Selected text
In May 1944, when the ghettos were built up in Szatmar, we were out on the farm, in Vetes. The gendarmes came, the cock-feathered gendarmes, they loaded us instantly, and carried us off to the local school of Szamosdob [Doba in Romania, is located 14 km south-west of Szatmarnemeti], but after two days an officer let us go when he saw our papers.
We went back [to the farm], but the gendarmerie couldn’t resign to the fact that we stayed there. So they took us for the second time after one month, in June, after they took away everybody [all the Jews] from Szatmar and the whole surrounding area; they took 13 thousand Jews from Szatmar, one third of the town’s population.
Let me tell you how it happened. We were on the farm in Vetes, and one morning Levente-soldiers [15] surrounded the farm. They didn’t say a word, but stood there and watched us so that we wouldn’t escape. Next day gendarmes came, they put us on our cart, and took us to the parish hall.
We packed up what we could, and I remember we had a red alarm-clock; well I put it into my package. When they examined our packages in the parish hall in Vetes, the gendarme found the clock. He says boorishly, ‘You won’t need that!’ Like this. And they took it.
From Vetes they took us to Szatmar, and handed us over to the Hungarian Royal Gendarmerie. They put us in the police prison of Szatmar to wait and see how they would decide upon our fate. The whole family was there: my father, my mother, my brother and I.
I was fifteen years old. We were there for almost one month in detention under remand. They sent our papers to Budapest to be certified. They took our family jewels too, and sent them with the ‘gold train’ to Budapest, to the National Bank; they never gave them back to us. We didn’t have much, we had just a few, because we were engaged rather in the land, but they took the few family jewels we had.
In the meantime my brother got ill. He got an effusive pleurisy, he felt bad, and we had no choice but to report that he was ill. There was a clerk [police officer] called Sarkozi, he stood in the door of the prison and said, ‘Who is ill?’ We said it was my brother.
He stroked his pistol, I can still picture him: ‘I will cure him!’ Like this. Finally the ambulance came and they took him to the hospital and treated him there. We stayed there until fortunately our papers arrived from Budapest saying that our family couldn’t be taken. There were plank-beds, we were sleeping on those, but they couldn’t take us away.
We went back [to the farm], but the gendarmerie couldn’t resign to the fact that we stayed there. So they took us for the second time after one month, in June, after they took away everybody [all the Jews] from Szatmar and the whole surrounding area; they took 13 thousand Jews from Szatmar, one third of the town’s population.
Let me tell you how it happened. We were on the farm in Vetes, and one morning Levente-soldiers [15] surrounded the farm. They didn’t say a word, but stood there and watched us so that we wouldn’t escape. Next day gendarmes came, they put us on our cart, and took us to the parish hall.
We packed up what we could, and I remember we had a red alarm-clock; well I put it into my package. When they examined our packages in the parish hall in Vetes, the gendarme found the clock. He says boorishly, ‘You won’t need that!’ Like this. And they took it.
From Vetes they took us to Szatmar, and handed us over to the Hungarian Royal Gendarmerie. They put us in the police prison of Szatmar to wait and see how they would decide upon our fate. The whole family was there: my father, my mother, my brother and I.
I was fifteen years old. We were there for almost one month in detention under remand. They sent our papers to Budapest to be certified. They took our family jewels too, and sent them with the ‘gold train’ to Budapest, to the National Bank; they never gave them back to us. We didn’t have much, we had just a few, because we were engaged rather in the land, but they took the few family jewels we had.
In the meantime my brother got ill. He got an effusive pleurisy, he felt bad, and we had no choice but to report that he was ill. There was a clerk [police officer] called Sarkozi, he stood in the door of the prison and said, ‘Who is ill?’ We said it was my brother.
He stroked his pistol, I can still picture him: ‘I will cure him!’ Like this. Finally the ambulance came and they took him to the hospital and treated him there. We stayed there until fortunately our papers arrived from Budapest saying that our family couldn’t be taken. There were plank-beds, we were sleeping on those, but they couldn’t take us away.
Period
Year
1944
Location
Romania
Interview
Dr. Gabor Lazar
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