January 17th 2025.
When I was just seven years old, my life was forever changed by the quick thinking of my aunt, Iby. We were huddled together in a dark cupboard, the only sound being the pounding of my heart. It all happened so fast - one moment we were minding our own business, and the next, we were facing a group of far-right Hungarian Arrow Cross Party members, allied with the Nazi Germans, who were preparing to storm the building we were in.
Without hesitation, Iby grabbed me and knocked on the door of a Christian neighbor, who graciously agreed to hide us. We must have been there for nearly an hour, but all I can remember is the overwhelming fear coursing through my veins. I clutched onto my beloved teddy bear, aptly named Teddy, for comfort during this terrifying ordeal.
Miraculously, the officers did not search the flat where we were hiding, and we were saved. However, my mother was not as fortunate. She was captured that same day and sent to the Mauthausen concentration camp in Austria. Looking back, I realize that I have my aunt's quick thinking to thank for my survival, even 80 years later.
I was born in Budapest, Hungary on April 29, 1937, and was an only child. My family lived in a beautiful flat in a predominantly Jewish, affluent neighborhood. We were fortunate enough to lead a comfortable and happy life. My father was a director of an insurance company and my mother worked as a bookkeeper, so we were well-off. We often attended synagogue, and our closest friends were Jewish, but we also socialized with non-Jewish individuals.
My parents gave me Teddy when I was only three or four years old, and I cherished him dearly. However, everything changed in 1938 when the anti-Jewish laws became increasingly harsh. By 1943, my father was taken to a forced labor camp, leaving my mother and me to fend for ourselves. We were still able to visit him and provide him with food, but many others were not as fortunate and lost their lives due to the grueling conditions of forced labor.
In June 1944, when I was seven years old, my mother and I were forced to move into a yellow-star house, where some of our family already lived. These designated buildings housed approximately 220,000 Jews in Budapest. The yellow star on our building's gate and on our clothing marked us as Jews. Sadly, my grandfather passed away during this time, but we were not allowed to attend his funeral.
As the war progressed, my mother was sent to Mauthausen concentration camp in Austria. Along the way, she was forced to work on fortifications, an assignment that claimed the lives of thousands. I was taken in by my aunt, Iby, who took care of me as if I were her own child. However, the situation became even more dire when stricter searches began, and we were forced to move into the Budapest Ghetto.
The ghetto was a wretched place, with over 65,000 Jews crammed into approximately 290 buildings, surrounded by a wall and guarded by Nazis. My aunt and I shared a tiny flat with over 20 people, and we struggled with a severe lack of sanitation and constant hunger. On top of that, we witnessed dead bodies on the streets. One day, the Russian air force bombed the town, including the ghetto, and we had to take refuge in the cellar to survive. Miraculously, we made it through.
Throughout this harrowing time, I always kept Teddy close to me. He was my constant source of strength when everything else seemed to be crumbling around me. As the Russian troops came closer to liberate us, the Germans planned to detonate mines and kill everyone in the ghetto. But thankfully, we were rescued on January 17, 1945, just in time.
The relief and joy we felt cannot be put into words. After the war, something incredible happened - both my mother and father survived. My father had been liberated from the forced labor camp and had moved to Romania with my uncle, where he had started a relationship with a local woman, assuming my mother and I were dead. However, my aunt managed to track him down, and we were reunited in Romania, which was an emotional moment for all of us. I started school there and finally began to feel a sense of stability.
Then, one day, my mother knocked on our door. She had been liberated from Mauthausen concentration camp by the Americans and had gone back to Budapest to find us. It was a bittersweet reunion, but we were finally together again. Despite the horrors we had endured, we were grateful to still have each other and to be alive.
When I was just seven years old, my life was forever changed by the bravery of my aunt, Iby. As we sat huddled together in a dark cupboard, I could feel my heart pounding with fear. Only moments before, Iby had spotted a group of far-right Hungarian Arrow Cross Party members, who were working with the Nazi Germans, gathering in the courtyard of our apartment building. Without hesitation, she grabbed me and we sought refuge with a Christian neighbor who kindly agreed to hide us.
Although we were only there for about an hour, I can still vividly remember the terror I felt in that moment. To comfort myself, I clung tightly to my beloved teddy bear, whom I affectionately named Teddy. Miraculously, the officers did not search our hiding place and we were able to escape unharmed. However, my mother was not as fortunate. She was captured that day and sent to the Mauthausen concentration camp in Austria.
Looking back, I credit my aunt's quick thinking for my survival, even 80 years later. I was born in Budapest, Hungary on April 29, 1937, and I was an only child. We lived in a beautiful apartment in a predominantly Jewish, well-to-do area and I had a happy and comfortable childhood. My mother worked as a bookkeeper and my father was a director at an insurance company, so we were quite well off. Our family occasionally went to synagogue and we had many Jewish friends, but we also socialized with non-Jews.
My parents gave me Teddy when I was only three or four years old, and he quickly became my constant companion. However, everything changed in 1938 when the anti-Jewish laws became increasingly harsh. By 1943, my father was taken to a forced labor camp for Jewish men, leaving my mother to raise me on her own. We were fortunate enough to still be able to visit him and bring him food, but many others perished from the exhausting labor.
In June 1944, when I was seven years old, my mother and I were forced to move into a "yellow-star house," where some of our family already lived. These were designated apartment buildings for over 220,000 Jews living in Budapest. We were forced to wear yellow stars on our clothes, and a big yellow star was hung on the gate of our building. Sadly, my grandfather passed away during this time, but we were not allowed to go to the cemetery.
As the war progressed, my mother was taken to the Mauthausen concentration camp in Austria in October 1944. Along the way, she was forced to work on fortifications, which led to the deaths of thousands of people. I was taken in by my aunt, Iby, who lovingly cared for me. However, when stricter searches began, we were forced to move again, this time to the Budapest Ghetto.
The Budapest Ghetto was a deplorable place, with around 65,000 Jews crammed into 290 buildings, surrounded by a wall and guarded by Nazis. Our small flat was shared with over 20 people, there was a severe lack of sanitation, and I was constantly hungry. To make matters worse, there were dead bodies on the streets. I will never forget the day the Russian air force bombed our town, including the ghetto. We had to seek shelter in the cellar, and thankfully, we survived.
Throughout this miserable time, Teddy remained my constant source of strength. It felt like whenever my world was falling apart, he was always there to comfort me. As the Russian troops marched closer to liberate us, the Germans planned to detonate mines and kill everyone in the ghetto. Thankfully, we were rescued just in time on January 17, 1945. The feeling of relief is indescribable.
After the war ended, something truly miraculous happened – both my mother and father survived. My father had been liberated from the forced labor camp and, assuming my mother and I were dead, he moved to a city in Romania. There, he began a relationship with a local woman. However, my aunt somehow tracked him down and we were reunited, which was an incredibly emotional moment. We moved to a new city where I started school and finally began to feel settled. Then, to our surprise, my mother showed up on our doorstep one day. She had been liberated from Mauthausen by the Americans and had gone back to Budapest to find us.
Words cannot express the relief and joy we felt to be reunited as a family. Despite the unimaginable horrors we endured, I am grateful to be alive today, thanks to my brave aunt and the love and support of my family. My Teddy still holds a special place in my heart as a reminder of the strength and resilience I found within myself during those dark times.
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