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The Hungarian, My Life
by Baka Imre

Mr. Imre is a former long time Keys resident forced to live in Hungary. This is his story.*

1.[Dömsöd ]
The name of the village is Dömsöd it is only fifthly kilometers from Budapest, but it could be two hundred. It wouldn't make any difference.  A collection of peasant houses, all of them almost the same. Same color white wash, same lay out, facing the same way on the side of the road. Most of them constructed the same way too. Mud bricks and thatched roofs. It was a well-to-do farmer or a tradesman who had a tile roof on his house. The sharp spires of two churches dominate the skyline. The third church doesn't have a spire--the catholic church. All three are on the same street just about equal distance from each other. I don't think it was planned that way it just happened. Nothing was planned about Dömsöd, it's really two villages that kind of grew together, Dömsöd to the north and Dab to the south. That’s why there are two reformist churches, it makes you think that the catholic church was just an afterthought.

The people who live in Dab talk about the people in Dömsöd as if they were from a foreign country and visa versa. Many a fight has been fought between young men just because they tried to chat up a girl on the wrong end of the village. The two churches have large clock faces on the towers and huge bells in the belfry. I was told that during the revolution of 1948, the bells were melted down and made into canons (then they played a different tune). The bells are rung in all three churches every day at noon, or to call the villagers to services and mass. In times of danger, flood or fire the bells are rung by beating the clapper against the bell rapidly.

Rout 51 is the main road that runs thru the village, north to south. If you leave Budapest and head south on Rt. 51 you cant miss it. It has been there for ever, the first time I saw it was in the spring of 1948, it was old then. I was only five years old, my parents along with my kid brother moved here from Budapest. Dad had a house here, it was some house! Built of red fired bricks, it was four walls and a roof--a tile roof! It had gaping holes in the walls where the doors and windows should nave been. The unfinished building hummed from hundreds of pigeons nesting under the roof. Dad told me there was a grain mill nearby that was where the pigeons went to feed. They ate up all the spilled grain. I asked dad to take me to see the mill, I didn't even know what a mill was, but I wanted to see one. My mother walked me thru the unfinished building, pointing out where the kitchen, living room and bath would be. The house ended up never having a bathroom. Mom washed Steve and me in a large enameled pan called a Vájling.  There wasn't any running water either. We shared a well with a neighbor, a sweet rotund old woman that I got to know as Nanah. She was as wide as she was tall, had long snow white hair that she wore in a bun, and the kindest face you ever wanted to see. She could have been the wife of Santa Clause himself!
 

2.[Moving to DÖMSÖD!]
Dad was a mechanic by trade but didn't work at it since the end of the war. Instead he tried to start his own business. He found two or three abandoned shot-to-pieces and partially burned Skoda automobiles. He begged, borrowed, maybe even stole, to get the parts and patch them and get them into running condition. Finally he started his enterprise, and called it 'Gray Taxi'. It was grey because that's the only color paint he could get ahold of. If I remember correctly, it was the same shade of grey as the German military vehicles were, Wermacht grey. There wasn't many cars running around the streets of Budapest in those days, transportation was at a premium. From the start, dad and the other driver were working eighteen hour days, and they were raking in the money. The biggest problem was getting the fuel. Dad knew the Russians well, they were queer for wrist watches. Dad made sure that he always had two or three inexpensive models in his pocket. He wouldn't wear any on his arm because a Russian could demand it at gunpoint. He would walk up to the driver of a Ford or Chevy truck, show the driver the watch, and walk away with two five gallon cans of gasoline. He had to take the cans back, that was part of the deal.

The Gray Taxi finally caught the eye of the communist authorities. The ÁVÓ (acronym for state police made up from communist thugs) came calling. They asked dad for the papers for the cabs--he had none! The ÁVÓ confiscated the whole kit-an-caboodle. There were no banks, dad stashed his cash. A week later he borrowed an old motorcycle from somebody and went hunting for a truck. He took me along and I’v never forgotten my first motorcycle ride. Mom didn't know about it or she never would have let me go. She dressed me in a blue and white sailor outfit and by the time we got back I was a mess. If you're thinking how a three year old can remember all that, I don't. 

It has been told and retold in my presence so many times that I can't help but remember it. Dad remembered real well because mom just about chewed him a new ass for the way I looked and for taking me on the motorcycle.

(I started cussing from the time I could talk.  I was with dad a lot and the mechanics and drivers taught me. They thought it was cute. By the time dad tried to put a stop to it my cussing vocabulary would rival that of a sailor’s.)

Our trip was successful; dad bought a 2.5 ton Opel Blitz in runing condition--with papers. With cash in his pocket, he started going to villages, including Dömsöd, and towns buying produce. Chickens, ducks, geese, eggs, sides of beef,  pork, vegetables and fruit. Budapest was a hungry Hungarian city in 1947. He sold everything to the markets and made a good profit. The producers saved the cost of transport and passed that savings to dad. He was making money for us and was even thinking of buying another truck when the ÁVÓ showed up again.

It was June of 1947, soon after my little brother arrived. I wasn't too happy about him. He stole all the attention I used to get. While mom was pregnant with him, I asked her what was in there, she said, "It's your new little brother." I looked at her totally amazed and asked, "How did you swallow him?"

The ÁVÓ told dad, "Your operation has been nationalized along with all the other trucks in the city. You will be a part of a company called TEFÚ.  You will keep doing what you have been doing, but will have to keep records. At the end of the month you take your books and the money to the main office. You will get a salary and operating expenses." I wasn't there to hear, but dad told the ÁVÓ major, "You take the truck, your books, salary, and operating expenses and shove them up your ass!" Mom had to beg him to calm down. He was lucky that he wasn't arrested. The following few weeks were taken up with the task of moving to DÖMSÖD!
 

3.[The move to Dömsöd]
A friend of dad’s moved the last of our stuff to Dömsöd on his truck; he was inducted into the TEFÚ. On a bright and sunny spring day the whole family arrived in Dömsöd by bus. The houses had thatched roofs and the other interesting thing was that there were these columns sticking thru them spewing smoke. I was told they were chimneys. I was a city kid, I didn't know! On the top of some of the chimneys there were a jumble of sticks, branches and dry grass looking like unruly hair. These were the nest of storks and it wasn't long before I saw one. Long legged with a long red beak. And in black and white finery, they moved with the grace of a butler. These magnificent birds flew all the way to southern Africa in the fall. I didn't even know where Africa was and hadn't a clue that I'd be going there someday.

The family had to rent some rooms until our house was finished and I was introduced to the outside toilet (W.C., long drop, poop hole). It was frightening. Like I said before, I was a city kid and was used to the porcelain goddess. In our bathroom in Budapest we even had a bidet. But this was something else, sitting over a large gaping hole that I was afraid of falling into. The structure itself didn't look or feel too sound. The stink was overwhelming! I tried to hold my breath, but that was futile because I was forced to take another breath. I felt so sorry for my young lungs and wished that I didn't have such a healthy nose. If I would have been a hunting dog and forced to sit there I would have committed dog-icide.

Next to our house, that was slowly progressing, was a little peasant house at right angles to the road just like all the others. Two rooms only, the larger closest to the street and the smaller one in the back. Dad knocked out the window on the street side and put in a door. He made the place into a Kocsma, (pronounced Cochma) a place where one could get a drink of beer, wine, liquor, food and entertainment. On weekends there was a gypsy band providing music. The back room was the kitchen--mothers domain. Dad constructed an air compressor. It was the only one in the village and it was free for use by all. Soon buses, cars, and trucks were stopping to pump up the tires, have a drink and a bite to eat. Mom's specialty was Paprikás pork or tripe. Dad would put out the sign and there was a line at the door. Mom would hire Nanah to come and help. She would bring her grandson Pista to wash dishes.

One day a city type lady came in and asked mom if she had anything Light on the menu. An old farmer standing off to one side suggested to the lady that she should try to eat some feathers. The whole place roared with laughter!

West of the village is the dead branch of the river Danube. It is dead because it's closed off by locks from the main branch below Budapest.

The village is protected by an earthen dike from the spring floods when the Danube decides to step out of its banks. Dömsöd is home to 3500-4000 souls, this grows to 6000 from early spring until late summer. The big attraction is the Danube. Because of it's slow pace it is ideal for swimming, boating and fishing. The forested banks with poplar and willow are ideal for campers. I was seven and it was a year before I started school. The village was a safe place. Mom would let me go anywhere I wanted to; sometimes with friends and sometimes by myself. I liked to go to the mill and the blacksmith shop.

The mill was a wondrous place and very dangerous for a little kid. Mr. Rakszegi who was the owner and operator of this mill before the communists nationalized it, was a good friend of dad’s. Noticing my interest he showed me everything from the giant diesel engine that powered the mill to all the steps a kernel of wheat went through before it becomes flour. The mill was alive with a constant hum while a fine dust of flour that I could smell and taste hung in the air. In the engine house the huge diesel mounted on concrete labored away day and night. The flywheel was taller than a grown man. You could see right into this engine. It had steps that went up to a catwalk on top. The engineer with a long spouted oiling can would go up there and put extra oil on the parts that needed it. Sometimes he would let me go up there and “help” him. From up there I could see the camshaft as it opened the valves. On the way down I could see the huge connecting rods moving and the crankshaft. This wasn't just an engine, it was a happening!
 

4. [At the blacksmith shop]
I could watch for hours as the smithy worked the red hot iron and watched the sparks fly with each strike of his hammer. I can still hear the rhythm and the chime of the anvil. He shod horses too; and made fittings for wagons, repaired plows and all kinds of farm machinery. It made me very happy when he asked me to pump the bellows. He arranged the coal in the forge and heated the iron until it was white hot. With long handled tongs he put it on the anvil to be shaped. I tried to guess what he would create from that lump of hot iron. The only reason I went home was because I was hungry.

Nanah's grandson, Pista, who was five years older than I, had taken me fishing to the canal. We came home with a bucket full of catfish. Nanah w fried them up in a batter made from paprika and flour. They were sooo gooood!

September came and I started school. Many of the kids had to be dragged to school kicking and screaming. Not me. I saw the other kids as potential friends and playmates. A lot of neat things happened in 1951. I turned eight, dad bought a grey donkey named Olga and a little wagon for her to pull. Olga had a baby daughter, Buksy. She was brown and still nursing and oh, so cute. Mrs.

Meggyessy was my first grade teacher, a bit taller than the average woman and easy on the eyes with red hair worn fashionably. I was always talking in class. She would sneak up on me, grab my hair next to my ear and jerk upwards. That hurt like a sunofabitch. Or she’d call me up to her desk. Then she had me hold my hands out--palms up. She had this stick about twenty inches long, I think it was cherry wood. She would hit my palm with that stick as hard as she could. Aow, aow, agony, it felt like a red hot iron was laid in my palm. If you went up there for a palm spanking and pulled away you got two. Every time you pulled away the strikes doubled. It didn't take me long to hate her and I had her right on thru the fourth grade.

Mrs Meggyess’s husband became a prisoner on the Russian front the year I was born 1943 and the Russians didn't free him until 1954. He had a son a year younger than I. The first time he ever saw him was when he was ten years old. I don't know what Mr. Meggyessy did during the revolt of '56 but one night in 1957 the ÁVÓ took him away and he was never heard from or seen again.

Finally half of our house was finished and we could move in. there was one big room for the four of us. Then there was the kitchen with a pantry, the bathroom that didn't work, and the foyer. The big room was difficult to heat. We had a large iron stove. Everything was burned in that stove: wood, coal, walnut shells. Sunflower seed husk. Yes, dad bought several wagonloads from the mill. When the husks were burned, that stove sounded like a locomotive and got cherry red. You could not stand three feet from it, but in the far corner of the room you froze your ass off.  The insulation on this house was nonexistent; all winter long the water was frozen in the jug by morning. The one who awoke first had to start the fire.

Early in the spring of '52 we had a visit from the ÁVÓ, they wanted to nationalize the Kocsma. Dad said; "Not in this life!" Then and there he took down the sign and the next day he tore out the door and put back the window. That was the end of the Baka Kocsma. The communist didn't want anybody to have their own business. They wanted everyone to work for the party. They wanted to control everything and everybody.

To prevent the little house from getting confiscated (there was only one house allowed per family) dad wanted to move his parents down from Budapest. I could hardly wait for my grandparents to arrive. My cousins Joe and Susie would be coming with then. Joe was a big guy five years older than I was and Susie was just four years older and a very pretty girl. Dad with his parents and sister lived in Dömsöd before Gramps was sent to prison. Let me clue you in on that.

It was 1920, Gramps was a cabinetmaker, his son (my dad) was eight years old. When Gramps came home from the war Hungary was in turmoil. Marxists, Fascists, Anarchists had all tried to grab power. Dömsöd was a microcosm of all that. When neighbors started to kill each other grandfather ran to the post office to the only telephone in the village to call the authorities in Budapest. His misfortune was that at the time of his call the communists were in charge of the exchange and somebody wrote grandfathers name, date and time in the log. On this evidence he was convicted of helping the communists and was sentenced to seven years at hard labor. The man didn't even know what a communist was, he was an artisan. The communists had nothing to offer him. He received a terrible beating in prison; it injured his stomach wall so bad that he had to wear a special girdle for the rest of his life. His son was a teenager by the time he got out.

Dad was apprenticed to a master mechanic when he was fourteen years old. He wanted to stay in school and go on to high school; there was no chance for that. With his father in prison his mother had her hands full just to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads. There wasn't any welfare or help of any kind for single parent families. My granny sold the family home in Dömsöd and moved up to Budapest with her son and daughter. From there she could visit gramps in prison and take him some good food. She couldn't send him food because the guards would just steal it. She was doing house cleaning and taking in washing to keep going. After the Kocsma was closed dad was crushed. I could tell that he had a different attitude. How many times can a man be knocked down before he finds it hard to get up? The communists forced him to give up trying. He hated them for that!
 

5. If you're going to be dumb, you’ve got to be tough!

My grandparents and cousins moved into the little house. Gramps bought a piece of land in the “Island”. It wasn't really an island, but if you wanted to get there you had to cross canals or the Danube.

Dad got a job on the local bus as a driver. He made four runs to the train depot six miles east of the village. It was always an occasion when the bus arrived from the train station. My brother and I would always be at curbside to see who arrived and to greet our father. While people were slowly filing off I was looking at dad thru the opening by the hinge of the door. One time when everybody was off the bus I wanted to get dad's attention so I stuck my face into the opening and puckered my lips and tried to whistle. My signal was successful because dad looked my way; then for some unknown reason my little brother slammed the door. The pain was instant; my upper and lower lips were trapped in a slot that a dime wouldn't slide into. Those Rába bus doors fit tight! I couldn't even scream, my mouth was clamped shut. I was making some noises in my throat and I could taste blood in my mouth. It seemed an eternity before someone opened that door. When I was free of the bus my hands went right to my mouth, the blood was flowing freely. I was in a panic state and screaming like a banshee. Dad grabbed me up and ran with me toward the house as mom was coming out to see what all the screaming was about. When she saw me in dad's arms and my face a bloody mess she damn near fainted. She thought that I was hit by the bus. Dad explained what happened.

She got a towel and wrapped it around my face, sat me on the handlebar of her bicycle, and took me to Dr Székely to have my lips stitched. The doctor was a fat dude; it showed that he didn't mind spending on groceries. His clinic was at his house, he was a country doctor, he even made house calls. He got around in a Hintó pulled by two beautiful black horses driven by his brother. When mom told him what happened I was sat in his dentist chair where his nurse came and removed the towel and cleaned up my face. Then came Dr Székely, the huge sonofabitch sat on me! He straddled me in the chair, trapping my arms in the process. I could hardly breathe. I was thinking that if I didn’t bleed to death I would surly suffocate. Dr. Székely wasn't a believer in anesthetics or pain killers. His philosophy was, "If you gona be dumb, you gots to be tough". His nurse held me by the ears and forced my head into the head rest. Then the good doctor began to sew. He had a curved needle threaded with monofilament fishing line. I saw a needle like that at the mill; they used it to sew up flour sacks. The needle was being forced thru my lip, I could hear it, the pain was excruciating. Two stitches in the upper and two in the lower lips, a little disinfectant, two pieces of plaster and I was done. When I got out of the chair, to my surprise I could stand, it was the first time in ten minutes that I could get a full breath of air. Mom took me back home on the bike and when I looked in the mirror I was worried that from now on I'm going to look like a rabbit. My lips were sticking way out, my face was swollen, and I think the nurse stretched my ears.

Speaking or eating normally was impossible. I asked mom if I could stay home from school. I don't think she understood me, she just said, "You will make Mrs Meggyessy very happy." I don't see how I would do that? Since I couldn't eat a sandwich, she made me tomato soup and put it in a baby bottle. It was bad enough that I couldn't explain what happened, but at recess when everyone was having sandwiches and cupcakes, I pulled out the baby bottle and started sucking. Oh the laughter and the humiliation was unbearable. I could not fight; I was afraid of getting punched in the mouth and tear out the stitches. Five days I had to endure the abuse and the humiliation. By the third day I could talk and let it be known that when my stitches came out there be hell to pay!

The first order of business after my stitches were removed was to confront the sonofsbitch that was the ringleader of the harassment and I broke his nose. To this day his nose sits to one side. If you're going to be dumb, you’ve got to be tough!
 

6. Winter and Summer
I was very happy that Joe and Susie were here with us. Their mother, my aunt and Godmother, escaped to the west before the invading Russians and left her children with her parents. Dad was a father to them; they were his sister’s children. Gramps was making plans to plant fruit trees on the land and start bee keeping, he was sixty three years old.

I could hardly wait for summer vacation to start. I always had a great time around the village. We had a lot of snow around Christmas and in January. I harnessed Olga in the sled; and Steve and I would ride all over. When the Danube froze it was time to search for the skates, the kind that clamped on the shoes. We'd play hockey until the sun went down. We never had proper equipment so we made do with what we had or could make. Joe had proper hockey skates, his father sent it to him from Canada and he was envied by every kid in the village. My aunt sent me a pair of figure skates from West Germany, but dad removed the skates from the shoes and took them to Búcsi's uncle who was a cobbler. Had another layer of sole put on them and I wore those shoes to school. It damn near broke my heart to lose those skates Dad did it because there were no shoes available in Hungary.

It wasn’t long before summer vacation and it was time to kick off our shoes so Joe and I could go explore the island. Almost all the trees were in full foliage by now and there were plenty of them around the village. Along the river and the roads, poplar, acacia, willow, sour cherry, chestnut, boysenberry. Ah, boysenberry, what a wonderful tree! It was easy to climb, the best fishing poles could be cut from its branches, and Ys for catapults. By midsummer the berries were ripe. There were purple ones and white ones, and they were, oh, so sweet. Since it wasn't a marketable fruit nobody minded if you climbed their tree. Many of the trees were along the streets. Some people collected the berries and made a strong drink called Pálinka. Most of the berries were shook down and the ducks and pigs ate it.

There were lots of animals in the village, other than dogs and cats. Since the populace was mostly farmers, there was a large selection of live stock. There was an abundance of fowl and rabbits. Most of the pork and beef consumed was locally raised. There were the draft animals, horses and oxen, a few donkeys were used also. The village had herdsmen and from early spring until late fall they would drive the live stock to the common pasture. The pig herder started the earliest, he would blow on his trumpet and the pigs were turned out into the street. Not to the amusement of the vehicles trying to negotiate the highway, but like it or not, they were stuck axle deep in pigs until the herd turned off toward the pasture. With the cows it was just the same, only a larger obstacle. The Puli dogs of the herdsmen made it all possible; they managed to keep the animals together and moving. The most amazing thing was in the evening when the herds were on the way home. The owners open the gates as the herd approached and the animals finding their own home go right in the barn or pen. I always wondered how they knew where they lived.

Gramps got the fruit trees and Joe and I was employed to dig the holes, haul the fertilizer, and water them. The water came from the canal that gently flowed at the eastern end of the would-be orchard. The canal had fish in it too. After the work was done the canal looked inviting and Joe and I would jump in and wash off the sweat and dirt. It was a little chilly but it felt wonderful.

When the fruits were starting to get ripe, my friends and I visit the local cantaloupe and watermelon patches. The owners sometimes chase us with a coach whip, but no one ever got caught or hit. Close to our cabin was an orchard that belonged to a man named Varga Gergő, in his orchard was a big beautiful cherry tree. This tree had the biggest, crunchiest, and best tasting cherries in the world. The soil under that tree was sandy, old Gergő would rake the ground under that tree so he could tell at a glance if someone have been stealing his cherries. One day three of my friends showed up, I asked them if they would like to eat some cherries, they said that they would. Gergő's cherries were the closest

The four of us were munching cherries up in the tree, spiting the pits at each other just having a good time. When a voice from below put an end to our merriment;" You boys get down from that tree! What are you doing up there?" Like he didn't know, he was pissed! One of the boys yelled down;” Were just trying to cut a fishing pole!" Old Gergő wasn't having none of that. "You li'l bastards come down this instant!" I yelled down, "Naw, I got a better idea, why don't you come up?" "Hey I know you, you're that Baka bastard, I'm going to tell your father. Now I'm going to get the Agro guard!" He never did, and we had fun! Toward the end of the summer dad told me that Mr. X or Mr. Y came to see him and complained about us stealing fruit, he just asked them, how much fruit did we eat and paid what they asked.

