The Bridge At Andau Part 13

I know that my warning on this delicate point is useless. I suppose that right now govemments-in-exile are being established in Paris and in New York. All members of the former speak French and all the latter English, and they are unquestionably fine people. Frenchmen and Americans like them very much, but not the people of Budapest. We must be careful not to ruin our chances in Hungary by trying to foist such a government upon a liberated Hungarian people. This strategy never works, and maybe in another two or three hundred years we'll learn to avoid it.

It is possible that some of the legitimate freedom fighters with impeccable records might be invited back to full partic.i.p.ation in some future Hungarian government, but not if freedom is too long delayed. It is tragic how quickly an exile loses touch with the vital currents of his homeland and how outmoded he becomes. However, I do think that in prudent self-interest any future Hungarian government, from extreme left to extreme right, would welcome back in full forgiveness the young scientists who fled, for the loss here was critical. But world industry is so hungry for scientists that within a year those fugitive experts will be dug into fine jobs in Birmingham or Sydney or Detroit. I doubt if Hungary will get many of them back. As for the children, the communist government of Hungary is already demanding that all youths under the age of eighteen be returned, claiming that these infants were kidnaped away from the blessings of communism without their consent and against their wishes, forgetting that a large percentage of Russian tanks were destroyed by just such young people, who certainly knew what their wishes were at that point. But the pull of homeland is a tremendous force, and possibly some of these young people will return to Hungary and find there a satisfactory place for themselves.

For the most part, however, each human being who walked out of Hungary in late 1956 represented a personal tragedy, as well as a momentary triumph. He was walking into freedom, true, but he was also walking away from his homeland and its future, and that is a pathetic thing for a patriot to have to do.

The guides played a strange role. First they were local farmers who, out of the goodness of their hearts, led fellow Hungarians across the last dangerous miles to the border. By one of the coincidences of history, only three months before this enormous migration took place, some communist official in Budapest had ordered all land mines along the Austrian border lifted and destroyed. This single decision probably saved ten thousand lives, for had the entire border been peppered with mines, the loss of life would have been shocking. Who ordered the removal we do not know, but one refugee said of him, "I'll bet he's looking for a new job now."

"No," said another. "He's looking for a new head."

But even without mines, a guide through the swamps and up to the likely crossing spots was a necessity, and after the refugee flood had settled down into a steady flow, these guides charged up to fifty dollars a head to perform their dangerous work. Women and children with no money were ferried to freedom without charge, and many who refused to pay the fee nevertheless found their way into Austria, but there were gloomy tales of groups who tried to save money and did, at the expense of wandering back and forth in Hungary without being able to strike the border.

After the first refugees were settled in Vienna, a deadly game developed. Two or three daring young men would approach likely strangers and ask, "You have anybody in Budapest you want brought out? We'll do it for a thousand American dollars."

These fearless groups would then sneak back into Hungary, repenetrate the border defenses, infiltrate the Budapest check points and appear at an apartment house in the city with the startling news, "Your brother in Vienna asked us to rescue you." Then the three guides and their customer-or sometimes several customers-would retrace the risky journey and fulfill their contracts. Few people who paid the thousand dollars were gypped; all agreed that the young men had well earned their fee.

There was, however, a contemptible racket that grew up around this practice, for some Russian officials learned of the escape route and decided, "If the Hungarians are going to escape anyway, we might as well get some of the money," and they insisted upon part of the rescue fee. This developed into a weird system whereby certain refugees rode from Budapest to a spot about two miles from the border in Russian staff cars, driven by Russian officers. This was escape in the grand manner.

Most hilarious, however, was the experience of one super-daring Hungarian college student who volunteered to rescue an aged man from Budapest for a thousand dollars. He was an honorable young man and he said, "I won't take a penny unless I can bring the old man out. If I succeed, I'll call you from the border and you bring a car to get him. Then I'll take the money." With that he plunged back into Hungary.

Eight anxious days later the man in Vienna who had offered the thousand dollars was vastly relieved to get a phone call from the Hungarian student, who sounded a bit wan. "I have the old man, but don't bring a car. Bring a bus." For when word of escape had trickled through the old man's apartment house, everyone living there had decided to join the trek to freedom. For one fee, the college student had brought out a full bus load of refugees: twenty-seven Hungarians ranging in age from seventy-one years to eight months!

