Units of the German 13th Panzer Division Feldherrnhalle withdraw from Újpest. The fighting continues at the railway embankment along Mexikói Road in Zugló. In City Park the 2nd Company of the Budapest Police Assault Battalion retook the building of the Industrial Hall. Fighting commenced in sewers under the districts of the city centre. German troops are retreating factory to factory from Lehel Street next to the railway lines out of the Western Station. Feldherrnhalle units are still holding the Dagály Street — Aréna Road line along the Outer Circle.
Vera comes into the bathroom and watches the chess match.
‘Artillery ammunition has given out; ammunition for the infantry may only be issued on condition that it is only to be fired sparingly on orders. Fuel has given out, the situation of the wounded is catastrophic,’ the Joint German — Hungarian Army Command HQ reports.
The Germans blow up Miklós Horthy Bridge and, at night, the Franz Josef Bridge over the Danube.13
Do you reckon the big mistake was on 19 March? the warden asks the physicist. The fact that the Germans were allowed to enter Hungary without a single shot being fired.
By that stage it was bound to happen.
Vera whispers in my ear that she has a raging thirst. The man from the guard on the gate who earlier said that fighting was going on by Dráva Street comes in again. Bursts of submachine-gun fire can now be heard from the bank of the Danube, he reports. You think we can’t hear? the warden bawls at him without getting up from the rim of the bath. I had not heard him yell like that before. Vera runs out of the bathroom. The Russians can’t yet be at Dráva Street, the warden says to the guard. The shooting would sound different. You’ve not been on the frontline, that’s for sure. I know these things better than you.
By that stage it was bound to happen, the physicist reiterates.
So was the mistake entering the war then?
Of course it was, Józsi, of course, the physicist says, but that, too, was bound to happen.
Could we have stayed out?
Yes, of course, Józsi, says the physicist. But then before that the idiots had committed themselves to Hitler.
Hitler reannexed the territories Hungary lost after the First World War — Transylvania, the Felvidék in the north, Baka, the Baranya Triangle and Medjumure in Serbia …
Yes, of course, the physicist is starting to gesticulate, but those idiots didn’t have the faintest idea of the price that would have to be paid for that. Well, this is the price!
But once the Trianon Peace Treaty was signed there was no other choice …
Yes, of course, that’s how the beginning and end meet, Józsi, that’s what I’ve been saying. The first mistake leads to all the other irreversible mistakes.
I don’t follow …
Look, Józsi, the Trianon Treaty was an appallingly unjust award. After that two paths lay open: either prove to the British, the Americans and French that we would try to be a peaceful, democratic country and over time show we deserved to have the faulty decisions alleviated and corrected — which is what István Bethlen wanted — or the second route was war. There was no third way. The idiots chose to lick Hitler’s arse … Understood?
The physicist notices that the warden is no longer in the bathroom — he had scooted out with the man from the guard on the gate. He says it over again, just as with the chess …
Mate in two moves, isn’t it, I say.
Two moves, he says. That’s not bad at all. If you have patience you could make a useful player.
Friedrich Born, the authorized representative of the ICRC in Budapest, notes:
On 14 January an Arrow Cross stormtrooper unit broke into the Orthodox Hospital on Városmajor Street. Patients and staff were bundled out into the yard in groups of five or ten and shot to death, those who were lying in their beds being shot in bed. One hundred and fifty people were murdered, including 130 patients, the rest being doctors, nurses or other hospital employees.
I go down to the gate.
The warden is giving instructions to the men who are just about to take over the watch. I ask him if it is all right to go out in front of the gate. He says, Be careful.
Houses are smoking in József Katona Street, the next road. An Arrow Cross patrol is approaching from the right. A German panzer has parked at the junction with the Outer Circle, with German and Hungarian soldiers swarming around it. An officer is shouting out orders — even though his voice does not carry as far as our gate I can see from his hand gestures that he is giving orders. A machine gun is blazing away from one of the upper windows of the Comedy Theatre, but I cannot see who they might be shooting at from there. The two Arrow Crossers turn at the corner and hurry away in the direction of Pozsonyi Road, the parallel street two blocks nearer the river. Father is calling. I should get back inside. The tank starts moving but does not come back up Pannónia Street and instead turns off towards the Western Station. Now a second machine gun is chattering from another window of the Comedy Theatre. Father and the warden also step out on to the pavement. The gate of the house opposite opens. That is not a yellow-star house. Two women with pails come out. The warden shouts over to enquire whether they, too, have no drinking water. They reply that they haven’t but it is still being distributed in Holló Street, and they’re going to try to reach that.
In the stairwell, the warden makes a renewed attempt to seek out volunteers. There’s no curfew, says Father, but you can’t go out wearing a yellow star. Agreed, one can’t go out with a yellow star, says the warden, but one can have a go without one. The patients and children have to have drinking water.
Gyuri is standing by the stairs; I have no idea where he came from. Right then, shall we go? he asks. Are you willing to take it on without a star? the warden asks. Why, do you see me wearing one? He is again wearing the rust-coloured pullover; it is pretty threadbare. It’s risky, says the warden. You can be stopped at any time for a check. Gyuri grins and reaches for his back pocket to haul out a revolver. A few seconds go by and then he pulls out the other revolver from a side pocket. You were a soldier, says the warden. I hope you know how to use them. He checks the cartridge clip of one gun and puts the safety catch on. When we get back you’ll have to let me have the other as well; you may put the others at risk if a raid is made on the house and they come across it.
We go upstairs. The warden still shouts out in a renewed effort to seek out volunteers. The doctor appears from one of the apartments. We need you here, says the warden.
The physicist is standing before the door to our apartment, two buckets in his hands. Father says farewell to Mother. He, too, is given two pails. He does not say farewell to me, so I ask him if I can go as well. It’s not far, I say. Mother grabs me by the hand and pulls me beside her. I cannot see Vera anywhere. The warden also brings two buckets. He tells his wife, Five minutes there, five back, and even if one has to queue up for the water they’ll be back in half an hour or an hour. In the meantime do whatever is necessary on his behalf; she can count on the doctor and the guards at the gate. Aunt Klári purses her lips. I don’t know how she manages to speak like that or, rather, not speak so much as, say, Józsi! Now it is me who is clutching Mother’s hand, not she mine. Father smiles, Hear that, he says. Five minutes there, five back, and even if we have to wait then half an hour or an hour at most. Once I get back we’ll collect some chicken shit, and I’ll daub that on my face to make my beard grow at last.
Four of them take eight buckets. As we accompany them down the stairs I work out that this will be between 250 and 300 millilitres per person. If it’s distributed carefully that will be enough for two days.