I went home without my yellow band, though very carefully. I found many strange people in our home. Because the bombardment damaged many apartment buildings, the city relocated the homeless people to share living space in apartments, or houses with only a few occupants.

I greeted my mother and sister, unlike a son, or brother, - just as an acquaintance. My mother and sister were ready to go away with the help of a former factory worker to a farm with a new identity of a refugee from Kisvarda. We said good-bye, like see you Ilonka (my mother) and see you Borka (my sister). They told me: "Take care Laci" (it was my name then)

The date was October 15, 1944 --- and I saw my mother again in Canada sixteen years later. My sister was sixteen years old in 1944, and when I saw her again in Israel twenty-four years later, in 1968, she was forty years old with four children.

Luckily, he was home with his girlfriend. For reason of his own, he wanted to help me. He gave me his own official release paper from the army, stating, Leslie Toth was released from duty, because of chronic arthritis, and being unfit in any of the armed forces units.

He also gave me an address of a religious Jew, about thirty years old, selling birth certificates. These papers were original blank documents, with official stamp and signature on it. Even the serial numbers were real. I asked him for one, but his price was 100 US $, which I did not have. I just could not convince him to give me one. I was very desperate, and knew, that my life was in his hand. After many no's, I lost my patience with him and hit him very hard. I told him, that when the Germans will capture him, they would take away all his money, jewelry and papers.

He gave me the paper! I returned to my friend, Leslie, and his girlfriend filled out the form: My name became Leslie Toth, my mother's name, Ilona (her real name), father's name not known. The paper looked real, cramped, dirtied a little. Later I found out, that the girlfriend was working in Buda, in a Gestapo office as a clerk.

Leslie took away my Army Book, took out my picture and went to a big bakery. They made bread mostly for the Army and also for the public. The owner was his relative. Leslie asked him to give me an official document; I am working in the bakery as an important person for the war effort. He inserted my photo, put the official stamp on and he signed it.

I became a new person and was able to cover up my past. My papers made me into Leslie Toth, but in my body I was still a Jew.

After returning to Leslie's house, I spent days with them. It was time for his girlfriend to go back to her apartment and to her work. By then the Margit Bridge (between Pest and Buda) was damaged because of heavy bombardment. The Army built a temporary bridge. Everybody had to present a pass; giving good reason to cross the bridge. Armed soldiers were stationed on both sidewalks.

Leslie approached the bridge on one side and showed his papers. His girlfriend and I went on the other side, not to have Leslie Toth crossing at the same time. I was afraid of the guards reading my name and his loudly, causing us more, than a bit of problem. It went smoothly, the lady said I was her boyfriend.

She had a nice, one-bedroom apartment, one block away from the Gestapo building. This was very "reassuring" for me. We left two days later. Next night a bomb destroyed the Gestapo building. Leslie and his girlfriend went to a large farm, South of Budapest. I did not have any choice, but to risk my life and walk back to the Pest side of the city. I did it in the rush hour without any problem. For a few days, I was hiding in a bombed-out building, and ate whatever I was able to find.

It was very tricky to avoid the police raids; again, I had to take a chance by going to the city office and applying for an apartment, or a room. The office was on Rakoczy Street. There was a big line-up of homeless people waiting to go in. I took my place at the end of the line. One hour later, I saw a group of police stopping everybody for identification and coming closer to the waiting line.

I sensed trouble even with my "good" papers. Slowly I walked away. In the afternoon I went back and I heard that the police had arrested many people. Second time around, I did not have any problem; I said my old address is not good anymore, because it became a ghetto and I need a new place to live. They gave me a room on Kiraly Street, in a big three-bed room apartment.

A waitress, who was working in a hotel's restaurant, occupied one room. The hotel housed some German officers. I had to have a roommate, a fifteen-year-old boy. Next day I found out, that he was a Jew, too. The third room was damaged.

I grew a mustache. A pair of high-laced boots, like hunting boots, used by the Arrow Cross Nazis, and a very wide belt left over in the closet, which I put outside my coat - gave me enough confidence, that I was really Leslie Toth.