Not all the refugees were heroes. Some men demanded that women leave babies behind lest their cries alarm the guards. Thus, there were numerous cases in which mothers came through the swamps alone, in order to save their children, but the risks taken by one young wife near Andau were beyond the average.

"When my wife left Budapest," her husband relates, "she was already eight months pregnant. We didn't want her to make the trip, but she said she wouldn't live under communism another day. And she didn't want her baby to be born there, either.

"Our trip was a hard one and we had to walk a great deal. All the members of our party tried to help her, but the time came when she couldn't walk any more, so one by one the party had to forge ahead. I was left with my wife in a little woods not far from Andau and we knew her time had come. She said, 'You walk to some farmhouse and see if you can get a woman to help me.'

"I didn't want to leave her alone in the woods, but she kissed me good-by and I tried to find a farmhouse. It took me a long time, and when I brought the farmer back with me we found that my wife had given birth all by herself and had fainted. But before she fainted she had wrapped the baby under her dress. We waited till night and carried her and the baby back to the farmhouse. The farmer's wife kept us hidden for four days, and on the fifth day the farmer led my wife and me and the baby into Austria."

By common consent, the popular hero of the evacuation was a railroad engineer who pulled a stunt which had all Central Europe laughing for weeks. Mihai Kovacs, in the first days of Russia's reoccupation of Budapest, was called to his station in Pest and ordered to drive a long train of sealed boxcars into Russia. He could guess what the cars contained. After he reached Russia he was certain that he was carrying many hundreds of Hungary's finest rebels to concentration camps in either Siberia or Central Asia.

So he used his head. He got one of his crew to fix him up a real big sign in bold black letters. He turned his train around at a little-used siding and came steaming back down the tracks, out of Russia and into Hungary. Through Budapest and Gyor he kept his train going, for the sign encouraged Soviet guards to step aside and let Mihai Kovacs steam ahead.

He took his sealed boxcars right to the Austrian border, where he jammed on the brakes, flung open all the doors and shouted, "Over here is Austria. I'll lead the way." He and his deportees all made it to safety, but he left behind his train and its dazzling big sign: FOOD FOR HUNGARY FROM SOVIET RUSSIA.

At no time did Austria close her borders to such refugees. Instead she welcomed them with a warmth that surprised Europe, for there were many reasons why it would have been prudent for Austria to reject Hungarians who were attempting to flee from communism. For one thing, Austria herself had only recently been freed of Russian occupation and there remained a real danger that the Soviets, on any flimsy excuse, might come storming back. Therefore, Austria's bold offer of sanctuary to the revolutionists was a most gallant action. For America to accept Hungarians was mere charity; for Austria to do so could have been suicide.

For many years there had been a good deal of friction between Austria and Hungary, the last war between the two nations having ended only recently, and tempers were customarily so touchy that Austria could have been forgiven for any lack of generosity. Instead, she accepted her Hungarian cousins as if she truly loved them.

Finally, Austria is a small nation, with only seven million people and no great resources to share. Had Austrians been n.i.g.g.ardly, they could understandably have refused charity to the revolutionists on the grounds that they had few spare goods to share. Instead, they shared them in abundance. For Austria to have accepted, clothed, fed and housed two hundred thousand refugees would be like the United States accepting about five million unexpected guests. We are a rich country, but five million strangers would tax our energies. Austria was not a rich country, yet somehow she made do.

The impact of this torrent of refugees was felt most strongly in the ancient province of Burgenland (Land of Castles), where little Andau huddles near the eastern border. The farmers of Burgenland are not wealthy and the villages are not s.p.a.cious. Yet it seemed as if every citizen of Burgenland opened both his heart and his resources to the refugees. Farmers with tractors trailed up and down the border roads, hauling women to safety. Farm wives reported to soup kitchens at midnight and worked till dawn. One night I stumbled accidentally into the tiny village of Pamhagen, southwest of Andau, where Burgenlanders were working like pack animals to process an unusually heavy flood of arrivals. At three o'clock in the morning the mayor of Pamhagen arrived in neat uniform, to greet each Hungarian. "We are glad to offer you our homes," he said simply. The women of Pamhagen that night were taking off the muddy shoes and washing the feet of each new Hungarian.