The summer ended, the cabin was closed up, and animals, bees, and everyone moved back to the village. I had to put on shoes. The first day of school and I was in trouble, one of my little friends ran off with the mouth about the fiery snake, and his parents wrote a note to the teacher.

Mrs. Meggyessy asked me about the burning snake but I played the big dummy and denied everything. She went to see my dad, and with the threat of severe bodily harm I had to give up my treasures. I don't know what happened to them. I think dad buried everything in the trash pit.

It was in the third week of school, I was in our yard trying to rig an antenna for my crystal radio, when I heard a loud explosion. I looked in that direction and saw a puff of black smoke. It was a quarter of a mile south of our house along the main road. Wondered what the hell that could have been? I haven't finished with the antenna when I heard the siren of an ambulance, it stopped close to Attila’s house who was my classmate.

I ran there as fast as I could, Gramps came along too but he couldn't keep up. When I got there an older boy said to me, "Your brother and Attila blew themselves up, they are in the ambulance already!" I tried to look thru the opaque glass of the ambulance, but couldn't see a thing. Gramps got there and talked to one of the ambulance crew. They let him in the ambulance, and thru the partially open door I saw my little brother on the stretcher and he was moving!
 

Forty years later Attila told me what really happened. He and Steve were playing in Attila’s yard. The mortar bomb laid under the corn crib for years when on this day Attila decided it would be fun to blow it up. A mortar bomb arms itself when it is fired from the tube, and it didn't blow up on impact. I know it was a mortar bomb from Attila’s description. It was either a Russian eighty-two or a German eighty millimeter. It had to be at least that size to reduce a three foot high steel reinforced concrete post to dust. Thank God that it only went off when Attila threw it.  A shard tore away part of his left calf, a piece went thru his right hand, and another piece cut him at the end of his right eyebrow. A golden horseshoe must have been up Attila’s ass that day. Little brother’s guardian angel worked overtime too, he only received a piece of shrapnel a size of a green pea on the inside of his left leg. It was deep, but it only hit soft tissue and the doctors were reluctant to dig after it so they left it in him. He still carries it, lives near Orlando, Florida and lost in Viet Nam. After that fiasco everybody in the village referred to Attila and Steve as the Explosive Experts.
 

This cemetery is at the south end of the village and it1s like the cemeteries you've seen in horror movies! Weeping willows with low hanging branches, creepers climbing ancient wooden grave markers, giant spider webs, owls hooting, and that heavy smell of flowers that only a cemetery or a funeral parlor have. It was enough to get an eight or nine year olds imagination soar! The game was simple, but fun. Just had to walk alone from the south gate of the cemetery to the north gate without braking into a run. The game started when it was almost dark, from then on it just got better. No one could do it, neither could I. Just before I started running, I could feel cold fingers closing around my throat.

I hated to go to school more and more every day, we were forced to learn the Russian language, I hated it. The old, badly lit, drab class rooms, with the pictures of comrade Stalin and that Hungarian asshole traitor Rákosy everywhere. When I started school two years ago my dad told me in the most serious manner not to repeat anything in school that I heard at home. He explained that we were living under the heel of a communist dictator. He told me to remember well if I don't want to be raised as a ward of the state. I knew that something was not right. Mom had to get a permit to slaughter our own hog. Then had to give half of it to the state. Others with cows had to turn in half the milk. The commies were ripping off everybody!
 

12. Violin Lessons
The storks and swallows have flown south, winter was on it's way. Dad came home with a violin case under his arm. After dinner I asked him; "Hey dad, who's the violin for?" "It's for you son! You will learn to play the violin!" "But dad, I don't like the violin, I would like to play the guitar!"  "Son we don't have a guitar, we have a violin. So you will learn to play the violin. Besides once you know how to play the violin, you can play anything." That was explained plain enough, I guess I will learn to play the violin! It was late in the fall, all the leaves were down and the harvest was over.

Gramps got hold of Joe and I, he needed a little assistance. Olga was harnessed to the wagon and a lot of old newspapers and some balls of string were loaded. We had a leisurely ride to the orchard. Gramps explained that we will have to wrap the trunks of the young trees with newspapers to protect them from the deer and rabbits. I told Gramps, "The rabbit will make quick work of the newspaper, and then lunch is served." "Not so." said Gramps "The rabbit presses his nose to the paper, the paper crackles, the rabbit runs away, it's that simple." "Rabbits sure are stupid!"

Mom told me that my violin teacher will be Nagy Judith and my first lesson will be the following Saturday. It was not something I looked forward to. It rained off and on for the next couple of days, mud puddles were everywhere. Then it was Saturday. My lesson was from eleven to twelve so I wanted to leave by ten thirty because there was about a mile to walk. I looked like a sissy in the clothes mom made me wear, and I hoped that I would not meet anyone I knew. I made it to Judith's house without being spotted--that was lucky. She lived in the center if the village with her parents and her sister, it was a big house. Judith's parents were landowners, but all of it was confiscated by the “workers’ paradise”.

She answered the door and ushered me in. She was a very likable young woman. She asked me to tell her about myself. There wasn't much to tell, but I did anyway. The room was in half light and I noticed a huge horn hanging on the wall on a yellow silk rope. I knew it was the horn of a Hungarian grey steer, but it was unusually large, at least five feet in length. I asked Judith if I could blow it. She said, "Maybe after the lesson!"

So it began, she showed me how to hold the violin and the bow. She said that the stance was important, and the way my hand curled around the neck of the instrument, and the placement of my fingers on the strings. I dragged the bow across the strings, it sounded awful. I had encounters with cats that sounded better. I was extremely uncomfortable, and my underwear was creeping into the crack of my butt. Then it was over. I asked if I could now blow the horn, but she said, "Not now, my mother is still sleeping, maybe next time." I would have thought that the violin woke her up by now. On the way out I noticed a large oil painting in the foyer, it was very interesting. A beautiful lady in a long black velvet dress with gold trim was fleeing down a stone corridor. Panic was on her face and a flaming torch in her hand. Behind her were a half dozen men dressed like Turks with curved naked swords in their hands. I asked Judith What is the painting was about? and she answered, "The girl is Zirinyi Ilona the sister of Zirinyi Miklos the defender the fortress of Szigetvár. The fortress has fallen and she is on the way to blow up the powder magazine and all the Turks!" I was impressed, I learned about Szigetvár in school but not this part.
 

Winter arrived with a vengeance and smothered us with lots of snow. There was no such thing as “snow days” school was on regardless. I remember going to school on skis. There were no school buses and some kids come from far away. I remember three kids from one family, two boys and a girl. When there was much snow or ice they come to school alternately. There was only one pair of boots between the three of them. Sometimes the oldest one brought the youngest on his back and toke him home the same way.
 

I will tell her it was for a good cause, cause I needed it, he, he, he. Oh, it turned out to be a beautiful csúzli, even if I do say so myself, and powerful too. In less then a week cats gave our yard a wide berth. They must have talked among themselves, "Hey pal, don't go that way! That crazy Baka kid will shoot you're ass. He shot me two days ago I haven't been able to catch a mice since!"

I gave a pair of the rubbers to my good friend Búcsi, we’ve been friends since the first grade. I showed him the one I made. A couple days later I noticed that the tongue from one of his shoes was missing. His mama will have a fit too! The projectiles were found on the beach of the Danube. We had to choose gravels that were round as possible. We filled our pockets, and from that day we always had some gravel in our pockets. We’d never take the Csúzli to school because Mrs. Meggyessy liked nothing better than to confiscate them.

Búcsi and I were on the way to Bődi's house and were confronted with the four guys that beat me up. The one that I exercised my revenge on kind of hung back, but he joined the chase when Búcsi and I started running. We were going as fast as we could, but they were gaining on us. One or more was yelling, "There's no one to save your ass this time!" My csúzli was in my hand and I was digging in my pocket for gravel, Búcsi was doing the same thing. We ducked around the corner of a plank fence and opened fire. Both of us shot as fast as we could. The chase came to a halt. Our pursuers were feeling the gravels, “Yaay, Áow, Ouch.” They were only five to ten yards away when we opened up on them, they were easy targets, a lot easier than the cats I practiced on. Now it was our turn to chase them. Before the day was over we would have to fill up on gravel.

A few days later Búcsi and I went to a movie. It was a Russian war flick. The Nazi hordes were purged from Mother Russia. It was dark by the time the Ivans were celebrating their victory. The street lights were burning all along the road. These were not the high tech light of today, no, no. These were just bare bulbs on the end of a metal pipe that was attached to wooden telephone poles, an enameled cover protected the bulb from the rain. We were half a block from the movies when I let one fly at one of the lights, CLANG! I hit the cover, and I hardly aimed. I aimed and shot, PUCK, the bulb went out! That was fun, Búcsi on the left and I on the right shot out every single light all the way to Dab! When we looked back toward the village center it was dark as grape jelly.
 

This Decsóv principal was a sadist; he beat kids mercilessly all the time. Dad told me he was a mad dog communist too. I was scarred shitless! Búcsi started to whimper; he knew about Decsóv and knew that we were in for a serious beating. Mrs. Meggyessy wrote on a piece of paper, sealed it in an envelope and gave it to me with the instruction that I'm to give it to principal Decsóv. I saw the name on the envelope and my hand was shaking when I got hold of it. We got our coats and hats and started walking to the Hajós Kastély, it wasn't a long walk a little more than a  mile. At one time it was the estate of a rich landowner family that escaped to the west before the end of the war. That way they only lost their lands and estate. The communists confiscated everything and made the country house into a school. It was a very impressive building for it's time. They didn't have wax for the hard wood parquet floors, so some socialist idiot had it smeared with used motor oil. There were several buildings in the village that were used as schools, but Hajós Kastély was the most impressive, that's why Decsóv had his office there. Búcsi stopped sniveling; I felt for him. I was trying to figure out what to do at this stage. If I threw away the envelope and went home that would just postpone everything until a later date. We will just have to face the music. Plans were forming in my head. If he starts beating me I will stab him in the eye with my fountain pen; it was a Pelican brand and real strong. If he hurts me badly dad will beat the shit out of this Dachian (Rumania) bastard. When we arrived we went into his ante room and I knocked on his door. The door opened and there he was and my butt cheeks squeezed together when I handed him the envelope. He took it and said, "I will be with you in a minute" and closed the door. I wanted to say, “Make it three, five, or an hour.” I wanted to ask Búcsi how he felt, but I knew that already. The door opened again and he ordered us into his office. We stood in front of his desk with downcast eyes. I glanced around the room to see if I could spot some beating utensils, there wasn't any that I could see. He will probably use his belt. He screamed at us, "You little bastards the Party sends you to school for free and this is the way you repay the generosity of our great leader Rákosy Mátyás?"

I knew that what he just said was a lie because every year my father had to buy my books. Fuck Rákosy that traitor Russian puppet. "By destroying the peoples property. I’ve had it with you two. You think we don't know about the dangerous explosives you play around with, the stealing, and the hooliganism? This is the last straw. I'm sending both of you to reform school." Búcsi started crying, I hated this man and I'm not going to give him the satisfaction to see me cry if I can help it. I didn't know how much longer I can hang tough. He told Búcsi to wait outside and I thought that now the beating will start, but it didn't. He asked me, "Have you got a pen?" "Yes" I squawked and held up my pen, I had it in my hand all the time like a dagger. "Pull up a chair and have a seat, you will write a farewell letter to your parents." This dachian sunafabitch will have me gone before mom and dad get home. Panic was taking me over. He put a sheet of lined paper in front of me and said, "I will tell you what to write. Begin now: Dear mom and dad, I damaged the property of the Peoples Socialist Democratic State and this is a crime that I must be punished for..." All of a sudden the dam that was holding back the tears burst and flowed freely, not a sound left my throat, but I couldn't control my tears. "I will not be seeing you for a very long time....." the paper was getting soaked, the tears fell on the writing and the ink ran, my letters were growing hairs, "Principal Decsóv is sending me to reform school. Good bye, your loving son!"
 

I was waiting to be knocked on my ass, but he just sat there and started talking to me. The last thing I remember that he said to me was, "If I ever see you with another..." I sent him away and tuned him out. I didn't hear one more word. I was looking right at him; he was real small, like if he was a mile away, yet if I would reach out I could touch him. But then the magic would be over. I could do this to mom or anyone, and one day in my teens I couldn't do it anymore.

Mom was ranting and still wanted to punish me after dad’s talk, but he would not let her. I think he was glad that I destroyed something of the communist infrastructure. We never heard any more about the lights or reform school. Decsóv sure put a scare into me, for that I just hated him more. He did the same with Búcsi. By the time he finished with him, classes were over and he told him to go home. Búcsi's dad confiscated my friend’s csúzli and destroyed his too, plus he got slapped around.
 

22 Shit Hole
"Take off them dirty clothes before you stink up the whole place!" That smell is etched in my memory for ever. If sheep or mutton is even mentioned around me, I still smell and taste the experience. Slowly but surely spring was arriving, the storks and swallows were returning after their winter absence. All over the village there were nesting pairs on chimney top nests. On the way to school I found violets at the base of a tree.

When I arrived at school, close to the boy’s and girl’s toilet, about twenty feet away there was a huge pit. Eight by ten feet by my estimate and four feet deep. Eszti Néni (Aunt Ester) was just squaring up the corners. She wasn't anyone’s aunt as far as I knew. She was a middle-aged woman who cleaned outhouses in the village. She wore men's clothes and you never wanted to be down wind from her. Have you ever been close to a house where a septic tank was pumped? She stank worse than that. She wasn’t kind to the eyes either, in fact she was down right ugly, had a hair lip too! She even talked funny. I thought it was because she tried to keep her nostrils closed. She had a long pole with a German helmet attached to one end that she would dip the crap from the outhouse into two large buckets. The buckets were emptied into the pit then she’d cover up the pit with dirt and marked it so that no digging would  be done there for a year. Yeah, Aunt Ester was our honey dipper. As soon as she’s finish she’d throw down her shovel and be off to the nearest Kocsma to get a stiff drink. The Saturday previous we saw a nature film about trapping animals in the wild. I talked to some of the boys and told them, "Let's throw the girls in the pit!"

My idea was received with enthusiasm. In twos or threes guys would catch a girl and threw her in the pit. Some of them landed on their feet while others climbed right out and wanted us to chase them again. All of us were having fun when the bell rang and the fun was over. I talked with the boys in class, lucky for me that Mrs. Meggyessy didn't spot me. Everyone agreed that the “animal” trapping would continue at the ten o'clock recess. At ten we poured out of the classroom with my buddies and me in the lead. Aunt Ester wasn't around and we thought that she was still at the Kocsma. That’s when I spoted Gyönösy Ibolya, and yelled at the boys to get her. She was screaming and tried to bite and kick us. I remembered that she ratted out Búcsi and me when we shot out the streetlights. I yelled, "Into the pit with her!" and they let her fly. SPLAT! SPLASH! Awful screaming followed. I looked into the pit and to my horror there was Ibolya on her back a foot deep in shit. Unbeknownst to me Aunt Ester had been filling the pit with shit for the past hour before deciding to go back to the Kocsma

 

The girls were not too eager to help Ibolya out of the pit as she stood up and was covered with shit. She stunk just like Aunt Ester now. With all the screaming Mrs. Meggyessy arrived on the scene and helped Ibolya out of the pit and got shit all over her hands and dress. She picked two girls to escort Ibolya home. She told us to just wait and that she’d be right back. She went home to get cleaned up too, and to change. Her apartment was at the end of the building. We had a long recess. As soon as she got back she ordered us into the classroom. I could tell she was not amused. It was so quiet that the ticking if the clock seemed loud. She picked up her stick, lightly struck her palm and asked the question, "Who's idea was it to throw the girls into the pit?” The girls answered in a chorus, "BAKA'S!" Oh, oh, I'm in deep shit now. I protested, "I didn't know there was anything in the hole ma’am. I thought it was still empty." "You come up here right now!" She was looking at me like a judge looks at a criminal before passing sentence. With her stick she motioned for me to get moving. If I knew what was going to happen next I would have ran out the door. She had two bigger guys come up front too. Both of them took part in the girl catching. She pulled the chair from her desk; it was a high backed chair with a gap between the seat and the backrest. She told me to kneel down and to stick my head in the gap. She told the two boys to hold my arms and not to let go. I snarled at them with clenched teeth, "You muthafuckers will be sorry for this!" I heard the stick whistle thru the air and when it landed on the cheeks of my butt the pain went straight to my brain and took my breath away. I wanted to scream but no sound came out. The second stroke hit and the pain was excruciating. I heard myself screaming at the two sunafabitches to turn me loose, but they held me fast. The third stroke felt as if it hit bone. I was screaming, snot, tears, and saliva was running down my face and chin. At the fourth stroke my bladder turned loose and I pissed myself. The fifth stroke I didn't even feel, my brain and butt were numb with pain telling me that it couldn't possibly hurt anymore. My ass felt like I’d been sitting on a red hot stove. When I was turned loose I went at the two bastards. They ran out of the classroom.  I was in a fog of anger, pain, and humiliation. I heard my name called from far away; it was Mrs. Meggessy calling me back.

I was more than halfway across the classroom. If in that moment I could have gotten hold of a sharp instrument I would have run her thru, repeatedly. Just then the fog lifted and she ordered me, "Come here!" I was surprised at the deathly quiet as I walked toward her nursing my butt with both hands. My cheeks ached and throbbed, spittle was still dripping from my chin and my crotch was soaked. I wished I could have grown three feet in a blink of an eye. I would’ve dragged Mrs. Meggessy out in the yard and throw her in the shit pit. I was standing an arms length from her when she looked down at me and said, "Go home and change your clothes. I looked up at her and I wanted her to see how much I hated her. I didn't care if she hit me. I told her, "When I grow up I will come back and find you and I’m going to beat the shit out of you!" She laughed at me, but no one else laughed. I could hear her laughter all the way home. Nanah was beside herself when I told her what happened. She soaked a cloth with vinegar, I removed my soaked pants, laid on my bed and Nanah spread the cloth on my butt. It was soothing, and it stopped the throbbing. One of my friends brought my backpack home and I heard him asking Nanah how I was. I didn't go to school the next day or the day after that. It was impossible to sit. I didn’t' dare complain to my parents because I heard them sanction this when I started first grade.
 

Another boy on shore was waiting with a sack and you throw him the fish. Everyone would take a turn in the water. The peaks of excitement were when an angolna (eel) got in the basket. At those times baskets were abandoned amidst much cussing and screaming. The basketeer thinking it was a snake because we hadn't a clue that there were no poisonous snakes in that part of the country. On one occasion when cousin Joe was with us, I was left at a bridge with a stout pole to beat the water. The boys were coming toward me. Where I was standing it was smooth concrete steeply inclined. I should have taken off my sandals because while beating the water I started sliding. While trying to find some footing I let go of the pole, the end of which slipped into the right leg of my shorts. When it could go no further, my weight started to push the pole into the muddy bottom of the canal. I thought that I was going to get a dunking for sure, but everything came to a halt when I was hanging upside down about a foot above the water. My frantic yelling got the attention of the boys. Joe came charging over and took me down. Jakos Zsiga was the best angler that I knew. He was seven years older than me, but was small for his age; my cousin Joe looked like a giant next to him. Zsiga’s dad was my dad's conductor when he was driving the bus to the train station. To this guy fishing was everything. Almost all the money he earned went for hooks and fishing line, everything else he made himself. He was the one who taught me how to fish. The first time he took me to his house I could hardly believe it. The four of them lived in a tiny cabin not much bigger than ours at the orchard, but this one had a loft. Zsiga lived up there year round. It must have been real cold during the winter. The previous summer Zsiga was the talk of the village because while fishing on the Danube he hooked and landed an eighty-eight pound channel catfish. These suckers eat ducks! He only outweighed the fish by four pounds. He accomplished this feat from a Ladik using a hand line. The fish pulled him around for a couple of hours before it was tired enough to be pulled into the boat. When he fished from the shore he could never cast his line in far enough so he swam his baited line far out. Zsiga is a nice old man now and lives very close to the Danube. A few years ago he suffered a massive stroke that partially crippled him and turned his hair snow white. I visit my fishing friend from time to time and we talk about the times of our youth.
 

