October 6, 1956

The funeral of László Rajk, the former Minister of Interior and three other high-ranking army officers took place on a cold, wet and windy day on October 6, 1956. The day was carefully chosen, as it is already marked in the Hungarian calendar to commemorate the thirteen leaders who were executed after the defeat of the War of Independence against the Austrian Empire in 1849.
My father, dressed in his uniform, left home early that day. He looked sad as he gave me his usual quick hug and a friendly pat on the back. When I returned from school, he was home again, sitting on his bed, listening to the radio on top of his night table. He was alone in the room. The door was open and I could see him, still in his uniform, his tie missing, his collar open and his shoulders hunched as if he were carrying a heavy load. The radio played mournful military funeral marches and the voice of the announcer was moderate and circumspect:
Thousands of people are marching quietly past the four plain coffins, holding the remains of the innocent victims of a terrible crime. The guards of honor change every five minutes.
There were speeches, solemn promises made over the coffins never to repeat the lies and deceptions carried out by the previous leaders. Listening to this, my father covered his face with his hands and sobbed aloud. I was shocked to my core, as I had never seen an adult male crying, and certainly not my father. Not knowing what to do under the circumstances, I sat down beside him on the bed and, holding his hand, cried along with him.