There were villages in Burgenland which had more refugees than citizens. There were schools which literally had sleeping Hungarian children stacked one upon the other. There were farmhouses in Burgenland which held twenty Hungarians to a room. Many communities across the world rise to unexpected and n.o.ble performances in times of emergency, but I have never seen anything to surpa.s.s the 1956 performance of Burgenland.

To many foreign observers, the most extraordinary behavior was that of the Austrian university students. For sixty nights in a row these daring teen-agers combed the border bringing refugees to freedom. I myself could count from my own experience a dozen lives they saved, and I saw but little. Some formed patrols and probed deep into the swamps. Others tended night fires and still others watched the ca.n.a.l for drowning Hungarians. Their performance was in the greatest tradition.

The charitable spirit that motivated Austrian behavior was well ill.u.s.trated one bitterly cold morning when a friend and I were watching a swampy section of the border. An Austrian soldier was with us when we three spotted a large group of Hungarians who were apparently lost and trying to find Austria.

Instinctively the three of us started running forward to aid them, and just as instinctively this young Austrian soldier stopped, pushed me in front of him and said, "Please, hide me. It's better they don't see for their first sight of Austria a gun."

It would require another book to describe in detail Austria's contribution to freedom. I can express it briefly only in this way: If I am ever required to be a refugee, I hope I make it to Austria.

I cannnot guess by what twists of history Hungary will regain her freedom. I cannot yet see clearly by what means the Russian yoke will be lifted from the necks of the Hungarian people, but I am convinced that in that happy day Hungarians from their new homes all over the world will send in their money-their francs, their dollars, their pounds Australian, and their pesos-to erect at Andau a memorial bridge.

It need not be much, as bridges go: not wide enough for a car nor st.u.r.dy enough to bear a motorcycle. It need only be firm enough to recall the love with which Austrians helped so many Hungarians across the old bridge to freedom, only wide enough to permit the soul of a free nation to pa.s.s.

*Editor's Note: On this page, Mr. Michener refers to a photographer as "he"; this was done deliberately in order to conceal the ident.i.ty of his companion in the episode described, who was actually Mrs. Georgette Meyer Chapelle. As this book was about to go to press, Mrs. Chapelle was still in a Hungarian prison, having been arrested on December 4, 1956, by a border patrol while she was on a scouting trip that took her deep into Hungary; and her name was left out of the text so that this book could not be used as evidence against her by the communist authorities.

Mrs. Chapelle, known to her friends as "d.i.c.kie," is an expert photographer and a veteran of many refugee flights. Before her arrest, she and Mr. Michener were often on watch together at the Austrian-Hungarian border, frequently on the wrong side of it. After an imprisonment of fifty-five days in Hungary, Mrs. Chapelle was released and reached Austria and safety on January 27, 1957.

10.

The Russian Defeat

The Hungarian revolution of 1956 was a turning point in world history. Of this there can be no doubt. Unfortunately, we cannot yet predict in which direction the road of communism will now turn, but it simply cannot continue in its old course. Perhaps Russian troops will have to occupy Hungary outright in an undisguised iron dictatorship, turning the land into a moral and economic desert. But on the other hand the Russians may find this policy too costly in men and money and may have to modify their grip on the land and permit some kind of autonomy and freedom to the Hungarian people. But whatever the new course, it is absolutely clear that Russia has lost a propaganda battle of critical proportions, and the extent of the loss cannot even now be estimated.

There is a way, however, to understand how grievously Russia has been hurt. Imagine the total Soviet position as a lake over which a green sc.u.m of lies, propaganda, window dressing and deceit has been allowed to grow. This seemingly placid lake has for some years been held up to the world as the serene portrait of life under communism. Not only happy Russian peasants, but also happy Hungarians and Mongols and East Germans and Poles are supposed to have lived harmoniously under the deadly green sc.u.m.

