Tibor Cseres: Serbian Vendetta in Bacska

The 102 Catholic victims can be distributed according to their age into the following groups: 25 under 20, 24 between 21-30, 22

between 31-40, 19 between 41-50, and 3 with unknown ages.

According to the victims' occupation, there were 10 students, 2 civil servants, 1 teacher, 7 tradesmen, 11 craftsmen, 10 workers, 17 farmers, 12 hired men, 5 inn-keepers, 2 sailors, 1 horse-dealer, 1 poundmaster (also called dog-catcher), and three unknown who were murdered.

The roll displays that a man called Bosnyak, wearing the Yugoslav first lieutenants' uniform, was christened Janos, and was only 35 when he died in the fire of partisan machine guns. The man from Bezdan, coming up to me at the book stall in front of the theater in Budapest, might be Ferenc Flesz's son, consequently, his younger brother, Jozsef Flesz, 17, can also be found on the roll. The poundmaster, to whom the small child clung so strongly, was registered as Ferenc Mari in the death roll.

Yugoslav politicians and state security forces were all for concealing, suppressing, or nipping in the bud all kinds of testimony and the collection of data concerning these events. When there was any trace of such intention detected, the authorities retaliated immediately.

We must be thankful to the two well-remembered parsons, who were passing from village to village, collecting data in deep secrecy under cover of church service.

Since there are several memorial writings concerning the antecedents of the massacre in Bezdan, namely, how the men were gathered and abducted, the data remain unsure to some extent. I was also uncertain regarding the details of these days, and especially those of November 3. However, the following is certain: the Hungarian troops retreated from Bezdan in mid-October, and only 30-40 gendarmes remained in the village for a few more days. When they were informed, however, that the Russians had already reached Zombor, they set off at once on Saturday, October 21.

On Sunday, poorly armed, Royalist chetniks arrived in the village together with others who were thought to be Serbs from Monostorszeg. Frightening the villagers by firing their guns in the air , this rabble were looting eagerly, stealing money and jewels, changing their shabby clothes to tidy ones, though wearing their hats to preserve a soldierly look.

Having heard about the advance of the Red Army, they left immediately. The Russian troops arrived by horse-drawn or powered vehicles and tanks, and occupied Bezdan without fight or funfair on October 29.

On All Saints Day, the 12th Partisan Brigade arrived at Bezdan.

They put themselves up at Drinoczi and Hermann Inns. However, they only began to carry out their plans on Friday, November 3.

"About two weeks have passed since the retreating German troops crossed the Danube and reached the western shore. Large and small partisan troops kept coming to our village. A week ago, three Russian scouts arrived on horses and provided safe conduct documents to the Hungarian soldiers, if they wanted to return home. We were happy to see that the Russians were so kind. (N.B. The Soviet Army behaved well in Yugoslav teritory, because it was a "liberated allied country". In "enemy" Hungary it was a totally different behavior). Compared to the situation during the German retreat, the village seemed a place for rest and peace. The front line Russians insulted or hurt no one. Three or four days ago, some two hundred Russian soldiers arrived by horse drawn carriages. The village council ordered the people to provide as much food for the soldiers as possible, since the supplies of the troops were inadequate, the villagers fulfilled the request.

On November 3, at seven in the morning a partisan came to our house, informing me and my sister's husband that we were to leave for forced labor. We asked him what tools to bring with us. He replied that no tool was needed, since we will find everything there. On leaving, we saw the partisans collecting people, going from house to house. Each of our groups was escorted by 20-30 of them as we set off toward the Isterbac farms (2-3 km. from our village).

Our group was led to the fenced-in yard of a large farm, where there had already been some people loafing around, waiting. We did not feel closely watched at all. At ten o'clock the situation changed. Partisans armed with machine-guns surrounded the people, who were supposed to have been gathered to work, and lined them up in the yard. The culling began. Construction laborers and hired men were ordered to step out of the line. Then the partisans gave them a short speech and led them off. Before all this, the native German speaking men, and those from Szallas had been collected. I suppose the partisans just intended to pick out the members of the Szalasi Party, (Hungarian Quisling Party, which supported Hitler's policies and formed, -with the help of the German Army- the last war government October 15, 1944, after the second armed occupation of Hungary.(farms were called "szallas"), they collected 15-20 men poor tenant-farmers and smallholders. Then the craftsmen, tradesmen, and the educated had to stand forth. Those few still standing in the line were asked whether they had any relatives serving in the German or Hungarian armies, and how

much land or property they possessed. Those having several houses or land holding larger than 20 acres, or those wearing middle class-like clothes were to join the group standing forth. The few of us remaining in the line were escorted to the garden outside this yard, and were given the same speech as they gave the construction laborers. Then the partisans released us. Those remaining at the farm were led to a locked building, and later massacred at the ditch behind the farm in groups of ten.

