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BOX-FOLDER-REPORT: 32-3-1
TITLE:             Reckoning in the Bakony
BY:                Janos Foldesk
DATE:              1963-6-14
COUNTRY:           Hungary
ORIGINAL SUBJECT:  Special Translation
THEMATIC SUBJECTS: Hungary--1956-1965, Hungary--Literature, Personalities

--- Begin ---

"F"DISTRIBUTION - 700 14 June 1963

RFS TARGET AREA RESEARCH AND ANALYSIS

Special Translation

RECKONING IN THE BAKONY

By Janos Foldeak

(Kortars, June 1963)

Copright by KORTARS FOR INTERNAL USE ONLY

The following is a full translation of the short story
"Reckoning in the Bakony", by Janos Foldeak, which was published
in the June 1963 issue of the literary review "Kortars". The
53-year-old author, an ardent supporter of the Kadar political
line, is a. poet and novelist who j pursuing a neutral, "middle"
course, managed to avoid being compromised during both the Rakosi
era and the October 1956 uprising. Foldeak was a bookbinder by
original occupation and was active in the Communist underground
before World War II. Hie held posts after 1945 in the trade unions
and the paper industry, and eventually became manager of the
Literary Fund.

His short story is of great interest because it attempts
to come to grips with a major moral dilemma arising in connection
with the new policy of the Hungarian Communist Party which; aims at
enlisting the; active participation, of all Hungarians who are not
directly in opposition to the Party in the process of "socialist
construction". One of the most important expressions of this
policy to date has been the recent far-reaching amnesty, which
granted full pardon not only to former "class aliens", but also to
those who had "violated socialist legality by having abused their
power". This act, however, did not by itself solve a basic human
question involved: that of the attitude of the former victims of
the cult - and also of the critical, "unsoiled" young Communist
generation - toward the former oppressors, with whom they will
now have to live and work. Foldeak's answer is that each such
person must be judged in terms; of his individual merit, expressed
in what he has actually done since the days of the cult, but that,
nevertheless, the current demands of political life do not in any
way oblige the victims to "shake hands" with former violators of
socialist legality.

The story would be notable for its. theme alone, but
Foldeak has also succeeded in presenting it in a condensed,
convincing literary form, in which forceful dialogue develops
organically the differing viewpoints of the former victims, their
oppressors, and the uninvolved, "objective" young generation --
each represented by a protagonist in the story's chance encounter.

[page 2]

RECKONING IN THE BAKONY

by

Janos Foldeak

Watched through the streamlined window of the car,
the scenery changed with the speed of a film. The winding road
also added to the quick movements of the picture. The rocky hills
rose and sank, approached us and withdrew as waves do in an
endless motion.

Straight in front of me I saw the nape of Sandor,
our driver, his hair moving in the wind. Next to me sat Ihasz,
my secretary, a receptive young comrade. Agile like a lizard,
faithful as if he were my own son. At times a bit louder than I
would have liked.

We were alout midway on our journey home...

We had just passed a bend and Sandor sped up to take
the long straight stretch in front of us. Suddenly it felt as
if a stone had hit the chassis. At the same time the car skidded
suddenly to the right as the front part with the engine dropped
lower.

Sandor hit the "brakes and turned the wheel to the left
at the last moment. Even so, our oar skidded a few meters on the
Screeching tires and then came to a stop with a thud. If the
80 Km/h had pushed us further, we would have somersaulted into
the ditch.

I was the first to recover. I patted the driver's
shoulders reassuringly: You have splendid nerves Sandor!" I
said appreciatively and quickly got out of the car.

The scenery was cold and bleak. "Dwarfed hushes lined
the road, spreading their small branches as if calling for help.
Large gray clouds moved in the sky, rain was in the air.

"This damned tire! It nearly cost us our necks!"
Ihasz found his voice again. He got out of the car with quick
movements, muttering unintelligible oaths!"

"I don't think it was a tire Llowout, my friends," I
said calmly and went to the lowered front part of the car,

"A tire blowout wouldn't be so bad, it's something
else. Either a torn spring or a broken axle, Sandor said, but
he also gave the front tire an expert kick. "As I said, the
tire is not flat," -- he said and spread a canvas under the car
and crept underneath to examine it.

"To hell with this engine, it could at least have
lasted till Budapest," said Ihaza annoyed and looked around the
bleak place.

Immediately I understood the annoyance of my secretary.

[page 3]

I even smiled. Here, his loud voice and determination didn't
help at all, there was no one to quarrel with. Here he had to be
resourceful on his own. On the other hand, he was vain enough
to want to be the initiator in a difficult situation. If
embarrassed, he would wait for my hint, take it and then present
it as his own. This is the way I encourage him to be resourceful.
He is still a young man, and his self-confidence has to grow...

"A telephone booth would be handy, wouldn't it, Comrade
Ihasz, it would solve everything!" I said laughingly, to show that
I was not angry because of the delay.

"I don't even know where we are!" Ihasz turned around.

"Near Bakonyfa. The village is over the hill." I pointed
to the mounting road.

The young secretary turned to me sincerely awed:

"For four years now I have been accompanying you, Comrade
Gonda, on your travels all over the country, and it never happened,
not even at night on the open road, that you didn't know exactly
where we were..."

"Yes, about two kilometers to Bakonyfa," interrupted
the driver.

That would be too much, the village is much nearer.
Don't scare us, Sandor!"-- I began to smile, seeing Ihasz's
darkening face. "Even I could run that far, though I wouldn't win the
race!"

Is there any place at all which you don't know, Comrade
Gronda?" asked Ihasz with the jealousy of the young and turned his
collar up, he was cold. He hadn't brought a scarf and was afraid
of getting a sore throat.

