He was never able to console himself with the thought that, on that cold October morning in 1956, he could not have dreamed how far he was going.
The university was a tornado of rumors. After every radio broadcast, people would scurry around the hall like town criers. The exhausted students cheered upon hearing that President Eisenhower had said, “The heart of America goes out to the people of Hungary.” They sang to one another, “The whole world is watching!”
But the peak of euphoria came on Tuesday afternoon, when Premier Nagy announced that the evacuation of Soviet troops had begun. George must have knocked down six people as he dashed ecstatically across the room to embrace Aniko.
On the morning of November first, George was rudely awakened by Geza, a fellow law student.
“What the hell —”
And then he noticed something very odd. Scrawny Geza today looked like a circus fat man. George rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
“What the hell has happened to you?” he asked. “We’ve got to get out of here,”
Geza said. “I’m wearing all my clothes — at least everything I could squeeze on — and heading for Vienna.”
“Have you lost your mind? The Soviets are gone. Don’t you hear Radio Free Europe?”
“Yes, but I also hear my cousin in the village of Gyor. He rang about two hours ago and said there were hundreds of Russian tanks massing at the western border. They’re just regrouping to come back.”
“Is he sure?”
“Do you want to wait and find out?” George hesitated, but only for a split second. “Let me get Aniko,” he said.
“Okay, but make it snappy.”
She was reluctant.
“What makes you so sure the Soviets are coming back?”
“How many reasons do you want?” George answered impatiently. “Look, if Hungary goes independent, that will give the Poles and the Czechs big ideas. Then boom, the Russian empire tumbles like a house of cards.”
Her face grew pale. She was frightened by the magnitude of the decision being forced upon her.
“But what about my mother — she can’t manage without me.”
“She will have to,” George replied impassively. He put his arms around her. She was sobbing quietly.
“Let me at least call her,” she pleaded.
“Yes. But please be quick.”
They started walking. George and Aniko with just the clothing on their backs, Geza wearing his entire wardrobe. As they reached the outskirts of Buda, George saw a phone booth and suddenly thought of his sister.
“Anybody got some change?” he asked.
Aniko pressed a coin into his hand.
“Gyuri,” his sister said anxiously, “where are you? Even Father’s been concerned.”
“Listen,” he replied, “I’m in a hurry —”
Just then, Geza stuck his head into the booth and Whispered, “Tell her the Voice of America is passing code messages from refugees who make it across.”
George nodded.
“Please, Marika, don’t ask me any questions. Just listen to the Voice of America. If they say that —” He hesitated once again. “That ‘Karl Marx is dead’ — that’ll mean I’m all right.”
“Gyuri, I don’t understand. You sound scared.”
“I am,” he confessed, and then added, “so for God’s sake, pray that he does die.”
He hung up without another word.
“What about your father?” Aniko asked. “Won’t he get into trouble when they learn you’ve fled the country?”
“Listen, he’s a consummate politician, with a genius for self-preservation. He’ll be just fine, I assure you.”
And in his heart he thought, He turned his back on me during my whole childhood, why should I care what happens to him now?
They plodded on in silence. The only traffic on the road was the occasional ancient truck — nearly always heading toward the western border. Once in a while the trio would get a lift for a few dozen kilometers. The drivers never asked where they were going or why.
It was nearly nightfall when they reached the outskirts of Gyor.
“What do we do now?” George asked Geza. “It’s much too cold to sleep outside, and I’ve barely got a few forints in my pocket for food.”
“I don’t even have enough for a bowl of soup,” Aniko added.
Geza merely smiled. “Leave it to me. Do you have the strength to walk another hour?”
“Only if I knew we could get inside somewhere,” said George. Aniko nodded agreement.
“Tibor Kovacs’s parents live in Enese — about ten kilometers from here. He was going to leave with us. His parents would be expecting him.”
Aniko gasped. “Don’t they know he was shot two nights ago?”
“No,” Geza replied, “and there’s no point in telling them.”
And he began to lead them toward Enese.
In half an hour, they were trudging down an icy country road lit only by moonlight. They had been walking since early morning and were almost too tired to speak.
“Tomorrow would be a good day to try to make it across,” said Geza. “It’s All Souls’ Day. The roads will be filled. Everybody will be going to the cemeteries.”
The Kovacs family was glad to welcome friends of their son and did not seem concerned that he was not with them. He had been instructing various groups of the newly formed militia in the use of arms, so that George’s fabrication — that Tibor was needed for another few days in Budapest — seemed perfectly plausible.
Dinner was a dream. Unlike the capital city, the villages had plenty of food, and Mrs. Kovacs set before them a feast of chicken and vegetables. There was even a bottle of Tokay.
“I admire you.” Mr. Kovacs smiled broadly. “If I were a few years younger, I’d be going, too. For sure as snow will fall tomorrow, the Russians will be back. Everyone I speak to has seen the tanks. They are off the main road, but they are out there in the forests, waiting like hungry bears.”
Aniko was offered Tibor’s bed. Though inwardly horrified, she knew she had to accept. The two young men curled up by the fire in the main room.
The next morning it was snowing heavily.
Geza looked at George and Aniko. “In this weather, I think the best idea is to try to catch a train to Sopron. From there, we have a long and very sparse border with Austria. If we are lucky, we should be able to walk across tonight.”
At midday they thanked the Kovacses and started off, leaving all sorts of encouraging messages for Tibor.
At the outskirts of the village, they got their first shock. The Russian tanks were no longer hiding behind trees. Two of them were squatting right in the center of the road.
“Well?” George asked Geza.
“Don’t panic, Gyuri. It’s snowing like hell and they don’t seem to be paying very close attention. We’re not carrying any luggage, so why should they suspect us of anything?”
“You, Geza, look like a walking football in all those clothes,” said George. “If you intend to try to bluff your way past those tanks, you’d better strip down.”