The past September I was ten years old. I could hardly wait for summer vacation to start when I’d move to the cabin at the orchard. For now is was just school and the band as usual. Ever since we had to do a book report on the Egri Csillagok (The Stars of  Eger) all of us were taken with the story and we used it in our play. Eger was a fortress in northeastern Hungary that was taken under siege by the Turks. The defenders were greatly out numbered, but thru their ingenuity and heroism held out all thru the summer. With the arrival of the cold weather the dejected and humiliated Turks gave up and went away. Naturally there were sword fights with sticks daily at school and as the boys got carried away there were casualties--lumps, bruises, a slashed face, a broken finger. Finally Mrs. Meggyessy had to put a stop to it. The sword fighting barely faded when another popular book at the time started the Indian fad. 'Irokézek Fia' (Son of the Iroquois) made for exciting play. 

The story was about an English boy named George, ten years of age. It takes place during the time of the French-Indian wars. English General Braddock is trying to build a wagon road from Virginia to Pittsburg Landing, George Washington is the surveyor. The boy is captured by the Indians in an ambush and taken far to the north. He is adopted by an Iroquois family and has the time of his life. He goes on a trek with his Indian family to a great big lake to make salt. When there is a chance for a rescue, he escapes back to his Iroquois friends. Places that are present today are mentioned, Warrenton, Virginia was just a tiny settlement so is Front Royal which was on the edge of the frontier at the time. Since it was getting warm, most of us were half naked after school. I borrowed mom’s lipstick and put on war paint, on my friends too. We had to use petroleum to get it off. Guys made bows and arrows and it was getting pretty dangerous. It was a miracle that nobody lost an eye. Many years later I would visit all the places mentioned in that book
 

I looked around real good to see if any one was around and to note any reference points so I could find my bomb again. I couldn't see a soul and I hurried off to get the smoker. On my way back to Gramps I found it again with no problem, but just to make sure I got a stick and stuck it in the ground next to it. The farmers plow unearthed this thing, if it didn't explode from the collision with the plow, it must be pretty dormant. I must figure out how to wake it up. These things were dropped out of B-17 and B-24 bombers on Hungary in 1944 and 1945. Fifthly or a hundred of these things were packed into cylinder-shaped containers. The planes dropped them from a great altitude, but the containers only opened one thousand feet above the ground releasing the deadly seeds to insured a thorough saturation, The seeds had winglets that induced a spin like a maple seedpod, this spin armed the mine to explode on impact. The bomb I found was missing its winglets. They had probably rusted away because it had been nine years since the end of the war. I have seen the larger deployment cylinders all over the village being used as feeding troughs for live stock. This bomb was a dud for sure, but I would blow it up. All the way home I was trying to figure out a way to transport this monster without blowing myself to smithereens. I couldn't blow it up where it was, it had to be moved!

At home I checked my kite string; it proved to be too weak for my purpose. The next day at school I told Búcsi what I found, and asked him if he had anything stronger than kite string. He said that he had a roll of packing twine that is used to tie grain sacks shut and other securing jobs. A ball of it was at least a hundred yards or longer. I asked him if he could get it. "Sure I can. What do you want to do?" "After school we'll go to your house, get the twine and I will show you what I want to do."

When we got back to the field the bomb was laying just as I left it and that stick I stuck next to in made it easy to find. Luckily there wasn't anyone around. Búcsi knelt down close to the bomb and looked at it with amazement, "What do you want to do to with it?" "What do you think? blow it up, of course." "Hey, don't you remember what happened to your brother and Attila?" "Sure I do, but I am not going to throw this thing, I'm not even going to touch it." "Then how are you going to move it, smart ass? I know you ain't no magician!" "That's what the twine is for. We will not be near it when it blows up, but we will hear and see the fireworks!" "How are we going to do that?" My friend was getting interested so then I pointed, "Over that way, just outside of the dike there is a cut corn field a half a mile from here, maybe a little more. The cornstalks have been stacked. We have to get this there without blowing it up. Give me that twine."

I unwound about ten feet and tied a large loop on the end and made a clove hitch from the loop. I then carefully slipped the clove hitch over the bomb. There was a delicious tingling of fear in my stomach. I had to put my hand on the bomb when I tightened the clove hitch. Now the bomb was secured to the end of the twine. I had no idea what the killing radius of this bomb was, but I figured that the farther away the safer we were. So I told Búcsi, "Take the ball of twine and slowly unwind it, but don't pull on it. Go that way!" I pointed in the direction of the cornfield. When he was thirty yards away I yelled for him to stop. I joined him and he handed me the ball of twine. I held the ball in my left hand, wrapped the twine around my right hand a few turns and took up the slack. This twine was strong but it stretched a lot. I pulled and pulled. I took a few steps backwards and pulled some more. The twine was tight as a banjo string when all of a sudden I saw the bomb leap into the air flying toward us! We got moving real quick, but the bomb only bounced toward us fifteen or sixteen feet before it came to rest. It must have been stuck to the ground. Now that it was free, it was mine. I got the twine off my hand and unwound some more from the ball and started to pull. The bomb came sliding along like some pull toy. I told Búcsi if he sees a flash to drop without hesitation even if he has to drop into a cow pie. We crossed a piece of pasture and the bomb came along like a puppy. "Hey buddy, do you have any matches?" "What the hell for?" "To start a fire!" "Why would I want to start a fire, Imre?" "To blow up the bomb!" "This is getting more complicated by the minute!" "This is a lot better than sitting at home doing homework. This you will never forget if you live to be a hundred!"

As we walked toward the corn field the stacks came into view, I was hoping that the bomb wouldn't hang up on something. If it does either Búcsi or I will have to go back and free it. The next thing we must do is to place the bomb into a cornstalk stack closest to the dike. "Búcsi, go into that stack and wiggle thru to the other side. Take the twine with you. Do you have your knife?" "Sure, I have it right here. What will I need my knife for?" "Once you are out of the stack and the bomb is positioned you cut the twine. No point of leaving it here. I will tell you when. OK, get going, but keep an eye on me and stop when I signal you too." We had been very fortunate that nobody came by or even came close. Búcsi climbed into the stack and came out the other side. The bomb almost followed his footsteps into the stack. When the bomb was totally buried, I motioned for Búcsi to stop and cut the twine. He started to roll up the twine, "Stop, Stop, just cut it!" I yelled. No point in going closer to that thing than we had to. I guess he didn't want to waste any twine.


He came walking back, "Now what?" "Since neither of us have any matches, we have to go to my house or Nanah's to get some. By the time we get back it should be dark enough!" As soon as we walked in the door Nanah asked, "What are you two birds up to now?" 
 

27 Bombs Away
"Were not up to anything Nanah, can we have a box of matches?" "Matches! What do you need matches for; whose house are you going to burn down?" "We just want to make a little fire, Nanah, to sit around after dark." That was the truth, we would not sit too close to the fire though. "Here you are. Just be careful with the fire." "Thanks, Nanah." If the old lady only knew. Well, I’d rather not think about that. I wasn't about to tell her what we were about to set alight so we beat feet from there in a hurry. Everything was the same as we left it and there wasn't anybody around. The closest building was a stable and that was three hundred yards distant and on the village side of the dike.

"Búcsi was beginning to have doubts about the soundness of my plan, "Imre, if you set a corn stack on fire half the village will be here in less than a minute to see what the hell is burning." "Búcsi, you're crazy. The gypsies always set these things on fire for one reason or another. How many times have you or your old man ran to see what was burning?" "Well, never!" "You see, that's my point." "I just can't help worrying Imre. If get pinched this time, Decsov will send us to reform school for sure." "That’s why this must stay just between us; don't brag to nobody, but NOBODY about it. We have been very lucky so far. Isn't it exciting?" "Yes, but...?" "You just lay here as flat as you can.  I will run down and set the stack alight when the sun goes down behind the trees." We sat in silence and I wondered how big the explosion will be. These stacks were about six feet across so it should make a right decent fire.

When the sun touched the crown of the trees to the west I looked around real good and crawled to the other side of the dike and slid down the slope. There were only birds flying around the trees trying to find a perch for the night. I ran over to the stack and knelt down. I looked in the stack and the bomb laid there like a big rusty egg. “I'm going to fry you now”. I was very excited about the explosion. I stuck a match and threw it in where it fell on a bare patch of ground and went out. I stuck another. That fell close to some dry husk but went out too. I laid on my side and slid half way into the stack --the bomb was only a foot from my face. If the bomb went off right now they might find my shoes. I had that pleasant tickling feeling of fear in my stomach again. I was afraid but it was that sweet kind of fear that I had before a fight and was confident in my victory. I struck a final match and started to light the dry husks and leaves above me. When it looked like the fire would feed itself I got the hell out of there and crawled up the dike where Búcsi was eagerly waiting. He greeted me with, "It's burning, it's burning!" I looked back and flames were leaping from the top of the stack and there was lots of smoke too. There was a dead calm and the heat of the fire carried the smoke straight up along with burning cinders.

The flames cast a huge circle of light, but we were far outside of that glow. Just then I heard a rhythmic metallic sound, clank...clank…clank... A man on a bicycle! He was pedaling right toward us on top of the dike and his pedal was hitting the chain guard. I talked thru my teeth when I told Búcsi, "Don't look up, keep your face down, he won't see us!" It took forever for the uninvited biker to pedal past us. We were laying two feet from his tire tracks and he never looked down-- he was looking at the fire. He damn near disappeared in the dusk when he stopped and again was admiring our fire. I wished he'd move on! There was a flare of light and I saw his face for an instant. He lit a cigarette and pedaled on. I didn't know him. The stack collapsed into a glowing pile of ambers sending a shower of sparks skyward. I thought SHÍÍÍÍT my bomb was the dud of duds” “Come on bud.....FLASH......CRAAASH… BOOOM!” We could feel the air pressure on our face. The sky was full of glowing ambers. The rest was blown in a huge circle, larger than the circle of fire light was.

I looked at Búcsi and I knew that both of us wanted to cheer. Cheering was out, so we just hugged. Now we had to get the hell out of there as unseen as we arrived. The worst thing of all was that we’d have to keep it all to ourselves. At least I got to share the adventure with a friend and all of us were safe, except some earthworms. We went home in a roundabout way. We didn't want to be seen near the dike.  The next day at school some of my classmates were asking if I heard the big explosion, that the gypsies were setting fires again in the fields. Both of us responded with "We didn't hear nothing, we didn't see nothing, we were sitting around our own fire." It was easy being ignorant. For days the talk went on in the village about the fire and explosion outside the dike. Even the police visited the scene and found nothing. Their conclusion was that the gypsy’s fire set off some hidden ordinance underground. Bless their communist hearts!

This week Búcsi's little brother Gyúri (George) burned their house down. Nothing was left, just the four walls. We were sitting in school and heard the church bell signaling fire. The village firefighting equipment consisted of a hand pump drawn by horses. The horses had to be commandeered from a wagon passing by the shed where the pump was kept. If no horses were available, then it had to be pulled by men. The water tank of the pump held three hundred gallons and this it had to be topped-off by hand. The Búcsi house had a thatched roof and within minutes it was an inferno. The fire brigade didn't have a snowball’s chance in hell. The second time the pump was topped off, the Búcsi well went dry. The bucket brigade had to haul the water from twice as far. The story goes that little Gyuri was hungry and decided to fry some eggs. He got some eggs from the hen house and matches and a pan from the kitchen. He didn't want to be seen so he went up to the Padlás (attic) made a fire up there, but made the fire too big and the thatch caught fire from the inside. He knew he made a big boo boo, got scarred ran down and hid in the yard. A neighbor came over and told Mrs. Búcsi, who was cooking-away in the kitchen, to get the hell out because her house was on fire. The lookout in the church steeple saw the smoke and signaled with the bell. When my friend got home, he had no roof to sleep under, or bed, or clothes, or toys. Just a smoking ruin waited for him. The fire consumed everything. Mom went and talked with Mrs. Búcsi and when she came home she picked out some of her dresses and went thru our clothes too. She gave them to my friend’s family, others helped too. Little Gyuri did a thorough spring cleaning. Nowadays Gyuri and I run into each other at the Kocsma, he drinks to excess and he is one of those obnoxious drunks. He makes out like we were such good friends when we never were.

Mom had a wooden vessel that she washed clothes in called a Teknyő (Tub), in size and shape it resembled the lower half of a coffin. I asked her if I could use it. "Yes, you can use it son, but if you destroy it or loose it I'll skin you alive." "Aw, mom, how could I loose a large thing like that?" "You have managed to do a lot more bizarre things. Just remember what I said." I now had to find some wood so that I could make some kayak type paddles. After a short search I found some, but I thought that I better ask Gramps if I could use that wood. He said, "No you can't use it.  I got that to make honeycomb frames for the bees, but I'll give you something you can use." He took me to the other part of the storeroom and said, "Here, you can select what you need from this lumber.  I know they are cut-off's but it will serve your purpose." "Thanks Grandpa this will do just fine." I don’t know how he could keep working with those godamn bees, he got stung all the time and don't seem to mind. I was eating a piece of bread smeared with butter and honey and the bees attacked me, The more I tried to shoo them away the more they came. I tried to run away, but they chased me. Finally, I had to throw away my tasty snack and find refuge in the house. One stung me under the left eye; it felt like cigarette burn, my eye swelled shut for a half a day. No matter how much they stung Gramps, he just didn't mind. I found the pieces of wood I needed and the making of the paddle began. It didn't take me a long time and the result was satisfactory. Now I had to haul this tub to the canal. The wagon and Olga were off somewhere so I’d just have to haul it on my back if I wanted to find out if it worked. I intended this tub to be my canoe during the summer except on wet days. I got it on my back and headed for the canal that was almost two miles distant. By the time I got to the dike it was getting heavier with each step. When I got to Vég's house on the other side of the dike, I realized that I could carry it no further. The canal was right behind Vég's yard. Mr. Vég was mucking out his stable. Those cows of his shit a lot, they shit all over the soccer pitch which was across the road from his house. I slipped on some and fell in some when we played. He was pushing a wheelbarrow loaded with cow shit and straw to the manure pile. I said, "Hello Mr.Vég." " Hello yourself, son What brought you here? It's too early to be out at the orchard" He dumped his load and turned toward the stable, "We're not staying at the orchard yet. I was wondering if you’d let me launch my boat from your yard?" "Son, does your mama know you got her washtub?" "Yes sir, she does. I just have to take good care of it. I want to see if I could float in it?" "You will float in it all right. I just don't know how long that thing was made to keep water in, not to keep water out" "Can I put it in the canal here?" "Yes you can, but don't go drowning on me." Old Vég probably thought that I couldn't swim. I slipped the tub in the water and it floated well. I managed getting in without turning over. It was fairly stable because the bottom was flat. I sat myself just about in the middle so I floated level. Pushing away from the shore I tried a few strokes with my paddle. It moved real good despite being square on both ends. I paddled south toward the orchard, went under the bridge and soon I saw the roof our cabin. This tub would be my canoe for the summer. I pulled up to our landing. I could hardly believe how effortless the trip was from the Vég's. I had to take off my shoes because to get out I had to step in the water. I had to get on my knees, put a leg over the side and tilt the tub just enough to get my other leg out. The next problem was that  I didn't have anything to tie it up with. I pushed the tub half way up on the landing and went to look for some cordage. The closet where the tools were kept was locked so I looked in the cabin. While rummaging around I disturbed a family of hedgehogs that took up residence there. They went scampering along the wall, there were four babies. Finally I found one of mom's aprons and pulled the string out of it. I could always blame it on the hedgehogs when the time came. I paddled back to the Vég's and asked Mr.Vég if I could leave my canoe on his shore. He didn't have any objections. I could hardly wait to tell my friend about my experiment!
 

He got going right away. I had to walk up to the dike then jog along the top until I got to the turn off to the Vég's. The canal almost ran parallel with the dike except it made a huge turn into the island before the turn off to the Vég's. When I arrived Búcsi was waiting for me with a big grin, "What took you so long? At times I could see you on the dike and I paddled harder. It was real easy. Launch your tub and let's go for a short cruise" "Not today, my friend, we will have to get ready." Mr.Vég wanted to know where we stole the butcher’s tub. Apparently only butchers used those one piece hewn tubs. We told him it was on loan to us and asked if we could leave it for a couple of days. He told us that we can leave them as long as we wanted. We would have to go and plan the cruise.

I proposed to Bucsi that we should paddle south on the canal as far as we could go in one day and come back the next day and that we would sleep out one night. He liked the idea. I hadn't a clue how far we could paddle in one day. The fun part was in finding out. Neither one of us knew of any maps that existed for this area. On the national map these small canals were not even marked. We had three days to get ready. In that time all the things needed for the cruise had to be collected. Food was the least of our problems. How to transport it was a problem. The lack of water proof containers made it difficult. We would have to improvise with what we had. I used what I had left of the inner tube for a waterproof container by tying shut the open ends. The bacon, smoke sausages, salt and bread would stay dry in there. The biggest hurdle was to get permission from our parents to stay out over night. I was sure they’d let us go. The complete absence of camping equipment made things more difficult. Our old rubberized rain coats would be used for ground sheets and blankets, we could borrow from home, would be our defense against the morning chill. A frying pan with the longest handle would be needed. Mom had one of those. Little things were easy to forget, like matches, string, pocket knife. We didn't need any water containers since we would be on water and the canal was clean enough to drink.

Every day Búcsi and I compared notes on what was still needed. By Friday afternoon everything was ready, we even had our fishing gear. We didn't take any poles, just a hand line. When I asked mom about staying out overnight she wanted to know why, where, and with whom? She then questioned the quality of my friend, "Why can't you find better friends than Búcsi? He will never amount to anything. Why don't you have a friend like Herményi Ferike? He will be a doctor or an engineer some day." She couldn't have been more wrong. Ferike didn't climb trees, didn't know how to shoot a catapult, handle a fishing pole, and didn't know how to fight either. He did get real good grades!
 

Mr. Vég was up with the chickens and was tending his cows, he was curious, "Where are you two going?" "Just down the canal a ways. Be back tomorrow night." "Oh, it's an overnight trip, is it?" "Yes, it sure is, sir." "You boys just be careful of the otters, they may bite you." Otters my ass. There have not been otters around here for years. The last one I heard about was killed by a real idiot with a pitchfork and he was taking it around showing it as if it was a dangerous predator. Every normal person knew that otters were playful animals that ate fish. Anyway that was years ago.

We unbundled our stuff and started to load our canoes. The blankets were folded and put in the bottom to sit on--a mistake! All the other things were arranged so it wouldn’t be in our way when paddling. We climbed in and pushed off. Mr. Vég was just standing there shaking his head. He probably never did anything like this when he was a kid. As I knew all along, Búcsi's canoe was swifter than mine. The front of mine was square and pushed too much water, but both of us glided along with ease. We passed under the bridge and we were coming up to the cabin. This was great, the sun was climbing to the top of the trees, but the canal was still in deep cool shadows. The shore slipped by. We were moving like a shadow, just the dipping of the paddles gave away our approach. We saw things that would not be possible on foot: a wild duck bringing her whole brood down to the water, the little black and yellow ducklings doing their best to keep up, the smartest one was on moms back.  A black water snake having a big green frog for breakfast. That frog did a lot of protesting. Countless frogs making perfect dives into the canal, birds swooped down to pick fat water spiders off the surface. Along the banks tall reeds and the shorter cattails swayed in the breeze. The sun was high when it was time to find a place to go ashore. I was tired and my shoulders were aching. Búcsi must have felt the same way by now, a rest was needed. Another half a mile and a place was found, a gently sloping beach with grass further up and whispering willows for shade. I don't know how, but both our canoes had water in the bottom, the blankets soaked up most of it. They had to be spread out on bushes to dry. My inner tube kept everything dry, matches, bacon and sausages were all OK. The bread had the odor of a tire but it tasted OK. Búcsi brought along a large bag of toasted sunflower seeds, we munched on those for a while as we waited for our blankets to dry. After our shoulders recovered and lying back watching the clouds, we were telling each other what we saw in their changing shapes. It was during the winter that we read "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn" now this canal was our Mississippi and we were Tom and Huck. Imagination is a wonderful thing. I feel sorry for those who lack it. As soon as our blankets were dry they were rolled up tight and our rain coats tied around them. This time the whole bundle was tied to the front of our tubs where they should stay dry if we didn’t sink. The next couple of miles men and boys were along the shore fishing. All of them gave us big stares and grumbled about having to pull their lines to let us pass. Some asked us where we were going and wished us a good trip. We were bound to come across an asshole who complained, "This canal ain't for boatin’." I told him, "I know that's why we’re using tubs!" We came across a couple of turtles making whoopie. They could give two shits about our presence. The old boy didn't even open his eyes. For a long time we just paddled along silently absorbing nature around us. It was late spring and for nature the time of renewal was in motion. Even with our active imagination we knew that there will be no river pirates or wild rapids on this cruise. With each dip of the paddle more and more of the unknown sections of the canal opened to us. Búcsi was in the lead when I heard him yell, "Were at the end! This is it. We can't go any further."

