly turned Hedy's entire comprehension of the world inside out.
With the breakup of Czechoslovakia, the Slovaks had set up a homegrown, puppet Nazi regime headed by a Catholic priest named Dr. Josef Tiso. The new Slovak regime was one of the first to implement Hitler's final solution regarding its Jewish population. Many Jews were murdered as soon as they were rounded up, and Slovak Jews were among the first to be sent to Auschwitz-Birkenau. Some ten thousand Slovak Jews escaped to Hungary and those with friends and family in the region had come to Karpatalja. They told unbelievable stories of atrocities.
One of these refugees, a striking young woman named Terez Alexander, found shelter with the Ilkovics family who lived directly across from the Perenyi estate. Living in such close proximity to one another, Terez and Hedy felt an instant affinity and soon became close friends. Their friendship began when they started exchanging books, but soon they were meeting often and Hedy introduced Terez to her other friends. Everyone liked Terez and she was easily accepted by the group. As they walked together about town, they shared stories about mutual friends and flirtations. Terez had brilliant blue eyes and shoulder-length blond hair and when the two stunning young women walked down Verboczy ut together, heads would turn. They were quickly nicknamed the "blond-haired beauties."
Still, months passed before Hedy felt comfortable enough with her new friend to ask why, and under what circumstances, she had left Slovakia. Terez was initially reticent about relating the details of what she had seen but, as they spent more and more time together, Hedy gained her trust and gradually her friend opened up. The story came out in bits and pieces, little by little.
"It's too gruesome," Terez hinted once when they were walking arm in arm. "You won't believe it, just as I couldn't and still can't believe what I saw and heard."
Hedy didn't push her further but, another time, as they sat in the garden of Hedy's house drinking tea, Terez opened up a little more. She was looking around at the tranquility of life in the beautiful garden. "We never saw the hatred in the eyes of our neighbours until it was too late," she said, pausing to take a deep breath. "It began with new laws, with the Jewish Code. Jews were no longer allowed to own land, were excluded from secondary schools and universities, and were not allowed to participate in sport or cultural events." She sipped her tea and unsteadily put her cup down into the saucer in her lap. "Then we had to wear the Star of David."
Hedy sat quietly, afraid to move, afraid that her friend would suddenly stop talking. As horrid as the events were that Terez was talking about, Hedy felt a need to hear them. Her heart pounded so loudly in her chest that she was sure Terez could hear it.
"Then the militias came," Terez continued. "They ordered the Jews in our village out of their homes in the middle of the night." Terez stopped talking. She looked at Hedy, her beautiful blue eyes taking on a cloudy grey hue. "Our homes were set ablaze right in front of our eyes. I'll never forget how the militias kept shouting, ‘This is so you will never come back, you filthy Jews.'" Terez's voice broke as she continued. "Over and over again they shouted, ‘Slovakia is for Slovaks.' We were sent off with the clothes on our backs. On foot."
Hedy searched her brain for something of comfort to say to her friend, but words failed her. She reached out, took the cup from Terez's hands, and placed it carefully on the little table between them.
Terez blinked back tears and continued with a shrug. "But we were the lucky ones. My family had relatives a few kilometres away. The same thing happened to them but, when they and their neighbours were lined up, they were beaten and shot." T
erez put her hands over her face and began to sob. "Our relatives did not survive."
The stories Terez told terrified Hedy. She began having nightmares. One evening, after the little ones were in bed, Hedy had a rare, quiet hour alone with her mother and father. They were sitting around the kitchen table, her mother peeling and coring apples for applesauce. Hedy quietly told them what Terez had described to her. Her mother put the apple and the coring knife down; she went pale as she looked first at her daughter, then at her husband. Hedy saw them exchange knowing glances, as if her parents had already had this conversation. She sat quietly, staring at her hands on the table in front of her, pondering what to say next. Before she could say anything, her father reached across and covered her hands with his.
"Baron Perenyi will never let anything happen to us, my dearest Hedy," Vilmos assured his daughter. "He's a man of influence and prestige. Besides, our family has lived in Hungary for many generations. What is happening in Slovakia won't happen here. Don't worry, my child." He looked across at his wife and smiled. His wife stared back but remained silent. Hedy could tell her mother was not reassured. After a short while, Terez picked up the paring knife and began again peeling and coring the apples in the bowl in front of her.
WITH THE DECLARATION OF war against the Soviet Union at the end of June 1941, there came a series of new edicts, regional and national proclamations, and laws. Karpatalja was directly adjacent to the Soviet Union, the country that Hungary was at war with, and, as such, the region was inundated with new regulations. Newspapers became subject to military censorship. Then came the edict that announced that the spreading of disinformation was equal to treason (remhirterjesztes hazaarulas). Radios were confiscated from "unreliable individuals" who were listening to and passing on news disseminated by the enemy.
The army needed areas cleared for operations and announced that agricultural and forestry workers and landowners who lived in the border perimeter would be evacuated and moved to a safer region. Troops began to flood into the region by trains and transport vehicles, and anti-aircraft units were set up just a few dozen kilometres from the border region. The local population, municipal governments, businesses, and civic organizations were asked to volunteer time and resources to assist the work of the national army. The local economy was overwhelmed and soon the rationing of wheat, flour, and sugar began.
The government decided it had to take action to deal with the refugees who had come east from Galicia, Bukovina, and Poland. It was declared that all foreigners who could not prove their Hungarian residency and citizenship were to be taken to Korosmezo, a town near the Polish border, where military trucks would transport all ablebodied persons across the border to work in Kolomea in German-occupied Galicia.
