My Canary Yellow Star (15 page)

I thanked him and set out for home. It was a beautiful fall afternoon and the gentle autumn sun warmed my face. The trees along the boulevard were crowned in red and gold. But as I was passing the Christian cemetery on Kerepesi Road, an ominous buzzing sounded. I looked up at the sky. A large smoke rectangle signaled that the Americans were back. I was thrilled and terrified at the same time.

The first bomb hit the ground a few feet from me. The force of the explosion threw me backwards, against the stone wall surrounding the cemetery. The closest building was too far away to reach safely, so I ran into the cemetery to find shelter. Hundreds of graves with ornate headstones
stood next to each other, row after neat row. I crouched down, cowering at the foot of a tall marble headstone in the shape of a cross, and covered my ears. The buzzing of the planes overhead intensified. Suddenly, a flash of fire, a deafening bang, and some kind of projectile flew with tremendous force out of a grave on my right. The object hit the ground right beside me. A grinning skull rolled up against my feet. A fragment of flying bone scraped my cheek. The planes kept on buzzing and buzzing and buzzing, as if a hive of monstrous bees was attacking the cemetery. Within seconds, all the graves were spilling their dreadful contents. The shower of bones blanketed the graves like unseasonable snow. Mindless of the danger, I jumped up and ran back to the street. My screams were lost in the roaring of the planes. Again, I ran and ran and ran. I ran as if the Devil himself was chasing me, with bombs landing to my left and to my right. A shower of leaflets released by the attacking airplanes fluttered to the ground, but I was too terrified to stop and pick one up. I just kept on running. Then suddenly, I realized that I could once again hear my own ragged breathing. The swarm in the sky had flown away.

I had calmed down by the time I neared home. Ervin was waiting for me on the street, a piece of paper clutched in his hand. He grabbed my arm and pulled me through the iron gates into the entryway.

“The Americans bombed the large Christian cemetery on Kerepesi Road, near the Keleti railway station,” he cried.
“Then they dropped these leaflets all over the city, threatening to bomb every Christian cemetery in Budapest if the Jews are deported.” Ervin shoved the paper into my hands but didn’t give me a chance to read it. “I heard that the cattle cars are already pulling out of the station. And they’re empty!” he shouted jubilantly. He grabbed both of my hands and started jumping up and down in his exuberance. Finally, he noticed my disheveled appearance. “What happened to you?”

I kept my voice cool. “Oh, nothing. I’m just dressed too warmly.”

I gave the same excuse to the rest of my family. Only Judit knew the truth. A week later, I returned to Uncle Natan’s studio to pick up my photograph. Twenty-six Kerepesi Road had become a large hill of rubble.

I
pulled up the collar of my coat against the chilly October air and hurried along with three precious potatoes for our evening meal. I was almost home when a military truck appeared in the road. A loudspeaker on the back blared over and over again: “My fellow citizens! This is Admiral Horthy speaking. Please turn on your radios.”

I raced through the gates and up the stairs. Ervin had pulled Aunt Miriam’s radio from its hiding place and was adjusting the dial to Hungarian State Radio. The regent’s solemn voice filled the room. “The war is lost,” he announced.

He explained that Hungary was withdrawing her support of Germany against the Soviet Union, that a cease-fire was in effect. It took us a stunned moment of silence to realize that we were no longer at war. We hugged and kissed and
laughed and cried at the same time. Ervin grabbed Mama’s hands and danced her around the room.

“I never thought I’d live to see this day,” Grandmama said. “Aron will be coming home soon.”

“Never forget today’s date, children! October 15, 1944, is the day our lives were spared,” Mama cried.

Pandemonium broke out. People rushed back and forth, banging on neighbors’ doors with the wonderful news. I ran over to Judit’s, but she had already heard. We went down to the street. Jewish people were pouring out of yellow-star houses. They ripped their stars off their garments and piled them up into a small mountain in the middle of the road. Somebody threw a lighted match and our mountain of shame turned into a bonfire.