As I pulled even with him it did look like the end of the canal. A road had been on our left for the past quarter of a mile. As the end of the canal came closer I observed the concrete railing of a bridge. This was a voyage of discovery, Búcsi and I never have been this way before, "It's not the end, Búcsi, from here we'll be heading east." The canal made a ninety degree turn at the bridge and we floated under it. Now the canal was cutting across the fields of the collective farm. These were the lands that were confiscated from farmers who were then made to work in the collective. The canal was used for irrigation. The stupid communists tried to grow cotton not knowing that the Hungarian summers are too short for that plant.
 

The Puli sheepdog is a native of Hungary, they are very smart and faithful, these traits made them famous. I think the herder was asleep on his feet because his Kucsma (fur hat) was pushed down around his ears and he was leaning on his crook stick. His Suba around his shoulders reached the ground. The Suba is a garment made from the hides of long haired sheep that are sewn together to create a cape. In the rain, the hairy side is on the outside and in the cold windy weather the leathery side is out. We waved to him but he didn't wave back he was asleep just like I thought.  After a while I pulled up even with Búcsi and suggested, "Hey buddy, we should start looking for a place to camp for the night; my shoulders are getting tired." "Yeah, OK, a clump of willows are coming up just ahead that should be a good place."

Both sides of the canal had willows on it with lush grass all around. That was a good place where we could camp. With just a few more strokes we bumped the shore and stepped into the water. Our shoes were taken off earlier at our mid-day stop. We could tell that the water was too chilly for skinny dipping. We pulled our canoes on shore and went to look for a level spot further up. We found a fine place where we could bed down, but we needed to collect some wood for the fire. Firewood was kind of scarce around here so we had to search for it; you must have a campfire when you camp. Tom and Huck always had one! I collected armfuls of sticks and branches, but these burned too fast. Búcsi was dragging back a tree. He brought his hatchet, I didn't have one. The acacia was almost dead and Búcsi made quick work with the hatchet trimming the branches. We used those as kindling, the base of the fire. I was breaking up the larger dry branches while Búcsi went to find another tree. After some smoke and some vigorous blowing I got a blaze going. Búcsi came back with another tree and was not happy with my doings, “Hey, Imre, that fire is too big. I don't want to be cutting trees down all night." "You're right, Jóska, I just want to build up a bed of coals to cook on." "For a minute I thought you wanted to heat up the whole county." We would have enough wood now because the two logs would last all night. As the sun started to hide behind the trees Búcsi brought out his frying pan and his bacon, I undid my inner tube and brought out bread and sausages. It would’ve been great if we had eggs, but we had no way of packing them. (We were many years away from Ziploc bags) As the bacon and sausage started to sizzle we heard bells--sheep bells. Both of us stood and looked toward the sound.

Holy shit, that big flock of sheep we saw earlier was bearing down on us. In the next ten minutes we would be surrounded by god damned sheep. I could taste sheep shit in the back of my throat from the time when I fell from the loft. It was fortunate that we had a good fire going because the wooly sonsabitches would have walked and pellet-ed all over our blankets and us too. To top off everything when the herder arrived he was not the picture postcard handsome herdsmen. This snaggletooth sonofabitch was surrounded by the same odor as his sheep and said, "You boys don't mind if I sit by your fire do you?" Before we had a chance to answer he spread his Suba next to the fire and sat his ass down. One of his dogs damn near stuck his nose into the frying pan, "Hey, mind your dog will ya?" He shooed the dog away, but since he was bigger than both of us and had that wicked crook stick too, we didn’t dare to object. This stinking bastard with the manners of a fly said, "You boys don't mind if I have a piece of your bacon with my biscuit? He was getting his biscuit from his Tarisznya and before we had a chance to say that we minded, He took out his Bicska (folding knife) he speared a piece of our bacon and started munching away. Búcsi was cutting some more bacon when Stinky asked, "Where did you boys come from, anyway?" I answered real fast, "We paddled down from Dömsöd on this canal." "Oh, I know Dömsöd. All these critters belong to a man in Dömsöd, maybe you know him?" And he helped himself to a piece of sausage. "Yes we know him; we go to school with his son, Jóska, a good friend of ours. Maybe we'll tell him how you sleep on the job." That got his attention. "What the hell you talking about boy? You ain't seen me sleepin!" "Oh, yes, I did a couple of miles back. We waved to you, but you didn't wave back because you were sleeping. Anyway, why did you bring your flock this way?" "I saw your fire and just wanted to know who was camping on my pasture."

Búcsi cut in madder than a hornet, "This ain't your pasture you stinking son of a bitch. This is the land of the collective and we got just as much right to be here as you." "How you know all that you snooty kid?" "Because some of this land used to be my father’s, before he was made to join the collective. Who the hell invited you here anyway?" Gee, I thought Búcsi might overload his ass and both of us will have to make a run for it. Stinky's dogs would catch us and Stinky would beat the shit out of us. Stinky looked real curiously at Búcsi, "Who's smart-ass kid are you anyhow?" "My name is Búcsi József and my father is Búcsi István and if you keep behaving like you’ve been when I get home I will tell dad how you treated us. He will take a coach whip to you." Stinky's mannerism changed, like from night to day, and he paled some too. The man became apologetic, "Sorry, sorry.  I know uncle Búcsi, good friends we are, yessiree! So you are his son, are you? Can I pay you boys something for the bacon and sausage?" Búcsi knew he had Stinky on the ropes and wasn't going to let up. "Naaw, don't pay us nothing, just get yourself and all these stinking sheep out of here." Stinky couldn't get up fast enough. He whistled for his dogs and got the flock moving.  Since the opportunity presented it I just had to say it, "Hey Búcsi, I'm glad that he got the ‘flock out of here.’" We laughed and laughed at the day’s events, and ate what Stinky left us. All the stars were out and the Big Dipper was right overhead and it was getting cold. We built up the fire a little so our faces and chests were toasty warm and our backs had goose bumps (I didn't know about a reflector yet). We talked some more about Stinky and the drunken women. Rolled into our blankets and fell asleep.

I had no objections, but since I didn't have a zipper on my shorts I just pushed them down to my knees. My dick was sticking straight out. Ági looked at it, squatted down and looked some more. I was getting self-conscious. She stood and came closer and got a hold of it. Her warm hands felt real good and she squeezed it and relaxed then squeezed again. I could let her keep that up until the milk was ready, but she couldn’t. She pulled up the hem of her dress and tucked it under her chin. I already knew she didn't have panties on so I wasn't surprised. What surprised me was when she took my hand and put it on her puncy. My finger slipped into her slot and I started to move it up and down. I heard the door open behind me and Ági dropped the hem of her dress and had a surprised look on her face.

My heart was in my throat as I grabbed and pulled up my shorts. I just knew if I turned around Ági's mama would be looking right at me. I turned and it wasn't her, it was Crazy Clarley (Krasznai Karcsi). He was a classmate, flunked the grade twice, and lived next door in foster care. Charley wasn't playing with a full deck and needed special care, he was beyond autistic. That’s why he was called 

Crazy Charley in school. Ági got real mad and yelled at him, "Get the hell out of here and go home Charley!" Neither of us knew what Charley had seen, but he gave himself away when he said, "I wanna play too!" He was a head taller than I was and much stronger than me. "Charley, didn't you hear? Go home!" I slapped him as hard as I could. I never hit him before and even went to his aid when others were ragging on him too much. He was shocked by my slap and started to whimper, turned and ran out the door, but kept yelling at the top of his voice over and over, "I'm tellin, I'm tellin, I'm tellin.” I thought he’d run straight to Ági's mama, but he disappeared. I told Ági that she better go and put some panties on in case Charley comes back. When that door opened behind me I got such a fright that my dick went soft in a blink of an eye. I went back to the swing and smelled my finger, the one that touched Ági's puncy. It had a slight odor of pee, but not unpleasant. I was still sniffing my finger when Ági walked up with my milk can and I headed for home.

The next day in school during the second period Mrs. Meggyessy was asking questions about our geography homework, from the answer it sounded like everyone read up on the subject. Crazy Charley was holding his hand up for the longest time before the teacher called on him, "Charley, tell me what is the capitol of the Ukraine?" Charley stood up like he was supposed to and said, "I don't know, but Imre and Ági were doing a nasty in the goat house yesterday. Yea, I saw them!" I didn't weather to shit or go blind. All eyes turned to Ági and me. He said he would tell, but I never thought it would be like this. Mrs. Meggyessy went to Crazy Charley and said, "Come Charley, tell me all about it." and walked him out of the classroom. Just as the doors closed behind them, the girls descended on Ági and the guys on me. There was a jumble of questions. I couldn't and wouldn't answer any of them. The only out was to say, "Hey, you all know the guy is crazy. Crazy Charley hasn't a clue what he's talking about." I didn't know what Ági said and I didn't want to know, she was red as a beet!
 

I turned a little to one side and put my hand on her pussy. I felt the hairs at the top, it was very exciting, and my heart was pounding like crazy. My finger slid into the valley and found the little nub at the top; it was just like Ági's. Jutka leaned back supporting herself on her elbows and it was like if a curtain came down around me, just Jutka and I were there, and her little nub. She liked what I was doing, rubbing it gently, but it felt dry. I licked my fingers and continued rubbing that little button. Then I heard or I thought I heard, "Lick me there." "Lick you where? Your pussy?" "Yes, yes, do it!" I know I heard it right that time. This will be the best adventure Búcsi and I ever had. I glanced over and Kata was laying back and Búcsi had his face buried between her thighs. I wasn't about to let Búcsi have one up on me so I assumed the position. I stuck my tongue into Jutka's slit and moved up while the hairs at the top tickled my nose and I almost sneezed before my tongue found the little button. I started touching it with just the tip of my tongue. Jutka must have liked this a lot. She didn't say anything. She just held the back of my head and squeezed her thighs against my ears. My dick was terribly hard, I had hopes that Jutka would help me get it soft somehow. I was doing something right, she relaxed her thighs around my ears, probably so I could hear, and said, "Stick your finger in me now." I wasn't doing anything with my hands, so why not. I moved my right hand so it was between her legs, with my index finger I found her valley, my God it was wet and slick down there. My hand was right under my chin, I tried two or three times before I found the right spot, she helped too. When my finger slid inside her she made moves with her hips and told me, "That feels real good, do it harder." She was teaching me and I was eager to learn, I knew for sure now that my dick will have to go in the same place where my finger was. My chin was getting all wet and slimy. I moved my finger in and out harder but didn't forget to flick my tongue over the little button which was growing bigger. I was really getting into the rhythm when I felt Jutka shaking from the inside and she put a lot of pressure on my ears with her thighs and she shouted, "STOP!" She scarred the hell out of me! My dick went soft because I thought I hurt her. I did as she asked, but I was worried. I asked her, "Are you all right?" "Sure I'm all right, now it's your turn. Take off those shorts."

I was eager to obey and did as she asked. When my shorts came off my dick sprung right up. She squealed with delight, "Good your dick is hard already." "It's been that way since I saw your pussy." "Don't you worry I'll take care of that for you, you'll see." I sneaked a peak over to Búcsi and Kata. He had her on her hands and knees and was on her like when a dog mounts a bitch, just pumping away. Jutka kneeled between my legs and put her mouth on me. I thought that my heart was going to jump right out of my mouth, it felt so good it almost ouched. I wanted to yell at her to stop, but I didn't want her to. I didn't know what to do with my hands so I dug my fingers into the dirt next to me. She was doing things to me that I have never experienced before, I didn't know if I should laugh or scream, I wanted to do both. I didn't know how much longer I would be able to stand up to this wonderful torture. Finally she stopped. Gladness came over me, than I was sorry that she stopped. My dick was standing like a tac, it looked bigger than before, but that was probably my imagination. Now Jutka told me, “Put your legs together.”
 

I'm going to sit on you." This should be good. I closed my legs. She straddled me and tried to sit on my dick, but it kept sliding forward until Jutka took matters in hand and grabbed that Johnson and put it in the right place. Oh, how right that was too. It was warm and wet and the way she was moving back and forth created the most wonderful sensation. She had her eyes closed and was making funny faces. Now that her titties were in range of my hands, I wanted to touch them. I reached up and managed to put my hands on both. They were not big but hard and I found the ends where the baby sucks, they were hard too just like her little button. I didn't know what they were called. She liked it when I got hold of her titties and when I held her buttons she said, "Pinch, pinch my nipples, but not too hard." Now I knew what they were called, I was learning. Since first grade I chewed my fingernails, I didn't have to worry about hurting her. I just held her buttons between my thumb and forefinger and gently squeezed and rolled the buttons. I wished she didn't have this dress on and I could see her titties too. It was as if she read my mind and with a swift move of her arms she pulled the dress over her head so I could see all of her. Her hairy pussy and her titties. I put my hands on her perky little titties and squeezed a few times then pinched her nipples like before, "Yes that feels real good." she said. I felt very proud of myself. Jutka had taken me to places I’ve never been before and I made a mental note that I wanted to do this as often as possible. The whole world could have been collapsing around me and I could’ve cared less, I just didn't want Jutka to stop doing what she was doing to me. She stopped, and asked me a strange question, "Don't you ever come?" "Come from where Jutka? I didn't go nowhere." "Aah, Virgins. I thought you were more experienced you being with Ági and all." "Don't be mad at me! I told you I didn't do nothing with her!" She said, "I'm all done." And she got off me, My dick was limp as a freshly cooked noodle and that made me somewhat embarrassed. Kata and Bucsi were just sitting there talking. I don't know how long they’d been watching.

Jutka suggested, "Let's go for a swim." " I'm for that." said Búcsi.  Jutka put on her dress and we all walked out of the field. When we got to the road the girls broke into a run. Búcsi and I stayed right on their heels. We didn't even break stride when we got to the swimming hole. From the high bank we dropped like bombs into the water. The girl’s dresses caught the air and raised up, we saw their asses again. The water was cool and refreshing. We tried to play with the girls but they wouldn't have none of it. As soon as they rinsed themselves they went ashore. The wet dresses clung to their bodies, I feasted my eyes on the details of the mound of their pussies and those hard nipples under that thin cotton. Bucsi spoke up first, " Can Imre and I see you two some other time?" Kata was quick with her answer, "Sure, why not? Now that you're not virgins anymore, it will be fun." I sure hoped that we would see them again. They were pulling the clinging material away from their bodies and gathering the hems and squeezing the water out. It was Búcsi who made the compliment, “It was sure nice to be with you two this afternoon." "Thank you guy's, we’ve got to go now. We'll see ya later!" "Yea, see ya later!" we chorused.  They turned and walked away as quietly as they arrived.
 

After a soft drink and a brief rest, the line at the diving board thinned out enough and they were ready to solo. Búcsi and I placed our selfs in the target area while they climbed the tower. When they got to the board the hight scarred them. Others wanted to use the diving board and they were being held up by two sixyear olds. They wanted to come down, but  Búcsi interfered;"Hey you guys, if they don't want to jump, trow them down!" Two bigger guys grabbed Steve and threw him off, George jumped after him. We were waiting for them and helped both to shallow water. No sooner that they were standing, they wanted to go again. This time Steve jumper on his own!

They bobbed to the surface like a cork and we stayed by them as they dog padled to shallow water. Our little brothers learned to swim that day. When we got home Steve would not shut up about learning to swim, and jumping off the diving board. Nanah had to tell him;"Listen Boy, you told me about it ten times already, wait untill your mother and dad get's home and tell them about it!" That put the brakes on him!
 

Ten to fifteen minutes later the coach and all the players were back with their bicycles or borrowed ones, except one of them came walking back. He didn't have a bike and couldn't borrow one. This was a bush league club, all the members were here for the love of the sport and tha cameradery that went with it. The striker who didn't have a bike came ovr to me, his soccer shoes hung around his neck the rest of his stuff was in his pockets or tucked under his belt. He made no bones about it, just said;"Hey kid, lend me your bike, I want to go to the game!" "No way, it's brand new, and I don't even know you!" "OK, my name is Szabolcs, so now you know me, lend me the bike!" "I will lend you the bike if you take me with you!" "It's a deal! Where do you want to ride, on the handlebars or the crossbar?" "On the crossbar!" "It's about eighteen miles, can your butt take the strain?" "If you can pedal, I can sit!" There were eleven players two replacements and the coach. Fourteen bicycles got on the way in single file. First we rode on a wagon track along the Danube untill we came to the ferry. The ferry was a larger version of the ladik, big enough to accomondate a wagon with a team of horses. The power was provided by the ferryman and us by pulling on a rope anchored on both sides of the river. The ferryman didn't charge us a fare, on the other side the wagon track went the wrong way! The coach chose a well used foot path that was heading in the right direction. With the coach in lead, we got going Szabolcs and I were sixth in line. I was amazed at these guys, they pedal eighteen miles, play soccer for ninety minutes, then pedal home. They did all this for the cameradery and the love of the sport. The sharing was something, before the game one of the guys produced two lemons. The lemons were cut up and everyone received an equal share. Dömsöd won the game 4:2 and the loosers gave us the winners spoils, a case of beer! It had to be drunk there becouse there was deposit on the bottles. Szabolcs gave me a bottle too. I didn't like it, it was bitter, but since I was no longer a virgin, I tought that I should try more manly things. We went back the same way, one of the bikes got a flat and the guy stayed behind to fix it.

Szabolcs thanked me for going along, the beer made me feel real good! I will have to tell Búcsi about it when I see him. Mom asked me where the hell I was all day, when I told her that I biked to Szigetbecse to see a soccer game, she was beside herself. I didn't tell her about Szabolcs and the beer. I had to share my new bike with Gramps, he had to use it to take care of things that had to do with the orchard and the bees.
 

Sometimes on social nights we had campfires and were brought together with the boys and girls of other camps. Communist marching songs were sung and poems were read. I didn't make one good friend in two weeks, I must say that I didn't try very hard! I could hardly wait for my Balaton vacation to end, it was a happy day for me when I stepped off the bus in front of our house. The summer rolled on and we used the favorable weather to do the things we all enjoyed. Búcsi and I looked high and low but were not able to make a connection with a couple girls like Jutka and Kata, that would have been the perfect ending to the perfect summer.
 

There were several other guys who wanted to be manly too. So the eight of us one day after school pooled our money and sent Búcsi  to the tobacco shop to buy a pack of Tulipan cigarettes. Anxiouly waited around the corner for Búcsi, finally he arrived! He didn't have enough money for a whole pack, he bought just sixteen. That was two cigarettes each and we hurried below the dike and hid in the woods. After everyone settled down it was time to light up, nobody had any matches! Búcsi comented;"What kind of idiot goes to sneak a smoke and don' have any matches?" He got it right back from one of the guys;"What kind of idiot goes to buy cigarettes and don't buy matches?" "Listen guys, this won't get us anywhere! Búcsi why didn't you buy any matches?" "I didn't have any more money Imre!" "Listen guys, dig deep we have to come up with three cents for a box of matches. Come on cough it up!" The three cents was found, plus three buttons and five washers, one of the guys volunteered to go to the tobacco shop. While we waited they looked and sniffed their cigarettes, then Búcsi asked;"What kind of manly things have you guys done?" One of the fellas by the name of Német said;"When we butcher I help my dad wrestle the hog down, and when he sticks it I hold the pan to catch the blood!" The other kid Bence said;"I'm learning my fathers trade, he is the best stone mason in the village!" Then out of the blue Búcsi asked a question;"Have any of you ever licked a pussy before? For a minute they were all ears, then they contemplated the question in complete bewilderment. and the reaction was;"No, no Yuk phoooy, why would you want to?" Just as I hoped Búcsi didn't elaborate. The guy with the matches returned and everyone was eager to light up, some of them smoked before. You could tell by the way they held their smokes and how far they stuck in their mouths. The Tulipan was the only cigarette that had a short gold colored mouthpiece, it was a womens cigarette.The people who walked or biked on the dike could see down into the bushes, and with the smoke rising it didn't take a genious to figure out what was going on down there. We didn't know that we were observed. As we walked out of the bushes everyone felt manly. Three days has passed since our manly puffing, after diner dad turned to me;"Son, I hear you been smoking, have you?" What could I say? I was sure his information was reliable "Yes dad, I tried it a few times!" My dear son, why didn't you tell me that you wanted to smoke?" "Well dad, I tought you would smack me in the mouth!" "No I wouldn't have son! You're practicly a man, and we men don't hide in the woods to have a smoke! Here have one of mine!" I was so surprised I almost fell off my chair. WE MEN! That felt good, and he held out his pack of smokes to me. I glanced accross the table, there was total confusion on my mothers and brothers face. I think they thought that I was going to get slapped! I took one of his smokes, and he gave me a light. Dad smoked one of the strongest cigarettes made in Hungary it was called '5évesTERV' it was filterless. Both of us were puffing away when dad said to me;"You know son, when men smoke they inhale the smoke, or what's the point? Go ahead and inhale!" My next drag was a long one, and I inhaled. My body protested instantly, my lungs coughed that smoke out faster than it got in there. My eyes watered and snot shot out of my nose, dad's comment was, "Whats the matter son? Too strong for you? I could hardy bring myself to understandable speech;"No dad it's just went down the wrong way!" I made sure not to take sich a big drag the next time and I tried to blow smoke rings. Mom looked at me and dad with a suspicious eye. When I crushed the butt in the ashtray he said;"You see son this is how men enjoy a smoke! After my shift change I will bring us a couple cigars, that's a real manly smoke!" "Really! You're not kidding me, are you?" "No son, why would I do that? You'll see, the day after to morrow we will smoke cigars!" I could hardly contain myself!
 

