Outcasts

by Susan M. Papp

  Her sister, Aliz, kept intruding on this most pleasant daydream, sitting on the side of her bed, talking to her gently, trying to rouse her. Hedy knew if she opened her eyes the wonderful images would vanish.

  She resisted opening her eyes.

  Back in Nagyszollos again, with Tibor - walking along the pebbled shore of the river Tisza hand in hand. A small groundhog lay on the pebbles in front of them. They almost missed it as the rodent blended in among the brown and grey stones. It remained motionless, but opened its eyes and raised its head a bit when the two of them approached. It didn't flee. Hedy had a few scraps of bread in her knapsack; she tossed them gently near the groundhog's mouth. The animal didn't react to the bits of bread. There weren't any visible wounds on the fur. After watching it for a little while, the two of them surmised the creature had simply lost its will to live.

  Hedy finally acknowledged her sister's attempts to wake her. She pushed the covers back and slowly crawled out of bed. A little hand mirror was hanging on the wall and, unintentionally, she caught a glimpse of herself in it.

  What would Tibor say if he saw her now? Her hair had grown back somewhat -not blond anymore, but a dull brown. It was still barely long enough to comb out. She ran her fingers through it and decided it didn't matter how she combed it, it always looked unkempt. Possibly it was the water they used to bathe or that awful-smelling soap in the showers, but she felt her hair would never be soft and shiny again.

  She had lost so much weight she felt like a skeleton of her former self. The only clothes they were provided were drab, over-washed army issue coats and pants - all uniform, all ugly. No matter how many times she looked in that tiny mirror, she couldn't believe the face reflecting back at her was her own. In her reflection, she saw a much aged, tired-looking woman staring back at her. She honestly felt that no man could ever be attracted to her again.

  In her pants pocket was a small, folded-up postcard, still with her after almost a year. The postcard had arrived at Auschwitz, addressed to her at a fictitious place called Ebensee. She only received it because her friend had worked in the sorting area of the camp. Hedy had no idea how the note from Tibor had arrived at Auschwitz. On the postcard he had written, "I am waiting for news from my wife, I hope she is well." Nothing else. A message from him had filtered through - a message that he still loved her.

  If Tibor still loved her, Hedy thought, he was in love with a woman who no longer existed. She realized he could never understand all that she had been through. Hedy could never, no matter how well he listened, explain to him the unbelievably dreadful events that had taken place since they had last seen each other. The environment they had to endure. The human deprivation and cruelty. There were no words to describe it. She had been irrevocably changed.

  Hedy and Aliz last saw their brother, Suti, on January 18, 1945, when they were separated while being ordered out of Auschwitz. They didn't know his fate, or the fate of their father or Bandi.

  After three days of marching in freezing cold and snowy conditions, they were put onto open cattle cars and ended up at another concentration camp called Neustadt Glewe near Mecklenburg in northern Germany. They continued to work there under dreadful conditions until the Americans liberated them in early May 1945. Within a few days the Russians took over the administration of the camp and transferred them all to another camp called Prenzlau, near Stettin. Following liberation, an overwhelming exhaustion enveloped Hedy, followed by the unspeakable hollow feeling of depression. All the rules of survival changed; she simply couldn't garner the strength to go on.

  While they were in captivity, Hedy looked after Aliz and protected her, provided for her, coaxed her out of her negative thoughts. Now everything had reversed: Aliz had become the caregiver, the one who brought her sister tea and soup and coaxed her to get out of bed.

  The weeks stretched into months. The Russians made long and exhaustive lists and allowed the citizens of Yugoslavia, Romania, Hungary, Poland, and Czechoslovakia to return home. Hedy and Aliz and the 120 or so who declared that they were from Karpatalja were not allowed to leave. They were unaware that Karpatalja had been ceded to the Soviet Union at the end of the war. According to the records of the Russian camp authorities, those from Karpatalja were considered "stateless." The Russians were unwilling to send ethnic Hungarians back to a region that was now part of the Soviet Union.