Before Budapest it was possible for Indians and Indonesians, Italians and Frenchmen to believe the fable that life in the Soviet lake was as idyllic as painted, for the surface was kept perpetually calm. Hungary, however, was a gigantic stone thrown into the middle of that lying lake, and waves of truth have set out from the point of impact. Now, as they move far outward toward the remotest sh.o.r.es of the lake, we can begin to see what life was truly like under the green sc.u.m. Here is what the great Hungarian splash revealed.

First there was the shuddering effect upon Russia itself. The Soviets can no longer trust any satellite armies stationed along their borders. Not only will Rumanian and Bulgarian armies refuse to protect Russia. They will pretty obviously join the enemy. This probably also applies to the subsidiary armies in Central Asia. This is not only disheartening to the Russian leaders. It is positively frightening.

Russia can no longer trust any of the satellite intellectuals whom she enlisted to build the outposts of her empire. In Hungary they not only failed to oppose the uprising; they led it. Intellectuals in all the other satellites are waiting to do the same.

Russia has lost her fight for the souls of young people. In perhaps no other nation along the frontier will youth give quite so astonishing an account of itself as it did in Hungary, but Russia had better be prepared to defend herself against young Latvians and Poles and Turkomans and Mongols.

Russia's most crushing defeat, of course, came at the hands of workers in heavy industries. Here everything held most dear by communist theoreticians was proved to be one hundred per cent wrong. One cannnot even imagine additional insults which the workers of Csepel could have heaped upon the Soviets. Here the Russian defeat will have incalculable results.

Russia retained no support at all among women. It had preached oily and sanctimonious sermons about how only communism was concerned with the welfare of women-while at the same time it tormented and starved them-but apparently the women of Hungary were not fooled by such lies. When the test came they were also one hundred per cent against communism. Here the Soviets lost another major propaganda battle.

Russia found little support among the peasants, who, along with the workers in heavy industry, were supposed to be the darlings of the new regime. In one area after another throughout Hungary peasants took immediate steps to dissolve their collective farms. A large majority apparently wished to revert to old-style systems in which a man owned his own land, while holding onto certain new-style innovations like the collective use of expensive machinery. And when the general strike was threatened, peasants agreed to produce no extra food which might find its way into Russian hands. This Russian defeat by the peasants must have choked the Kremlin.

Russia found that it could not trust the ordinary police of a satellite nation, for well over three-fourths of Budapest's police turned their weapons and frequently themselves over to the revolutionists. Only the AVO remained true to their Soviet masters, and that no doubt through a certain knowledge that their only alternative was death. They knew they had so corrupted the nation that the freedom fighters would refuse any compromise.

Finally, Russia discovered in the Budapest defeat that her own troops, if stationed too long in an area of superior culture and enviable standard of living, will defect. Probably the military leaders of the Kremlin had suspected this before, since some of their procedures indicated such a fear, but now they know. Henceforth, every unit commander will have to suspect what his troops might ultimately do if forced to fight enemies whose guilt is not clearly agreed upon by all Russia and her satellites.

These are stupendous defeats, but they apply only to Russia itself. Grave as they are, it is the second wave of effects, spreading out from the Hungarian disturbance and reaching all of the satellites, that could have the gravest consequences. Of the Soviet tactics for controlling satellites, every device except one has proved bankrupt. Cajolery, threats, purges and promises have proved equally futile. Only force can hold a satellite.

As to promises, events in Hungary have proved how ineffective they are. Russia had a potentially rich ally which she governed ruthlessly. If she had been able gradually to relax her control and to provide real benefits, she ought to have been able to establish communism here. But the Hungarians grew so tired of windy promises of material goods and political freedoms which never came that revolution became inevitable. Now the other satellites must expect the Soviets to abandon the use of vague promises and to rely upon force, openly used for the rest of the world to witness.

If the promises failed, so did the terror. Horrible as the AVO seems, it was probably no worse than the similar terrors in the other satellites, and probably less than the terror that operates in Russia itself. But if such terror failed to build good communists in Hungary, the other terrors have probably also failed, and we should expect to find in nations like Poland and East Germany not only a body of noncommunists, but also ardent enemies of communism whose determination has been strengthened by the events in Hungary. This also applies to Red China, a fact of enormous significance.

Any potential nationalist leader in any satellite nation who studies the accounts of what happened in Hungary can probably conclude that the national army and the police in his country, too, will fight on the side of nationalists as opposed to their Soviet masters. This could be of great importance in helping potential revolutionists-if the world climate ever encourages them-to take the first steps against the Russians.

