DIPLOMACY IN A WHIRLPOOL

At the close of hostilities geography proved decisive in the misfortune of Hungary. None of the Axis satellites was in so precarious a position, for Hungary had been situated in the inner circle of the German power sphere. The peripheral location of Italy, Finland, Bulgaria, and Rumania made possible their early surrender. Events in Hungary turned out differently. Hungary did not succeed in changing sides effectively during the war, and eventually was probably in the worst political position among the former Axis satellites. She did not enjoy much sympathy in the West, and was positively disliked by the Russians. Anthony Eden said to President Roosevelt that "he thought Stalin would want to be pretty arbitrary about Hungary" because the Russians did not like the Hungarians.¹

The Arrow Cross government decided that the entire population of Hungary should be transferred to Germany for the winter. They were supposed to return the next spring when the new German secret weapons would definitely defeat the Russians. This scheme for wholesale evacuation proved to be impracticable, both because of its inherent absurdity and because of general resistance. Nevertheless, as a consequence of forced evacuation, several thousand young men and most of the ranking government officials left the country along with the retreating German troops and the remnants of the Hungarian Army. When news spread about the lootings, rapes, and other atrocities of the invading Soviet Army, the flight became more widespread.

The country was first ravaged by the Germans, then systematically looted by the Russians. The retreating Germans blew up many important bridges and destroyed a substantial part of the transportation and communication system.²

Because of all these circumstances, the physical destruction and the vacuum of political power and administrative authority were more extensive in Hungary than in any other satellite state. Public administration completely disintegrated throughout the devastated territories.

The invading Red Army found a ruined country void of administration and political authorities. The old administration was non-existent or not recognized by the occupying army, which with the help of experienced Communist advisers created an entirely new political framework. Eastern Hungary was in Russian hands in the last months of 1944, but the Germans were not driven out of western Hungary until

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April, 1945. Although the Red Army completely encircled Budapest on December 25, 1944, the siege of the city lasted until mid February.

In this chaotic world the survival of individuals depended on chance. Perhaps my personal experiences may give a direct and realistic picture of this period. The incidents I am about to relate occurred before and immediately after the Soviet occupation.

After the German occupation the position of officials of the political division of the Foreign Ministry became extremely precarious. Certain leading officials were arrested.³ Consequently I withdrew into an agency of the Foreign Ministry which represented the Hungarian Government before the Mixed Arbitral Tribunals and the Permanent Court of International Justice. This agency, by a bureaucratic miracle, existed even in the war years. Under cover of this little known office I could continue the peace preparatory work with my most reliable collaborators. When Lakatos was appointed as prime minister, the secretary general of the Foreign Ministry, Jungerth-Arnothy, officially asked me to continue the peace preparations and to use for this purpose the documents accumulated in the Foreign Ministry since the German occupation. A few days later he told me that the Government intended to appoint me as consul in Zurich where I could continue my work undisturbed by the immediate events in Hungary. He pointed out that under the forthcoming Russian occupation the government agencies might be completely paralyzed, while in Switzerland I could make good use of the material deposited at our Berne Legation. I declined to accept this appointment for a variety of reasons.

From a purely personal point of view it would have been comfortable to observe the apocalyptic events in Europe from a quiet watchpost. But I felt that it would have been a rather cowardly action to run away from the imminent danger and not to share the fate of my countrymen. Moreover, our contacts with the Western powers convinced me of the very slight value of backdoor diplomacy. If Hungary was to survive the holocaust, there must be a government in the country, and it might be more useful to try to influence events at home than to seek the goodwill of foreign powers abroad. It seemed probable at that time that the Allied powers had made certain decisions according to their own well considered interests, and I had no illusions about our capacity to influence the course of events in the last phase of the war. Since 1939, I had advocated the establishment of a government-in-exile, but competent authorities did not approve of this plan. In September, 1944, burdened with our wartime status, we were decidedly late. However, at that time, I did not suspect that the ultimate fate of Hungary was

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altogether independent of our wartime attitude.

Jungerth-Arnothy appreciated my reasons and we agreed upon a compromise solution. I was to go to Switzerland as a diplomatic courier as soon as possible, and spend two or three weeks there in order to organize and prepare certain material for publication. The Foreign Ministry asked for the German transit-visa, which I received in early October. I was scheduled to leave Hungary on October 16 with another official of the political division.

The events of October 15 intervened, and shortly afterwards the new government arrested me, together with four of my colleagues from the Foreign Ministry. I was accused of having been in contact with the underground parties and of having taken part in the preparations of the armistice negotiationsactions which were considered treason. We were put in jail and dragged as traitors from various political prisons into a military prison, then to western Hungary to the internment camp of Sopron-Kohida, and finally back to the military prison in Budapest for trial.