41 Have a Cigar
It was the first thing I said to Búcsi the next day, "My pop and I sat and smoked last night." "You're shitting me, Imre? Really, no lie?" "No lie, and when he gets off his shift he's bringing us two cigars and we'll smoke them." "Naaw, no foolin?" "No foolin, Jóska, he said, us men will enjoy a good cigar." "He really said that? My old man asked me if I smoked, and before I had a chance to answer he slapped me so hard I almost did a cartwheel." I guess Búcsi's dad didn't want him to act manly. Dad came off his shift and brought the cigars, showed them to me and said, "After diner we are going to have a long smoke." I could hardly wait. I already finished eating while dad was taking his time. Finally he put down his utensils picked up his coffee cup and headed for his chair. I was right on his heels. After he sat down he brought forth the cigars and gave me one. It was a large motha’. Eight inches long and as thick as dad's thumb. After he removed the cellophane he did the strangest thing. He started to lick the cigar all over. He saw the confusion on my face, and said, "This is done, son, to put back the moisture in the outer leafs covering the cigar." I started to lick too. After I licked the cigar all over my tongue was burning and there was an awful lot of saliva collected in my mouth. I had to spit, but where? There was no place, I didn't see dad spit so I swallowed and licked some more. Dad bit off the end of his cigar and spit the bitten off end into the ashtray. I did the same. He lit his cigar and gave me a light. Both of us men were puffing away. Clouds of smoke filled the room which made mom none too happy. Dad emerged from behind his smoke screen and said, "Son, I noticed that you are not inhaling. Were not here just to make smoke but to enjoy the cigar." "You're right dad! Watch me!" I took a small drag and inhaled, it was a lot stronger than the cigarette but I didn't cough. My saliva glands were working overtime and I just kept on swallowing. Dad was inhaling too, and was blowing smoke rings. I tought I will give that a try too, it looked very manly! To make smoke rings I had to take bigger tokes, made more saliva, I swallowed more. Half of my cigar was gone, dad's about two thirds, I looked at dad and had trouble focusing my eyes. Just an awfull feeling came over me, the room started to spin and I knew that I was going to puke any second.

I looked at dad, he was just puffing away smiling. The door looked like it was a mile away, I had to make my move now or it will be a big mess. I put my cigar down and stood up on none too steady legs, I heard dad say;"Whaaat's the maaater soooon?" Why was everything echoing? I had to wait for the door to come around, then made a run for it. Made it in to the foyer, and headed for the front door, I knew that I was in trouble. My foot just left the bottom step when my stomack decided to leave my body.

The vomitus came out of my mouth with the force of a firehose, I just wanted to throw myself on something where my head can dangle freely. The dog house, I headed for it! It was perfect, slightly angled roof and my head can dangle over the ridge, The dog gave me a bevildered look"Why is my boss spraying good food all over the yard?" When I looked back toward the front door, I expected to see my stomack trailing small intestines. Instead I saw dad coming toward me. A nother round of convultions wreaked my body and I could taste bile in my throat. From far away I heard dad;"Are you all right son? Gee son, you look all green and ashen, could be something you ate?" He was standing right nex to me now, I looked up at him and between convultions I managed to say;"It was the fucken cigar dad, it poisened me!" "Gee you think so, I tought you would like to come back and finish your cigar! Can't have you wasting an expensive cigar like that!" While he said that my stomack heawed and convulsed two more times. Everything that was in me was spread out between the front door and the dog house."Come on son, I'll help you inside!" "No dad just leave me here please! If I'm not in the house in the morning, come out here and bury me!" It was a nother hour or more before I felt comfortable standing, went to the well and rinsed my mouth. After that I felt well enough to go inside. The next day I had many things to say to Búcsi, the manliness of smoking a cigar was not one of them! I did tell him everything that happenned. Many years later my dear dad told me that if I would have held out for a few more puffs, it would been him heading for the door. I had him worried when I smoked one of his cigarettes with no adverse reaction. That's when he came up with the cigar plan. He bought the raunchiest cigars he could find, and figured if those won't put me off smoking; he would have a ten year old under his roof that smoked. Well the maneuver worked, I didn't put a cigarette in my mouth for another eight years.

42 Have a Cigarette, Boys
The very next day, two boys who wanted to be manly were smoking in the boy’s outhouse. Somebody ratted them out and Mr. Reggel called them up front and said, "A little bird told me that you two’ve been smoking. Should I believe this little bird?" "No sir you should not." One of them answered. "OK, then both of you exhale into my face now." They both did and right after that both of them got a huge slap on the side of the head. Then Mr. Reggel took out his own pack of smokes (he smoked the same brand as dad) and offered it to the boys. They looked at each other in confusion, then each took one. Mr. Reggel brought over the water bucket and two cups, filled them and gave one to each of the boys, lit their cigarettes and ordered them to smoke. It was déjà vu. I was seeing myself under different circumstances; it could have gone this way for me. When he noticed that the boys were not inhaling deeply he threatened them with more slaps. After each deep inhalation the smokers had to drink some water. We enjoyed the show. The guys were turning green, but Mr. Reggel wasn't letting up. More inhaling more water until the boys bolted for the door as a roomful of laughter followed them. They ran to the far corner of the school yard puking a streak all the way. I knew just how they felt. When they returned, still green, Mr. Reggell had a message for all of us, "If I hear of a student smoking, what you have seen just now is mild what I have in store for him or her." He's never going to catch me smoking that's for sure. I heard dad say to mom that he found a buyer for the Baka compound, and the move will be made in the spring. This is not what I wanted to hear! The prospect of changing schools at midterm didn't appeal to me. To leave my friends and formiliar suroundings was scarry. What I would call spring was still four months away, not to worry for now. With the first freeze of winter the killing time has arrived, the killing of pigs that is! They lived the life of Riley and were geting fat all summer, now it was time to pay the rent. Now there were no more flies, it was safe to hang the hams, bacon, and susages. in the smoke house. I enjoyed this time of year, we had no snow yet, but the canals, ponds, and sometimes the Danube was frozen solid. Mr.Orr was the butcher that always came to our house, a large meaty man, he looked like a butcher. On pig sticking day everyone who wanted to take part had to be up early,  like five am. Mom rose the earliest, by the time I stumbled out into the kitchen she had the spiced and boiled wine ready! She always gave me a mug, the spiced wine warmed my insides and the thick china mug kept my hands warm. It was tradition to invite friends and neighbors, in turn they invite us to their pig sticking. Pigs are not stupid, when four men entered the pen early in the morning they knew exactly what was going to happen. They start to cry before a hand is laid on them, they will bite the hell out of you if you're careless. The men drag the porker from the pen, she is screaming for all it's worth, Mr.Orr is there with his double edged knife and expertly dispaches it. The pigs screams die away as her life flows into a pan I'm holding, the blood congeels quickly I have to hurry and take it inside. Mom or Nanah has to prepare it for the bloodwurst. I always tought that it would be more humane to first shoot the pig in the head ot knock it out with a hammer blow on the head, I never liked the violence that went along with the butchering. All winter long the same ritual was repeated hundreds of times in hundreds of homes. After the hog expired Steve and I covered it with straw and set it on fire, this burned off all the unwanted hair. The singing had to be done again when the hog was turned on her back, this smelled quite terrible. Dad said it was the similar odor he experiemced close to burning Russian tanks, I will smell that odor at the Corvin Alley! After the singing was all done, the door was taken off Olga's stall, and the hog laid on it. Nanah and the other women with buckets of hot water and scrubbrushes gave it a thorough bath. When done, that hog was yellow like a banana. Mr.Orr turned it on it's back and cut it open from it's throat to the ass hole, all the internal organs and guts were put into wooden tubs the kind Búcsi used on our waterborne adventure. Then it was put into a large couldron that had a fire under it all morning. The stomack and the intestines were being cleaned to be used as casings for sasuges. Mr.Orr cut the head off the hog with a large cleaver and split the hog in half right down the middle, half had to be turned into the government. They took it too, without as much as a thank you or kiss my ass! The trimings of the hams, fresh lean meat was fried in shortening accented with garlic.The aroma of the fried meat was overpowering, and with the fragrance of fresh bread it was heavenly. I didn't bother with utensils, I grabbed a piece of meat as soon as it was cool enough to handle, and tore off a hunk of bread! Mom had horseradish prepared to have with the meat, if you were not moderate with it it make you fell like the top of your head is going to come off! My belly was full and the spiced wine gave me a warm glow, it was almost day light. Pista was cranking the meat grinder while Nanah was droping pieces of cooked liver in to be minced, the liverwurst is going to be good. I noticed that Mr.Orr was leading Olga from the stable, I went to dad and asked;"Dad, where is Mr.Orr taking Olga?" "He's not taking her anywhere he is going to butcher her!" "NO! NO! I won't let him do it!" I was yelling, ran to Olga and pulled the lead from Mr.Orr's hands. Everyone was looking at me now, dad came over and took the lead from me. "Dad I beg you please don't let this happen, she has been such a good donkey, she has always did all we asked of her, she deserves to live her life to the end!" Dad was unmoved and said;"Son you are embarrassing me, and furthermore Olga is my donkey and I do with her as I wish! Now you go inside and stay there until I tell you that you can come out, and I don't want to hear another word!" "But dad......."Didn't you hear me! Not another word!!" My eyes were so full of tears that I could hardly see my way. I went into the foyer and cried, from there I could see what went on outside. At this moment I hated my father, how could he be so cruel? I hated Mr.Orr and wished he have a stroke or something in the next few minutes. He tied Olga to the post holding the corner of the porch, and tied a black scarf over her eyes. Brought forth an instrument that looked like a pickaxe. Poor Olga was oblivious to everything, he stepped back and swung his pickaxe, and hit Olga on top of her head. Olga collapsed without a sound and Mr.Orr cut her throat with his butchers knife. I could have closed my eyes or turned away, but I didn't, I watched and felt very guilty as if I did the killing! I was still crying when mom brought me a plate of food. I was no longer crying because of sorrow but because of anger. I was angry at my own helplessness at not being able to do nothing to save Olga!
 

44 The Move
School was not working out for me. I was failing Russian and that was bad news, I didn't want to repeat the grade, I would have to burn a lot of midnight oil to pass. I was hoping that the move to Budapest might bail me out. The sale of our house was finalized and we had to vacate in sixty days. One of the collectives bought our property to be used for worker’s lodgings. Dad bought a house for his parents on the north end of the village. Joe and Susie would stay with them for the time being. Gramps had to find a livery for Yellow because there wasn't a stable at the new house. Granny had to go to the hospital, her kidneys were acting up. The sixty days went fast, it was time to say my goodbyes to my friends. Saying goodbye to Búcsi was the hardest, we shared so many things, good and bad during the past few years. When I hugged him tears flooded my eyes, and he said to me, "Don' worry, buddy, we will see each other during the summer." "Yeah, sure, Jóska, we will." More than forty summers went by until we saw each other again. The company loaned dad a large truck to move all our things to Budapest. Friends and neighbors came to help with the packing and loading, Nanah was there too. Parting from her was the hardest. I hugged her and thanked her for all she did for me, kissed her on both cheeks, then we parted. I never saw that sweet old lady again. I feel so guilty, even now, that I never wrote her a letter or even a postcard. I know she would have enjoyed a letter. Mom and Steve rode in the cab with the diver. Dad and I were in the back under the canvas. It was none too warm back there and the diesel fumes of the truck tended to roll in the back. By the time we arrived at our destination I was feeling sick.

Our new apartment was on the most beautiful avenue in Budapest, now it was called Stalin Avenue, what else? The building we were going to live in was number 130 at the end where it T intersected with Dózsa György road. Accross Dózsa György road, facing the avenue, was Heroes Plaza or Square, it's called both. The plaza is flanked on the left and right by buildings of Greek architectural design. The one on the left is the Museum of Fine Arts and housed the paintings and statuary of Hungarian artists, the one on the right is an exhibition hall and houses contemporary art. Across from us was the Yugoslav Embassy, behind us the French. The Soviet Embassy was three blocks toward downtown. There were many embassies in the area. This building was built between the wars and originally it was a large condo. One person owned a whole floor, four stories high with a white marble staircase all the way to the top. I tried out the banister five minutes after we arrived, it was a heluva ride. Six hefty friends of dad's were waiting for us and carried all our things up to our condo on the second floor. Now each floor was subdivided into four condos. From the entrance you stepped into a foyer, the first door on the right was the kitchen, the first door on the left was a W.C. At the end of the foyer double French doors with crinkly glass opened onto a large living room. Large triple section double windows looked out on the avenue, had trees below. Next to the living room was a bed room that had a balcony on the avenue side, from here opened the large bathroom with all the standard conveniences plus a bidet. I was happy about the bathroom, no more outhouses. From the kitchen there were two rooms right after the other. You had to walk thru the first room to get to the second, these must have been the cooks or servants quarters, now they were mine. As soon as everything was unloaded and taken upstairs mom started cooking. Sauerkraut with country sausages, pepperoni, and side dishes, the men were licking their chops. On the ground floor was the TÜNDE restaurant, dad got bottles of beer from there. I was plenty hungry and put away large portions of pepperoni not even realizing that I was eating my friend. I think everything would have been OK if dad hadn't said, "Olga taste's pretty good, don't she?" The mouthful stuck in my mouth, I couldn't swallow, from that point I started to get worse. The nausea and the dizziness started and I had to visit the W.C. my diner was on the way to the Danube. This went on until I completely voided my insides and green bile was coming up. I started to perspire heavily, mom checked my temperature and it was rising. I just knew that this was Olga's revenge for not saving her. Mom put me to bed and made me take two aspirins, they came right up. I wanted to lay in a tub of cold water but mom wouldn't let me out of bed, she was putting cold cloths on my forehead. I'm not conscious about the rest of the night! Mom told me that I sat up in bed, my eyes wide open, grabbed her by the throat and screamed at her" I'll kill you, I'll kill you!" I recall terrible nightmares, bloodthirsty wolfs chasing me. I was running as fast as I could but wasn't making any headway, they were closing in on me with their fangs flashing. It was midmorning when I came to my senses, mom spent the whole night beside me. Dad didn't have to go to work until the next day. My head was still woozy and dizzy, mom asked me if I wanted something to eat. I wasn't up to that!

She brought me a mug of tea with lots of sugar, shortly after I finished the tea I had to pee. Stepped out of bed and tried to stand, it wasn't about to happen, I was weak as a puppy and the room wanted to turn upside down with me. Mom had to bring me the chamber pot, we call it 'billi'. For three days I felt like I was at death's door, mom brought me soups, that was the only things I could keep down. My fever was long gone but I was pale as a ghost. Steve was not allowed near me, mom was afraid that he might catch what I had. I just don't know why she didn't send for a doctor?
 

One afternoon I heard the sound of a model airplane engine from my room. They were always flying those things on the plaza, I went down to watch. While watching the model airplanes a bunch of boys arrived on push scooters that were made from planks of wood and they had ball bearings for wheels. They made a hell of a racket rolling across the concrete of the plaza. The modelers packed up and left, these guys started racing each other around the plaza. I knew one of them from school, his name was Dénes, they could go as fast as anyone on roller skates but they couldn't turn as well. The push scooter had a tendency to skid an fall in a turn on concrete, it is a little better on asphalt. Dénes the boy whom I knew let me look as his scooter and let me ride it too, I liked it. It didn't have the class of a bike, but it sure beat walking!

I asked Dénes;"How much would it cost to build one of these things?" "Aw not much, if you really want to build one I got some hardware at home I can give you. Stop by where I live after school and I'll give it to you!" Dénes talked real fast and never seemed to take a breath. The next day I walked home with him from school, we were just walking along, all of a sudden he said;"Were here" " Were where? I asked, I looked around and didn't see a gate or an entrance to a house. We were standing in front of a store of some kind, the display window was all covered up with yellowing newspapers blocking our view. Dénes walked up to the stores entrance, got a key out and opened the door. The guy lived in a store front with his parents and two sisters;"Come on on in Imre it's not much but it's home my parents are not home yet sis has dance school this afternoon and my younger sister is still at school!" I didn't see him take a breath, amazing! The inside of this cavernous room was divided with temporary walls made from recycled plywood and curtains served as doors. The area designated as the kitchen just had an electric hot plate on a home made counter. There was one W.C. with a hand basin, this was the bath facility too for the five of them. Dénes's dad was a switch man at the Nyugati Pályaudvar (Western Rail yard). I heard Dénes rumaging around some far corner of the large room, and when he came back he had something with him that could be a hinge to a gate;"I have these Imre sorry I don't have any bearings but they are not hard to get your dad can get some from the bus gerage and I can help you put it together I'll be glad to help!" All that on one breath! "That would be great Dénes, thanks for the parts!" "Yeah OK I'll see you in school!" "Yea see ya!" I had three blocks to walk home. Now that I saw what kind of parts I needed, I could get dad to make me some robust ones. When dad came home I asked him if he could get me some used bearings, he said he could, and I told him that I needed big ones. Two days later when he put his leather attaché case on the kitchen table it landed with a THUD! My God! he brought me some bearings all right, big ones! When I asked him what they were out of;" From the differential of s bus!" Probably the biggest bus that MÁVAUT had in service."Dad I can't use these. They are too damn big, I want to build a push scooter and I need the bearings for the wheels "I see son, why didn't you say so! I will bring what you need a day after tomorrow!" " Dad I will need some wood too, it has to be hard wood." "OK son, now that I know what you're making I will bring what you need!" Steve was hovering around like a buzzard and waited for the opportunity to get something;" Dad can I have those bearings?" "What do you want them for?" "I want to build something too, Daddy!" "Yes you can have them!" Two days later he was in the staircase rolling the large beatings down the marble steps. The care taker was highly pissed off, and little brothers bearings were confiscated. Dad did as he promised brought the bearings that I can use, and their two hardwood planks, planed too. Had to find or make some hardwood dowels for the axels of the bearings and some long wood screws. Pista came to the rescue, he knew of a place where they made pool ques. Those are all hard wood, and for the price of a couple bottles of beer the guy there made the axels for me, drilled the screw holes too! All I had to do now is cut the slots for the wheels and mount them. I showed the hardware to dad that Dénes gave me, and asked if he could make the same but stronger. A few days later he brought the hinge I wanted. After buying the long wood screws I told Dénes that I was ready for assembly. For some reason to construct this push scooter was first priority on my agenda, not because I wanted to join Dénes's gang, but just for the pleasure of moving faster than the rest of the bipeds. One afternoon it was assembled and tried out in front of Dénes's residence. It was fun, and anyone running at full speed could not catch me if I was up to speed. However there were problems, the complete lack of brakes was one. It tended to loose traction in a turn, and you fell down, that was two. I found this out not long after I got on mine, the skin was torn off my knees and elbows. I never had road rash so serious again until I started riding motorcycles. Dad got me some black paint, and I painted my scoot black like the Norton's I saw racing in the Város Liget (City Park). Oh how I wished that I have one of those beautiful, and powerful machines some day. My wish came true! The biggest danger of riding a push scooter was knocking a pedestrian down. Of course it was always an accident, if an elderly person was involved I helped them up and inquired if they were hurt. With a younger person I had to get my shit together and make tracks because they tended to slap and kick the shit out of me. That was the down side of push scooter riding!
 