It is difficult to see how any of the satellite peoples can ever again take very seriously Russia's propaganda about the better life, the brotherhood of communist nations, and the gentle protective friendship of the Soviet Union. A much more realistic approach will be required. This also applies to the education of youth, the propagandizing of labor, and the nonsense handed out to national soldiers. Now Russia must stand forth to the satellites as the monster she is.

The satellites will also begin to make cold, honest calculations as to what has happened to their resources under communism. One of the most important aspects of the Hungarian revolution was the open cry, "Russia has stolen our uranium from us." Prior to the revolution a man would have been shot for such a charge, although it was often whispered within the bosom of the family. Now it is common knowledge, and in all satellites similar charges are going to be made, for Russia has been systematically and callously plundering her neighbors.

Of great importance will be the satellites' new att.i.tude toward purges. Since 1945 the Soviet rulers of Hungary had decreed a really astonishing sequence of purges, which the Hungarian communists were forced to make believe they had themselves thought up. First the Trotskyites were a.s.sa.s.sinated, then the t.i.toists and national communists, then the Stalinists (at which time the already murdered t.i.toists were exhumed and told, "You were honest communists after all! We're sorry we shot you. It was all a mistake."). And finally anyone who could be termed a deviationist. All these purges accomplished exactly nothing, and it is doubtful that the satellites will continue to sponsor them. From now on, the Russians will have to do their own murdering.

From this we can see that the basic structure of satellite society is under fire and will continue to be from now on. Russia will be faced with terrible decisions in regard to each of the satellite nations, and every decision will be either a defeat on the military-economic front (if she surrenders to satellite demands) or a defeat on the peace-propaganda front (if she moves in with her army to crush the satellites completely). Either way, Russia must lose.

It is in the third wave riding out from the central splash, however, that Russia's losses will be most severe. This wave reaches countries that might conceivably have gone communist, like Italy and France in Europe, India and Indonesia in Asia, and parts of Central Africa. It also reaches lands where there are vocal communist parties, such as Uruguay, Australia and j.a.pan. And here the result of the Hungarian revolution is not a wave at all. It is a hurricane, and this is what its great storms disclose.

If France were to vote a communist government into power, accompanying that government would be an apparatus of terror that would mutilate the country, corrupt every aspect of life, and humiliate the spirit of all Frenchmen, even those who had called it into being.

If Italy were to choose a communist government, the economic life of Italy would steadily deteriorate, and the people who would suffer most would be the workers in big cities.

And if either France or Italy were to choose communism, at the first moment when some leading party henchman felt his power slipping, he could call in Russian aid, and if Soviet tanks could get into the country, they would happily blow either Paris or Rome to rubble. That is the big lesson of Budapest. Russian tanks are willing to annihilate any city where there is protest. And if the tanks run into trouble, as they did in Budapest, we can expect that next time the heavy bombers will be called in.

Russia's greatest loss in countries where there was once a chance for a communist victory lies in the matter of popular support. Die-hard communists who hope to keep the reins of power for themselves will not be affected by the destruction of Budapest, which probably did not surprise them. But those wavering voters who might possibly have one day voted the red ticket will see clearly what a tragic price they would have to pay for their folly. The Soviet losses among such groups are already staggering.

Communist parties in these nations are already beginning to lose many card-carrying members who cannot accept the ma.s.s murder of civilians. These once-faithful communists are stating that after what happened to Budapest they would be unwilling to have some ruthless local red leader impetuously call in the Russian tanks merely to preserve his own position. Already the defections of prominent leaders who can foresee the destruction of cities like Paris and Rome have hurt communism, and the list will probably grow when the full story of Budapest is known.

Of special importance in Asia is the fact that in Budapest, Soviet communism finally disclosed itself as much more barbarous than the colonialism against which Asia understandably protests. Up to now Russian propaganda has been extraordinarily successful in portraying itself in Asia as the smiling big brother to a host of European satellites who lived with it in harmony and who loved its gentle friendship. Asia was constantly being asked by implication, "Why don't you join our happy brotherhood?" Now the nature of such a relationship has been made clear.

