When the Danube Ran Red

26 Walking Across the Underworld

157 26 Walking Across the Underworld Later, when the air raid stopped, the two of us left. As soon as possible, we turned right from the street parallel to the Danube into a side street, leaving behind the road running alongside the banks of the river. Out of breath, we hurried as much we could, meeting on our way just a very few civilians; some of them were in horse-driven carts, some were running in the streets. The shelling was constant. Obviously, only those driven by hunger or the search for necessities were on the streets right now. The rest hid in the shelters. For good reasons. The city was engaged in one of the longest and bloodiest European battles of the Second World War, comparable in scale to those of Warsaw and Berlin. More than 160,000 people died in the bombing, shelling, and fighting, including 38,000 civilians. As we walked across St. Stephen Boulevard, leaving behind the Western Station and subsequently the crossings of Andrássy, Rákóczy, and Üllői Streets, we arrived at the Kálvin Plaza. Throughout this long walk, we were again and again exposed to gunfire and bombing, with mortars hitting the houses around us, breaking the windows of the shops and the apartments we walked by, so that glass was crunching constantly under our feet. We hurried along the streets rather than the sidewalks, hiding sometimes under the gates of houses or staircases, or behind trees and poles. At times we met soldiers, saw Germans in tanks, and were screamed at by the Nyilas, who were driving along groups of When the Danube R an Red 158 Jews. We also saw civilians running down the sidewalks, their faces distorted by fear. Twice we had to stop on our way and beg strangers to allow us to use their shelters till the bomb attacks subsided. It was after 4:00 p.m. when we arrived at the “White Cross Hospital” on Kisfaludy Street. Entering through the gate, I saw my father from afar. He stood next to the inside door, watching the street. I ran into his arms. He had lost much weight. His face had aged tremendously, becoming much smaller than before. With dark moons under his eyes, he looked tortured. Both of us were crying. Erzsi was crying as well, but after hugging us, she said she did not want to come inside. She had to hurry to get home to Iván, who was living with her, hiding in our former apartment. We said farewell to one another, because we knew she would have a long walk to Abonyi Street (almost as long as we had walked from the banks of the Danube to Kisfaludy Street). She left. When she turned back to wave, we saw her smile but also the tears running down her face. My father held me in his arms; he took me to my mother. She was sobbing and could not stop sobbing through the night. ...