  By mid-October 1945, Hedy realized that she had to flee this desolate camp in order to regain her will to live. Aliz was elated by the decision. Finally, her sister wanted to do something other than lie in bed, curled in a fetal position.

  "Where shall we go, my dear sister?" Aliz asked.

  "I don't know where we'll go and I don't know how we'll get there," Hedy replied, looking around to make sure no one could overhear them. "All I know is that we have to leave this soul-destroying place as soon as possible."

  September 1945

  Budapest

  My Dearest Hedy,

  There is so much in my heart that I've been aching to tell you. The distance of one year of not knowing how you are and where you are is unbearable and weighs heavily on me. I have sent many messages to the refugee centres at the International Red Cross and IRO (International Refugee Organization), but all my searches have turned up nothing.

  I am writing these words from Budapest, where I'm living in our father's apartment along with my older brother, Istvan, his wife, Eva, and practically every one of Eva's relatives. It is very cramped. Each day I would leave the house at 5:00 a.m. and go to places where I might possibly find out about you. I did this until I found out from a Jewish woman from Nagyszollos that Suti is living here as well.

  Suti and I met. Oh, what a heartfelt and joyous occasion it was for me to finally hug your little brother! I felt that finding you had to be a breath away. You can't imagine the sadness in my heart on hearing of what happened to all of you. In my mind I've gone over and over the events of the days before you were taken away, and although I know that this type of thinking of how things might have been different is all useless, I can't help but think I might have been able to do something else, something more to save you and your family.

  Since you were taken away, I've felt like a blind man in a dark room. I've decided to write you. Although I don't know where you are and don't have a place to mail these letters to, I will continue to write them, as I am afraid I will lose my mind if I don't get these thoughts down on paper. You are not only the love of my life, but my very dearest friend, with whom I could share my most intimate, private feelings. I miss you and our long talks terribly.

  I haven't stopped thinking about you and loving you since the moment at the train station when we were pulled away from each other. Nothing matters, except seeing you again, being with you again.

  Your loving fiancé,

  Tibor

  ALONG WITH TWELVE OTHER women from Karpatalja, Hedy and Aliz found a broken slat in the fence surrounding the perimeter of the camp, squeezed through it, and walked away. The escape wasn't difficult, but deciding how they would fend for themselves once they were out was more challenging. Without money or any identification, the group walked all that day until darkness fell and they stumbled into an empty barn to sleep on top of a pile of hay. Again, the next day they continued walking until they became quite famished. They entered what looked like a deserted farmhouse to look for food. They found a few remnants of flour, and some carrots and turnips, but also came across a room full of bales and bales of clothing. The five women gleefully tore through the bales, helping themselves to real clothes.

  At one point, as they were pulling apart one of the stacks, Hedy noticed a child's sweater - knitted light blue with flowers and butterflies on it. Her heart stopped a beat as she stared at the size and style. There was only one such sweater she had ever seen in her entire life. It was identical to her little sister Icuka's - the one their mother had knitted for her. The coincidence was more than she could cope with. With a lump in her throat, she commanded her
self not to cry. Hedy bundled the sweater in among others then loudly called out that they had better leave before someone came home.

  They travelled by train to Berlin. There they made their way to a refugee centre where the food was much more varied and nutritious and they were given more civilian clothing. There was even a resident hairdresser who finally evened out the zigzag lines of their regrowing hair. Hedy began to be transformed into a young woman again. The authorities provided official papers based on their declaration of where they were born. Hedy and Aliz spent untold hours combing through reams of lists of missing and located individuals, but couldn't find Suti, their father, or Bandi. Hedy's eyes occasionally wandered to the S part of the lists, looking for Schroeder, but she didn't know what she would do if she actually found his name and his location. Could she face him?

  Hedy felt that Tibor had always placed her on a pedestal. The experience of the past year made her realize she could no longer live up to his inflated image of her. The romance, the engagement with Tibor, felt like a very pleasant but distant dream. She didn't know what she would say if she saw him, how they would even begin to pick up the pieces of where they had left off.

  Nussbach, Austria

  March 1946

  My Dearest Hedy,

  Since I wrote to you last, I left Hungary and am now living with my mother, father, sister, and her husband, Erno, in a little town called Nussbach in Austria. Things in Hungary have gone from bad to worse as the communists are tightening their political power. I'm sure you must have heard the economy is in tatters. We have heard that our home is no more, ransacked and plundered by Russian soldiers.

  My parents still actually have it in their minds to return. We argue with them all the time about it. They bring it into the conversation quite often. My mother naively thinks we will all go back and carry on as before.

  When I first saw my father, I realized that, physically and spiritually, he has become a broken man. His hair and his beard have turned completely white. He worked for the American army, creating lists of ex-enlisted men and organizing the repatriation of these men and their families. Once that work was finished, my parents no longer received ration coupons. Since then, all three of us - Picke, Erno, and I - have been supporting them by working for the farmers in the neighbouring villages, doing whatever work is available in return for some flour, milk, lard, eggs, or even chicken or rabbit meat, when available. The neighbouring community treats my parents with respect; they refer to my father as "Herr Oberst von Aykler."

  My father feels he is a burden to the family, and that, because of his ailing health and heart condition, none of us will be accepted as immigrants to a third country.

  My younger brother, Bela, has been drafted into the new Red Army of Hungary. He was given the rank of sergeant, works for the border patrol, and seems to be doing well.

  Inflation is out of control everywhere in Europe and the black market is the only thing that flourishes. Still I felt it urgent to help my parents in their desperate time of need.

  I don't mind not having anything - I feel I am young enough to rebuild my life - but my parents feel they've lost everything and that their lives are too advanced to start over. It's very difficult to deal with their depression and overwhelming feelings of sadness.

  I have asked Suti to stay in touch with me, and if by some chance he finds out about you, to send me your address right away. The searing pain in my heart will never be healed until I know you are safe.

  Your loving fiancé,

  Tibor

  STILL SEARCHING FOR MEMBERS of their family, Hedy and Aliz heard of an even larger refugee centre near Hannover and hitched a ride with a driver who was transporting a group of refugees there.

  As Hedy and Aliz were helping each other climb into the back of the truck, someone nearby yelled, "Hey - you there - Hedy - it's me!"

  Hedy couldn't believe what she was seeing or hearing. It was Fabri Berliner, one of the Berliner brothers from home.

  "This isn't a chance encounter, you know. We were meant to meet. I'm going to marry you!" Fabri quipped.

  Even in Nagyszollos, Fabri was known as a bit strange, but to start a conversation this way led Hedy to believe he was more than a bit abnormal. She pretended she didn't hear his statement and began questioning him about friends and family.

  "Fabri, were you home? Who has come back?"

  "Don't ask me that," Fabri replied with a hurt look on his face.

  "Did anyone come back?" Hedy persisted.

  "Your father didn't come back. They say he passed away after liberation."

  Hedy turned white when she heard the news, she stopped for a beat, but the next question came straight from her heart.

  "And what about Suti?" she asked, holding her breath.

  "Suti came back but only for a little while, then left again. No one knows where he went."

  "For God's sake, Fabri, why didn't you tell me first that Suti is alive?" she said as tears welled up in her eyes. "The sadness knowing my father has passed away is not as great as the joy I am feeling right now just knowing that Suti is alive!"

  The good news injected strength into Hedy's tired bones. The two sisters said goodbye to Fabri and decided to go to Prague. They no longer had a reason to go to Hannover - they had found out that Suti was alive and well!