A week later two officers came from the Fire Department, and called everybody downstairs in the courtyard for a tenant meeting. Every building must have had a volunteer Air-raid Captain, who would be in charge of sending people to the shelter, to fight small fires, or organize small rescue operations. I told them about my little experience and they gave me the job happily. They supplied me with a foreman's helmet, a heavy fireman's belt, axe, rope and a flashlight.

Boy! Was I ever happy and official to boot!

The Hungarian Nazis, the Arrow Cross guard came almost daily to find Jews, or even regular soldiers hiding. Every time I gave them a proper, official salutation, and reported for duty. I escorted them to different parts of the building, avoiding places where some Jews were hiding. They found a few Hungarian, even German soldiers.

I had one big problem, food! I had to find something to eat. I had to take a risk to go out and buy, or exchange something for food.

One Sunday, late afternoon, when I was going to see a woman to exchange a ladies scarf for bread, the Arrow Cross guard stopped me and without asking for any documents, escorted me and later many more to the Nagykorut (Grand Circle), a major road in the city). All the stores were closed with the metal shutters, some with wood panels.

We had to face the stores and then without any reason, they started shooting randomly everybody. In this instant the air raid sirens went off. The guards ran away as fast as they could.

I collapsed when the shooting started and a wounded girl fell upon me. After the guards left, I looked around and saw only dead people. I pushed away the bodies and went to the nearest apartment building. There, everybody was in the bomb shelter. I entered the first apartment. Luckily, I found some man's clothing to change the blood-soaked coat. Avoiding the patrols and the falling bombs, I went home to my Kiraly Street room, put on my firemen-helmet and avoided people, not to reveal my pumping heart and scary face. This was my first very close call.

The major problem was still the food: where to get it and how to pay for it?

The next day I took a bed sheet and a blanket and went to see a woman, who was working in our factory some time ago. She gave me a small bag of beans and a very skinny duck. For more than a week, we had the duck and beans to eat, adding more and more water to the pot. This way it lasted much longer. Three pairs of shoes gave us a kilo of flour, a nice Herendy dish and ten potatoes.

Somebody told me, that the corner store sold sugar and some salt, too. Late afternoon as I was going there, armed Arrow Cross guards stopped me to check my papers. The older one said my papers were OK, but the younger one, who was about 17 years old, said no. He insisted on taking me to the headquarter, at number 60 Andrassy Street. This was the infamous place for interrogating, torturing and killing people. I knew I will not survive this place and gave up all hope; I will die before I knew life, happiness, family, or old age.

Turning toward the hated place, there is a small park between Kiraly Street and Andrassy Street. At that park, I heard some loud noise and somebody pushed my back and yelled: "Run! Run fast!" I did, but before I turned around the corner, I looked back. The younger soldier was lying on the sidewalk, bleeding profusely and the older one was running away, too.

Then I remembered I saw the older soldier somewhere and I realized, that he was a Jew, hiding in the Nazi unit, as a non-Jew. He saved my life. I have been thinking of him since. I hope he survived the war and took revenge for what they did to us.

After the war, many Jewish ex-forced labourers joined the new police and army forces and captured many, many Hungarian Nazis.

I heard about Raul Wallenberg, the Swedish diplomat, who gave "Protecting Visas" to many Jews, to save them from deportation.

One morning I went to the Swedish Consulate, located in a beautiful villa. There was a long, slow moving waiting line already. About 2 pm. I was in the next group to go inside. This was Swedish territory. - I was not lucky.

A large Hungarian Arrow Cross unit passed by and we ran away from the gate. Many were captured and taken away. Their future was in the hand of the Nazis. Next day I tried again, but the same group surrounded the Consulate.

After the war, Wallenberg was snatched by the Red Army as a spy and taken away to the KGB office in Moscow. It took more than 55 years until the Russian Government released some unreliable findings of the investigation. Wallenberg was most likely killed in that jail.