Szabolcs and Miki were buddies from school. We went by public transport to the end of the line, from there it was shoe leather all the way. We have been walking a couple of hours, and the road just started into this long steep grade, I could see myself by the time we got to the top with my tongue dragging the ground. It was at the very beginning of the climb when I heard the laboring of an engine, I turned around and a truck, probably in first gear was struggling with the incline. As it slowly crept by us I saw that it was loaded down with bags of cement, and the tail gate was down. This was Godsend! "Come on guys, jump on!" I yelled, nobody had to be prodded. The four of us sat on that tailgate and rode that sucker all the way to the top. From the crest of the hill we could see the mountain and the cave entrance half way up the side. from this distance it looked like a Gothic archway. Just as the truck was picking up some speed and shifted to second gear, the brakes screeched and it came to a halt. The driver with a big beer gut jumped out of the cabin in a huff! We were off and away from the truck by then, he cussed and shook his fist at us;"Hey,a kurva anyátokat (you sons of whores)! Who the fuck gave you permission to ride on my truck! Get the fuck away from here before I'll kick your asses!" On his best day this guy couldn't catch us, so we gave him back some of his shit;"Thanks for the ride asshole! This is not your truck, you fat shit, in your dreams, maybe! You better shut the hell up, we'll be all over you like stink on shit!" The driver madder than a hornet retreated toward the cab to get a jack handle or a tire iron, and we ran the other way. Trekked thru the woods and up the side of the mountain, to the mouth of the cave. The last hundred yards was a race that Pista won! We were all so disappointed, in the back of the latge opening we found a hole that a rabbit wouldn't fit into. We shined a light into it and that petered out, I made the first comment;"Hey Pista, I would like to kick your friend in the ass! Did he say that he's been here!" "No, he just said that he knew about it. It did look like a cave from the road!" "That it did for sure, but it's not! Let's get the hell out of here because I'm so thirsty that my tongue is sticking to the roof of my mouth." Pista with the need to redeem himself came up with an idea;"Listen guys, lets not walk down the same way we climbed up! If we walk half way around this hill and then start down we'll cut across the ÚTTÖRŐ VASÚT (PIONEER PAILROAD) and we could ride on that into Hűvös völgy (Cool Valley), and catch public transport from there." "That’s a good idea Pista, I just hope that we come across a creek or a spring!" Miki complained;” We were sure stupid that we didn't bring any water!" We started down and descended into a very green valley, the center was an open meadow with the forest on each side. To the right of us next to the forest was a hint of a path, it was used but not often, we stuck to that. Not much was said, everyone was keeping an eye out for signs of water. We came to a clearing in the forest, it wasn't big, twenty by twenty yards at the most. Smack in the of the lot was a tiny weekend house, next to the house was a well with a hand pump. This was somebody's weekend hideaway, it was nice, had young hazelnut trees all around the perimeter. We yelled about a half a dozen hello's but no one showed. Szabolcs went to the pump and started pumping, cool clear water came out the spout. All of us took our fill and I pumped for Szabolcs while he drank, with our thirst quenched we took a little rest next to the well. The well was on a slight rise, I was sitting down Pista was squatting next to me. We were just looking toward the valley and agreed how nice it was.....WHACK and Pista from his squatting position was knocked to his hands and knees. It was a total surprise, a kid maybe a year older than Pista but bigger sneaked up on us and attacked. Acted like a wild man, cussing at us;"Sonofabitches this is private property, it's my well!" While Pista was trying to get up this guy kicked him in the ass and he fell down again. I was on my feet and noticed that the wild man was bare foot, I tried to calm him down;"Easy man, it was just a little water we were thirsty!" Miki and Szabolcs were on their feet, I read shock on their face. The mad kid wanted to hit me, I ducked and planted my heavy shoe on his foot and kicked him in the shins. Pista was on his feet and charged in, Miki got behind him and Pista and I toppled him over. While Miki was trying to get out from under, Szabolcs was putting in the boot in any vulnerable spot. Pista and I were rearranging his face. When Miki got out from under us he grabbed a leg and  twisted until he had a clear shot at the guys nuts and planted his foot. The fight went right out of the mad boy! He started yelling;"I'll give, I give up, I give up!" We got off of him and he pulled himself into a fetal position holding his nuts. We suffered no injuries, this asshole looked like he was hit by a bus, Pista talked to him;"You stupid bastard, just because you're a head taller you think you can take on the four of us? Where did you go to stupid school?" His nose and mouth was bleeding, both his eyes were shut, pair of sore nuts, several ugly bruises on his face. I couldn't tell if that was my fist or Szabolcs's boot, Miki and Szabolcs full wit the thrill of victory dragged him under the spigot of the pump and pumped water on him. That was adding insult to injury, Miki kept telling him;"Have some water muthafucker, it's free!! We got going and left mad boy soaking, you see if you gona be dumb, you gots to be tough! As we went further down the valley we came upon more little houses with wells and people who were very friendly, if we only knew!
 

48
We arrived at the narrow gauge track of the Pioneer Railroad. This railroad was operated by boys and girls ten years old and older who chose railroading as a career. It was all under adult supervision of course, but everything from ticket sales to track maintenance is done by kids. We waited by the trackside, the track did a switchback here to engage a lesser slope. Pista said that it goes slow enough here that we can easily jump on board. Ever since we left the pump there was plenty to talk about, Szabolch was saying, "I just couldn't get at him, you guys were hogging him all to yourselves, but I was there in reserve." Szabolcs only got a few kicks in and he felt that he let us down. We wanted to take the dents out of his ego, "Don't worry about it, Szabolcs, the numbers made the difference, that's why the guy gave up." Pista backed me up by adding, "Yea, Imre is right, that guy could have taken any one of us one-on-one. I think that he thought that after he knocked me over that all you guys would run away." Szabolcs started to feel better, ” Well, he thought wrong. We sure showed him and he will think twice about taking on four smaller guys." We didn't get to explore a cave but experienced the meaning of camaraderie first hand. The day was not a total loss. I joined the modeling club in school and decided to build a rubber band powered airplane of my own design.

Dad was very impressed with my ambition and the project, and to show his approval and support he bought me all the components. For a whole week and a half I carved glued and stapled, finally it was ready. I didn't want a huge audience for my maiden flight. Sneaked out into a less used area of the city park and tried her out. My creation looked like an airplane, it had the fuselage, wings, tail assembly, and propeller, it didn’t' want to act like an airplane. When I launched it, it dove right into the ground a flopped around like an epileptic person! I thought that I didn't hold it correctly at the moment of launch. The second time i gave it a little help. As soon as I let it go, it went straight into the ground! While it was still flopping around I jumped on it with both feet and put it out of it's misery, apparently there was a design flaw. The next one I built was from a set of plans that someone else drew, it flew quite well. At the Színyei Merse middle school for boys I had a favorite teacher. It could be deduced from his mannerism that he didn't buy in to the socialist communist bullshit. He was Mr. Farago, medium built, about forty-five and probably of Hungarian noble stock. Under a democratic regime he would br the principal of this school. He was one of those teachers that made learning interesting, he taught Hungarian language a subject that I hated, but not with him. He never hit a kid or sent one to the principal. If he had a problem with one of us, he made the problem leave the class. The lesson and the work had to be made up. He gave you a chance if he saw that you were trying. Every week he reserved two hours for story time. He designate a student to tell a story in two days, that would give the person time to prepare. It could be a personal experience, a book you read, a film you saw. You could stand or sit in front of the class and tell your tale. At the end of the tale the class critiqued the story and the telling, Mr.Faragó would grade it accordingly. I know this was a tremendous help for my ability to tell a story and to speak in front of people. The other side of the coin was Ms.Labancz, she was my Russian language teacher and I hated her. I could not tell how old she was

her wrinkles had wrinkles. The only difference between her and a mummy was that she was moving. She had a terrible disposition and I named her "Cript Fugitive' the name stuck, the whole school was calling her that. I thought that her skin was just stretched over her skeleton, she must have been a frightening sight naked. No matter how hard I tried to master Russian, she never gave me high marks. It was always "I know you can do better than this!" I wanted to tell her "I don't want to!" but that was out of the question. She just gave me good enough grades that I didn't fail, but not good enough to get into high school. Often I meet Dénes and His gang on the square, they steal chalk from school and mark out a course on the asphalt of the square and hold races. Their push scooters were adorned with the numbers of well known motorcycle road racers. Sometimes I join them, and in ten minutes we had a large group of spectators. Much skin was left on the asphalt of the plaza, when the crowd was large and enthusiastic these guys had the balls to go around with a hat and collect for disinfectant and bandages. Sometimes they get a real good haul. Sometimes the cops come and break up the crowd, the cops get booed, there wasn't the freedom of assembly! Of course mom gave up her job at the truck factory when we moved up to Budapest. For almost two years now she was filling in the duties of a housewife.

I heard her talking to dad one evening, and she asked him if he could get her an electric motor, a small one. Dad got her one a week later, it was a fan that was used on a desk, this one didn't oscillate! Mom told dad;"This will be fine except you have to remove the grill and the fan blades! Can you fix it for me that I can turn it off and on and control the speed with a pedal?" "Well dear I don't know, that's a tall order!"

"Why ? You're a mechanic, for you it should be easy!" "The mechanics don't bother me, it'e the question of parts. I have no idea where to find a rheostat that works with a pedal!" "I know where!" Both of them looked at me and dad cocked his head to one side;” Little pitchers have big ears! Do you kmow what we are talking about?" "Yes I do!" I was hoping that I wasn't putting my foot in my mouth;"My friend Dénes lives three blocks from here, and two doors from him is a shop that's full of electrical junk. I saw it in the store window, I'm sure they will have the stuff mom needs!" "All right son, you can take me there the day after tomorrow!" That made me feel good, I tried to figure out what and why mom needed those things for. I didn't have long to wait. I've taken dad to the electronic brick-a-brack store, the long narrow room reminded me of Alladin's cave, but instead of treasure, this was filled with junk. Old vaccums, fans, hotplates, toasters, and switches of every kind. Rolls and rolls of electric wire and cable. From the depth of this electric chaos appeared a gnome of a man with grey hair and Ben Franklin glasses. He asked us to excuse him for the disorganized state of his shop, but he had not the time to put everything in order. Dad asked him;"How long have you been at this location?" The gnome looked over his glasses at dad, looked at the ceiling, and counted on his fingers. looked at dad again and answered;"Twenty-five years give or take a few!" Dad told the gnome what he wanted. He disappeared in the depths of his domain and the sound of rummaging was heard. when he re appeared he had in his hand just what dad needed! The pedal with the rheostat and the wires. I don't know how much money changed hands, that wasn't my concern.
 

[49 The Hungarian] Dad removed the unwanted parts from the fan. Now if you stepped on the pedal the motor started to turn and the further down the pedal was pushed, the faster the motor turned. A few days later a man came to our home and introduced himself as Haas Gábor and wanted to talk to my mother. He brought two large pillow cases that were fairly light. They went into the living room and I kept my ears open. Mr. Haas asked mom if her equipment was ready and she said that it was. Mr.Haas told mom that he brought the spindle, spools and the raw material. The next few days I found out what this was all about. The pillow cases were full of nylon stockings and all of them were cut off at the ankle and just about all of them had runs. The spindle was put on the electric motor and the paper spool fit on the spindle snuggly. Mom opened the seam on the stockings with a special little tool to find the end of the thread. She put the stocking under the spool and with a few turns secured the thread to the spool. She started the motor and guided the thread onto the spool. The nylon stocking slowly disappeared while the spool of thread was getting bigger and bigger. Mr. Haas was a small part of the underground economy. He had workers all over the city and my mother became one of them. Mr. Haas acquired manual knitting machines and his army of knitters made nylon stockings. Mom was one of many who supplied the raw material. I don't know how much she was paid, but when she wasn't doing her normal things, she was sitting at her little table spooling thread. Evidently the money was good and the work a lot easier than working on trucks and she didn't have to leave for work at the crack of dawn. One day mom received a registered letter, signed for it and after she read who it was from the blood drained from her face. I thought she was going to faint. I was concerned and asked her, "What's wrong mom? Who is the letter from?" She didn't answer and she almost started to cry.

She was just mumbling,”I didn't do nothing, I didn't do nothing.” In those times and under the system we lived in, if you didn't do anything that could get you two years at hard labor. All it took was a person of ill will to make a phone call or send a letter and accuse you of anti-communist feelings or activity, and you could kiss your ass good bye. They made people confess to things that never happened. The letter came from ÁVÓ headquarters that was on Stalin Avenue 60. Many people who entered this building were never seen or heard from again. My mother was to report there in two days. 

The morning she left, Steve and I hugged and kissed her.  I didn't know if I would ever see my mother again. Thank God she was back with us that evening. She told us what happened. Her appointment was with Colonel Banki at ten a.m. They made her sit in the hall for four hours. This was a tactic to put pressure on the person and shake their confidence. She said that several people was dragged passed her by two guards. It was obvious to her that these people were tortured or severely beaten or both. She was finally called into Col. Banki's office. He was a large man with a double chin. She had to surrender her I.D. papers and had to sit in a straight-backed chair in front of the Colonel’s desk. As soon as she sat down a spot light was turned on her and she couldn't see the Colonel anymore. Col. Banki, with a gravely voice, started the questioning, "What is your name?" "I'm Mrs. Maria Baka!." "Is your maiden name Kovács Kaszala Mária?" "Yes it is." "Were you born December first 1919 at Gyón?" "Yes I was." "Do you have a sister by the name of Kovács Kaszala Sarah?" Mom said that question was like removing a huge weight from around her neck. Now she knew that all this was not about her. She answered easier now, "Yes I do. She disappeared in 1945, in august I believe." "What do you mean disappeared? People don't just disappear." "Well she did. She was living with me and attending the Academy of Fine Arts. One day she went to school and never came home." "Did you report this to the police?" "Yes I did, but I never heard anything." "I have some good news for you. Your sister didn't disappear. She is serving a sentence for anti-Soviet activities in a labor camp in Siberia. She will be released soon. I want to know if you can provide shelter for her when she comes home." "Yes, I can." "You will have to sign a document to that effect. Failure to do so can result in a fine, loss of freedom or both." Mom signed the paper and couldn't get out of there fast enough. She considered herself very lucky.  While she was telling all this I noticed that her eyes welled up with tears several times. She must have been very frightened. I considered myself very lucky too that I still had a mother. So my aunt Sarah is coming to live with us. I wondered where she would sleep? 
  

50 
The end of the school year was approaching and my concentration on Russian was intense. I wanted the “The Crypt Fugitive” to give me a passing grade. I didn't want to repeat the sixth grade. I had almost resigned myself that I too will become an apprentice of some sort like cousin Joe was. With the low grades that I received in Russian for the past three years my chances of going to high school were nil. It would take a genuine miracle to get things turned around in my favor. So for now all I could do was to study and learn this goddam Russian. It was the last week of the finals and I was at home, being studious, when a knock came on the door. When I opened it I came face to face with a very butch looking woman who was dressed in very coarse military type clothing and heavy brogans. "Yes, can I help you?"

She gave me a wide grin, threw her arms open and practically ran me down while saying, "Imike, don't you remember me? I'm your aunt Sarah.”  I could tell by the way she hugged me that she was strong as an ox. With her face devoid of make up, if it wasn't for her breasts she could pass for a man. She kissed my face all over and repeated over and over how glad she was to see me. She had a very friendly personality and inquired about mom. "She went shopping, should be back shortly.” I said.  “Aunt Sarah, tell me about Siberia." "I will dear, later." Sarah didn’t' have any luggage, just a sack with not much in it. The door bell rang and I said, "That'll be mother." Sarah wanted to open the door so I told her to “go for it.” She opened the door and mom was standing there with two satchels of groceries. On seeing her sister, genuine surprise was on her face. What happened next I was not prepared for.  Mom dropped both satchels and delivered a haymaker of a slap right across Sarah's face! I thought Sarah was going to fall down. I could see she was in a state of shock, but remained standing. I was shocked too. Mom's hand print was visible on Sarah's face. I was looking for a place I could watch the fight from. I wasn't about to get between those two women. Mom stretched her arms out and hugged Sarah and started to cry.  Sarah was crying too, but not because of the slap. I retrieved the satchels and closed the door. There were two grown woman crying in the foyer.

Between sobs mom managed to say, "The slap was for not telling me that you wouldn’t be coming home from school. I owe you one more for the day I had to spend at ÁVÓ headquarters." "You better not Maria, I'll knock you on your ass." I believed she could do it. Sarah helped mom prepare dinner. They had not seen each other for almost ten years. Mom told her about going to ÁVÓ headquarters and how afraid she was, and how angry when she found out what it was all about. Mom called and left a message for dad to bring home a foldaway bed. That evening I heard my aunt's tale. I hung on to every word. As it was mentioned before, aunt Sarah attended the Academy of Fine Arts in Budapest.

Sarah is a very adventurous person. She is willing to try things out or go and see what's on the other side of the mountain. She is in her seventy's now and has a hobby farm in British Columbia and chases off bears with a shotgun. She doesn’t shoot them, she just frightens them off with the noise. Three years ago her husband was killed in a Jet Ski accident while they were vacationing in Hawaii. Mom told me that I possess some of the same genes that her sister has. As a student she heard about the atrocities the Red Army was capable of and probably witnessed some during the siege of Budapest. It wasn't until 1979 after my aunt Susie passed away that I found out that in the winter of 1944 when Budapest was surrounded by the Russians and the siege was on the way, my mom and aunt decided to take us kids out of the city.

There wasn't any food and they decided to go thirty miles east to the village of Pánd where mom's mother lived. I do not remember the event, I was only a year and a half old,  cousin Joe was six and cousin Susie was five. We had to pass thru the Russian front and the Russians raped my mother and aunt. My aunt made my mother swear on my life that she will say nothing to no one about it as long as my aunt Susie was alive. Their plight was not unusual; the Russians raped more than two million women and girls in Eastern Europe. This was done with the blessing of the soviet command. No Russian soldier was called to account for a single rape. One day Aunt Sarah decided to go west and she didn't tell anybody. She made it close to the Austrian border when she met up with a girl her age. They talked and she confided in her that she planned to go west until she met up with American or English forces. This girl was an agent of the ÁVÓ and told Sarah that she can take her to a house where she can get hot food and some rest. When they got to the house she was promptly arrested.

Her I.D. papers were stamped HATÁR SÉRTŐ (Border Violator) and taken to a concentration camp. After three days about  four to six hundred prisoners were marched under guard to the nearest railroad and packed into cattle cars, probably the same ones that took the Jews to Auswitcz or Mathausen. Her feet didn't touch the ground again until they were told to get off in Siberia. On the way they were given a minimal amount of food and water. The food was salted fish and black bread. Sarah traded her fish after the first two days. People died of thirst and exposure.  The dead were just thrown out onto the trackside. There were no toilet facilities at all--not even a bucket. The conditions were horrible. When they arrived and were unloaded they were then marched fifty miles north to a work camp. Many of them collapsed on the march and the guards just bayoneted or shot them where they lay. When they arrived at the camp, there were no walls or barbed wire. Where would you go? Escapees were hunted down and shot and their bodies left for the wolves.

The tarpaper-covered wooden huts kept out the wind. There were fifty men or woman in each hut. Every evening the inmates had to turn in their coats and shoes so there was no chance of escape. If the guards or the wolves didn't get you, the weather would. This was the Gulag. The camp was located on the edge of an aspen forest. The work they were to do was to cut trees with a hand saw and axe. Sarah was never before a judge or sentenced; she was just taken and worked like a slave for nine years. When she was told that she finished her sentence she didn't know how to feel. She almost forgot the feeling of freedom. She compared herself to a beast of burden and she said, "Just think about it. What would a horse, ox, or a mule do if the farmer one day turned them out of the barn and said, "OK, I don't need you anymore, you can go." What would these animals do? The horse or ox doesn't remember its parents or relatives. That was the only difference between those beasts and I, she said. That is how I felt when I was told that I was free to go. Of course a farmer would never do anything like that, he would sell his animals. The Russians could just take me to another camp and I would disappear to the world like so many millions of others." I thought about what she said for a long time, she was one lucky woman, but her tale wasn't over yet!

She was given a document that proved that she has served her sentence and new I.D. papers. It was lucky for her that a truck was leaving the camp for the railroad on the day of her release and gave her a ride. When she arrived at the tracks she was told to walk east along the track. These were the tracks of the Trans Siberian Railroad that ran from Moscow To Vladivostok. She didn't have money for the train, though she did sneak on board a few times, but each time she had to jump off. If she was caught it would be two more years of cutting trees. She walked and hitchhiked all the way back to Hungary. It took her three months to travel approximately two thousand eight hundred miles.
 

51
Sarah told me many more things about her imprisonment. The constant hunger, the dirty snitches who informed on you for a slice of bread, and the bears that found prisoners to be easy prey. The folding bed that dad brought was put in the entree to my room. Sometimes she’d tell me stories late into the night.

She soon got a job as a conductor on the public transportation system of the city. Sometimes she worked on a bus, sometimes on a streetcar or a trolley. She always told me about her adventures with unruly passengers or the ones that tried to ride for free. Some of them she had to physically remove, she used her ticket puncher like a set of brass knuckles. I managed to pass my exams and advanced to the next grade. The Crypt Fugitive gave me a D in Russian. I didn’t' expect more from the mummy. The rest of the summer Pista and I explored the nooks and crannies of the city. It was well into the summer when one morning mom sent me to the store. When I returned she checked the items I bought. I’d forgotten one item and without a word she slapped me across the face. I thought that was uncalled for and very unfair. I didn't cry, didn't say anything, I just turned and walked out. I only had on shorts and a shirt and I kept walking until I got to Gramps in Dömsöd. It took me twelve hours to walk thirty miles. I stopped and climbed trees to eat some berries and stopped at houses to get a glass of water. The next day dad came and took me home. In the fall of 1955 my Grandmother, dad's mom passed away.