The driver emerged from under the car.                     

We guessed right, Comrade Gonda, the axle is broken.
It must have already been cracked for it to break on this smooth
road."

"Well, this is a nuisance!" -- involuntarily I also
became gloomy.

"We can't budge with this car," said Sandor angrily.

"We have no choice but to walk..."

"But only to Bakonyfa, Comrade Gonda. To the village
only...," Ihasz added.

While looking the door, the driver called back: "And
from there, Comrade Ihasz? What do we do from there? Or are

[page 4]

you hoping for a miracle? There is no train from Bakonyfa, it
has no railway station! Faybe an evening bus, if at all, to
Budapest..."

"Take it easy, Sandor, take it easy! If there is no
train, no bus, there is a telephone," shouted Ihasz. (He remembered
the hint I had made previously.) "I will ask for another car to
be sent from Budapest, it can be here in one and a half hours
at the latest. This will give Sandor ample time to have our
broken-down car towed to the village to a more sheltered place! Is
this clear?"

Of course it was clear, how could it have been
otherwise .

I offered them cigarettes and we started out toward
Bakonyfa. The wind in hack of us was so strong that we hardly
had to make any effort to move. The weather became worse and
worse...

By the time we reached the first houses of the village, it
started to rain. This might have been the reason why we didn't
meet anyone until we reached the village hall. Some people looked
out of their yards, sometimes with sympathy for our drenched
state; some greeted us. But most of them just nodded.

In the wide corridor of the village hall a few peasants
were sitting and talking on a long bench. They just glanced at us
strangers and went on talking among themselves.

"Well, I am going to find the chairman of the council,"
said Ihasz zealously and tried to guess which was his room.

"That double door there, facing you," -- said one of the
peasants helpfully, though unasked, warning him at the same time:
"He just told us that he is busy and should not be disturbed. ...
He has much to do, he said..."

Ihasz answered with a high-handed gesture, like someone
who in not interested in any kind of warning and who is master in
every house. I told him several times not to be so superior; to
be more unassuming. He always promised to do so, but forgot it in
his Zseal. Just like now. He barely tapped on the door, and
without waiting for permission, opened and vanished behind it.

The driver also moved toward the door9 to "be at hand if
needed. I myself went to read the different advertisements
adorning the wall, tailing about the importance of destroying weeds
and pests, the usefulness of artificial manure and production of
industrial plants. A special illustration pointed out the financial
advantages of fattening pigs and cattle.

Sandor touched my am.

"Comrade Gonda9 if you please, they have gotten quite

[page 5]

noisy in there." -- he pointed toward the room. "Comrade Ihasz
is using his voice quite a bit..."

There was not time to go and calm him down. There he
was already, red as a beet, gesticulating wildly.

"This is unheard of, Comrade Gonda. I've never seen such
a thing in my life, who do they think we are? He didn't even
listen to me. He was not interested in my name or my function...
He simply threw me out, saying I should go to the post office.
His office is not a telephone booth!"

"Didn't I say that the chairman was busy! He is
working! He sent everyone out just "before," said the peasant who had
spoken to us previously, with some malice, "because we hadn't
listened to him.

I always avoided ostentation. When they recognized me
somewhere, I endeavored to prevent respect for authority from
deteriorating into servile submission, and curbed all intentions 
of adulation and flattery. I never wanted to impress with my
rank and authority.

There were still places were they didn't know me,
like here at Bakonyfa, and I would have liked to receive help
not as the representative of a government office but merely as
a man who was in trouble. I was therefore annoyed by the loud
words of Ihasz, who succeeded in arousing the curiosity of the
peasants, who turned toward me trying to guess my identity.

"I am sure that the post office is not far away." I tried
to hush my secretary and to dampen the open interest shown by the
peasants. Why disturb the chairman at his work. We would get a
quicker connection to Budapest from the post office... Come on!"
I turned to the door, asking the peasants: "Comrades, where is
the post office?"

"When you get out on the street, the first corner
to the right... There is a mailbox on the wall!" said one of
them.

But Ihasz shouted even louder, as if to prove to the
peasants that he wasn't just anybody...

"We can't leave it at that, Comrade Gonda! No, a thousand
times no... We are on an official trip. We have no time to spare!
And then it is the duty of a chairman to help those who turn to
him, or at least to listen to them... He hasn't got the right
to bully strangers... and especially not us. We are no strangers!"

"Don't get excited, son!" I tried to calm him. "They
did help us. The chairman told us to go to the post office,
and he is right, because we can call from there too. There is no
sense in getting so angry..."

[page 6]

I believe I was the first to see the door of the
chairman's office open. A broad-shouldered, stocky man stood on
the threshold, his hand on the door-knob.

"Could you be a bit quieter, young man, we are not in
a saloon, do you hear me?" he shouted in an energetic and
commanding voice, like someone accustomed to being obeyed immediately.

This high-handed tone displeased me, as it had Ihasz.

The peasants, but Ihasz too, turned to the voice as if
pulled by a string. And instead of moderating himself, my
secretary started at him in an even angrier tone:

"You are simply abusing your official power!... It's
incredible! You can't use this tone with just anyone!... Least
of all with me, because..." The chairman raised his voice too,
the whole corridor thundered when he interrupted:

"Let me be the judge of the tone I use!... You have no
right to shout here, even if you don't like my voice! None at
all... do you understand?"

I was fed up with the noise, and truly ashamed in front
of the peasants. What kind of mariners were these. Ridiculous
showing-off for which there was no need ax all.

"Go and shout where you have the right to, young man.."
added the chairman spitefully.

I made an energetic sign with my arm to silence them.
I stood in a far corner and did not want to shout. Ihasz and the
driver stood before the chairman, so I could not see him. I made
a side step be that he could see me9 trying to pacify and warn
them .

