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IV.
Láger Life
February - July, 1957
Hungarian is an extremely expressive language. There is
very little ambiguity; there is always a unique word for
every nuance of an idea and every idea has its own special
word. Where a suitable word does not exist, the Hungarians
are not shy about borrowing one from another language. So it
is with Láger. I think it is a German word; in
English, it can be translated as "camp", but that gives the
impression of a boy scout or a military activity. It is a
place where displaced people live, hopefully temporarily. We
lived in such a "camp" from February through July, 1957. To
me, the word Láger captures our feeling of despair
commingled with the anxiety and excitement of an uncertain,
but hopefully better tomorrow.
Korneuburg
We arrive at the Schwedischelager (Swedish Láger)
around the end of January, after we are expelled from the
convent. This camp was, I believe, funded by Sweden
expressly for Hungarian Jewish refugees. This makes the
second time in recent memory that the Swedes have come to
the aid of Hungarian Jews -- in 1944, diplomat Raoul
Wallenberg saved countless Jews from certain death in
Budapest by issuing Swedish papers to them and accommodating
them in Swedish safe houses. Wallenberg was ultimately
kidnapped by the Soviets after they "liberated" (read
"occupied") Hungary, and he was never seen again.
The Láger was a former military barracks on the
edge of the picturesque village of Korneuburg, situated on
the banks of the Danube River. Click
here to see the Escape Map. We live dormitory style in
large halls, accommodating maybe 40 people each. Each of the
four or so buildings (I can't remember the exact number)
consist of maybe three stories, each with maybe two large
halls. Each family occupies one or more bunk beds, depending
on their numbers, with a little space between them. They
would drape bedsheets around their bunks for privacy. My
mother and I have one bunk; I sleep on top, she on the
bottom There is a large communal bathroom on every floor and
a huge mess hall in a separate building where everyone takes
their meals.
(Mr. Franz Kaupe, a resident of Korneuburg, has completed
an extensive research study on the Láger and has
prepared an excellent report. He and the Mayor of Korneuburg
are graciously making this report available in memory of
this event. Please
click here to read this report.)
Life becomes more or less routine. Of the Hungarian
refugees, there are people representing every imaginable
skill, trade and profession. A school is quickly established
staffed by professional teachers; (is it really for the
benefit of the kids or the parents?) The clinic is augmented
by refugee nurses and doctors, while clothes are fashioned
by the tailors and seamstresses from within our ranks. In
fact, the láger is self sufficient, other than the
materials which are supplied by our hosts.
The months we spend there are some of the most memorable
times of my life. There are dozens of kids my age; we roam
the compound, exploring every nook and cranny, playing in
the nearby fields and woods. Sometimes, we would hike
several miles to the castle in nearby Stockerau. Other
times, we would wander through the village, to the banks of
the Danube and reflect on our plight. The water we see
flowing serenely by would, in a matter of time, be coursing
through Hungary, past Budapest, past my grandmother's home.
Maybe she would be thinking of us, wondering how we are
getting along.
Every couple of weeks the $5.00 bill would arrive from
Uncle Béla in New York, wrapped in a nylon stocking.
The next day we would take the 30 minute commuter train ride
to Vienna for the usual ritual - pastry and coffee in a
café, the bath at the Dianabad and, of course, the
Prater. Sometimes, we would buy some clothing or maybe a toy
for me.
Later in the spring, the circus comes to Korneuburg and
erects their "big top" right on the láger property.
The animal cages and trailers are directly below our window.
Imagine waking every morning to the roar of lions and
tigers! Needless to say, we manage to get into the circus
for free, many times.
As the spring wears on, families would begin leaving for
their new homes. Each refugee family would have applied for
admission to the country of their choice and would wait
until their turn came up. The most popular destinations are
the United States, Canada, Australia, Israel, Brazil and
Argentina. Few remain in Austria or move on to western
Europe. Fewer still would become unbearably homesick and
return to Hungary to face certain punishment and ridicule.
Since we were among the late arrivals in Austria (most
people left Hungary in November and early December) we have
to wait longer for our turn.
St. Pölten Around early June, we are
transferred to another láger at St. Pölten (see
map). I don't know exactly why, maybe the number of people
remaining at Korneuburg is too small to make such a large
facility cost effective. In any event, we are now in the
Alpine foothill, with the snow capped mountains not far off.
I really don't remember much of our stay here except that it
was fairly brief and the nearby roads are very winding.
Schwechat Travelers to Europe will recognize this
village as the home of the Vienna International Airport. We
are moved here, to another military style compound, in
preparation for our long awaited flight to Canada. For the
ten days we spend there, I am glued to our window for hours
on end, watching planes with foreign markings come and go.
My favorite is the white Air France "triple-tailed" plane
(probably a Lockheed Constellation) taking off for Paris
every evening, around sundown. Perhaps this is the place
where my fascination and interest in aviation is
aroused.
Every day, lists are posted with the names of the
families who will be leaving the following day. On July 2,
1957, our name is on the list for Canada.
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