She had problems with her kidney's for years. We all went to Dömsöd for the funeral. She was laid to rest in the cemetery where I used to play when I was younger. I found the services and the ritual of the burial very depressing and scary. These old women that I didn't even know by sight, were next to the grave crying and wailing away. I had the greatest urge to push them all into the grave. During the singing of the last hymn, the coffin was lowered into the hole and four men started to shovel in the dirt. When those shovels of dirt hit that coffin it made a horrible hollow sound that I will never forget. From that day on I have been in favor of cremation! Later Gramps had a black granite monument erected over the grave. It was in 1992 that I touched the monument the first time, and noticed that it was sitting crooked. The reason for this was that granny’s casket deteriorated and collapsed from the weight of the dirt and the monument. What was left of my granny was probably flatter than a pancake. I had the monument cleaned and trued up, I don't think granny gave a shit. Just before Christmas of 1955 cousin Joe became a Mechanics assistant and dad got him a job at the MÁVAUT garage. He wasn't making too much money, and my room had another occupant, mom just asked him to help out with the grocery bill same as Sarah. Thank God for fold up beds. Joe was seventeen already I was only twelve the previous September. In the early months of 1956 there was a slight thaw in the cold war and gramps seized the opportunity and put in a another request for exit visas for Joe and Susie so they could join their mother in West Germany! Their mother was married to an American sergeant by the name of Frank Santelli! The request was promptly turned down the umpteenth time. I have been writing to my aunt Susie in Germany and asked her to send me an electric train set, and she promised that she would. We read in the papers that as a gesture of good will by Hungary toward Austria the border will be de-mined in the spring. You still had to have a special permit to get closer than six miles of the border. It was mid-may when Joe and I were going to go to the movies to see a French film. Joe didn't snow up for diner, that was unusual, Joe didn't show up to go to the movie! Joe didn't come home! Gramps called from Dömsöd and wanted to know if Nanah's grandson Pista and Búcsi Laci, my friends older brother, were with Joe! Evidently both of them said at home that they were going up to see Joe. Mom told Gramps,"We have not seen the boys and Joe is among the missing too! We have not seen Joe for four days now!" A whole two weeks went by and Joe turned up, in a form of a post card, it just said” Dear aunt Maria and uncle Imre, The four of us are having a wonderful time!" Four signatures were on it Joe, Pista. Laci, and Sanyi! The postmark was Austria! I was so happy for Joe,

after eleven years he can finally hug and kiss his mother. They were not the very first but among the first who penetrated the IRON CURTAIN. Hot damn, that must have been some adventure. Susie who was attending high school six miles north of Dömsöd, when she got the news about her brother she was devastated, she cried for days! She was furious at her brother for not taking her along, she was sure that she will never see her mother again, and was sliding deeper and deeper into depression! Dad sent her a bus ticket with the instructions that she is to come to Budapest to visit us. When she arrived she looked terrible, her eyes and nose were all red, she was a picture of defeat and surrender, she just went on about her woes," I will never see my mother! My own brother abandoned me and left me here, I wouldn't been a burden, I could keep up!" Everyone was sitting around the table, I was listening to the radio, Steve was playing somewhere. Dad was telling Susie,” Don’t take it so hard that Joe left you  behind, I'm sure he had his reasons. This was a dangerous undertaking, I'm sure they didn't travel together, a young girl with them would draw suspicion." Mom tried to console her too. All this time aunt Sarah was quiet as a grave, all of a sudden she said to Susie,” Do you want to go and see your mother?" Susie’s eyes lit up like a couple headlights and without hesitation said,” Yes, yes!" Sarah with a real serious face said,"OK I'll take you." Mom and dad could have been knocked over with a feather! Here was this woman who just finished serving nine years at hard labor under the most appalling circumstances and is willing to risk it again to help a young girl. I already admired my aunt Sarah, the scale just went higher. Sarah gave instructions to Susie,” You will have three days to get ready. First and foremost, say nothing to nobody, we here know, nobody else needs to know." "How about my grandfather?" "Nobody, just be as you were before, he will find out everything soon enough! Pay close attention and make no shortcuts any thing can compromise our success. These are the things you need to do. Get a boyish haircut, wear no make up Wear your most comfortable walking shoes, if they need it get them repaired. Get warm underwear and a strong pair of pants. Get a high neck pullover and a warm jacket, leather gloves, and don't wear a bra! Bring any money that you have or can get, and be up here in three days and we'll go. Don't worry, we'll make it." Sarah was not lacking in experience or self-confidence. I kind of wished I could go along. The three days passed quickly, when Susie showed up at our door I didn't recognize her, she looked like an adolescent kid, definitely not my pretty cousin. Sarah approved when she saw her, and the plan was that they leave by train the next morning. I know that dad gave them all the money he could spare. To avert suspicion, the train will take them north toward the Czechoslovak border, and from there it was hiding by day and walking by night. To run into anyone close to the border was a recipe for disaster. The next morning after a hearty breakfast, it was kisses all around and we wished them good luck, and hoped for the best. Sarah had the audacity to call up and quit her job, cussed out her boss and slammed the phone. The next week and a half was agony not knowing their progress. Every evening the question arose, "How are they doing?" It was a question none of us could answer. Thirteen days went by before the question was answered. A simple postcard arrived and it had an Austrian postmark, it just said,” We have arrived, Susie and Sarah." All of us were very joyful. The next day dad stopped in DÖmsöd and gave the good news to Gramps. The old man broke into tears, all the time he thought Susie was with us. After eleven years of hassle with the communist my cousins were finally with their mother.
 

52
Pista told me that on Sunday we would go to Buda and try to get on the grounds of the Royal Palace. I was very excited about that and I had visions of finding swords, shields, and maybe a battleaxe. We rode the streetcar over to Buda and only had to walk a short distance to the ruins. It was all uphill and steep too. It was fenced and posted with the usual warnings "DANGER UNEXPLODED ORDANANCE" "DANGER UNSTABLE BUILDING" What buildings? The tallest ruin I saw was only thirty feet high and I didn't want to go there anyway. The fence left a lot to be desired, it wouldn’t keep out an idiot.  Pista pulled up the bottom and I crawled under than I held it up and he did the same. We started climbing up toward the palace wall. The slope was covered with scrub, weeds, and debris. The first thing I found was a German helmet. It looked exactly the same as the one I found on the island but this was in pitiful shape. It was rusted through in several places. I just threw it further down the hill. I spotted a place on the wall where it was breeched by a bomb or a shell and we could climb up. From the top of the wall the vista was very nice. The scrub and the weeds hid all the crap on the slope below. Just inside the wall was a roadway, not very wide and paved with cobblestones. On the other side were the ruins of the palace. Somebody did a thorough job of picking over this place. There wasn't any evidence of anything salvageable. My pipedream of finding swords and battleaxes disappeared like so much smoke. We climbed out of the ruins and walked up the cobbled road to try our luck elsewhere. Pista was in the lead and ducked into a ruin. I was right behind him when he pointed and said, "Look there Imre. See it shine?" …

"Yes, I see it, it's probably a piece of metal or some broken glass." "Yeah, let's check it out." And he headed for the spot.  I looked around this ruin. It must have been a stately building at one time, now it only had three and a half walls standing. From the masonry I could tell that the building was very old. It had withstood the test of time, it could not withstand the test of five hundred pound bombs of the Eighth Air Force. The building originally had three floors and the first floor where we entered had very large window openings. I tried to imagine the interior in it's heyday, it must have been magnificent,” Come here quick, I found something!" Pista yelled and jerked me back to the present, a few steps and I was beside him. He knelt and reached into the dust and debris, came up with a pear shaped piece of glass. He spit on it and rubbed it on his jacket to remove some of the surface grime. It had facets polished on it like a diamond at the small end of the pear a hole was drilled thru. I too got down on the ground and started to search. Pista was finding some more  pieces but these were plumb shaped, I started searching close to his first find and came across a many facetted orb the size of a golf ball. After cleaning it a little I held it up to the sunlight, it split the rays of the sun in many directions. This was drilled clear thru and had a piece of brass wire thru it that ended in a small loop. The brass wire was green with age, that's when it occurred to me what we were finding, "Pista these are pieces to a chandelier." I have seen several of these at the opera house, they were beautiful, this one must have been nice too." "You think so? I wonder where is the rest if it?" "We won't find the rest of it, it was made of brass and covered with gold leaf, the scavengers got that a long time ago." "Do you want more of these diamonds? I got a pocket full already." " No, I will just keep the orb." I looked around once more and took in the extent of the devastation, what a shame that all this was destroyed,” Come on Pista lets get out of here." We went back onto the cobbled street looking at the ruins. Up ahead I spied a fence and a gate, next to the gate a shack but no one was around. We just kept walking as we got close to the shack the door opened and an elderly man stepped out and addressed us,” Who are you kids? what are you doing here?" The man was in need of a shave, on the front of his grimy overalls we could see what he was having for lunch. Pista asked him a question,” Who the fuck are you and what are you doing here?" "Who I am is none of your business, I'm the guard here to protect the area from looters.” Protect what? Broken bricks and shattered glass? How come you don't have a uniform?" I didn't know where Pista was going with this but because he was my friend I was willing to go along. If we don't act defensive the man has no reason to think that we did something wrong.

"I don't have to have a uniform as long as I have this.” He pointed to a pin on his left breast, it was a red star with the letters MKP in gold under it.

The badge of the Hungarian Communist Party, that didn't  mean nothing just proved that he was a traitor to his country. He was no policeman for sure, he didn't have a gun, or a telephone. In the worst case we can outrun his ass. He pulled a little notebook from the dept of his pocket and produced a stub of a pencil and made further demands,” I want you to give me your identity papers." I spoke up,” You sure don't know the rules, do ya? Only a person over the age of sixteen has to have those. I will be thirteen in September and he is only fourteen." "All right that, give me your names and addresses. I'll have to make a report, and you two will be charged!" My father didn't raise an idiot and I wasn't about to give my name to this communist asshole, "My name is Pigeon Jones." "Is that with one or two G's." "Don't tell me, a man your age don't know how to spell Pigeon. Where did you go to school or did you?" "I don't want any lip from you Jones, you're enough trouble as it is. Now, where do you live?" "Ujpest (New Pest) Red Banner street 75." The stupid shit turned to Pista, "And you?" "I live in Ujpest too, Rákosy street 48." "Both of you will be charged with illegal entry to a controlled area and theft." We were not in the least afraid of this old communist bastard, it would be in the late afternoon before someone come out here to relive him or bring him some food. That would be the soonest he could turn in the fake names and with that they can kiss our asses. We had nothing to worry about, Pista asked him,” What the hell we supposed to have stolen? There is nothing here but broken bricks and rocks. Do you see us with anything?" "All the same, I'm going to report you two." I wasn't about to stay out of this, "Rerort yourself too you old sonofabitch! You're the one who stolen all the good stuff, I bet if we looked in your shack we would find all kinds of interesting things in there! Alex when we leave from here let's stop at the first police station and report this old bastard!" "Yes we sure can, they will come and tear your shack apart. We will even tell them that we saw you hiding stuff." The old commie was getting pissed, he wished he could get a hold of one of us, I had no doubts about his strength. Pista turned the screws some more, "Yea, I wonder how bad a beating you get before they will believe that you didn't hide nothing, either way you're going to Recsk (a concentration camp)." The man lost control and lunged towards us, the six or eight feet of separation was as good as a mile. He could see the futility of his effort and gave up, we laughed at his lame attempt. From a very safe distance we hurled further insults at him,” Stick your reports and charges up your fat ass you stupid bastard!"

I called Pista’s attention to it, "You didn't notice those before? Look you can see four or five of them from here. They were shot there during the siege in 1848." It was evident that they have been there for a very long time. Rust was bleeding from the cannonballs onto the brickwork.

"Hey Pista, You think we could get one of those cannonballs?" "Not unless you have a very long ladder. If you climb to the base of the wall you'll see that they are too high to reach. The reachable ones have been gotten already."

We started our descent on this steep slope again. I started to slide and grabbed for something to stop myself. I grabbed a metallic object sticking out of the ground, something told me to hold on as Pista went sliding by me on his ass. I looked closer at this pipe-like object and moved it back and forth and it came loose. I pulled it all the way out of the ground. It was thicker at the end I grabbed and it wasn't round. It had eight flat sides like an octagon. All of a sudden I got very excited, "Hey Pista, hey Pista, look what I found!" I knew what I had in my hand was a barrel of an old firearm. Pista wasn't about to climb back up so I slid down to him. After we got thru the fence we sat down on the curb and examined my find. Pista looked it over real good, ”This is a barrel of some kind of a musket all right and it's been in the ground a very long time." "You think it's from the siege of 1848?" "No, I don't think so it has to be a lot older than that. You will have to clean it up some. Maybe there is some writing on it someplace." "Yea, I can clean it up and get all the dirt out of it too." We walked to the nearest bus stop and rode to the Pest side of the river.

At home I was going to use sand paper to remove the rust, but I was worried that I might remove all traces of writing too. I showed my find to dad, "Where did you get this son?" "Pista and I went up to the fortress in Buda and I found this below the ramparts." "That's a closed off area, you could have been arrested. Did anyone see you?" "Yes, one old guy saw us and he said he was a guard. He said that he will report us, but he changed his mind." "How is that?" "We told him that we will report him to the cops for scavenging and hiding all the stuff." "You didn't?" "Oh yes we did, just ask Pista, that old guy was so mad, he tried to hit us with rocks." "You didn't give him your names, did you?" "Yes we gave him names, but not ours." "Smart boy, that's using your head."

"Dad I want to clean all the rust off of this, but I would like to save any writing that might be hidden by the rust." "I will bring you some rust remover from the garage for you that will do the trick and won't remove anything but the rust. I venture to say that this is from the time of the Turkish occupation." "You really think so dad?" "Yes, I think this is the barrel of a matchlock musket." "Hot damn dad, that would make it over five hundred years old." "Yea, that's about right." I located a long piece if stiff wire and started removing the dirt from the inside of the barrel. It wasn’t an easy task and I made a big mess in my room. I assured mom that as soon as I was finished I will clean it up, "You better." She said.

I needed a brush-like thing on the end of my wire to get the last particles of dirt off the inside walls of the barrel. I was trying to think where I saw such a device. Then it came to me, mom had a bottle washer with stiff bristles that would do the job. I found the bottle washer in one of the kitchen drawers, but the bristles were too long. No problem, a little modification with scissors and it worked like a charm. A few day later mom was asking, "What the hell happened to my bottle washer?" I kept quiet. Dad brought the rust remover from the garage and told me that I have to paint it on the rusty surface and let it set op for twenty minutes, then wave to wash it off with soap and water. I could not find a brush anywhere until I cane across mothers basting brush, this will do nicely and after I'm thru with it I'll throw it in the trash. Can't have mom basting a ham with

rust remover. I poured some of the semi-jelled liquid into the barrel and shook it real good to coat the insides; I poured the excess into the toilet.

The basting brush worked well, as soon as the jell was painted on the rust it turned black. I let it set for a half an hour, then off to the bath tub.  With some dish washing soap and the hand scrubbing brush cleaned every inch of that barrel, but there was still the insides. I had to ask mom if she had thrown away her crippled bottle cleaning brush, "No I haven’t, I saved it to show it to your father. Would you know what happened to it?"

"Well, you see I needed it to clean out a tight place, and it was too big, I had to trim it some." "Some my foot, it's absolutely useless. As soon as I saw it I knew you had something to do with it. Consider yourself lucky that you weren't around at the time." "Can I use it again?" "You can keep it, it's no good to me." With the brush and soap I was able to clean the inside of the barrel and with the help of some rags dried it real good too.

Just to make sure, I held it over the flame of the gas stove until it was too hot to hold with bare hands. With some sewing machine oil I wiped it down inside and out to keep it from any further rusting. I looked at that barrel all over but couldn't find any writing anywhere, I did find the touch hole. That’s where the spark goes to light the main charge, with the aid of a paper clip I managed to clean it out so I could blow thru it. Dad said that I did a real fine job cleaning up that old piece. Even with the lack of any writing he thought that the piece was from the time of the Turkish occupation. The next day Pista came down and brought a large magnifying glass. He inspected that barrel from one end to the other and didn't find a trace of any writing.

My curiosity got the best of me, "Hey, Ede, where are the wires and the transformer?" "Imre, this train doesn't need electricity." He produced a skate key from his pocket, only smaller, stuck it into the smoke stack of his engine and started to wind. Shit, it was a wind up train. When he finished winding he flipped a little lever on the side of the engine and it started to move with a metallic sound. It circled the track three times before it came to a stop. That's all it did. I'm sure this was a wonderful toy in 1856, but this was1956. Ede wound it up again and again we watched it go round three times. I looked at the engine and the cars. They were made out of light sheet metal stampings and put together by the slot and tab method and painted by hand, I think. Ede was so proud of it, I didn't want to rain on his parade, "My aunt is going to send me a train set for Christmas you must come over Ede when I get it." "If you get it, you mean.  I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you." "You will see that I'll have it by Christmas." I said. "There isn't any Christmas any more, it's Pine Tree Day, and instead of Santa, there is Father Winter. Don't you pay attention in school?" he replied. "Sure, I do I just forgot." Ede was so pleased with this piece of Russian shit that he was all smiles. I told him that his train was real keen. He became a pain in the ass after a while. He made little sacks that he filled with sand. They represented sacks of grain, blocks of wood he painted to look like crated goods. Every time he added something he wanted us to see it, and we watched this mechanical marvel go round and around. I was whishing that my aunt would send me a train for Christmas like she promised.

Downtown on Kossuth Lajos street was a hobby shop, the display window was full of electric trains, mostly German and pre-war. Famous makes like Merklin, Semans, and Suko, one more beautiful than the other. I rode down there on my push scooter often, pushed my face against the window and salivated. Christmas was still far away. We were having a great time going to the different bath houses and sport clubs with swimming facilities. Pista and I went to the Dozsa sport complex one day, they had an Olympic size pool and a thirty feet diving tower. The coach made it plain, if you climbed up, you had to jump down. I climbed up, thirty feet might nor sound like much, but standing on the edge of a concrete slab and looking at the water below was scary. I jumped feet first extending my arms above my head. Just before I jumped the coach yelled,” Point your toes!" My entry was clean. Thinking back on it, that was scarier than my first parachute jump.

55
It was well into august, I came home from the square with just a little road rash. I’d been racing with Denes and his buddies and headed for the bathroom to was my hands when mom stopped me, "Son, wash your hands in your auntie." That was strange, she always ordered me to bathroom first thing whenever I came home, she said it was because she never knew where I’d been. It kind of reminded me of a stray dog. I asked her, "Can I have a little something to eat before dinner?" "Yes you can, but I want to show you something first." "What, what are you going to show me?" Then Steve butted in, "She's going to show you the package." "You be quiet Istvan." Mom chided.  “Follow me to the living room." Steve didn't follow, he was the first one in there. Our living room had a large table in the middle with six chairs; it doubled as a dining room too. In the corner to the left was an L shaped sectional. In front of the sectional sat the package. It was three feet square and two feet high and wrapped in heavy brown paper and tied around with string. Numerous postal stickers and stamps were on top, and it came from West Germany. My heart skipped a beat, but I throttled back, it can't be, it's almost three more months till Christmas. I went at the strings with my hands but the strings were too strong and I almost cut my hand. Mom came to the rescue with some scissors. I shredded the wrapping paper in seconds, cut the tape on the top of the box and I was in.