Hedy Weisz (farthest left) with a group of her friends from business school.
In the middle of July, Hedy's mother quietly told her that she had to go to Beregszasz to obtain documentation to prove that their families had lived in Hungary for several generations.
"Your father says this new law is directed at all the refugees who have been flooding into Hungary recently. The government says they are putting a great strain on the economy." Hedy opened her mouth to speak, to ask the question that hung in the air between them, but her mother continued. "Now everyone has to provide proof of their residency. Even those, like us, who have lived here for generations. It will cause even a family like ours a lot of headaches."
"How are we going to prove our residency?" Hedy asked. She wasn't at all sure she understood what her mother was trying to tell her.
"When your father and I got married," Terez continued, trying to keep the panic from rising to her throat, "we registered our marriage with the county clerk's registrar, even though the ceremony took place in a synagogue. But your grandparents on your father's side were only married in a synagogue; they never bothered to register with the clerk. That means we have to find some other way to prove where they lived and when they were married. Jewish records will not be accepted as proof of residency. We have to find official records in Beregszasz, where I grew up, and in Ronafalva, where your father was born."
Hedy was listening to what her mother was saying, but all of it was a bit much to absorb all at once.
"And it won't be easy," Terez went on. "Your father remembers that one of his great uncles owned land in Ladmoc, in Zemplen County. If we can track down and find that record of land ownership, then our search to find proof of residency will be more or less solved. Landowners have been registered in this country for centuries." Terez smiled bravely at her daughter. "I have to go right away and I need you to take care of Suti and Icuka while I am gone."
"No," Hedy blurted out. "Aliz is older. Can't she look after the younger ones? Let me come with you. Let me help you." She was suddenly pleading with her mother. "After all, I'm in second year of business college. My skills will be useful to you."
Terez looked at her beautiful daughter. How lucky she was to have such a wonderful family. "Fine," she finally agreed. "It would be useful to have you along." She smiled. "And I could sorely use the company."
AS THEY SAT ON the train, Hedy watched the yellow fields of rape seed and sunflowers rolling past them. How familiar this land was to her - fields she had seen her whole life. She closed her eyes and let the clickety clack of the train on the tracks soothe her. This journey to prove their identity was bizarre and it frightened her. Suddenly her friend's words reverberated in her head. "It all began with the new laws."
Their trip took longer than they anticipated and was exhausting. With the help of extended family, they had to make several trips to villages and towns where her forefathers and mothers had been born and raised. But Hedy and her mother eventually found the documentation they needed to satisfy the requirements of the new law. They came home successful, but far from reassured.
Hedy realized her family was among the fortunate ones. There were many Jewish families who had lived in Hungary for generations but had not bothered to acquire citizenship. They could not prove residency. In addition, the newly arrived refugee families could not prove any kind of residency and also found themselves in the same precarious situation. By July 1941, these unfortunate people were now being rounded up and driven to Poland to be handed over to authorities in German-occupied Galicia at the rate of around one thousand a day. Their fates were unknown.
In that summer of 1941, when the seemingly safe cocoon she felt they had lived in until then started to slowly unravel, Hedy's carefree teenage years came to an abrupt end. In August, the third anti-Jewish law came into effect, prohibiting marriage between Jews and non-Jews. It also qualified sexual relations between them as a "defamation of race." The new law required documents to prove that there was no such marriage or relationship in order to facilitate promotions, success in careers, and the ability to move forward in society. One's very future seemed to hinge on that single official document.
Suddenly there were endless lines of people in front of the county clerk of Ugocsa - lines that wound their way around the building and snaked down Verboczy ut. Clutching original documents, individuals were desperate to obtain official papers that stated that, extending back to their grandparents, they were "of pure Christian background." It was a pitiful sight to witness some people leaving the county clerk's office clearly ecstatic at having obtained the necessary papers while others walked out in shock, devastated to discover that one of their parents or grandparents had been Jewish.
People watched and waited with trepidation. Then, the entire town was stunned when Lieutenant Jozsef Veress, an amazingly handsome officer stationed in Nagyszollos, committed suicide after learning that his grandmother had been Jewish. He had insisted on being the first at the front of the military lines when the Hungarian army reoccupied Nagyszollos in March of 1939.
One of Hedy's classmates, Eva Sik, was engaged to the handsome young lieutenant. When news of her fiancé's suicide became known, she quit school and left town. No one ever saw or heard of
her again.
It seemed to Hedy that a fog had seeped into the very fabric of their little town - a fog that prevented people from seeing things clearly. She decided she had to stay focussed and obtain a higher education so she could pursue employment opportunities. She was grateful that she lived at a time when women were able to do just that.
After graduation, she would seek employment in an office and take her place as a productive member of society. It calmed her just knowing that she had a plan.
chapter 8 | Fall 1941
BELA HAD ALWAYS KNOWN that he would some day follow in his father's family tradition and become a professional soldier. But when, at the age of twelve, his parents told him they were sending him off to cadet school, he felt in his heart that the day had come too soon. To make matters worse, his mother told him that the school - housed in a baroque castle in the town of Nagykaroly - had requested that parents not accompany their children on the five-hour train ride. Somehow, they believed the parting would be less painful if it did not take place in front of the gates of the school.
Bela didn't want to go. He had looked the town up in one of his atlases and found that it was in the part of the country that had been partitioned to Romania following the First World War and had just recently been returned to Hungary. It is so far away, he thought to himself as he ran his finger across the page. He would miss home and his family, particularly his older brother, Tibor.
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