"Well, what can I do for you?"-he saw me immediately.
"Official hours are long over, but go on, what is you wish?"

His goading, with its hidden sarcasm, made me
speechless. I suddenly stiffened arid stared with increasing excitement
at the chairman, who strutted with arrogance.

The moment I could see him from head to foot, I recognized
him. And his voices the modulation of it echoed in my ears with
the one I had heard before, and which I will never be able to
forget, even if I lived to be a hundred. But I also recognised him.
from his movements, his haughty pose, the way he stamped with his
foot, his straddled legs as he stood in the door, as if in a
frame, with erect back., swelled with pride, head held up proudly
and with the arrogance of a man used to power and giving orders...

I was unable to control myself: at last, he is here,
standing before me! ... I had finally again met the man who...

[page 7]

"Now we will get even, my friend!" I said hoarsely,
the stiffness caused by my first surprise loosened, and I rushed
with upraised arm and terrible force toward the man in the
doorway... I nearly made the driver lose his balance as I passed...
The peasants cowered against the wall to get out of my way... My
steps resounded on the stone floor as I passed them...

A few paces before the chairman, I raised my fist and
wanted to strike... Yes, to strike, to hit the" ashen face, but
he jumped automatically aside and hit the door with his shoes
and elbow. It resounded like the thunder of a hand grenade...

The sudden sound made me stop... and regain my reason.
I came to myself: what was I about to do, to fight? To repay
with my fist the slap I had received two years ago? To avenge the
old humiliation, the shame which rose up in me again? The
suddenly reappearing sting on my face?

I suddenly felt the sharp pain on my face so keenly
that I had to soothe it with my hand. As if my face were swollen
even now. It hurt and burned. Years had since passed, long years,
and the pain was as acute as it was then...

"Did you hurt yourself, Comrade Gonda? -- Ihasz hurried
to my side and examined my face with childish fear. He must have
thought that I had hit my face in the sudden scurry.

"Not at all!... Don't worry! I didn't hurt myself.
There is nothing wrong with me," I said guardedly blurt determined.

The chairman stood only a few steps away. Bent over as
if he had been kicked in the stomach and was unable to straighten
himself up. Still white as a sheet and terror-stricken. Beads of
perspiration appeared on his forehead, his mouth trembled.

Did he recognize me too? Or was he scared just because
I had run toward him shaking my fist?...

I was silent and unmoved. Ihasz was embarrassed and
didn't say a word. In vain he looked at me for some kind of sign.
Finally, he took courage and, albeit politely, pushed me aside
from the open door and entered the chairman's room.

This move of his gave me courage, too. I overcame my
hesitation. "Where are you going, Comrade Ihasz?" I shouted
energetically.

"To... to make a phone call,,,", and he stopped suddenly.

"Come back at once!"

He obeyed without hesitation.

"I told you already what you should do... did you
forget it?" I asked him.

[page 8]

"No...I did not forget it, Comrade Deputy Minister..."
he answered, even more ashamed and frightened than "before, bat
his hesitation revealed clearly that he didn't know what I wanted.

The fact that he had forgotten my previous
instructions and called me "deputy minister", and not Comrade Gonda,
infuriated me even more...

I turned away. In so doing I nearly pushed a peasant
off his feet who was just explaining to Ihasz how to get to the
post office.

"The bast thing you can do", he said, is to follow
us. We have to go there anyway, so let's go together

Ihasa suddenly remembered what I had told him, tapping
his forehead. But the chairman took his arm.

"No...stay here... Don't go...," he told Ihasz. And
then, looking at the peasants who went to the exit, he raised his
voice and told thems "You better go home, go home quietly, I
will help the comrades."

And the peasants left. Without any further
encouragement. They muttered a kind of 'good-hy', but didn't look at me.
Ihasz's absent-mindedness in calling me deputy minister had
frightened them. They wanted to be left out of any quarrel between
the 'top people'. Fully aware of the power of a deputy minister,
they nevertheless did not want to take a stand against the
all-powerful chairman, who is the undisputed master in Bakonyfa and
will very probably remain so.

Ihass did not know what to do. He looked around, first
at the peasants, then at me.

"What are me waiting for, Comrade Ihasz?" I asked him
in a harsh tons. And then remembering what Sandor had said
not-long before, I added: "For a miracle, perhaps?"
In fact he wanted to leave, but he couldn't. However
energetically he tried to free his arm, the chairman would not
let him loose.

"Please ... Comrade Deputy Minister... please. Will you
excuse me... I didn't know...," he stammered, holding fast to
my secretary's sleeves.

I turned involuntarily toward him, in spite of the
disgust I felt. Now, as in the past, I had to look down at him,
as I was taller by a head. Maybe this also added to the fact
that I was unable to forget his brutality. Under different
circumstances I could easily have taken care of two like him,
and ever: at that time, I was stronger physically, but I was at
his mercy. I was quite powerless. He could do with me what he
wanted. At a sign, a word from him, five or 10 could have held
me down, taken care of me...

[page 9]

"P...please Comrade," stuttered the chairman, but he had
even less courage than before.

And I had to watch him. He stood before me. But I would
have seen him even with my eyes closed or turning my face away.
The former insolent little figure of a man... Well, why shouldn't'
I see the man he was now?

He hadn't changed. He might have put on some weight,
but it also could have been his civilian clothes which made him
look stouter now. His small eyes still showed suspicion, and he
still wore his hair cut short in military fashion...

"Well, go on! What do you want?" barked Ihasz, who
thought that my silence meant that I didn't want to spare any more
words on the small, cantankerous man.