“This can’t be happening! It’s just too wonderful to be true!” I cried over and over.

I was right. The moment of hope had been an illusion. The really bad times were just beginning.

Later, we learned that the Germans had forced the regent to sign over the powers of government to the Fascist Arrow Cross Party, led by Ferenc Szalasi. Szalasi and the Arrow Cross hated Jewish people with an all-consuming passion. I realized that the official policy of the new government was to destroy us. Our happy mood quickly gave way to a gnawing terror and an overwhelming sorrow. But we went to bed without giving voice to our fears. I tossed and turned for hours before sleep claimed me.

The next day, a new proclamation appeared on the lamppost in front of our block. Once again, Jews were ordered to wear yellow stars on their garments. Nobody was exempt, not even those of us who had been issued Schutz-Passes. Anybody caught disobeying this edict would be punished by death. We spent a tearful evening sewing stars on our clothes once again.

While we were getting ready for bed that night, Sam Stein appeared at our door. He was flushed and out of breath. Mama asked him to sit down.

“I can’t. I’m trying to reach as many friends as I can. I still have a lot of people to contact,” he said. “I came to warn you. Be careful! Now that they are in power, the Arrow Cross may not recognize your Schutz-Passes. If they cause you problems, send for Mr. Wallenberg. Hell deal with them.”

Sam’s advice had left me sleeping fitfully, and a few hours before dawn loud shouting and banging in the courtyard woke me. I sat up on my mattress, then crawled out of bed and almost tripped over my scuffed oxfords, neatly lined up on the floor. The parquet was cold beneath my feet, so I slipped on my shoes and tiptoed to the window to peek out into the courtyard

“Marta, what’s happening? Is something wrong?” my grandmother asked. She was sitting up in her bed, wiping her eyes.

“I don’t know. Something’s going on outside.”

I parted the curtains and looked out. The courtyard was dimly lit by a single lamppost. Several figures were moving about, but I couldn’t see their faces in the semi-darkness. Then more people appeared. They were followed by a man in a uniform – no more than a boy really – who was pointing a gun at their heads. The young man’s hair was burnished gold in the lamplight. He wore an Arrow Cross uniform, his high, shiny boots bright even in the semidarkness. When they all stopped under the lamppost, I could finally see their features. His rifle was aimed at Judit and her mother.

There was a sudden loud banging on the front door of our apartment. We had by now all been awakened by the commotion and were gathered in the doorway of my room.

“Grandmama, what do you think? Should we open the door?” Mama asked urgently. “I don’t know what to do.”

“What choice do we have?” Grandmama said. “We have to let them in.”

We went into the parlor. Aunt Miriam began to cry, silent tears flowing down her cheeks. Ervin and Gabor were heading to the front door when it splintered on its hinges under the weight of heavy boots. Two boys in Arrow Cross uniforms with drawn guns rushed in.

“Out! Out!” screamed the first one, waving his gun in Mama’s face. “Come with us!”

“Why? What do you –” Ervin’s voice was silenced by a vicious kick to his groin. He dropped to the floor, groaning.
Mama turned to help him. The gun barrel of the second Arrow Cross soldier stopped her.

“Out! Out!” he barked.

Gabor and I helped Ervin up. His face was ashen, but at least he was able to shuffle toward the door. We all followed him – except for Grandmama.

“Come on, old lady! Get going!”

“No!” she said quietly. “No, I won’t!”

The Arrow Cross thug’s hand moved so rapidly that I almost missed it. The heel of his rifle made a loud thud against my grandmother’s temple, and she crumpled to the ground. The color ran out of her cheeks, out of her hands, even out of her knobby legs sticking out from her nightgown. A single thin rivulet of blood trickled down her still face. I knelt beside her and arranged her clothing to cover her legs modestly. Her gold Star of David necklace glistened against the whiteness of her nightdress. Once again, the movie of my imagination switched on. I was watching events unfolding around my celluloid self. The girl in the film smoothed down her grandmother’s soft hair and closed her grandmother’s staring eyes. Then suddenly, without any warning, the movie in my head began to fade. I tried to hold on to it desperately, but it became fainter and fainter until it disappeared.

