39
The blue signs had been posted in Szogor for a week. They were printed in both Hungarian and Yiddish.
The auxiliary police moved in at dawn. The local Jews were already queued up to show their blue papers and receive embarkation numbers. Columns of Jews from nearby towns began marching in for processing. The checkoff system was flexible. Certain persons were missing. They were searched for. Others carried blue cards, but their names did not appear on the lists; their names were added.
The Hungarian auxiliaries crowded the Jews into the seven side streets north of the main thoroughfare. All were ordered to sit or squat. Those who responded slowly were kicked or beaten. Speaking was forbidden.
Ragged columns of exhausted Russian war prisoners trudged into Szogor from the east and filled the side streets south of the main road. They were forced to lie flat on their faces. Infractions were dealt with harshly. One young boy was pummeled to death. Two prisoners were shot.
German SS officers arrived. The Hungarian auxiliaries guarding the Jews were curtly ordered to put their machine pistols back into their leg holsters. The SS moved among the terrified civilians apologizing for the Hungarians’ stupidity. The Hungarians, they told them, treated everyone like war prisoners, like Communists. But the Jews were emigrants, not prisoners, the SS said, and Jews were free to stand or sit or do whatever they liked as long as they remained on the side streets. The SS officers began mingling openly with the yellow-starred civilians. They held friendly chats, offered sweets to the children, cigarettes to the adults. An old woman was escorted back to her house to retrieve the pet canary the Hungarians had so rudely forced her to abandon.
The tension eased. The SS officers continued their fraternization. They reiterated that the Reich had nothing against Hungarian Jews, or even the few Italian and Greek Jews among them. It was the Polish Jews who had forced them to apply restrictive laws; they had all suffered because of the Poles. But at last something could be done to ease the situation. The Reich was short of labor; the Hungarian and Italian and Greek Jews could prove their loyalty by working for Germany. It was a rare opportunity. They must do their utmost for the Reich wherever they were sent.
Picture postcards were distributed, depicting pastoral bliss, neat resort cottages beside tranquil lakes or verdant hillsides. The messages on the back were even more serene.
At the first sound of the locomotive a band began to play. No one knew it had been there. Now they could see the military musicians strut down the main street. The first selection was from Mendelssohn. The Jews filed out and fell in behind the music. The SS encouraged both spectators and marchers to wave to one another.
A festive mood began to germinate. The venerable village doctor ambled from the sidewalk to embrace his young neighbor, to give him his scarf and what little money he had in his pocket as a memento. An SS officer looked on smiling and even slowed the march so that the aged doctor could keep pace. The Germans commented audibly, and in impeccable Hungarian, on the beauty of friendship. Others from the village now dared call to their departing friends. The marchers responded with growing good humor. Laughter was heard, the paraders began marching in step. The Russian prisoners remained behind, lying face down on the side streets.
The Jews were marshaled into the stock pens at the railroad yard. The band continued to play. Neighbors and friends hung on the surrounding fences, calling out good wishes. The Hungarian guards looked on in confusion, the SS officers in satisfaction. Assigned numbers were called off. The emigrants were divided into groups of a hundred and ten, and moved into smaller pens. An officer passed among them with a large white sack. Blue transit slips were dropped in.
A gate opened and the first group of emigrants, clutching their belongings, hurried out over the tracks and clambered into the windowless boxcar. The door slipped shut and was sealed.
Spangler found himself a corner, squatted down and waited for the trip to begin. His headache had subsided somewhat. The pain in his shoulder remained.