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Hidden in the hay – A story from the 1940s

Updated: Nov 3, 2020

WWII tribute, love, acceptance, change


The dusk is approaching, it is bitterly cold outside; the trees are covered with the virgin snow; everything seems so still and peaceful, the first time in weeks. Even the beloved horses are tacked away in the barn's safety, away from the frost. The first silent night in weeks, the gunshots are not interrupting the nightmares, maybe the girls can have a full night sleep.


The girls with jet black hair, platted in neat plats are warming their hands near the rusty Aga style cooker, little pieces of soot are flying in the air. There was some food tonight, not much left in the icehouse, not that there was much there before. Everybody is grateful for a peaceful evening after a day of hard graft, the flickering candlelight is dancing on the walls, even a little laugh is escaping from one of the girls’ mouth. Suddenly, the sound everybody is petrified of, something you never want to hear as it is bad news.


Hard knocking on the door, they are here and coming in, we can no longer avoid it. The smell of fear is filling the small room, rising heartbeat, tearful eyes. The fire is slowly dying, the silhouette of the handsome officers is seen from the little kitchen window, they seem really friendly, smiling. Those smiles are cutting right through you, creating blood-curdling scream inside the soul, which can never escape.

Father says to act normal, don't show fear, wipe your tears. We have nothing to hide. You almost start to believe it and when you believe it, you can play it even better, there is nothing to hide. Nothing to see here. Warning from father, if they are trying to get into the loft, mother and me will distract them at all costs. They can't get into the loft. Be kind and understanding, cooperate. They will try to share their rations, but this is so they can get information. The tummy is luckily full tonight, so it will be easier to resist, don't give in to the temptation.

Soldiers. They are just pawns, aimlessly carrying out their duties, they believe they are serving a greater purpose… They are in the house. You can feel your heart in your chest, slowly rising up in your throat. Disguise your fear with a smile, my love, it shouldn’t take long. The officers are talking in broken Hungarian, offering chocolate to the girls, but they are pretending that they don’t understand it. No takers for the food, the officers are enjoying the piece of sweet near the warmth of the Aga. They are smiling, really friendly, but you can tell, they are looking for signs. If they would realise what gems are hidden in the loft, everybody would be gone tonight. But who would suspect anything, all is wearing worn clothes, the house is sooty, the kitchen floor is cobbled with large rocks, it is so cold on the feet…


They stood up… the time is somehow stopped; tense moments follow and the minutes feel like hours. The officers decide to look into the bedroom on the side, count the shoes, check the clothes, poor family no extra shoes, no issues. Poor family like this wouldn’t risk it… They are content or perhaps bored with the task, they finally leave.


Upstairs, the hay is trembling in the wind as the roof is leaking, tiny snowflakes are approaching, and in just a split-second melting away. A new beginning, from snow to dew. The fear that the officers are coming back still crippling everybody. Don’t talk, but enjoy the freedom even if the frost is burning the bear feet. The moonlight is shining through the broken roof tiles, so peaceful. Cuddling up with each other, the dry grasses or little bugs are tickling the neck, feels just like the caressing of mum and dad.


The sweet dawn is here, warming the trees, melting the fearsome hearts. The officers are now moved on to the next village. Is it safe now? Who knows, but it was so cold last night, we can only hope that the guests survived. There are extra two places at the table, sharing the food. Supplies are running low, but they are helpless, the parents are gone, they have little chance until the relatives arrive.

Relieved smiles when the footsteps are coming down, they survived. Breaking the bread into parts, the father smiles. Living in the moment, appreciate the love and belongingness, you are with friends. Later the girls are brushing the sandy hair, the gentle touch is the only one left to give, and love. These little gestures are to remember when it is incomprehensible why people kill races because they are who they are. Another day is gone, let’s hope for a better tomorrow. The temporary hay house is ready for another dark.

Adapted from a true family story from the 1940s


After reading Viktor E. Frankl, Man’s search for meaning book, I remembered a story Dedi (my Nana) told me when I was a very little child. A story about how they hid Jewish children in the hay in their loft. The original story was told to me years ago, perhaps 26 years ago. When I heard the story first, it sounded like a big adventure, Dedi's childhood was so interesting. When I got a little bit older, I realised the terrors they had to go through, living in the wars.

Reading the pages in Viktor Frankl book, there were many very powerful messages, but I particularly took two away and reflected on, especially when I was thinking of the story Dedi told me. These are summed up beautifully with Frankl’s words as he wrote;

“Love is the only way to grasp another human being in the innermost core of his personality. No one can become fully aware of the very essence of another human being unless he loves him. By his love he is enabled to see the essential traits and features in the beloved person; and even more, he sees that which is potential in him, which is not yet actualised but yet ought to be actualised. Furthermore, by his love, the loving person enables the beloved person to actualise these potentialities. By making him aware of what he can be and of what he should become, he makes these potentialities come true.”

To overcome and terrible things the war brought to people, the only way to maintain some sort of normality and healthy mental state was relying on the power of love for one and another. Sometimes the eager and painful wait to see the arriving trains, boarding soldiers to see if the loved one came back from the battlefields, the first hug and kiss after the heart-breaking separation elevated people to a positive mental state, where they could survive, find the strengths to survive. The hope that the loved one will return and all the dreams can be made a reality. Or the mother’s love towards her children, the cuddles when out there the flashing lights from the bombs are painting the sky, the safeness and love of those hugs mother is giving to her children when there is nothing else to give...


The other significant message from Frankl is about change;


“when we are no longer able to change a situation – we are challenged to change ourselves.”


I remember in my teen years I asked Dedi once how they survived the terrible times through the wars, having lost everything they worked for, all the livestock, their livelihood, lost loved ones. Her answer was; you just had to adapt to survive. Short and sharp. On reflection, yes, they didn’t have a choice, for survival and sanity, they had to change the way they were thinking about situations. Dedi was a remarkable, hardworking woman, none like anyone else.

Frankl’s second quote is standing for a lot of different situations we face in life now as well. If the situation is unchangeable, we must change, otherwise, our sanity and mental health will suffer to a degree that is irreversible.

About Viktor E Frankl (extract from the book)

Viktor E Frankl was a Professor of Neurology and Psychiatry at the University of Vienna Medical School. Born in 1905, he received the degrees of Doctor of Medicine and Doctor of Philosophy from the University of Vienna. During World War II, he spent time in Auschwitz, Dachau and other concentration camps as a prisoner. He was the founder of logotherapy. In 1941, he starts writing the first version of his book The Doctor and the Soul (Aerztliche Seelsorge) in which he lays down the foundations of his system of psychotherapy, Logotherapy and Existential Analysis. Later, upon arrival at the Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp, he will be forced to throw away the unpublished manuscript. He died in 1997.



Reference

Viktor E Frankl, Man Search for Meaning

Photos in order of appearance:

Photo by Ona Bovollen from Pexels and Gareth Howden

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