Mama was bleating from grief.

“Get up, you old biddy!” screamed the Arrow Cross
youth, shoving the barrel of his gun into Grandmama’s side. Even his friend seemed sickened.

“Stop it, Zoli! Stop it! Can’t you see the old woman is dead?”

His friend leaned over Grandmama and put his pimply face close to her mouth and his grimy hand on her neck. His fingernails were blackened with dirt.

“Yeah, you’re right! The old bitch is gone!” he snarled, kicking the still form again. “Ho! What have we here?” He leaned down and tore the shiny Star of David necklace from Grandmama’s neck.

“What do you want that for?” exclaimed the second Arrow Cross youth. “It’s Jew stuff!”

“It’s gold!” the murderer protested. He scratched his head. “Yeah, you may be right!” He flung the necklace to the floor. It fell next to my feet.

“Come on! Come on! Hurry up!” yelled the second Arrow Cross youth, waving us out of the room. I crouched down on the pretext of tying my shoelaces and slipped the necklace into one of my brown oxfords. The sharp edges of the star pricked the sole of my foot even through my sock. I found the pain reassuring.

The courtyard was crowded by the time we got there. A dozen Arrow Cross youths with rifles were separating the
men from the women. Ervin, Gabor, and Adam were forced at gunpoint to join a group of boys and old men standing on the far side of the courtyard. Mama, Aunt Miriam, and I were led by the guards to a group of Jewish women gathered on the opposite side. We huddled together, grieving, unable even to comfort each other. I kept seeing Grand-mama’s face and the trickle of red blood against her bleached complexion.

All of us were in our nightclothes. I was more fortunate than many of the others because I was wearing shoes. But even so, the cold of the October night made my teeth chatter. Judit sidled up to me.

“Where’s your grandmother?”

“She is dead.”

Judit asked no questions.

The Arrow Cross closed in on both groups. The one in charge planted himself in the middle of the courtyard and addressed us through a hand-held megaphone.

“Long live Szalasi! Heil Hitler!” he thundered, his arm stiffly extended into the air. He turned toward the men. “Jewish scum! You’ll finally get what you deserve! You lazy good-for-nothings – you’ll make yourselves useful to our beloved nation for the first time in your miserable lives!” he raved, spraying spittle into the night air like a snake spraying poison. “Take away these lazy Jewish dogs,” he ordered. “Even the sight of them offends me!”

Within minutes, the Arrow Cross soldiers had lined up Ervin, Gabor, Adam, and the others and began marching them out of the courtyard at gunpoint. My own cries were drowned out by the wailing of the women around me. My aunt and I had to keep Mama from running after Ervin.

“Let go of me!” Mama cried, straining against our arms.

“Nelly, we can’t. They’ll kill you!” Aunt Miriam cried.

“They’ll kill the boys too,” said a weeping Mrs. Grof.

At that moment, elderly Mrs. Kaufmann from the fifth floor broke away from the crowd of women and ran toward her only child, Lali, who was standing at the rear of the group of men and boys. She was quickly halfway across the courtyard, her arms flung out in the direction of her son, beseeching the Arrow Cross guards to free her beloved child. A shot rang out. Mrs. Kaufmann fell to the ground with a high-pitched cry and lay motionless. Lali’s screams pierced the deathly silence that suddenly enveloped us, but he was led out of the courtyard with the others.

When the boys were gone, the Arrow Cross official turned back to the group of weeping women.

“Now listen!” he thundered. We drew closer to each other. “Nobody, absolutely nobody, is to leave this block until further notice. Every entrance to your apartment house will be guarded by one of my men. They have orders to shoot if any of you tries to leave.” He pointed a menacing finger at us.

The officer turned his back to us and began to shout orders at his soldiers. Several of them made lewd comments about the young girls and women standing unprotected in their nightgowns in front of them. I hugged myself to ward off their words, the bone-chilling cold, and the numbing sadness of my heart.