“It’s all yesterday’s news,” the kiosk manager said in a flat monotone. “We haven’t received anything yet this morning.”

The fact that no one seemed to know what was going on was frightening.

Tibor and Picke were meeting their parents at noon and the two of them took their time as they made their way through the side streets toward the restaurant. The Zoldfa, well-known in Budapest for its exceptional cuisine and great service, was owned by their mother’s uncle and it was full of well-dressed patrons. As soon as Tibor and Picke walked in, the maître d’ greeted them warmly and told them their father had already reserved the table. Picke spotted their parents and hurried ahead to kiss her mother and father. Tibor followed and leaned down to kiss his mother. More reservedly, he shook his father’s hand then took his place at the table. The waiter handed everyone menus and began stuffily, “I would strongly suggest the goose liver as appetizer, followed by the chicken schnitzel. This is the finest meal on our menu today and, who knows, it might be the last good meal any of us will have in this city for a long time.”

Tibor stared at him, aghast by his casual attitude. As the waiter walked away, he turned to his father. “I can’t believe the attitude of the people of this city. What is going on?” He was getting angrier by the minute. “There are German tanks everywhere yet there is nothing on the radio or in the newspapers and no one seems to be taking this situation seriously. It seems like everyone is ignoring the facts at hand and talking in some kind of code.”

Domokos sat quietly, seemingly studying the menu, and waited for Tibor to finish. His mother pleaded with her eyes for him to stop and, even though he knew that look well, Tibor would not be silenced.

“I find it hard to believe that you,” and he looked directly at his father, “as head of the press corps, knew nothing about any of this.” He stopped and waited for an answer. When Domokos said nothing, he continued. “Who knew about this? Why weren’t there Hungarian troops sent to the border to prevent the German tanks from invading the country?”

Picke looked from Tibor to Domokos and watched for her father’s reaction. She was stunned by Tibor’s outburst.They sat in an uncomfortable silence as the waiter brought the wine, poured each of them a glass and took their orders.

When he left their table, Domokos took a sip of wine, lit a cigarette, and turned to Tibor.

“Are you finished?” he asked. Tibor nodded, suddenly aware of the spectacle he was making of himself in front of his family. “Son, as we are all sitting here now, I swear to you that no one among the highest military command was informed of the German invasion. We had a report from Lieutenant-General Szilard Bakay, commander of Szombathely, that there had been unusual German troop movements throughout the border region and our general staff officers sent a message to German headquarters asking for the reason. They replied that the troop movements were training exercises.”

Domokos glanced around to see if anyone was eavesdropping. When he was satisfied that no one was within earshot he continued. “Our regent was in meetings with Hitler while the invasion was being implemented. You are aware of the fact that our troops are already overextended. In order to prevent the invasion, our commanders would have had to have some prior knowledge of this invasion and our troops would have had to be redeployed from other parts of the country, mainly the east to the western front, which would have taken weeks at best.” Domokos stopped, trying to control himself. It was obvious to his family that he was in great distress. “The regent and prime minister are the only individuals capable of ordering such a redeployment.” He leaned in and looked into Tibor’s eyes. “My information is that Regent Horthy is under house arrest by order of the German High Command.” Everyone at the table took a breath and went pale. “I was as shocked as you are to realize what has happened. But I am not a politician, or part of the government for that matter. I am not part of the general staff. I command the press corps. But you cannot blame the press corps for not being informed of the invasion.” He sat back heavily and took another sip of wine. He was perspiring, and wiped his forehead with his napkin.

“Let me state, unequivocally, here with my family, that I believe this is the end. The invasion by the Germans means we are no longer in charge of our own country or our own destiny.” Then he lowered his voice and, with a spark of anger growing noticeably in his eyes, he continued. “Personally, I think the government should resign immediately, en masse. That would signal to the world that independent Hungary as a country exists no more.”

Tibor felt suddenly ashamed of his outburst and stunned by his father’s admission. He was at a loss for words. “I’m sorry, Father, I never realized ...”

Domokos felt his son’s embarrassment and put his hand up to stop him. “None of us realized, Tiborkam. Now, before I get sent back to the eastern front and all of you go back home to Nagyszollos — and you, Tibor, get called into the reserves again — let’s try to have a nice, quiet family dinner and hope that somehow the war will end soon and we will all make it out alive.”