Ihasz prodded him in vain, it was to me that he tried
to give an explanation:

"I would like to clear up the misunderstanding...
I am terribly sorry, Comrade Deputy Ministers ...Do excuse roe.."
and he wiped his brow.

Ihasz watched him contemptuously.

"What hotheadedness, my friend!" he lectured him in a
superior manner. "You wouldn't listen even to the prime minister!
Would you send him away, too?... What do you think would happen
to the country if every chairman acted in this manner?"

"If you please... I am sorry, but... I don't know you.
If it had been Comrade Gonda entering the room, then... then
it couldn't have happened. .. I am truly sorry, comrade... One
gets nervous sometimes..."

"Nervous, nervous!" mocked Ihasz.

"So, you recognized me?" I said finally and was
astonished at my own calm.

My question visibly startled him.

"It would be a sh...shame not to recognize you, Comrade
Deputy Minister!..."

"A great shame indeed!" added Ihasz. "Comrade Gonda
was very well-known in the Party movement between the two wars.."

"Y...yes, that's true," agreed the chairman.

"And if someone had met Comrade Gonda in the past,
it wouldn't do to forget him even if he weren't a deputy minister.."

"I didn't meet Comrade Gonda for the first time today.."

[page 10]

"That's what I thought... Otherwise you. wouldn't be
so scared now!" retorted Ihasz.

It is difficult to explain what prompts one to ideas
at times. I am not sure if it was Ihasz's provocation which
increased my curiosity, but I wanted to know exactly whether
the chairman remembered me. Will he acknowledge and reveal where
and how we had met before? And does he remember the way he treated
me at the time. This was exactly what I wanted to know.

"Do tell me, have you really met me before?... And did
we speak to each other?" I tried to approach the truth in a round-
about way.

"Y... yes, Comrade Deputy Minister ," he stuttered
again and blinked nervously,

I was still guessing: had he let his tongue slip or had
he admitted it openly? Was it the defense of a cornered animal
or only tactics?

I thought it better to remain doubtful, but admitted that
we had met before, which in a way was true. I preferred to put
him to the test once more.

"It must have been a long time ago.." I pretended
vagueness, like someone searching among his memories. I waited to
see if he made use of my feigned uncertainty to deny the fact.

"Y...yes, it was a long time ago! Years ..."

He didn't dare deny it; I thought the time had arrived
to make an approach.,

"I believe you are right. It seems to me, too, that
we have mat somewhere ..."

I claim that I used the word "seems" involuntarily,
but when I saw his reaction, I was sure I had hit in the raw.
The chairman's face became ashen again, and he shuddered as if
from cold. But luckily for him, a new argument from Ihasz saved
him from having to answer,

"Comrade Gonda is known to more people than the other
way around. This is the fate of men in public life.." Ihasz
gabbled. "If -- let us say Comrade Gonda is known to 1,000 people
personally, this does not mean that Comrade Gonda has to know all
l,000 personally, too. Maybe he knows about a hundred. Isn't
it so?"

I nearly reprimanded Ihasz, why did he have to be so
officious all the time? He might spoil the whole questioning,
which had started so well. But I restrained myself, and, rather,
urged the chairman:

[page 11]

"And when did we meet and speak to each other? Do help me
remember!" I said firmly in such a way that he couldn't avoid
answering. Then it was the driver who cut off my curiosity.

We had quite forgotten about Sandor, although he was
standing nearby. He quietly withdrew to the bench vacated by
the peasants. He must have gotten bored, as we hadn't discussed
our return trip to Budapest, and was entitled to be upset and
approach us. Jhasz suddenly struck his head:

"Our car, Comrade Gonda!... I just talk and talk instead
of calling Budapest on the 'phone !"

The chairman jumped as if he had been bitten, took
Ihasz's arm and pulled him away.

"Come, come, comrade, to the telephone... If you please!
But be careful: first the post office will answer, and then they
will call and connect you with Budapest!" he was as officious as
if nothing had happened between them.

"They are at peace now !"-Sandor pointed at them and
laughed. "A spunky little man, that one. He has the ways of a
sergeant. No wonder that Comrade Ihasz gets angry... Although
I think it was Comrade Ihasz who started the whole thing... as
far as I know him ..."

I could nod only in agreement because the chairman
was back again kowtowing:

"Please do come in, Comrade Deputy Minister. It is
more convenient for you to wait in my office," he begged even
with his eyes, then with a quick movement opened the other door
wing, as if my entering his room depended on this gesture.

The furniture was quite worn. A red cloth covered
the long conference table and there were a few glazed ashtrays.
The chairs, too, were simple. In the other corner of the room
was a writing desk, probably originating from a gentry home, to
its left, worn leather-coverend easy chairs surrounded a small
round coffee table. A glass-fronted book-case and a green shiny
safe completed the furniture. A few pictures on the wall and two
maps: one of the country, the other of the village and its environs.

While Ihasz was tormenting the telephone, I watched
the president, who stood nearby, and observed him. Didn't I make
a mistake in recognizing him? Is it the same person who in 49,
at the time of my arrest, greeted me with sharp irony:

"Well, you rascal, you imperialistic agent. It was no
use ingratiating yourself into the Party: you finally got
nabbed!"

I didn't believe my ears that a young man, who could
have been my son, had addressed me in this manner and called
me an imperialistic agent. Me, Gyula Gonda, the head of one of

[page 12]

the most important government institutions, who only that
morning had received from Rakosi personally the most secret
and confidential orders?... What's this? What is happening to
me? What silly joke am I the victim of?... Confident, I protested,
but could not finish the sentence "because.,. Yes, it was this
very same man who shouted at me "brutally:

"Shut up! Rotten fascist, you will talk when I aak you
to, not "before!"