It is difficult to see how Russia can fool foreign nations any longer, or how it can enlist the support of sensible local patriots. It must now rely almost entirely upon those committed communists who are determined to take their nations into communism; the rest of the country will now combat such betrayal, for they have seen what it will mean. Russia has suffered a staggering defeat in the world battle for men's minds.

One of the reasons why Russia will be unable to peddle her poisonous propaganda in the future as successfully as it has been doing in the past is that the nearly two hundred thousand Hungarian refugees who have scattered over the face of the earth go determined to tell the world the story of what communism is like. I would hate to be a Soviet apologist in Detroit if some of the refugees from Csepel are in the audience. The effect of these two hundred thousand reporters will be tremendous, and as their stories are relayed from one American or Canadian or Australian village to the next, even such communist propaganda as has begun to take root will find it difficult to grow.

This brings us to the fourth, and outer, wave disturbing the once-placid lake of world communism, and it is this wave that washes the American sh.o.r.e. It touches all nations-Great Britain, Brazil, New Zealand, Ceylon-and its effect throughout the world is great. But America is most deeply affected by this wave.

When the patriots in Budapest struck, we were unprepared. We neither knew what to do, nor had the will to do it. We stood before the world in very shabby moral clothes, and should this happen again we might have to surrender our position of world leadership. For if the Russians lost severely in Budapest, we also lost. Any American who served at Andau experienced a psychological shock which hit him in four predictable impacts.

First, he was deeply shaken by the courage of the people he saw streaming toward him. Many Americans stepped aside in silent deference when Hungarians came out of the swamps and pa.s.sed them. During the days when refugees had to crawl through deep mud or swim the ca.n.a.l, Americans would study them with awe as they came forth resilient and laughing, ready for their next test. To be in the presence of raw courage is apt to be a humbling experience.

Second, after this initial shock, the sensitive American had to ask himself, "Why was my country unable to help these brave people?" This question, of course, permitted several reasonably acceptable answers. Americans could argue, "Everyone knows we are a peace-loving nation which abhors war. We have told everyone that." But then came the gnawing doubt that although we loved peace for ourselves, we had perhaps encouraged the Hungarians to abandon that peace for themselves, and that somehow we had profited illegally from their action. And that is about as ugly a doubt as a man can entertain. So one next reasoned, "The Hungarians had only themselves to blame. Why did they ever start their revolution in the midst of a presidential election? They should have known we would be hamstrung." But then came the other gnawing doubt which reminded us that for years we had been hoping for just such an uprising, and regardless of elections, we should have been prepared for this one. Finally, the American could point to the map of Europe and say, "You can see our position. Hungary has no seaport through which we could have poured supplies. And our airplanes could not have flown over the sovereign states of Austria and Yugoslavia. There was really no way we could have helped, even if we had wanted to." The confusion of this argument was always self-apparent, for Americans usually offered it with rising voices, ending in the rhetorical question, "See?" And so this second portion of the chain reaction ended in embarra.s.sment.

Third, the Hungarians, sensing American confusion, were surprisingly studious about putting American friends at ease. "We know you couldn't have helped us," the refugees would say consolingly, as if it were the Americans who needed rea.s.surance. Sometimes an especially sensitive Hungarian would reason, "We know you would have helped us if you could have found a way. On the radio you were always so powerful in your words of encouragement. We are sorry our revolution was so poorly timed, but we are proud if we were able to help you." Americans at Andau, like those who happened to be in Budapest during the revolt, can all cite Hungarian friends who said without sarcasm, "Don't worry about it. We understand why you're powerless to help us. But we're glad to fight for your cause." In time, Americans took refuge in these statements and some of the embarra.s.sment of shock two dissolved, being replaced by a feeling of great warmth toward the Hungarians who had lost so much, so gracefully. Reviewing this unreal third wave of shock, I can only say that I shared the reactions of an American who observed, "One of the most startling aspects of the revolution was that the Hungarians, deserted by the world, ended by being mad at n.o.body."

