The Head of the Line: Memories of a Hungarian civilian

I was raised in a small town in Transylvania, Hungary. My father was a physician for 18 towns. One day a military vehicle drove into our town and made arrangement to have my family and about 10 others deported and murdered. So ended my peaceful life as a child; playing with my friends, singing in quyers, riding horses, feeding animals, going into the fields and enjoying a great childhood. At age 14 after surviving 4 oncentration camps, where both my parents were murdered, I ended up in a death march, on a winding road of a tall mountain. As we climbed to the top I could see and hear people, who could not keep up, being shot. I kept at the head of the line and watched the German guards, all brooding old man, so they would not turn on me. In the end I survived, starved and only a skeleton. I arrived in America with with about 5 pounds in my pocket, attended university, set up my own business, have prospered,have 2 wonderful children, 3 dogs, a cat and, oh yes, a wonderful wife. I have worked hard, it is interesting. I am grateful to everyone who nurtured me and accepted my strugle. I will retire ten years after I have died, as life is too interesting.
Thank you for giving me this opportunity to print part of my story that will be included in my memoir that I am in progress of finishing for publication.

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