Page 27 of The Righteous

IT WAS LATE in the afternoon when Julia and Theresa left the Great Synagogue on Dohány Street and headed back toward Castle Hill.

They had placed a call to Carl before leaving to alert him that they had discovered important information that should be discussed.

They asked if they should go over right away, or wait until their eight o’clock meeting.

Carl regretted that he had already set appointments for the rest of the afternoon, but he was available for a private discussion after the eight o’clock meeting.

Theresa thanked him, hung up, and turned to Julia. “Eight PM Hungary time,” she mused. “That would be two PM. Washington time. We are six hours ahead. Does that sound right?”

Julia shrugged. “We’ve been traveling so much that I get confused. It’s six o’clock now in Budapest, which means it’s noon in Washington, which means it’s lunchtime. Why don’t we stop for something to eat? I’m hungry.”

“There used to be a good Hungarian restaurant on Mester Street. Want to give it a try?”

Julia shrugged. “Why not?”

The restaurant was crowded, but after a few minutes, they were seated and given menus. Julia took out her dictionary and tried to make sense of the entries printed in script. Finally, she said, “What’s good?”

Theresa pointed her finger at a listing for Csirke Paprikas .

“Is that chicken paprikash?” Julia asked. “If so, I’ll take it.”

“Good. I’m going to have the goulash. They’re famous for that here.”

Midway through the meal, a young man entered the restaurant.

He walked with a profound limp, leaning on a single crutch under his right armpit.

It was obvious that his right leg had been severely compromised.

His pant leg was tied just below the knee.

As he made his way across the room, he stopped, stared at Theresa, and finally said, “Theresa Weissbach? Terri, is that you?”

A light went on in Theresa’s memory and she replied, “Leon? Leon Gorstein? Oh my goodness. It’s been so long.” She turned to Julia and said, “Julia, this is Leon Gorstein, an old friend of mine. We went to secondary school together.”

“And we went out on a couple of dates. Did you forget?” Leon said.

Theresa laughed. “No, of course not. We were just about to order dessert, but you are welcome to join us here. Have a seat.”

Leon looked around the room. “I don’t see Frederick yet, so I can sit for a minute or two.” Julia rose from her seat and pulled back a chair for Leon.

“What are you two well-dressed women doing in Budapest today?” he asked. “The last I knew, you were going to go to college in the US. That was a long time ago. I guess that didn’t work out.”

“Yes, it did. I went to the University of Michigan and obtained a master’s degree in history. I’m an associate professor there now. That is where I met Julia.”

Leon looked at Julia and smiled. “Was Theresa wild in college?” he asked, biting his lower lip.

“She could be a little sassy when she wanted to. She was fun when we were in secondary school. Terri and I went to a couple of social dances together. She could sure cut a rug, so they say.” Then Leon paused.

“I could too, back then.” He patted his leg. “Not anymore.”

“What happened to your leg?” Theresa asked. “Is it a war injury?”

Leon sadly nodded. “I was in the Hungarian Second, and we were deployed into southwestern Russia to fight at the battle of Stalingrad. We got our asses kicked. Germany was losing badly with its troops, so they called for us to come in to bail them out. I was hurt at the Battle of Voronezh, an important bridgehead over the Don River.” He closed his eyes and shook his head.

“We never had a chance. We were retreating, and I caught a leg full of shrapnel.” He shrugged.

“I fared better than some. We lost thousands.”

“I am so sorry,” said Julia. “I hate this war.”

“Everybody hates war,” Leon said, “except the generals who never fight. So tell me, was Terri a social whirlwind in college?”

Julia waited for Theresa to translate and then answered in broken Hungarian. “No. Theresa not wild. She was excellent student. Very brainy.”

Leon looked at Theresa quizzically. “Your friend isn’t fluent in Hungarian?”

Julia understood that question and answered it herself. “No. I speak English.”

That answer didn’t sit well with Leon. “What are you doing here?” Leon asked.

“She came with me,” Theresa said. “I wanted to visit my family, and she came with me. She’s enjoying her trip to the city.”

“You brought her here in the middle of the bloody war, when she is an enemy of our country and isn’t welcome here? Why would you invite her? How did she even get into our country? We’re supposed to keep enemies out. Did you sneak her in, or did she sneak in with the Russians?”

“That’s rude, Leon. You can apologize to her or you can leave our table.”