After checking my personalia, they put me in a tiny,
windowless cell with only a table and a chair as furniture. They
gave me paper and pencil and told me to write down my
connections with Western embassies. Who were my collaborators? How
and with how much money did they pay for my services?.. In vain
I protested against these accusations. They wanted my confession
in writing... What could I do? I was writing already for the
sixth time that, apart from official receptions, I had never
met representatives of Western embassies. They had never tried
to approach me, let alone to give me orders... They knew very
well who I was, a Communist of long standing whom it would be
hopeless to lure to treason, even with money...

Ihasz drew me from the bitter reminiscences:

"We don't have to wait for one and a half hours, Comrade
Gonda. They will fetch us even "before that," he reported, and
sent Sandor immediately to the address received from the
chairman, to "have the car towed to the house and to wait for the
wrecker from Budapest.

They found an office messenger to accompany the driver
and help him find horses and men.

May I offer a little refreshment, comrades?" asked
the chairman in an uncertain tone, as if afraid of a refusal.
Probably only I noticed his forced smile...

"if you can afford it from the official allowance,"
my secretary replied, as if bestowing some special favor on the
nervous and flustered chairman. This submission amused him.

"Since when are you in Bakonyfa?" I asked when the
chairman had finished preparing the doffee percolator and sat
down with us.

"I came here after the counterrevolution."

"And before that?"

"I was in the Nyirseg, in Nyirhegy, to be precise..."

"What did you do in Nyirhegy?"

"I was chairman there, the same as here. It was a somewhat larger 
village than Bakonyfa, but didn't cause so much trouble."

[page 13]

"And before becoming a chairman? What did you do
then?"

He blushed He winked clumsily at Ihasz, as if to asks:
can he talk freely? I pretended not to notice.

"When were you discharged? ... You know what I mean?.."
I watched him closely.

"I know, Comrade Deputy Minister... I received the
discharge order... in 54..."

"What was the reason?" I continued, hoping that the
discharge could have "been the sentence for his activities.

"Reorganization, staff reductions... But I was immediately
sent to Nyirhegy!... At that time there was a great need for
cadres...

"Naturally . . . And you were a reliable cadre, right?"
it slipped out of my mouth, and I made a wry face.

He hung his head and did not answer.

I thought this to "be enough for a beginning, although
he only convinced me that I had not made a mistake. I am facing
the man who conducted my interrogation and who slapped me twice
in the face. But I didn't know if he remembered, and that, too,
would have interested me.

"It was a long time ago," I continued, "about 10 years
or even more... Well, do you remember a comrade of yours who
slapped the face of an elderly arrested comrade "because he didn't
sign the protocol?" 1 went on mercilessly, and was curious to see
if he understood my insinuation and what he would reply. And I
did this because I wanted to make it clear to him that I did not
and never would forget the way he treated me.

I received more than I hoped for. The president got
so alarmed that he made a wide movement with his arms. Then he
drew in his neck and was hardly able to mutter:

"Y.. yss, I remember."

I did not take my eyes off him. I didn't want to
torment him, far from it, I only wanted to get more proof that I was
not mistaken. Because I still found unbelievable to be facing my
former tormentor, after more than 10 years, the man who might
even be responsible for the five years I spent in prison.

"Well, how was it? How do you remember the case. Let
us hear what you have to say?"

The chairman trembled all over, his small eyes were
widened by silent horror.

[page 14]

"I never thought you could have such bad memories,
Comrade Gonda", interrupted Ihasz, whose remark showed not only
esteem but also wonder.

Only I could understand Ihasz's surprise. During the
four years he had been my secretary, I never mentioned to him
the terrible experiences I had. at the time of my arrest, he
heard it now for the first time. He knew that I, too, had been
slandered, kept in prison for years and that 1 was rehabilitated,
but he knew no details of my sufferings. I thought it bad taste
to tell him. about it... At the time my case did not get
publicity in the press... nor was there a trial...

I didn't let myself be disturbed by Ihasz. I was
still more interested in the chairman.

"When at the time, the sixth draft prepared by the old
comrade was torn up by that..." -- and I stopped but not on
purpose. I just got stuck. Isn't it funny?... I know the man
but don't know his name. That I didn't know it at the time is
understandable. But why hadn't I asked for it since?

"First lieutenant...", he helped me out in a low voice
and blushed.

"A first lieutenant? Are you sure?", I inquired, and
at the same time checked my own memory.

He just nodded that he was sure.

"Well then, 1 will go on... When this first lieutenant
tore up the sixth draft and threw it in the face of the elderly
comrade, he took out a closely typed four-page protocol and told
him to sign it... Correct?"

"Y. . . yes."

I never knew how difficult it could be to pronounce
this simple word "yes".

"Do you remember what happened next?" I asked, and had
to be careful to hide my increasing excitement.

The chairman didn't deny it:

"The elderly comrade refused to sign it."

"Yes, that's how it was!" I said with emphasis.
"Although he threatened him, right?"

"He did threaten him..."

"And forced him too, didn't he?"

[page 15]

"Y...yes, he forced him, too..."

"How do you explain that the comrade didn't sign? -- I
beat over him to hear every word of his answer, or to read it
from his silent face.

"The protocol was surely a lie", was the opinion of
Ihasz, who watched every word.

"Yes... bat no ... that wasn't the only reason he
didn't sign", and the chairman wiped his brow. "He first wanted
to read the text before signing."

"He demanded to be allowed to read it before signing,
right?" I said harshly.

"Did they want him to sign without having read the
document?" asked Ihasz with instinctive indignation.

The chairman sat uncomfortably in his seat, he didn't
know whom to answer first.

"And when he read it, did he sign it?" Ihasz asked
the chairman.

His curiosity was almost greater than mine.

"No, comrade, he didn't sign. Not even after reading
the protocol", the chairman cringed and looked with alarm at
Ihasz. too.

"Well, he took it out of the first lieutenant, didn't
he!" Ihasz said with enthusiasm, and laughed. "And what did he
say, why didn't he want to sign?"

"Well... Because he denied all the statements in the
protocol...", replied the chairman.

I became stern and insisted that he should stick
exactly to the truth.

"Is this how you remember it?" I asked sharply. Then
I continued immediately: "Well I remember it differently! The
elderly comrade also added: that apart from the personal data,
every statement in the protocol was a lie! That is how he said
it, openly!... Or did he say something else?"

"No ... no, he didn't."

And what happened afterwards?" I went on demanding the
truth from him.

Suddenly the chairman started to implore, I could
hardly understand his whispers:

[page 16]

"I beg you, Comrade Deputy Minister! I beg you to
consider... It was such a long time ago... My memory fails
me..."

His whining didn't touch me. On the contrary. I
switched over to irony: "Well, naturally!... I do understand
that you have very vague memories of those things. And then it
wasn't just this one case. It was only one of many, isn't that
so?"

"Y... yes. One of many... "

"I understand that it must "be difficult for you to
remember just that one which you have in common with me, the
memory which concerns both of us..."

"It is very difficult to remember. More than 10
years...", he apologized,

I was adamants I didn't feel any pity for him, not
even as much as a spider would feel at the weeping of a fly
caught in her web.

"Well, let's try to straighten it out, now that we're
at it. It won't do you any harm, either, to freshen up your
memory... So the first lieutenant shouted at the elderly
comrade! I can hear it even now... And what did he shout? Do
you remember? What words did he use?"

 "N....no, I can't remember", he hedged.

"Do think hard!" I prodded him.

"No... I can't remember..."

"But I do!" I shouted at him angrily. "He bawled:
'You say that this protocol is a lie? You, you old ass, you
dirty dog of a fascist traitor!'... Don't you remember now?"

"I... I do...", he answered, appalled.

"Didn't I quote him correctly? Word for word?"

The chairman nodded with even greater alarm.

"And what happened next?... Well?... After the
shouting?" -- I went on.

I didn't wait for, his answer; I didn't have the
patience...

"And then he slapped the face of the elderly comrade!
Do you get it?!... He slapped his face..." -- I shouted
passionately, and again put my hand on my face as if it had been slapped

[page 17]

again. "He was an old man, he could have been his father, and
he slapped him!..."

"He slapped him...", the chairman repeated almost
automatically.

"And how many times?... Or don't you remember that?...",
I went on a bit calmer, as Ihasz watched us open-mouthed.

"Many times... a great many times", mumbled the
chairman, like someone who had given up.

I wasn't prepared for this accelerated "self-criticism".

"Don't exaggerate! The first lieutenant slapped him
only twice", 1 refuted him scornfully, to make him. feel how much
alive his act still was in me. "Others perhaps more than twice...
and probably not only slaps in the face, but kicks and the
rubber truncheon, or... But why should I enumerate these when you know
them better?... Let's leave them and return to the elderly
comrade... Before giving him the second slap, the first
lieutenant bellowed at him: 'You even dare to slander our
investigation, you rascal!... That's how I remember it! And then he
slapped him for the second time."

"An elderly comrade?... He slapped an elderly comrade?"
Ihasz jumped up.

"Sit down!" -- I pulled him back as I was afraid that
he would be aware of what was happening between me and the
chairman and that he might attack the man, who was already half dead
from fear.

"If I could only get that rascal in my hands!" 

"Keep quiet, Ihasz!... The second slap was so hard
that the elderly comrade reeled to the wall. His mouth and nose
were bleeding... Well, was that the way it was?"

"And did he persist, comrades?" asked Ihasz awed, "Or
did he sign after the second slap?"

"No, he didn't sign even then... No...", the chairman
stuttered.

The coffee percolator started to hiss, and the black
liquid bubbled. Steam rose in the air. We all looked at the
machine.

The chairman stood up and poured the hot drink, with
uncertain fingers, into the cups, fumbling so much that Ihasz
got sorry for him.

"You must be a very nervous man, your hands are
trembling so much..."

[page 18]

"Oh no. . . only I am not accustomed to this kind of
work, that's why...", he defended himself.

We kept silent while sipping the black coffee. I didso not because of lack of questions to ask, but because this
rest did me good. On the other hands what I had wanted to be
proven was already indisputably clear to me.

Ihasz must have thought that the conversation was over,
because he asked:

"What finally happened to the man?"

"To w...which one?" asked the chairman, startled.

"Well to that first lieutenant!... Do they know about
him?"

As none of us answered, he enumerated his suppositions:

"I wouldn't be surprised if he had escaped to the West.
He must have been among the first ones who did so... He had
every reason to fear the vengeance of those whom he forced to
lie with his threats, those whom he mishandled..."

I nodded to Ihasz to go on. I was interested in his
reasoning. He gave a new course in widening the exposure.

"What is your opinion?", he turned to the chairman.

"He didn't feel himself to be guilty..."

Ihasz flew into a rage and nearly knocked the coffee
cup over.

"What did you say?... That the first lieutenant didn't
feel himself to be guilty?... And why not? How do you explain
that?"

"He obeyed an order..." -- the chairman stood up to
Ihasz's anger.

"Do you want to say that he slapped faces to order?"

"Yes, I do. The first lieutenant also had his
superiors..."

"This is an easy kind of defense, I must say! It is
easy and comfortable to decline responsibility in this way...",
Ihasz protested.

"But this is the truth... It can be proven...",
muttered the chairman timidly.

[page 19]

"All right. Let's accept it, he did it obeying an
order. But carrying out an order may depend on many things.
First of all, what does the order really mean, what is its
purpose? Can I identify myself with the basic objective of the
order, or not? Secondly, what kind of a man is it who carries
out the order? Is he thinking for himself, or does he just obey
blindly? Does he take into account the consequences of the
order, or not? Does he judge the order by looking at it from
the point of view of humanity, or does he look at it as destined
for its own end. And thirdly, you can obey an order only
partially, or carry it out more thoroughly than could have been
expected. Basically, the one who carries out an order is
ultimately responsible, and not the one who has issued it.. Anyway,
this is my opinion!"

The chairman had withdrawn into himself and did not
say a word.

"Did he flee, this first lieutenant, or didn't he?"
--asked Ihasz, looking first at the chairman and then at me.

I must confess, I liked Ihasz's passionate
investigation. I have seen in it the ardent desire of the young Communist
generation to follow the truth... The future belongs to the
young, they are entitled to know what kind of heritage they will
get from us... That is why I let him interfere with my
investigation about the chairman. I thought it even better that someone
who does not know all the details should harp on the conscience
of the first lieutenant. I even helped him in this effort.

"Why should he have escaped?" -- I asked.

Indeed, I thought, why didn't he escape just as many
of his friends had done, leaving the country for fear? But I was
interested first and foremost in what Ihasz would answer to this.
He answered without hesitation:

"We have to judge the first lieutenant on this account,
Comrade Gonda. If he would have run away, he wouldn't have "been
a convinced Marxist. And, on top of that, he would have been a
coward, too. As he did not run away, he has to be called to
account. Because he sinned against humanity, against..."

I interrupted him: "Wait a minute! According to your
logic, if he did not run away, he remained a Marxist, and you
consider him to be a brave man? Is that so?"

Ihasz looked perplexed and stared at me.

"You are right, Comrade Gonda", he said quietly. "The
fact that he did not run away does not in itself prove that he
remained a Marxist."

I was satisfied with his answer, I made further use

[page 20]

of his reasoning. Why shouldn't he, too, pass judgment upon the
first lieutenant, upon the chairman's past and present attitude?

"But let's say the first lieutenant remained a Marxist...
would you also in this case call him to account?" I insisted
further. "Think over twice what your answer will be. Don't
forget what we do in such eases as a rule."

"I would hold him even more responsible", he said
resolutely, "and call him to account mercilessly!"

The chairman broke down completely. As if the final
judgment had "been passed on him. He looked at me in desperation.

I looked at him reluctantly. Gould he really expect
me to give him help and support? That would be more than
ridiculous.

I preferred to carry on the discussion with Ihasz,

"You know, my young friend, I would not call him to
account", I told him dispassionately and quietly.

I was not surprised at Ihasz's indignation,

"And why not, Comrade Gonda, if I may ask?"

"Look, if the first lieutenant really remained a
Marxist, then his conscience will force him to exercise self-criticism.
... anyway..."

The chairman, who not long before was still a pitiable
wreck, drew himself up and took my side in the dispute, courageously and sure of himself.

"This is correct, Comrade Deputy Minister... How right
you are..." he emphasized gratefully.

I did not like his reaction. Without exercising the
slightest self-criticism, he already acquits himself.

But Ihasz did not let loose.

"The sense of responsibility or the readiness for
self-criticism are not always linked to Marxist conviction. . ."

"How can you say such a thing?" I told him
disapprovingly .

"But Comrade Gonda, are you, of all people, expecting
me to give you examples to this effect? You, who should know
better from your own experience that there were and perhaps still
are Marxists acting without the slightest sense of responsibility?

I felt it my duty to bring Ihasz back to the reality of

[page 21]

the case, and therefore told him:

"The first lieutenant I am talking about did not run
away."

"Didn't he.. run away?" he asked with surprise. "How
do you know, Comrade Gonda?"

Unfortunately, I could not find a better answer, so I
told him:

"I know, or, to "be more precise: we know... Don't we?"
I asked the chairman.

"Yes... we do..."

"But I would like to know the reason why he didn't
escape. You know it. Couldn't you tell us?"

The chairman was taken aback by this question. His
hesitation made this clear. But then he managed to come forward
with an answer. A quite clever one, which most probably had
little to do with the truth.

"He didn't leave because... he remained faithful not
only to his country but also to the Party. And then he didn't
go because..."

"We don't want the loyalty of this kind of people!"
Ihasz protested. "In 56 we had to pay dearly for such
pseudo-Communists. Because that's what they are..."

The words stuck in the throat of the chairman. I had
to encourage him:

"Go on please, tell us: according to your knowledge,
what was the other reason which prevented the first lieutenant
from escaping from the country?"

"Because mistakes can be made good only where they have
been committed", was his answer; a kind of primitive dialectics.

"Agreed!" I said, "But with one addition: I would say
mistakes should be made good where they have been committed, not
'can be made good'... Do you understand? They have to be made
good!"

While the chairman agreed, Ihasz opposed me once again:

"If we don't call the ,guilty to account, Comrade Gonda,
we would give the impression of being weak... But I would go
even further. We don't have to prove our strength to ourselves,
but to the people... Because they too keep in evidence those
who are inhuman, selfish and petty rulers."

[page 22]

"People forgive ten bad deeds for one good one if they
can see true repentance!" I said philosophically.

"I would interpret it the other way around!" said Ihasz
obstinately, "One "bad deed has to "be redeemed by ten good ones!"

"Don't be a maximalist!" I warned him.

"I'm not, Comrade Gonda. I only want to "be fair!"

"I believe you, but exaggerations don't serve the
purpose of justice..."

"Neither does the evasion I hear from the chairman!...
If we have to go on suffering for years because of the deeds of
a few sorry figures..."