The Vienna waltz is my favorite dance; everybody loves and enjoys one of the best waltzes of Johan Straus; the Blue Danube Waltz.

The river Danube runs from the Black Forest in Germany through the middle of Vienna and divides Buda and Pest. Buda was the place for the kings, the barons, princes, and princesses. Many of the wealthy landowners lived the Buda- side of the city. The middle and working class people resided on the Pest side, where the commerce and industry offered employment.

In December 1944, the Arrow Cross changed the colour of the river from blue to red. Mostly young, 17, 18, 19 year old teens joined the Hungarian Nazi group, the Arrow Cross guard, committing the most heinous crimes. They captured many, many Jews on the streets, or in the homes and escorted them to the Danube. They made the Jews line up and without any hesitation shot everybody into the river. Group after group of unknown numbers of people were floating down the river. Red blood painted the Blue Danube all the way to Yugoslavia and Romania, where the river emptied into the Black Sea. After a killing spree they went to the nearest tavern to celebrate, laughing and bragging about who killed more Jews.

The liberation of the city was only months away!

What did they think one, or five years later? Have they ever regretted their "heroic" act? I wish that they and their leaders would rot away in jail for a very long time. Yet I know, this is not the case. Many of them found refuge in Canada, and lived, or are living a "normal" life without any punishment.

True to my promise, I continue the story of Ibolya. At the beginning of 1944, I was engaged to Ibolya, hoping that she will not be deported to a women's forced labour camp. Unfortunately, the engagement did not help her, or me. At the end of May, she received a notice to report to a collecting place with one luggage only. Thousands of Jewish girls were there, even married ones.

Ibolya's mother was a very strict mother, always watching over us. She never left us alone in the apartment, or gave us much chance for kissing. In spite of

that, when she had to report, she told her: had she become pregnant, perhaps she could have stayed at home.

Ibolya had a slight heart- murmur condition. This did not free her from the camp. All of them had to march to Austria, to one of the killing camps. She became ill because of her heart problem and was admitted to a hospital in March 1945. The Red Army was very close by then.

On April 4, 1945, a Hungarian Mounted unit went to the hospital, full of sick Jewish women and killed them one by one on their sick bed. Only one girl survived the killing. Next day the district was liberated and she was able to tell the Red Army officials what happened. The Army sent a special unit after the Mounted unit to kill, or capture, as many of them as possible.

On that last day of her life, Ibolya was twenty-two years old!!!

Would anybody listen to our cry? The wind blew away those, too?

Is assimilation the answer?

My fiancŽ's father John Rosner had a brother, who became a Catholic merchant in Vienna, and cut any connections with his Jewish relatives. My future mother-in-law, Kati had an older sister, Klari and her husband Zoltan Weiner, they kept their Jewish Identity.

Kati’s older brother Erno (Ernest) Neuman and his wife Anna, were the irony of our times. They were living in the city of Matyasfold, home of the famous IKARUS autobus factory. The products were sold not only in the domestic market, but also all over Europe. To advance the position of Erno, the directors advised him to change his name for a real Hungarian name and to convert to the Catholic faith.

They did in 1934, before their twin daughters were born. They became Mr. and Mrs. Nemes (noble), and devoted Christians. In every room, there was a large cross. Every Sunday they went to church and celebrated Easter and Christmas holidays in a grand style within the family. When the girls were ready to go to school, they enrolled them in the best parochial school, run by nuns. When we visited them, nobody ever talked about religion, or made even a hint of it. The Rosners and I were different.

In 1944 March, when the Germans occupied Hungary, everybody had to prove their origins, going back to their grandparents. Erno lost his job; the girls were thrown out from the convent. They contemplated committing suicide when they learned that they were of Jewish origin.

Erno went to the special forced-labour camp with the white arm band (worn by converted Jews) then to the front. Nobody knows, what happened to him there.

Close to their home, on Matyasfold, there was a small airfield for local traffic, but now used by the military. The Allied Forces destroyed the field and with it the nice home of the Nemes family. Their mother Anna and the girls died in the bomb shelter.