While we were in Isterbac, the partisans at home announced at around eight in the morning that every villager, even the bedridden should appear on the soccer-field by noon, as they would go from door to door and shoot all the people found at home then and there. The partisans' intention was to massacre the people on the soccer-field, but it failed when a partisan officer appeared on a white horse and spoke to their commander. We had seen this mounted officer in Isterbac, before being released. Thus the situation on the soccer-field changed completely. The men age 16-60 were gathered, and some 5-6,000 villagers were led to Zombor, where the partisans locked them up in a building. For three days these people had to stay there with guns pointed at them all the time. Meanwhile they received neither food nor drink and were not allowed to meet their bodily demands.

The women, children, and the elderly remaining at home were compelled to leave the village in two hours. Meanwhile several executions took place. At that time, I was hiding in a hayloft at a farm together with others 13 kilometers away from the village.

A month passed before the circumstances grew safer, then the local headquarters requested the villagers to appear. We were collected and told to volunteer to join the Petofi Brigade. 99% of us refused, so we were compelled to enter labor service. I was taken to Zombor, then Sztap'r, and in January to Monostorszeg, from where we escaped on May 8, 1945.

Please do not publish my name, as I sometimes return home even now, and there may be some people who would hurt me with pleasure. What I have written down can be verified by the elderly of our village."

"On this Friday morning Peter Lang, resident of Bezdan, was busy in his yard chopping wood or sweeping when the partisans passed by, leading his friends.

"What are you up to,", he asked cheerfully.

"A bit of exercise!", they answered in jest.

"Good for you", Peter said, waving his hand.

Then the partisans brought him out of the yard and included him in the march leaving for Isterbac.

His name is on the death roll. Age 28."

Hungarian sappers guarded the mined bridge of the canal. They were ordered to blow up the bridge upon retreating. However, what the sappers only longed for was to change into civilian clothes and stay there. They were fed-up with the already lost war.

The arriving Loyalist chetniks were thought to be the final authority by the Hungarian sappers, therefore they offered a compromise: If they were given safe conduct papers, they would not blow up the bridge, and would hand over their guns. The chetniks agreed to the offer. After the capitulation, they massacred all the sappers on the spot next to the unexploded bridge.

"On November 3, I got up at five in the morning. As I went from the cottage to the spare room, I heard our small door slamming. So did my father, who was rubbing down the horses in the barn, where there were two cows as well.

Before the reoccupation of the village, he had already received his draft-card from the Hungarian Army. Then he and my mother had decided that he would be hiding in our farm in the Sziget, where no one would find him. He had taken two calves with him.

On November 2, 1944, it was growing dark when my father returned with the two calves. In the evening, when we went to bed, he said that the war was over for us, and soon we would be happy again. In the morning he spoke to me for the last time, saying, "Pray for me, son." It was the first Friday of the month and I observed a novena (a Catholic Friday prayer service). Right after high mass, partisans surrounded us with grenades in their belts, levelling their machine guns at us. The men, also observing a novena, were separated immediately and dragged off to Isterbac. It is true that everyone who observes First Friday will not die without being absolved. I do not know the exact number of the victims, but I am sure that they had all received the Holy Communion. By the time I got home, the partisans had already taken away my father. He was to unearth tanks that hindered the partisans' advance. My mother asked them whether a shovel was needed, but they answered that everything that was needed could be found there.

In the morning, the town crier was walking around in the village, reading aloud an announcement, which said that all the people able to move should be on the soccer field by noon, and those found at home would be shot dead. At about two in the afternoon, the

partisans began driving the villagers together with machine guns. At around three they tolled the church-bells and started the massacre. My father may have been one of the first victims. In the evening we had to leave our home, and father had not returned.

Mother hitched the horses to the wagon on which we had loaded food and clothes. We were about to leave for our farm, when two Russian soldiers entered our yard and unharnessed the horses. We could hardly make them understand that we were badly in need of horses. Then they brought two pony-like ones, but mother had to adjust the harness, as it did not fit these small horses. We set off for the farm with mother and my father's mother, practically pushing the carriage and the two exhausted horses, we arrived late.

There was already a rumor going about, that the gathered people were all killed at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. The victims were told that, in the event that they should resist, the whole village gathered on the soccer field would be massacred. They were tortured from morning to 3 o'clock, first in a cellar then in a shed. A record player was on, while the partisan woman sitting on a horse watched the people being driven into the water in groups of ten. Those dressed well were forced to strip, so some of them had only their underwear on when they died. My father was ordered to take off his brogue, winter coat, and watch.

Mother went to look for father, but in vain. During the executions, a German plane was taking photos, and this allowed three men to escape across the river.

When mother returned with the news that she had been unable to find my father, we still hoped that he would appear, since there was a forest next to the river, and the farm behind it with 3 acres of land, that belonged to mother. We were hiding in the farm, when we saw soldiers approaching. After a while a mounted militia-man came looking for mother, he told her that father had been one of the massacred victims, and the place they had left him. Mother and some of our relatives went there and buried my father, but they could dig just one spade deep since the ground was already frozen.