But if Hungarians were not lamenting in public, they were privately circulating among themselves sharp observations on what had happened, and occasionally an American was brought face to face with harsh and agonizing facts. I first heard these underground Hungarian comments from a twenty-six-year-old refugee named Ferenc Kobol. Originally he swore me to secrecy, for he did not want me to portray Hungarians as crybabies, but I was so impressed by his comments that I not only persuaded him to absolve me of my pledge but also to write down in his own words a summary of what he said, for I wanted to quote him exactly.

He said, "Of course Hungarians are bitter about the lack of interest you Americans showed in our struggle for freedom. For years now, as part of your battle with communism for the possession of men's minds, you have been giving us hope and a.s.surance. You have been saying to us, 'You are not forgotten. America's ultimate aim is to help you win your freedom. To achieve this we will support you to the best of our ability.'

"America spent millions of dollars and every known psychological trick to bring this message to us behind the iron curtain. Your Voice of America broadcast fifty hours a day of freedom programs. You used seventy frequencies and sometimes I would hear you from Tangiers or Munich or Salonika. I can remember the thrill we got when we heard that you were outfitting one of your Coast Guard cutters, the Courier, to dodge jamming stations. You said the Courier 'would punch deeper holes in the Iron Curtain.'

"Then you set up Radio Free Europe in 1950 and you got right down to the business of freedom. You had eleven separate stations which broadcast one thousand hours of encouragement a week from Frankfort, Munich and Lisbon. RFE told us many times, 'Our purpose is to keep opposition to communism alive among the people of the slave states behind the iron curtain. We want to help such people gradually to make themselves strong enough to throw off the Soviet yoke.'

"How did you help us to grow strong? You constantly rea.s.sured us that we were not forgotten by the west. You said that the fact that so many American citizens supported RFE proved that your nation was with us. We believed you.

"Next, to make your message even more clear, you began to launch balloons to fly over our country bearing leaflets and aluminum medals. I got one with a Liberty Bell on it and the legend 'Hungarians for Freedom-All the Free World for Hungarians.'

"These balloons were very important to our psychological reactions. I remember thinking at the time, 'At last something tangible. Something other than words. If America could reach us with these aluminum medals, why couldn't they reach us with parachute supplies if a revolution started. Obviously, America intends to help us.'

"In 1952 all of your radio stations broadcast over and over the promises made in your election campaign. We were told that America was going to roll back the iron curtain. You would stimulate a desire for freedom among the eight hundred million people under communist domination. We were a.s.sured many times that your President would find ways to make the Russians want peace. The speeches of your leaders were quoted to us day after day.

"Then young Hungarians who had been abroad began mysteriously to appear among us and they promised, 'If trouble starts, don't worry. America will be on hand to give you support. But you don't have to wait for the other side to begin. Do something yourself. After all, you've got to show the world what you are worth. You've got to prove that Hungary deserves the freedom you claim for her.'

"We were told that in 1953 America was putting aside one hundred million dollars to support activities against communist regimes in the satellite countries. We thought that this meant you were actively on our side.

"Then what happened? When Germans in East Berlin rioted against the Russians, your stations told us each detail. This year when the Poles rioted against the Russians in Poznan, we were again fed the full propaganda of freedom. Should we be blamed for believing what we heard? You must put yourself in our place. We had no honest newspapers, no honest radio stations of our own. We could rely only upon what you told us, and you told us to love freedom.

"Do you know why Hungarians like me are so bitter against the United States? For six years you fed us this propaganda. For six years the Russians trampled us in the mud. But when we rose in rebellion for the very things you told us to fight for, how many Americans stepped forth to help us? Not one. Who did join our side? Russian troops. How many American tanks helped us? Not one. What tanks did join us in our fight for freedom? Russian tanks. This is a terrible indictment.

"But what drove us almost to desperation was not your failure to support us with materiel. It was your failure to speak up boldly on our behalf. My nation died in silence. Could not one clear voice in America have spoken forth in late October? Mr. Bulganin spoke out about Suez, and England and France retreated. There was a ten-day pause in our revolution when one daring American voice might have made Bulganin retreat. It never came. There was silence along the Danube, and in the United Nations. Days later, when only the dead could hear, America finally spoke. It was a message of condolence."

