We spent precarious hours standing at the base. It seemed as if some negotiating was taking place. There may be some hope! It was very obvious that the SS was in charge. Someone recognized the SS Storm Trooper Kurt Becher, who was replacing General Winkelman. Again the younger men and women were separated. I was able to keep an eye on my mother. After a long wait the procession moves on. Some were directed to the railway station. The Kolumbus street ones and a few of the other were directed toward the József Town station. I was among this group.
On the Aréna Road - around Damjanich stree Dr. Lányi breaks away as we cross the street. He joins the crowd that is passing by. (I wonder how he made out?) As we reach the Klauzál Square, the old people line up next to us. I notice an elderly rabbi, a cane on his shoulder, a bag hangs from the cane with his precious possessions. He is all hunched up under its weight. Within seconds, without being noticed, I switch to his procession and take his cane and bundle. We link arms and keep going. He was so grateful. I was really touched.
Fate is uncanny. Had I not taken this step, no doubt I would have ended up in Bergenbelsen, the death camp along with the others in that group. Before long we are at Akácfa (Acacia) street. The Arrow Cross stops us at the empty apartments. We have reached the ghetto.
The group is assigned to two adjacent buildings that the janitor unlocks. They had been looted - completely empty. Amongst all the apartments only one or two of the original tenants remained. They were waiting to move to better apartments. The Rabbi and I are directed to an apartment on the second floor. There are people there already - sharing our destiny. We become a close family, ready to help each other with kind words, friendliness and hope. My room is with the Drechsler couple and their seventeen-year-old daughter, Vera. We become good friends in no time and comfort each other. Mr. Drechsler dealt in agriculture. Their home is on Vaskapu (Iron Gate) street. They have a three room apartment. I must come to visit them one day...but our big problem is how will we sleep on the bare floor. I set out to investigate. The gate to the apartment is locked, the street completely deserted. I notice that there is a telephone booth cross the street. Someone drops in with a token of fairly regular intervals - a civilian guard on duty. There is talk that we will be served a hot meal once a day. In the basement I discover some discarded sofas and cots. I bring them up for the Rabbi, the Drechslers and myself. I even find some cushions. We wonder how long we will be staying here. How long can we take this? What are the Arrow Cross' plans? Will we be deported or just killed or would they simply set fire to the ghettot?
It is noon - a beautiful sunny day, but by evening the unheated rooms are icy cold. I cover myself with my leather jacket. It has been a long day. Perhaps my mother is in one of these buildings...
December 4, Monday.
A woman brings us a little something to eat in the morning. She lives in the building and works in Csepel. She is kind and tries to be helpful. The Drechslers ask her to go to Vaskapu street - I ask her to go to the Pannonia hoping that Peter would learn of our whereabouts. She has an I.D. which permits her to come and go. We all get together in the yard before noon and we manage to sneak some wood for a fire. We hear the bell - mealtime...a rather diluted soup. At least we were not forgotten and it's good to be eating something hot. The Csepel woman returned in the evening with quite a big parcel. The Drechslers treated us to some preserves. She did go to the Pannonia. I must be patient...
I don't see any more notes in my diary that would jog my memory. I was afraid of being caught, and did not want to cause trouble to anybody.
I spent days in the ghetto but I did not give up hope. One day in the early afternoon, in walks Péter. He smiles and apologizes for the delay. Many "orders" had Seen carried out under the guidance of the "Mester". He made all the arrangements to enable me to leave the Ghetto by the evening!
He has brought me clothes - a suit, which at one time must have been blue, a black coat and a hat. Then he produces the precious document - my new I.D. with my birth-date sixteen years older to avoid conscription. Now Peter becomes the Make-Up Man. He is equipped with grease and flour and transforms me into a grey-haired fifty-two year-old. This was very important...but how will he get me out of here? Then he produces a cane and the lady who has been so much help holds me by the other arm. When the right moment comes, I shall make my exit accompanied by her.
Péter has gone. He has left a pair of black-rimmed glasses for me. (for my very poor eyesight!) "I have come to visit my friend from Csepel, but I can't find that blasted gate." This was the line I was to use until I reach the gate It was totally dark. We move along, arms tightly linked, until we reach the iron gate. Here the searchlights blind us.
Identification! Police and the Arrow-Cross surround us. Trembling, I produce my papers and the lady keeps them busy with her jabber. "I had to help the gentleman. He's a refugee and doesn't know his way around. - He is almost blind." They hardly looked at my papers.
"It's O.K. Walk the old chap to the streetcar stop" - one of the police men spoke. We were already out somewhere on Dohány (Tobacco) sreet - near Blaha Lujza Square. We merged with the crowds on the sidewalk.
I was most grateful to this wonderful woman. To this day, I have idea who she was.