The Militia man said that the corpses of two boys from Hercegszanto, workers of the Hangya (Coop General Store), and other corpses were covered with water and could not have been buried. The militia dug a common grave and laid 24 dead bodies there. A militia man told the others to check on the river once again. They entered the murky river hand in hand. One of them bumped into something, then all of them went there and found another corpse. They could not pull it to the shore, so they

My mother's married sister was hiding a 20 year-old man, Sanyi Zezula, in her loft. Looking for men, the partisans entered her house too. My aunt said, "My husband is here!" They replied, "He is too old, isn't there a younger man here," My aunt answered, "My son is hiding in the loft." "That's who we want! Ask him to come down!" He was shot dead.

The two grandmothers lifted a door off the hinges, laid his body on it, wheeled him home on a Wheelbarrow, and laid him on a bed. When the partisans came, they expelled the grandmothers from the house and found the dead boy in the bed. Since they thought that he had been a partisan, they wanted to massacre the village in revenge. However, a militia-man soothed them explaining that the boy was a Hungarian and had been killed in Isterbac. Therefore, both grandmothers and all of us were saved."

The new occupying army was Bulgarian. We asked them to help rebury the dead in the cemetery. On March 25, 1945, the exhumation began. At the entrance of the village, there was a limebarrel with shoe disinfectant in it. No one was allowed to enter or leave the village. Graves were dug in three rows in the cemetery, the hearses came one after the other with two coffins on each, and the kinsmen followed the carriages. Those in the fore of the march had already reached the cemetery, when we left from home.

In my father's inside pocket, we found a photo of my sister and me, soaked with his blood, except for a small part covered by a 10-pengo bill, I still have this photo. In the cemetery two partisans caught my mother and me and threw us into the cellar of the parish hall. Our vicar was looking for us, and told the partisans that he would not bury the dead until we were released, so they set us free. The vicar was my grandfather's schoolmate.

When we entered our house we found 60 Angora rabbits, 40 sheep, 2 cows, 2 calves, some 100 hens, geese, and ducks in one room. Someone stole the sow, and the piglets, and the shop was robbed (My father was a tradesman.).

Mother and my younger brother had to work at the hemp factory, a part of which had belonged to our family. Every 24 hours, I was compelled to look after the injured partisans at the infirmary, I was escorted by armed partisans, I felt horrible.

The vicar would come every night. He would knock on the door with his stick and beg mother, "Rozsika, run away with the children! They want to kill you!" So one night we crossed the Hungarian border at Hercegszanto on a Bulgarian truck. We got off at a ditch, and at dawn we started to the police station to register. It was awful! We had to move heaven and earth just in order to gain enough money so we could afford to move to Baja."

"My name is Marta Anna Margin, my younger sister is Maria Barbara, my younger brother is Robert. My mother's name was Mrs. Istvan Margin born Rozika Horn. My father, Istvan Margin was killed at the age of 45."

Gyula Zarubszky from Bacska, having converted all his property into cash in Budapest, returned to his hometown Zombor in 1941. He rented and ran the local Elefant Inn till the fall of 1944. He never cared for politics too much, he and his family just lived in the town as true Hungarians. In our childhood, we his kinsmen from Budapest spent the summers there. In 1944 we stayed in Zombor till August.

Mother told them to move to Budapest, but uncle Gyula waited to departe from home until October. He came by a horse drawn carriage with his wife and mother-in-law, but they were stopped at the bridge and had to turn back because the Germans were using it for their retreat. They stayed at a peasant cottage in Bezdan, and waited for permission to cross the river. Then the partisans arrived at the village, and a few days later announced that every man should report to them. My uncle was wearing only a shirt when they carried him off. At the gathering place, according to my aunt's account, the partisans separated the craftsmen. The rest were led to a cellar. My uncle engraved his last words into the wall of the cellar, "Gyula Zarubszky from Zombor, they will execute me!" He was 35. We have never learned the exact reason for his death. We can only suppose that Tito's partisans wanted to murder all Hungarian men.

My aunt returned to Zombor, and kept looking for her husband. A few months later, a common grave was opened, and she could identify her husband's corpse among the dead with the help of his dentist. A tombstone with his name on it stands to his memory in the cemetery of Bezdan.

In the summer of 1945, my aunt and her elderly mother received permission to return to Hungary, leaving all they had behind."

During these weeks, the Red Army occupied Bezdan until early

December. They left for Baranya across a pontoon bridge, which had replaced the bridge blown up by German rear guards. Earlier, they had tried several times to build the pontoon bridge while bombing Batina Hill, but they were hindered by the heavy fire of the German and Hungarian artillery from the other side of the river.

The villagers, expelled to the farms, were allowed to return a few days later. By that time the revenging partisans had left for other villages to obey their commanders' bloodthirsty orders.

The death roll compiled by priests and parsons contains the names of the 183 victims found in Bezdan. Those who died in Zombor are not included. According to some who still remember, the fall of 1944 demanded 350 victims in Bezdan.

Tibor Cseres: Serbian Vendetta in Bacska