CHAPTER 5
I am seven years old and I am at my cousin’s Shabbos
sheva berachos. I’ve been to this hall before and I know that
it has a roof. I also know how to get onto that roof. I whisper
to my cousin’s sister-in-law, a classmate of mine, “Let’s
sneak up to the roof.” My little sister is standing right there
and she begs to come along with us, so we agree and sneak
over to the back steps. When we reach the last flight of stairs,
we pull the door open easily and walk onto the roof. The cool
air feels wonderful and we are having fun being somewhere
without anybody knowing where we are.
After a while, we decide that it’s time to return to the
hall. We walk to the door and try to open it, but it is firmly
shut and won’t budge. Our hearts begin to beat fast as we
realize that we are trapped. We feel imprisoned. We believe
that we’ll be stuck up here forever. We don’t know what to
do. Finally, we see people sitting on their porch, talking, not
too far from where we are. We begin screaming to them, asking
them to help us. One lady goes into the hall and tells our
family that we’re on the roof. Before long, my older sister,
followed by a troop of cousins, comes to open the door for us.
We are free at last.
Imprisoned? What am I thinking? What do I know
about prison? My Opa tells me that his brief imprisonment
by the Hungarians was terrible-but in the months following
his imprisonment he would wish for the treatment he’d
received in that jail, in place of what he was going through.
. . .
AFTER A day in the Papa prison, the officers decided to transfer
my Opa and his family. They took them by horse and carriage
to the train station, with several officers guarding either
side of the carriage on bikes. There was a big celebration taking
place that day. Many people held white flags in a parade,
declaring, “We’re finally cleaning out the last Jews from
Papa.” All the newspapers announced, “The last family of six
Jews was found. Now Papa is truly Jew-free.” My Opa smiled
in his heart, knowing that a good friend of his was very well
hidden in a cellar in Papa at that moment, so Papa was not actually
“Jew-free.” That is just the kind of thing I would expect
from my Opa: to find humor in a terrifying situation.
With six officers guarding them, my Opa and his family
were taken by train to the city of Gyor and handed over to the
police there. Once again they spent the night in jail, and once
again they were frisked.My Opa had a small pocket knife hidden
in the sole of his shoe. The officers took away the prisoners’
belts and went so far as removing their shoelaces, but
miraculously they didn’t remove my Opa’s shoes, so the knife
stayed hidden. And, miraculously, the officers again overlooked
the mohel knife hidden in my Opa’s inner jacket pocket.
When my Opa saw this open miracle occur twice, he promised
Hashem, “I don’t know what’s in store for me now - but
if I survive, I will become a mohel!”
The jail in Gyor was terrible. It was deep in a cellar with
various forms of centipedes and roaches roaming around. After
an exhausting night trying to stay awake so they could try
to avoid the crawling creatures, my Opa and his family were
taken to Budapest by train. They arrived in Budapest during
the morning rush hour, along with six officers: one officer per
person. At that time, the police in Hungary did not have cars
so they were forced to use public transportation. When they
arrived in Budapest, my Opa’s father told the officers that he
had money on him so they could travel by taxi from the station
to wherever their next destination might be. The officers
agreed, and decided that only two accompanying officers
were necessary if they took a taxi. The family would split into
two groups of three and each group would take a taxi with
one guard each. The other officers would travel by train.
When they arrived at the taxi stand there were no taxis
available so they decided to wait. The other four officers were
to go by train, leaving just two officers to guard the family of
six. They waited for a train to come into the station. When it
arrived, it was so full that the guards decide to wait for the
next train. Just as the train was leaving, my Opa, his brother,
and his two sisters jumped onto the steps of the train. The officers
looked on in horror as the train sped away, leaving them
to guard only the parents.
The four children got off at the next stop, freed from all officers.
My Opa suggested that they run to their uncle’s house
right there in Budapest. This had been the family’s intention
before their escape plans had gone awry. His younger siblings
agreed - but his older sister, Judith, was adamant that they
stay and wait for their parents. She looked at my Opa with
stubborn determination in her eyes and said, “We will not
move from here until Papa and Mama arrive. Who knows
what they’ll do to them if they find that we really escaped?”
My Opa tried hard to persuade her, but his sister would not
relent. So they all sat down on a bench to await the next trolley’s
arrival, which would hopefully bring their parents.
When the train did arrive the officers were astonished to
see the four children patiently waiting for their parents. My
Opa’s mother smiled a wide smile and said with a twinkle in
her eye, “You see? I told you my children would stay with me
and not run away.”
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