"Stop it, please!" I interrupted firmly. "You don't
see the forest for the trees! Do not judge from the behavior of
one or two men and the fate of their victims! Take stock of the
existing situation of millions, Ihasz!... For us the perspective
view is imperative!..."

The two dumfounded faces staring at me made me stop.
It was enough to look at them to realize that my last words had
different meanings to each of them.

I wanted to fill in the sudden silence by offering them
cigarettes. But this didn't relax the tension.

Ihasz, like a sulking child, turned his attention to
the village map, possibly to excuse his silence. The chairman
was restless, he moved about like someone wanting to leave...

"How is the situation in Bakonyfa?" I asked, more to
make conversation than with any official purpose, and mainly to
change the subject.

The chairman took my question more seriously, not only
as the polite question of a visitor -- and an unbidden visitor
at that -- arid I saw from his answers that he tried to hold his
own. More than once, I found, he was more sincere than necessary.
He even admitted and emphasized that it caused him great
difficulty to get rid of his way of ordering people about and that he
quickly got angry if contradicted.

I listened t-o him with increasing interest. Most of
the time I nodded in agreement and even praised him from time to 
time. Finally I had to admit that, even with the greatest
animosity, I couldn't find anything to condemn in his report.
His words reflected a good example of a leader's moral courage.

Even Ihasz listened to him with satisfaction and said:

[page 23]

"This is all very well. But a council chairman should
not only show pleasing statistics, but also exemplary human
decency! Don't forget that!..."

"This sounded a bit schematic", the chairman said and
smiled wryly at Ihasz. "But never mind, I will listen to counsel.
I have had some experience too. For nearly 15 years now I have
been in an official position and know already how and what to do
to gain the confidence of the people."

"You are mistaken if yon think that your defense was
not schematic!" retorted Ihasz, but not angrily.

But "by this time I was only half listening to them. I
debated with myself whether I could "be satisfied with the result
of this unexpected meeting in Bskcnyfa? Can I dismiss the
problem of the chairman? Do I go on harboring disgust in my memory,
or can I replace it by the peace of forgiveness?.. And whom do
I leave behind in Bakonyfa? A discarded petty monarch, a lurking
culprit or an official faithful to our people, state and Party?...

My meditation was Interrupted by the sound of a motor
and Ihasz's joyful shouts:

"The car has arrived, Comrade Gonda. We can start!
Even the rain has stopped, and we can make good time!"

I felt tired, as if having participated in a meeting
which lasted for several hours.

"I would like to put a humble question, Comrade
Deputy Minister", the chairman confronted me. "Could you
reassure me?" he asked in a low voice.

"How could I reassure you?"

"By... I don't know how to express myself..."

"Don't be afraid, we won't start disciplinary
proceedings against you!" said Ihasz jovially, and gave the chairman a
friendly shove. "We will let you off this time!" he Laughed.

"I am not afraid of disciplinary proceedings" -- the
other gave himself away1, although I was the only one to know
what was hiding behind his restlessness.

"Then what of?" asked Ihasz hurriedly, not concerned
that the chairman expected his uncertainty to be cleared up
expressly by me.

"I only wanted to ask you, Comrade Deputy Minister,
what would you... What would you do if you met that lieutenant
again?"

[page 24]

His audacity surprised me. But I immediately
understood the anguish concealed behind the question. I understood
it and found it correct from his point of view. Because we had
met "by accident and 1 had recognized him, he wanted to know if
I forgave him, or if he should wait for retribution?...

"What I would do? You ask me what I would do?" -- I
tried to gain time to form the judgment he forced me to make.
"First of all, I would carefully investigate what that man has
since done, how he has behaved to this day?"

"And ... and then?" asked the chairman tensely, with
expectant eyes, like someone who knows that his own fate is at
stake.

"Then? It depends on the result", I answered openly.

"Isn't this clear?" said Ihasz airily, and patted his
shoulders. Everyone has to be judged according to his deeds.
Sometimes words don't cover up the deeds. We know from
experience... Anyway, I agree entirely with Comrade Gonda. Prom what
I heard about that first lieutenant, especially by looking at
things as they are today, it is not such a simple problem. It
demands very careful consideration..."

"I... I understand..." muttered the chairman, and
showed as to our car.

When we left Bakonyfa and were well on our way, driving
in the darkness, Ihasz remembered:

"We didn't even shake hands with the chairman, Comrade
Gonda; we were in such a hurry."

To be truthful, I wasn't sorry for the omission.

x x x

Before the week ended, Ihasz reported one mornings

"Comrade Gonda, some people from the Bakonyfa Council
are here to see you."

This didn't surprise to, as it seemed that there could
be no other result of the meeting at Bakonyfa.

"The chairman of the council, I take it?" I asked
calmly.

"No, he isn't among them. I would have recognized
that snappy little man.:

"How many are there?"

[page 25]

"Only two, Comrade Gronda. I will send them in."
After the introductions, the council secretary, a
self-conscious, embarrassed young man started to talk. He apologized
with every second word, they are sorry to intrude... but the day
before yesterday the chairman of the council was in a motorcycle
crash. He was so seriously injured that he had to be taken to
Budapest to be operated on...

The news shockedeme..

"The investigation is still going on", said the other
member of the delegation, who seemed to be one of the peasants
we had met in the corridor of the Town Hall.

"Yes, the investigation is still on. He probably drove
too fast and skidded on the wet road. He and his passenger hit
a mile stone... This is guess-work, of course..."

"The time he regained his consciousness, he kept on
saying that it was accidental", added the other.

"He suffered for one and a half days", the secretary
continued and his voice faltered. "He guessed that he had to
die... that they couldn't help him anymore... His last wish was
that Comrade Gonda should deliver his funeral address..."

End

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