HUNGARIAN DAWN

On Christmas Eve 1944 the ever-reliable trams slammed to a sudden halt in Budapest and hell in all its fury exploded upon this fair city. The siege and utter destruction of Central Europe's 'Pearl of the Danube` had begun.

After suffering terribly the inhumane brutalities of a sinister Nazi Germany regime, there came thundering from the east yet another ideology that offered neither hope nor mercy. The Russians had come to Budapest and Josef Stalin was a man in a hurry. The Yalta conference loomed large; there Stalin alongside Churchill and Roosevelt would decide the spoils of war.

With Hungary a Russian priority it became essential for the Soviets that Budapest be captured swiftly. To ensure this happened 'Uncle Joe' assigned the Second Ukrainian front, a vast army group under the command of General Rodion Malinovsky. On 28th October 1944 an impatient Stalin telephoned Malinovsky and informed him he had just 'five days to seize Budapest'.

The next day the Red Army attacked but against determined Hungarian units and crack German SS Waffen troops who defended Budapest as if it were Berlin itself the Soviets suffered massive losses. For they knew if captured no mercy could be expected. No prisoners, victory or death. It was the 'Gateway to Austria and Southern Bavaria'. Once the city fell the road to Germany was clear. Then loomed the last battle on home soil. On 7th November Soviet troops finally managed to fight their way at huge cost into Budapest's eastern suburbs, only again to be repelled by fanatical resistance.

Shocked at the sheer stubbornness of the defenders to give even an inch Stalin threw yet more soldiers into the fray. Advancing through the Balkans into Hungary came 'the liberator of Belgrade,' General Fedor Tolbukhin's battle-hardened Third Ukrainian Front. The Third crossed the Danube on 24th December and with General Malinovsky's forces already dug in on the other side of the city, Budapest found itself surrounded.

Five days later General Malinovsky received permission off Stalin to try and convince the defenders to surrender. Two German emissaries with a white flag attached to their jeep entered into the city only to be shot down by snipers as soon as they came into sight. So began the One Hundred Day siege with close to one million soldiers unleashed upon Budapest.

The offensive started in Pest on the eastern side of the Danube and for each step taken into the city the Red Army paid dearly with blood. The fighting was slow and excruciating, every room, courtyard and building was fought over. Knives, axes, stones and bottles used as hand to hand combat raged, no quarter given by either.

On 17th January 1945 the situation reached crisis point for the defenders as the awesome man and fire power of the Russians proved overwhelming. Sensing disaster Adolf Hitler gave permission to retreat across the river to Buda's steep slopes. There from in and around the imperial surroundings of the Hungarian Royal Palace, (Castle Hill) which become Budapest's Alamo they could fire down onto the invaders.

As the three remaining magnificent bridges across the Danube became clogged with evacuating troops and fleeing civilians a decision was taken by the German High Command to blow them up once all were across. The next day despite huge protests from Hungarian officers they were destroyed. Budapest was being raized to the ground. By this time all hope was practically lost as the Soviets advanced from all sides of Buda tightening the screw. With the Furher forbidding any notion of further retreat the scene was set for a last stand. However the German Commander SS General Karl Pfeffer Wildenbruch risked Hitler's wrath by planning a mass break out.

The situation had become intolerable with supplies of food and ammunition almost exhausted and further parachute drops discontinued. On 11th February under cover of a thick fog the remnants of the city defenders at Castle Hill, 28,000 German and Hungarian troops streamed down the Buda hills heading for the woods of north west Budapest, then onwards to Vienna and safety.

They came in three waves with the first capturing the Red Army by surprise with its sheer numbers. These made it into the woods but the following two waves were not so lucky. What followed was wanton slaughter as the Soviet artillery quickly found its range hitting the fleeing survivors with a hellish wall of fire. Only seven hundred made it to Vienna, the rest including Wildenbruch killed or captured. Two days later the last of the defenders surrendered in Buda and the battle was over. The surge for Berlin was on. Over 40,000 civilians lay dead in the ruins: a city on its knees, drenched in blood.

Eighty per cent of its buildings had been destroyed including such historical landmarks as the Hungarian Parliament. Hungary's blood pact with the Nazis had resulted in catastrophe and they had paid a terrible price. One hundred days of hell. Amongst the carnage and rubble a small band of Soviet Russian troops took brief respite to watch a kick about between some Hungarian youths who had emerged from hiding in cellars to risk a game of football.

With Hitler's war machine tottering on the very verge of annihilation the mood amongst the Red Army was of exuberance and with victory so close a sense of celebration was in the air. Some of the soldiers even felt sufficiently confident to lay down their rifles and join in, eager to show off 'Soviet' skills to the locals.
But they had reckoned without one lad who though hustled hard by the Russians to give them the ball refused to part. Instead the more they harassed his determination to impress only increased. A mischievous sleight of foot that left one soldier dumped on his backside caused gasps of disbelief from watching comrades.

Whilst a hoodwinking of another by nonchalantly placing it through their legs had them laughing and cheering out loud. This went on for some time before appearing to grow weary of embarrassing the soldiers he gave up the ball. 'What is your name boy'? they inquired, totally astounded at the sublime skills of this cocky, Hungarian youngster.

'Ferenc Puskas', he replied.

The 'Galloping Major' had already broken into a trot! From the blood, ashes, dirt and dust of this war-ravaged country rose a magnificent football team to inspire a new Hungarian Dawn. From fire and smoke the Magyars emerged, but tragically in too short a time they would disappear back into the flames.

TO BE CONTINUED :

John Ludden: