Some weeks after her visit Tzipi wrote me that she was suffering from a serious attack of arthritis, which almost paralyzed her, because her whole body ached with every movement she made, making even her treatment very painful. She added that Rachel and Lea were treating her with love and endless patience. This misfortune depressed me greatly. It was hard to imagine an agile creature like her, bursting with life, now lying there helplessly, a burden at the mercy of others.

Owing to secret diplomatic negotiations between the Hungarian Government and the Allied Forces in February of 1944, there were minor temporary improvements in the Army's official attitude toward its forced-labor units. Circulating rumors suggested that a liberalized reorganization of the whole service was forthcoming. In practice, forced laborers themselves were to fill the lower levels of the chain of command. A first indication of the coming change came soon, when the commander picked me (as "Jesus") and my two friends, Joseph Schaeffer and Andy Vas, as his platoon sergeants recommended, and sent us to the regiment headquarters in Mohács to participate in a course for "Squad Commanders". Similarly selected representatives arrived from all other regimental companies.

It turned out to be an advanced course originally designed for the engineering corps. Physical training in the morning was followed in the afternoon by military engineering lectures. One of our forced-labor comrades had been a medical student who had to give up his studies for the privilege of a shining shovel and a yellow armband. He now lectured us on human anatomy and physiology. Even the local rabbi was invited to discuss aspects of the Jewish religion.

It was amazing, how much things had changed! The course felt almost like a summer camp. Even the top brass of the headquarters staff were polite and nice. It was too pleasant to be true, and our fabulous dream was blown to pieces on Sunday, March 19, 1944, when the German army invaded Hungary on Hitler's orders. As we later discovered, Propaganda Minister Goebbels had learned about Hungary's secret negotiations with the Allies and had threatened Admiral Horthy, who nevertheless refused to sign a document inviting a Nazi like Szállasi as co-regent into the Hungarian Parliament.

Our course was terminated at once, of course, and we, the future squad commanders, were going to be sent back to our units and our former forced-labor routine. Some of the older boys asked for audience with the colonel, our regiment commander, during which they informed him about frightening messages they had received from their families back home: that harsh measures had been taken against Jews in the Eastern parts of Hungary near the frontier. When they asked for his help, at least for furlough to visit their threatened families, the colonel reprimanded them and forbade them to spread "false rumors". He nevertheless instructed his clerical staff to allow us seven days traveling time back to our units and to plan our routes so we would pass through our respective hometowns, or as close to our homes as possible.

Although my own company was located only 18 miles away, my travel orders scheduled me to cross the whole country as far as Nagymegyer, some hundreds of miles to the North. On this precious occasion around March-April I was able to meet my parents still at home. Unfortunately, my two youngest sisters were away all day somewhere at forced-labor, but I was afraid to stay overnight lest local gendarmes arrest me. We had time to discuss our situation (what else could we discuss at that time?) and considered the possibility of all returning home, into that small village where everybody knew each other and where it was reasonable to assume that nobody would be hurt. Father believed in Providence and was confident that our righteous ancestors would pray for us and protect us. His belief was rock hard, and there was no sense in arguing about it. I left for Budapest with terrible anguish in my heart, because my faith was not as solid as my father's; I could neither believe in, nor rely upon, miracles.

In an earlier letter, Tzipi had informed me that our Apprentice Home had been confiscated by the authorities, that the inhabitants had been relocated into a neglected building in a suburb, and that the older boys had left and joined the underground resistance, as advised by the Movement. In her new place I found Tzipi in the desperate state she had described in her letter. We tried to find a solution for her if and when she would be forced to leave even this temporary place, without the devoted care of our true friends, Rachel and Lea. I had no time to ponder about the foreboding future; I had to return to my unit on time. Torn by grave worries and anxiety I parted from her and returned to Pécs.

As I mentioned earlier, our company was quartered in the basement of a building in a gym hall. Our Youth movement "graduates" requisitioned the attic as well, where we hid the scarce gastronomic treasures our non-Jewish friend, the storehouse supervisor, had brought us. We paid for this luxury from our collective cash and enjoyed it when regular meals were insufficient. (I should like to indicate here that the portions we got were usually sufficient and well prepared, because our captain insisted on this point.) The attic also served as hiding place for our civilian clothes supplied by our movement to prepare us for possible developments. After a few weeks a certain "hierarchy" evolved automatically within our group. We had to maintain connections with our central leadership while caring for the needs of the group within the company. Mainly the three of us-Joseph Schaeffer, Joseph Meyer and myself-carried out these tasks. Joseph Schaeffer took charge of the attic. During one of his visits to his "realm" he came across a real cultural treasure in the form of some Hebrew books: a Bible, a tractate of the Talmud, a complete volume of our national poet, Bialik, and a literary monthly of the Eretz-Yisraeli (Palestinian) Hebrew Writers' Association. The very presence of these books in this place was a puzzle, as surely nobody had ever read or studied Hebrew in that school. The books had probably been left in the attic by some forced-laborers stationed in the building prior to us. At any rate, they gave the two of us much enjoyment. From then on, we spent an hour every morning before reveille (between 4 and 5 AM), reading selected book chapters together. We even memorized poems of the famous poet as we used to do in school. I still remember some of those enchanting sections of classic poetry.

This precious experience offered at least partial compensation for the hardships and our wasted time during that shameful forced-labor service.

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