When I opened the cardboard flap what I saw was a blanket, it wasn't green and it wasn't brown it was sort of in between. I could tell it was brand new, I pulled it out, it was huge and thick. Right in the middle were two letters U.S.  Mom has been waiting for the blanket, she was visibly excited, "This is pure wool son, after I have it dyed I'll have a beautiful overcoat made out of it. See what else is in there." There were several big white things, mom said they were sheets, and under the sheets treasures that I have never seen before. There were small wreaths, leathery to the touch and it looked like it had white mold on it, yet they were nice and fragrant,” Yuck, what are these? They are heavy." "Those are dried figs son. Would you like to try one?" I will try anything once,” Yes please." "Me too, me too." Little brother was jumping up and down, mom with the scissors cut thru with whatever these things were tied together with and pulled a couple off. Gave me one Steve the other. It had a strange texture when I first bit into it, felt like a skin of a kid that I bit during a fight. The taste was sweet with the texture of a heavy preserve full of thousands of tiny seeds. It was very nice. There was more to come, large package of Juicy Fruit chewing gum, aunt Susie sent those to me before in letters. I almost got in trouble in school because the teacher thought I was eating, when it became know that I was just chewing I was reprieved. For mom there were several pairs of nylons and a big box that had KOTEX printed on it. I asked mom what it was, she said it was woman's equipment. Packets of razorblades for dad and a box for dad marked ALLEGRO. Later dad told me it was a razorblade sharpener. The biggest bars of chocolate I ever seen was in there it said Hershey's, I didn’t' know it then that it was a name of town in Pennsylvania. There were clothes for Steve and I, bags of coffee and underwear before I got to the bottom. But it wasn't the bottom yet,  another box that took up the whole bottom was there. I could not get my fingers around the box, mom told me, "Imre, turn the box upside down." Why didn't I think of that? When I did I felt something sliding. I felt the box hit the floor and I removed the big box. Another blanket laid on top of the smaller box, mom snatched away the blanket and I became light headed at the sight. It was a picture of a locomotive at speed belching smoke and steam pulling different colored wagons thru a mountainous landscape. At the top of the box in large block letters it said LIONEL. Steve's eyes were big a saucers, mine too, and was just saying, "Oh wow, oh wow." He came real close to me and was saying,” Come on already, open it." With trembling hands I removed the top of the box, I wish I would have thought of my aunt Susie at that moment, but my brain was filled with that black locomotive belching smoke and steam. It was right there in the box laying on it's side, six drive wheels and trolley wheels front and rear. Matt black in color, but it wasn't painted, it was the color of the material it was formed out of, the detail was incredible. Rivets and pipes can all be seen, and a shiny hand rail that ran all the way from the cab to up front. Compared to this Ede's train is a piece of shit. Goods wagons in vivid colors yellow, orange, blue, and a red one with a little house on top. Not much later I found out that it was called a caboose. I couldn't read the instructions, for now I could care less about that.  I just wanted to hold and caress every single piece. I could hardly keep Steve under control, he was grabbing at everything. Ede's Russian wind up train was stamped out of metal and painted, mine was made of a strange material without a speck of paint. That was the first time I thought that America must be a wonderful country, if they make beautiful things like this for children, what wonderful things they must make for adults. I already admired their cars, Joe has taken me by the American embassy, the crowds were such that I thought something was being given away for free. The crowds were there looking at the cars, Chevrolet’s, Ford, Chrysler, Pontiac, Dodge, and Buick. they were all there, one more beautiful than the other. The chrome, the color the style, made the Russian cars look like a mule next to a thoroughbred. The police kept chasing the people away, but they kept coming back. We too spent hours gawking at those cars and wondered what it would be like riding in one. 

The black box with the red lever and button was the Transformer, I could read that but I wasn't sure how to hook up the wires. I felt so frustrated,

me who was no longer a virgin, victorious in many fights, who smoked a cigar, and blew up a bomb, be confounded by a kids toy, why the hell not, I was still a kid. Steve wanted to put the red car with the little house on the track himself, he had a hard time getting all the wheels on 

all at the same time. When he finally did and rolled it to the rest of the train, he grinned from ear to ear. I had the hardest time to make him understand not to put his whole weight on the car while he pushes it along the track, all his toy cars has bent axels because of that practice.

Told Steve not to touch anything until I ran up and got Pista, "Not even the red one?" He asked, "You can touch the red one." Pista answered the door this time, "What's up Imre, dad said you were looking for me." "Come down, I need your help with something, how is your English?" "Why does that matter?" "Because I want you to read something for me." "OK give me a minute and I'll be right down." I told mom to let Pista in when he arrives and tell him to come to the living room. I had the train set up on the track except for the red one, Steve was hogging that. When Pista came in all he said, "Wow, you got it." and got down on all fours and started checking it all out, "Imre, can I pick them up?" "Of course you can. I would like you to read the instructions and help me to hook it up to the electricity." "OK no trouble, just let me fondle these for a while, Ede is going to shit when he sees these." "Yea, he told me not to hold my breath until my train arrives." "These are beautiful, I wonder what kind of portable radios the Americans make?" "I don t know Pista, I never saw one, the ones in their cars are small." "That portable that Ede's father brought back is a beast, if he keeps carrying it around he'll have a hernia. Where are those instructions?" I handed them over to Pista, he looked them over and said, "This is a piece of cake, red wire to the center track, green wire to the outside track. Green wire to the green terminal on the transformer, red wire to the red terminal." I was only a step behind Pistas instructions, "Pista please plug it in." I had possession of the transformer, this was a momentous occasion. As soon as it was plugged in a slight hum came from the transformer, "Steve I need the red one." "Imre, the red one is called a Caboose." "A CabWhos?" "Say it all at once CABOOSE." "Steve, bring the CABOOSE." That got his attention and he coupled up to the end of the train. I started to push the red lever forward, even before the train started to move I noticed that a light was on in the cab of the engine and a single headlight on the front of the engine was lighting up the track. I pushed the lever a little more forward and the train began to move. Steve's excited laughter filled the room and he jumped up and down with excitement. Pista and I just looked at each other and grinned. I pushed the lever a little more forward and the train went faster, I wondered what the red button did, I pushed it. 

The engine came alive with a TOOOOT, I pushed it again and it did it again. Steve was ecstatic and urged me to do it more. By this time the train went all around the table and was coming by me again, what I saw put a knot in my stomach. I yelled at Pista, "Unplug it, unplug it fast." He jumped up and pulled the plug, the train immediately came to a stop and Pista gave me a puzzled look. "What's the matter? What's wrong? I know what I saw was real, "I saw smoke coming from the engine, maybe there is a short in it and I don't want to burn it up. "Pista lifted the engine off the track, looked at it smelled it and handed it to me then he picked up the instructions and started reading. Me still full of concern, I too was smelling the engine, trying to detect burned coil or wires. This can't happen that my train fuck up on me so soon, it's  Made in U.S.A. it's written right on it. Still contemplating the problem I heard Pista say, "It's supposes to. It's supposed to smoke, it's right here,' After a few minutes of operation the engine will produce puffs of smoke' there is nothing wrong with it. I looked at Pista in disbelief, he plugged the transformer back in

Steve was right by my side boldly suggesting,” Make it smoke, I want to see it smoke." I put the engine back on the track and coupled it to the tender, these clever Americans, smoke out of a toy train and it couples up like a real train. Ede's train is coupled together by wire hooks, it does run if the electricity goes out. Pista sat next to me and asked, "Can I drive it some?" "Sure you can." And I handed him the transformer. He made the train whistle twice and pushed the red lever forward. The train started to move at a moderate speed, he pushed the lever forward some more. Steve laid down at the end of the straight section of track and was saying, "It's gona run over me, Yaaay!" By the time it came by us, a light plume of smoke was coming out of it's short smoke stack. Steve went running out of the room yelling, "It's smoking, it's smoking!" Mom was in the room in the blink of an eye. Kitchen towel in hand and a worried look on her face, "What's burning, what's smoking? Steve behind her was yelling,” The train, the train!" "Why you little......." and smacked Steve with the kitchen towel, came over a watched the train smoke. I suggested,

"Push the red button mom." She pushed it and the engine responded with a long TOOOOT. All she said was, "Oh my, isn't that amazing." "Mom

can Ede come up and look at the train?" "Yes if you promise that you don't brag off too much and you must not tell him that his train is a Russian piece of crap." "I won't mom." Pista was enjoying himself as the engineer, he pulled the arm on the transformer backwards and the train backed up. Now Steve was bugging me that he wanted to drive too. I told him, "You can drive until I come back with Ede, but don't touch the train, just the controls." "Can I blow the whistle?" "You can blow it all you want." Pista headed for home, and me next door to Ede's. His mother answered the door. "Hello is Ede home?" "Yes Imre he's in his room. Ede Imre's here." I went to his room, he was busy with glue, cardboard, and scissors

"Hey Ede, what's you're making?" "Hi Imre, I'm making a station house that my train can pull into." Ede was talented with his hands, he already made a water tower from a coffee can that looked authentic and a loading platform. "Hey Ede would you like to come over and see my train?"

"How did you get a train? Your parents didn't go anywhere." "They didn't have to, it came in the mail." "That must be some train if it came in an envelope. I hope you got good pictures." He was already starting to annoy me," "Are you coming or not, I really don't care, I'm not going to force or beg you." "All right already, I'm coming keep your shirt on." Ede was a little chubby and was slow to boot, he reminded me of a giant sloth, facially too. He was following me, huffing and puffing as he climbed the stairs. "I hope you're not shitting me Imre." "Or what Ede." "Oh nothing, how many cars did you get with your train?" "Four cars and a tender." "What the hell is a tender? What is it used for?" By now we were in the foyer and I herd Steve blow the whistle. Ede heard it too, "What was that? That sounded like a train!" "Yes it is, my train." Ede was off into the living room like a shot, If I wasn't there he would pushed Steve away from the transformer. He just got right next to him, and watched what he was doing. When the train came around and he saw the smoke, he yelled at Steve, "Turn it off, turn it off quick! It's burning up!" Steve gave him a disgusted look. "It supposed to do that, stupid, it smokes like a real train." "It's some train that arrived in an envelope, ain't it Ede?" "It's beautiful Imre. Can I drive it for a while please?" "Steve, let Ede have the controls." Reluctantly, Steve handed over the transformer, but before he did he backed up the train to the other side of the table. As soon as he had the controls 'The Sloth' spread himself all over the floor like if he was at home. "Where did you get this train from Imre?" "My aunt sent it to me from Germany." "The Germans make beautiful electric trains," "This one is made by Americans, Made in U.S.A. it's right on it." "Really no foolin’?" Ede was doing all the maneuvers with the train that his wouldn't do.

"I bet the Russians could make a better train than this if they wanted to." I think Steve wanted the controls back, but Ede wasn't ready to give them up, was using the whistle a lot and made the train go faster. "Imre, he's making it go too fast, he's gonna make it crash." "Pipe down squirt, I know how to drive this train." He pushed the lever further forward and the train went faster. At the next bend the speed proved to be too much, and the engine jumped the track draging all the cars with it. Steve was pissed off, "See what you did , you stupid!" The Sloth, looked at me, "I'm sorry Imre, I hope I didn't break anything." I knew he wasn't sorry, he wanted to do this, he was green with envy inside. Ede helped to put the train back on the track, he handled every piece, and with little brother at the controls the train worked just as well as before. I wanted Ede to go the fuck home now, but he wanted to make conversation, "My train never jumps off the track. There must be something wrong with that engine." Steve turned to the Sloth and spoke into his face, "There is something wrong with you, you stupid ass. I said you were going too fast."

"No I wasn't." "Yes you were, and my mom said that your train is a Russian piece of shit." I was glad that I wasn't the one who said that, but I wanted to. With that said Ede got the message and got off his ass. "I think I should go home now. Maybe we get together some other time now that both of us have trains." "Yea sure Ede, see ya later." He said by to my mom on the way out, but I wondered what this knocked kneed muthafucker going to say to his parents at home. "Steve, stop the train and listen to me." "Yea what is it?" "You should not have said that to Ede." "Why not? He started it, he wrecked the train." "Yes, but you were here when mom asked us not to insult him." "She asked you, not me. I don't like him anyway, he looks like a sloth." I could not help laughing, and Steve went back to railroading.

It is the second time in my life that I felt like this, the first time it was when I wanted a bicycle and the prospect was that I get one. I daydreamed  about it, was sleepless because of it. I thought that I would ride it all the time when I get it, I got the bike. Once I had it, it wasn't such a big deal.

I have dreamed about getting the train for more than six months. Now that I have it, it's not such a big deal. It was much more thrilling getting it and unpacking it than playing with it. I planned to put it away until Christmas. It didn't work out that way, on rainy days Pista would come down, and we set it up, other times Steve want's to play and mom asks me to set it up for him.

57 
September arrived, and the leaves started to turn. The school year started and I was in the seventh grade. I still had the 'Crypt Fugitive' for Russian language, and Mr. Farago for Hungarian language, I was glad of that. Earlier during the summer, about early July, I met this boy just by chance. I was out and about in the city park near a soccer pitch. A group of boys were organizing a game and asked me to play. I was never a good soccer player so they put me to play rear guard. Our goalie had a pronounced limp, but he played with much enthusiasm. Our side lost three to one. I wasn't a good rear guard. After the game I asked the goalie, "Hey, how come you're limping so bad?" He answered in a nonchalant manner, "Because I got a wooden leg." And to prove it he knocked on it. He was rolling himself a cigarette from a piece of newspaper and some cigarette butts. I was curious how could a young boy like him lose one of his legs? He was older than I was but by not much. "How did it happen?" I asked.  "How what happen?" he answered. "Your leg, how did you loose your leg? Sorry, I really am sorry. My name is Imre, Baka Imre."  He replied friendly enough, "Hello, mine is Jani, Molnár Jani, but everyone calls me Wooden leg Jani. You can too."
He shook his head so that his longish sandy hair wouldn't hang in his eyes, "So what happened?"

"Oh that, would you believe me if I told you that I lost it in the war." "I don't think so." "OK, I was nine years old and I was riding on the outside steps of a streetcar, I lost my grip and fell, my right leg slipped under the wheel. Do you feel sorry for me?" "No I don't. How old are you?" "I was seventeen in may. What else do you want to know?" "I got a cousin who is seventeen." Where do you live?" "What's with you? are you writing a book?" "Maybe some day, so where do you live?" "Futo street, with my mother, I was going to technical school but couldn't negotiate all the steps and had to drop out, and you're beginning to annoy me." "I'm sorry Jani, I didn't mean to do that, I was just curious." "I'm sorry too, I didn't want to be course with you, but I get this a lot." We shook hands and went our separate ways. I saw Wooden leg Jani in the park and on Heroes Square the rest of the summer, and into the school year. Greeted each other but never talked again.  In 1992 during my first visit to Hungary after many years, I went to a place of brutal combat in downtown Budapest. The place was Corvin Alley, there I ran into Wooden leg Jani. I was reading the bronze plaques, placed on the wall in memory of the freedom fighters of Corvin Alley, and there it was Molnár 'Wooden leg' Jani the teenage artillery man of Corvin Alley died 1956 November 5th. That was only a few weeks after I saw him the last time. Looking at that plaque I almost saw his face, his sandy hair hanging in his blue eyes and that abortion of a cigarette dangling from his lips.

58
The first part of September was getting into the rhythm of school. I had the toughest time getting going in the morning, after I slid down the banister, I was all right. The weather was unusually warm all thru September and into October. Mom wanted to wear her new beautiful overcoat, but there was no need. My great aunt Kató usually stopped by a couple times a week, her and mom talk and drink coffee. I think the old gall came because of the American coffee, she had a son in the air force and flew a MIG. On this day she arrived in a higly agitated mode, more upset than anything. She was talking to mother real fast,"Maria, it was terrible blood everywhere, they shot people at the radio!" Now, that got my attention."Yes it was horrible, people were all bloody, others were carrying body parts." Hell, I got to see this. I looked at the calendar it was November Twentythird. Mom was trying to calm aunt Kató,"Auntie calm down, I'm sure it's not as bad as it looked." It was worse. I got my jacket and headed for the door."Hold it. Just where do you think you're going?" "Just going out for a while mom." "O no you don't, you just go to your room and get your books out." "I got plenty of time to study, mom. I just want to see what's going on." "That's what I was affraid of, GO." I turned on the radio, there were only two stations, both of them were on their normal programing. I don't know how much time has passed, but it wasn't dark yet. I heard mom calling me,"Imre, Imre, come quick look at this:" She wasn't in the kitchen, I traced her voice to the livingroom. She had the window open and was leaning out, when she heard me she said,"Come and look at this." I looked out the window and could hardly beluve my eyes. I have seen the avenue with lots of people before, but this was ridiculous. The street was filled from curb to curb with men and women carrying hungarian flags that the cummunist emblem was cut out of leaving a gaping hole. They were olso carrying signs FREEDOM FOR HUNGARY and RUSSIANS GO HOME. The sight made my heart beat faster, I never seen anything like this before. I made a megaphone from my hands and yelled down to the crowd,"Where are you going!" A voice answered back,"Were going to pull down Stalin's statue." Stalin Plaza was only three blocks from us, even now we could see the thithy foot statue from our window. It was a place of military parades, and I went there to fly kites becouse there were no trees ot overhead wires. Mom said,"Do you want to go?" "Sure, let'.s all go." Steve was making it known what he wanted."Me too, me too," "Imre, hold on to your brothers hand and don't let him go." Down in the street we went and joined the multitudes, by the time we turned toward Stalin Plaza I too was yelling"RUSSIANS GO HOME!" The plaza was a sea of people, when I looked behind me there was a forest of flags, I didn't see our mother anywhere. A man from the base of the statue was making a speech with the aid of a bullhorn, it must have been a Russian made bullhorn becouse it was huge. Among the things he said,"The Hungarians had enough of communism and Soviet domination." What really got the people going was when he said,"We have to remove this hated symbol of Soviet opression." The whole plaza throbed with one voice, demanding,"Tear it down! Tear it down!" The crowd surged toward the statue, stout ropes appeared and men with great skill climbed the staue to secure the ropes around Stalin's neck. The ropes were paid out and more ropes were attached, a large area where Stalin would fall was cleared. Everyone who could grabbed onto the ropes did so, and the whole multitude counted,"One, two, three PULL!" It was a Herculian effort, but Stalin didn't even budge. In about five minutes, several large dump trucks entered the plaza. The people made way for them so they could get glose to the statue. the trucks backed up close to he cleared space. One of the trucks were fifthy yards from where Steve and I were standing. Stalin was climbed again, and steel cables were looped around his neck.

59
The cables were fastened to the dump trucks the slack was taken up and they pulled in unison. The cables were taunt, the drive wheels of the trucks were smoking and screeching. With great sparks the cables parted and went hissing thru the air like angry snakes. Steve and I could see the statue fine, and the dump truck, but all the people were pressing in on us. I have never been in this fucking big crowd before in my life.

I was beginning to be scared for us. To fall down in a crowd like this could result in serious injury even death. I had no idea where mom was, even if I did, that wouldn't help. The statue had my attention again, men were hauling welding equipment up to Stalin’s boots on a ladder. Others with hammers were pounding on Stalin's boot top, where it sounded hollow they marked it with chalk. The men with the cutting torch started to cut behind Stalin’s knees. When both legs were cut half way thru, the men scrambled down and the trucks were signaled. The trucks took up the slack and started to pull, Stalin started to lean forward and for a moment it looked as if he tried to hold onto the reins of power, hung there for a blink of an eye and toppled to the cobblestones. It made a mighty hollow sound , and everybody went nuts. The crowd went absolutely wild, I was really scared now. The crowd was surging toward the fallen Stalin like a tsunami, I knew if we stayed, we will be trampled. Had to make a dash to the closest truck. I got a grip on Steve’s hand extra good,and told him,"You hold me too, no matter what." "Imre I'm scared." "Don't be affraid, stay on your feet and stay with me. Are you ready?" "Yes." The crowd thinned a little,"Let"s GO!" I ran for the truck pulling Steve, focussed on the truck not looking back. Lucky for us that the truck was toward the statue and we moved mostly with the flow of humanity. I was out of breath when I slid under the truck still holding Steve's hand just as hard as I could."Imre you're hurting my hand." His voice made me realise that we were safe now. I was not going to move from here untill the truck moves or this madness stops. I hoped that mom was all right and didn't get trampled.

The crowd was venting their anger on the fallen image of Stalin, they were pounding on it with anything and everyrhing. Stalin was making a deep hollow sound like grotesque bell. I looked toward the pink marble base of the statue, it was covered reliefs of Russian soldiers and Hungarian farmers and workers shaking hands in the spirit of brotherhood. The people that couldn't get at Stalin, went at the decorations on the base of the statue. With hammers and picks they obliterated the Russian soldiers. On the pedestal where Stalin stood an hour ago, there were only a giant pair of boots. The flag of the revolution was flying above it and they hung a sign with the new name 'BOOT PLAZA'! We waited untill Stalin was tied to the back of one of the other trucks and dragged down the road that we came, some people rode on top of the statue, still pounding it with hammers. When this great procession arrived at 'Heros Squate' the poundung stopped, and those thousands of people sang the National Anthem with one voice. The lights were not on at the square, the people made torches from newspapers and held them high, it was a sight to behold. Now I took part in a historical event, I was there. After the National Anthem the crowd went on the avenue draging Stalin with them and the pounding commenced. We broke away from them and went into our building. Mom greeted us at the door practicly in tears, she hugged and kissed both of us,"I didn't know what happenned with you two! One second you were, the next you were gone, I looked all over, I asked everyone. I'm so glad that you are home safe." "We were fine mom, we saw Stalin fall." Steve wanted to say something too," "Yes, he went crash!" "Yes darlings it was great. I wonder what will come of all this?" "Maybe the Russians will go home like we been suggesting."

"Have you not heard Imre? They are all gone from next door, Ede's father has an empty building." "See mom it'sworking already." "Yes, I wonder what's keeping your father? He's never this late." Steve tought he had the answer,"Hes just held up in traffic." mom stayed up late waiting for dad.

I only fell asleep way past midnight. Awoke about six am it was just geting light, and as soon as the cobwebs diapeared from my head I heard gunfire. Automatic gunfire, just like in the movies, but this was't a movie.

*July 2007  I have some great news to share with you all.  Dorrance Publishing of Pittsburg has accepted my story for publishing.

Thank you all and Kudos to you who encouraged me to keep on keeping on. To you Whiners who just wanted to put me down, well it's best that I say nothing.
 

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