  Life was simple in Prague. Hedy and Aliz were provided three meals a day and a warm bed at the Red Cross centre. They met and conversed cautiously with a few other residents they knew from home, but otherwise kept to themselves. They didn't want to get engaged in any kind of special activity. One young Czech soldier, who lived in an army barracks nearby, brought a message from an officer by the name of Emil Hosek. The soldier inquired if Emil, who knew the Weisz family from Nagyszollos, could come for a visit. Neither Hedy nor Aliz remembered the name, but replied that of course he could come to see them.

  As Emil walked into the main meeting room, Hedy didn't immediately recognize him, but there was something about his presence that comforted her. As soon as she laid eyes on him, Hedy instantly remembered that this was the suave man she always noticed driving a Czech-made Jana motorcycle in a long leather jacket.

  Before the war, Emil was an insurance agent who worked in Vasut utca in Nagyszollos. Emil's last name had been Klein. He had indeed known Hedy's father well and came to the family home often.

  An officer in the Czech army, Emil was a soft-spoken man who exuded strength and determination. He had a thick head of curly, dark-brown hair and widely set brown eyes. When he smiled, two deep dimples made his smile more engaging.

  During their first visit he introduced himself and said reassuring things about Nagyszollos, their community, and their family. He bought a single rose for each of them.

  After his first visit, Emil asked Hedy if he could come again. She nodded, not believing he would return. It was so unusual to encounter someone who was considerate of her as an individual again. For the past year, all she had experienced was people barking orders at her, telling her what to do and how to do it. All of a sudden, here was Emil asking her permission if he could come for another visit. It was so unexpectedly refreshing.

  The second time Emil came to visit, he asked Hedy if she would come for a walk with him. While they walked in the historic castle district, Emil told Hedy that his wife, who was also from Nagyszollos, had died during the war. He spoke softly, but Hedy could sense that he was deeply affected by the loss. His grief was present in his tone.

  Emil quietly told Hedy, in a matter-of-fact tone, that he had rented an apartment for her and her sister. "You can't possibly stay here in the Red Cross centre forever," he explained. Emil informed Hedy that he had inherited a house with a metal-working shop on the main floor and a walkup spacious apartment on the second floor. The place had lots of room for both of them. With the business, he could easily support all of them.

  Hedy was moved by the generosity of Emil. He seemed to quietly accept all that she had been through, making no de
mands of her. It was comforting to know that Emil knew her family and was from the same background - there was an unspoken understanding about their past.

  Most importantly, Emil was willing to take care of both Aliz and herself in offering them a home. Without being intrusive, Emil took the lead in organizing their lives at a time when Hedy was incapable of doing so.

  Within a few months, Emil asked Hedy if she would be his wife. She agreed. They were married according to Jewish laws and traditions.

  Hedy with her husband, Emil Hosek, and their daughter, Chaviva.

  chapter 27 | 1947-1954

  IN SELVINO, SUTI AND the other young residents were taught that this era would be remembered by history as a period of struggle and rebellion against the British Mandate and about the work of thousands who were working clandestinely for the future of their homeland within such Jewish organizations as Haganah, the Palmach, the Irgun and the Lechi. Boatloads of illegal immigrants set out from Italy and France for the shores of Palestine, but most were stopped by the British patrols. The passengers were taken to detention camps in Atlit and Cyprus. The British government's White Paper decrees were imposed, setting limited quotas of fifteen hundred per month for Jewish immigration, but the struggle for unlimited immigration and the right to settle in all areas of the new Jewish homeland continued.

  Secret arrangements for illegal immigration (aliyah bet) became better organized, manned by soldiers of the Jewish units and emissaries of the Haganah. A network of wireless communications stations sprang up in villas and hidden in the mountains, from Bari and Metaponto in the south to Milan and Como in the north. Operations for forging passports and other documents were established. Ships were purchased or acquired, along with fuel, foodstuffs, and arms, and secret agreements were reached with the Italian police and bureaucracy to undermine the work of the British intelligence forces to prevent Jewish immigration to Palestine.