“It ain’t your table. It’s the restaurant’s table.

Why should I apologize to an enemy sitting at my table in my country?

Not a chance in hell. And I’ll leave when I’m good and ready.

Do you see this leg? I got this fighting for my country, not by playing footsy with the enemy. What is she doing here? Is she a spy?”

Theresa stood, placed a few bills on the table, and said, “Let’s go, Julia.”

Leon raised his voice. “She is, isn’t she?

She’s a goddamned spy. Someone stop her.

” He faced the back of the room and yelled, “This woman is an enemy spy! She’s from the US and she’s got no business here in Hungary!

She’s a spy!” Leon kept up his rant, and he shouted for someone to call the police.

The restaurant was in tumult as Julia and Theresa stood to leave.

All eyes were on them as they went through the front door and headed down the street.

Their steps were quick, but not quick enough.

A uniformed Hungarian officer caught up with them and told them to stop.

“What did you do back there?” he said. “That wounded soldier said you were an enemy spy.”

“We didn’t do anything, and we’re not spies,” Theresa said. “The soldier is a disturbed man.”

“Let’s see your identification,” the officer said.

“For what reason?” Theresa said. “We have done nothing wrong.”

He held his hand out. “Papers. Now!”

Julia stepped forward, standing between the officer and Theresa.

Trying her best to recall some correct phrases from the Hungarian phrase book, she stuck out her chest and said in a firm voice, “You have no right to detain us. We are administrative officers of Switzerland. We are here on official Swiss business. We are under the protection of the Swiss government at all times.”

The officer smiled. “Right. And I suppose your official Swiss business is eating goulash. Let me see your papers, or I am taking you to jail, little miss Swiss girl.”

Julia didn’t understand what he said. She looked to Theresa for instructions, who translated the officer’s words.

“Little miss Swiss girl?” Julia said. “Is that what you called me? You are insulting an officer of Switzerland.”

The statement caused the officer to furrow his forehead and stare. He stuck out his hand and repeated his demand for papers.

Theresa shut her eyes and shook her head in exasperation. “You messed up some of the words,” she said. She translated for the officer and then said to Julia, “Take out your letter of protection.”

Julia just stood there with her hands on her hips.

“Will you please show him your letter of protection, Julia? He’s not kidding.” Theresa held hers out for him to see.

Julia reached into her purse and carefully withdrew her letter of protection.

The officer stuck out his hand and beckoned with his index finger for her to hand it to him, but Julia didn’t want to.

She didn’t trust him. “Oh no,” she said.

“I was told never to surrender it.” Theresa translated as rapidly as she could, but Julia was firm and continued to shake her head.

“I’m not handing my letter over to anyone.

I’ll hold it up for you to read. That should be sufficient.

” Theresa, in an apologetic expression, translated for the officer.

By now, the officer was equally exasperated.

He nodded his agreement. Julia held her letter in front of her stomach, and the officer bent over at the waist to read it as best he could.

He made some notes in a little pad, looked up, and said, “Where are you staying while in Budapest. Miss Weissbach?”

Theresa responded for her. “We’re staying at the Swiss embassy. Szabadsag tér 12. Do you want to call the Swiss consul and verify?”

“That won’t be necessary,” the officer said. “You and your stubborn friend are free to go.”

An hour later, Theresa and Julia met with Carl Lutz and Martin Steuben in room 217.

They related the afternoon’s conversation with Theresa’s father, and his belief that Hungary was surrounded by Axis troops from Germany, Croatia, Slovakia, Serbia, and Austria, although they were stationary.

No forward or aggressive movements had been reported.

“We were already aware of some of your father’s information,” Carl said. “It was reported to us by a member of the Aid and Rescue Committee. We’re still trying to verify that information, but we have no reason to doubt its accuracy.”

“I’m not familiar with a group known as the Aid and Rescue Committee,” Theresa said. “Is it part of the World Jewish Congress?”

Carl shook his head. “No, it’s totally different, though they have similar goals. It’s not connected with any government. It was formed by certain private individuals here to help refugees in Hungary and the surrounding areas.”

“We had those in Holland,” Julia said. “They were underground rescue groups. I worked with them. They saved thousands of Dutch Jews. That was in 1942 and ’43.”

“Then you have the idea. That’s the function of the Aid and Rescue Committee.”