Ferenc Kobol was by no means a wild-eyed young revolutionist. He was a thoughtful young man with few illusions and a nice ability to calculate what could and could not be attained. He understood America and said, "Hungarians are disappointed in America, but you hear no one say, 'We should never again follow American leadership.' We know we can be free only through your agency. I don't know how you are going to accomplish this, but I do appreciate that in an age of the hydrogen bomb, to start a world war merely to salvage Hungary would be unthinkable. We have got to rely upon the Untied States, and we trust that your President will find a way to accomplish all of our freedoms-Hungary's, Poland's, Germany's. But I think your people must study two problems very carefully." And he proceeded to make two points that are frightening in their clarity and ominous in their portent.

First he said, "No Hungarian is angry at Radio Free Europe. We wanted to have our hopes kept alive. Probably we believed too deeply what was not intended by the broadcasters to be taken seriously. The wrong was not with Radio Free Europe. It was partly our fault for trusting in words. It was partly America's fault for thinking that words can be used loosely. Words like 'freedom,' 'struggle for national honor,' 'rollback,' and 'liberation' have meanings. They stand for something. Believe me when I say that you cannot tell Hungarians or Bulgarians or Poles every day for six years to love liberty and then sit back philosophically and say, 'But the Hungarians and Bulgarians and Poles mustn't do anything about liberty. They must remember that we're only using words.' Such words, to a man in chains, are not merely words. They are the weapons whereby he can break his chains."

Ferenc Kobol took an honorable part in the freedom movement within his country. He risked his life to attain freedom, and he said, "I was motivated primarily by words." He added, "If America wants to flood Eastern and Central Europe with these words, it must acknowledge an ultimate responsibility for them. Otherwise you are inciting nations to commit suicide."

Americans, challenged by critics like Kobol, tended to be angry at Radio Free Europe for having broadcast to the world what had merely been intended as campaign oratory for home consumption; whereas Hungarians tended to be angry, not at Radio Free Europe for having told them what leading Americans were announcing as national policy, but at Americans in the United States for never having intended to support what was, after all, mere oratory.

Kobol's second warning to America warrants even more careful attention. "In the case of Hungary you had several good excuses for not acting. There was a political campaign, you had no access to Hungary and you hadn't realized that nations were taking your words seriously. But when trouble starts in East Germany or Poland you will no longer have those excuses, for there you will have immediate access, you will not be involved in an election, and you will have been warned that men do take words seriously. You had better be thinking, 'What will we do if Germans and Poles start a revolution?' Because the kind of words you have been sending forth, the words America has always stood for, are the kind that men want to believe."

The initial American performance in relation to the Hungarian revolution was not good. I have explained why Hungarians and Americans alike could excuse our failure to act, and even our failure to speak, but it is difficult to explain away some of our later behavior regarding refugees. We dangled before some of the most dedicated fighters for freedom the world has seen since the days of George Washington the possibility of entrance into the Untied States as if this were a privilege one step more sanctified than entry into heaven. We turned the job of selecting the refugees we would accept over to voluntary religious groups who stipulated the most extraordinary requirements and made themselves the laughingstock of Vienna by sending out notices that no divorced persons could enter the United States, since such people had obviously broken with religious teaching, and America wanted no one who was not openly devout. The countries of Europe, by contrast, backed steam-heated trains up to camps and said, "England or France or Switzerland will take every man, woman or child who can find a seat on this train."

When our ridiculous policies had caused much bitterness in Austria, an official of our government held a press conference in which he pointed out, "We may have been tardy in accepting refugees, but we have given every Hungarian who crossed the border a warm blanket." This so outraged one listener that he asked, "How many refugees have there been so far?"

"Ninety-six thousand."

"How many has America taken?"

"Five hundred."

"How many has Switzerland taken?"

"Four thousand."

There were no more questions, but soon the American gates were opened, and those of us along the border could at least hold our heads up. But even then the American reaction to Hungary couldn't seem to get straightened out. We rushed our Hungarians to Camp Kilmer and processed them under such chaotic conditions that the New York Times (November 28, 1956) had to protest: "The reception and housing of the Hungarian refugees-at least in the New York area-is a disgrace to the country. If ever there has been a case of bungling and bad judgment in handling this relatively small group of people, whose courage has fired the hearts of freedom-loving people everywhere, Camp Kilmer takes the prize.