Mittwoch, 12. August 2020

106) fifty-six
Written by Rainer: rainer.lehrer@yahoo.com
Learn languages (via Skype): Rainer: + 36 20 549 52 97 or + 36 20 334 79 74
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Fifty-six

Born in nineteen twenty-one, now two thousand and one he felt abandoned by his view of the world, his surroundings, even his grandchildren. Something, he had fought against all his life, was on the rise again, fascism. Today they wanted to make him feel guilty for something he had done in fifty-six and would commit again, namely, to speak out against fascism and racism.
The Horthy regime had been a nightmare for him; his best school friends had been refused admission to the university. Jews were reported at work and suddenly disappeared. And then finally, the entry into a senseless war on the side of a mass murderer. He himself was sent to the Russian front, where he saw how the people in the work commandos, mostly Jews or opponents of the regime, were dying like flies. The Hungarian regular troops did not behave much better towards the Ukrainians than the Germans. Slavonic people were only subhuman to them, and raping their wives and daughters was not a sin. Horthy fascism had turned the Hungarians into animals.
He was one of the few who survived. To prevent himself from being called up again, he went underground. But the underground was small. The Hungarians supported their Horthy and later Szállasi. When the Russians arrived in the country, he found that they had come not only to rid the world of fascism, but also to take revenge. He tried to find an excuse for them: "After all, the Hungarians had attacked them and behaved like animals." Of course he himself realised that this was not justifiable, but he was convinced that the Russians were not as worse than the Horthy fascists. A closer study of history provided evidence to this.
In the post-war years, he fought everything that was right-wing, even if he kept asking himself whether it was right. And then, there was fifty-six and Nagy Imre. A tightrope walk between Russians and fascists. Nagy had no chance of winning. Many, not all, let the old voices from the pre-war period be heard on the streets after there had been renewed pogroms against the Jews in various villages and towns in Hungary between forty-six and forty-nine. The horrors of that nightmare reappeared before his eyes and he fired, just into the crowd! The fascists shouldn't win again. Then when Russian tanks appeared, he withdrew. He no longer wanted to take part in it. He was later suggested for various awards, which he declined. He had also never spoken to anyone about it because he wasn't proud of it, but knew that he had done the only right thing to do.
Life went on, he worked, tried, like everyone else, to be a good family man. His son became very different from him, he constantly rebelled against the Kádár regime. Sometimes there was a quarrel between them, later a break. His son moved out and only visited his mother when the father was away. Two different generations with different life experiences. He rarely saw his grandson only when his son left him with his grandmother over the weekend or on vacation. And that's why grandfather and grandson did not manage to establish a confidential relationship.
When the system changed in 1989, many shouted to bring the criminals, as they called them, to justice. Especially those who had no idea and only wanted to use it for political goals. But again, the Hungarians hadn’t learned anything from history and let themselves be fooled.
And once, his grown-up grandson came to visit and accused him directly, that was too much for him. The grandson had forgotten that his father was also a good Kádárist, although he had spoken differently behind people's backs. The grandfather got up, went into his garage to repair something. His grandson took this as a confession. A few years later, he died and, like all people before they die, subconsciously talked a lot not understandably. A few years later, the grandson would say that his grandfather suffered from great remorse.


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