After my arrest my apartment especially my library was thoroughly searched. Some compromising documents were hidden among the files of a Hungarian case we had before the Permanent Court of International Justice. While three detectives discussed whether or not to go through this huge bundle of files, I called their attention to some more books and files in the next room and suggested that they should inspect everything and divide their time accordingly. They dropped the files, and confronted with the great mass of material became confused. Having seized a few ridiculously irrelevant papers, they decided to return for a detailed search if this was deemed necessary by higher authorities.

My first jail was a huge schoolroom. About fifty people were sitting on the floor like statues. I learned later that most of them were suspected or actual Communists. In front of them was seated a gendarme, playing carelessly with his tommy gun. When I was escorted into the room the gendarme explained that it was only his merciful heart which kept him from shooting the whole undignified collection of worthless dogs. Such were the mild epithets used in his endless harangues. The young gendarme was not, however, without a sense of humor. When he asked a Serbian partisan in the group to tell a story, the latter told an anti-Nazi joke which caused an hilarious outburst. The gendarme laughed with the rest of us and the Serbian was not punished.

I discovered in the crowd two colleagues of mine from the political division of the Foreign Ministry. One of them was nursing head-wounds, the result of tortures inflicted personally by the new chief of the cabinet of the Foreign Ministry during interrogations. We were not allowed to

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speak to each other even if the distance had allowed it. Anyone who moved or uttered a word to his neighbor was beaten or otherwise punished. Suddenly an air raid began, and we were ordered down into the basement for, happily for us, the gendarmes prized their own lives. While marching downstairs one of my colleagues managed to get next to me and whispered into my ear the accusations against us, and named the documents they were after. They knew, he said, of our contact with leading members of the Smallholder underground. His words came as a great relief. Relatively speaking, these were minor matters.

During subsequent interrogations it was a great help to know the real goal of the enigmatic questions. I did not deny that I had had contacts with Smallholder politicians and that I had favored an armistice instead of the senseless destruction of Hungary, but I refused to confess that I possessed the document they were looking for.

The detective inspector who led the interrogations was a short fellow with gray hair and sharp looking cold eyes. He acted with the skill of a professional and wanted to deliver something to his new masters. When I continued in my refusal, he suddenly punched me in the face. This was meant to be a captatio benevolentiae, because he then emphasized that they have much stronger means to open the mouths of reluctant plotters and reminded me that I had a family against whom they could apply measures. His arrogance only strengthened my determination not to reveal anything to him, whereupon he explained that he had to produce something for the foreign minister, and suggested that I should compose a copy of the document drafted originally by myself. We compromised on that, and during the night I wrote a document which proposed armistice negotiations in a rather cautious way and omitted incriminating passages.

The next day the atmosphere changed. The detective inspector obligingly expressed his conviction that we were gentlemen and that he had always known it. We were conducted to another prison a former villa in the hills of Buda. In the villa we were put into a small room with two policemen who were told by the detective inspector that they would be shot even if they let us speak to each other. As soon as he left the room the policemen locked the door and asked us politely whether we would like to play cards with them. Our guards were changed every six hours, and with one exception all of them treated us well. We slept on the floor and did not get food every day, although later our relatives were allowed to bring us supplies. Interrogations continued under decent conditions. My wife visited me, and thus I was able to whisper instructions to her concerning which papers to destroy at home.

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During the few days in the villa we met some strange people. For a short time two Arrow Cross leaders were imprisoned in our room. One of them was an old man, bleeding about the head and ears. He introduced himself as a professor and the national ideological educator of the Arrow Cross party. He contended that Szalasi was not sincerely proGerman and therefore must be eliminated as a leader. Such doctrines were the cause of his arrest and injuries, but he refused to compromise. The other man, a candidate of the new regime for a diplomatic post abroad, had had a disagreement and fist fight with the new secretary general of the Foreign Ministry over some looted Jewish property, and as a concequence had landed in jail. His fantastic stories about his heroic past greatly amused us.

We were soon separated from the Arrow Cross dignitaries and transported into a gloomy military prison full of high army officers, government officials, and political leaders. All the common criminals had been released to make room for this strange group. Our barbers were alternately a Serbian partisan and a Russian partisan who had been parachuted into Hungary. They visited us twice a week and brought news about the fate of our fellow prisoners and events of the outside world. They were surprisingly well-informed and spoke fairly good Hungarian. During air raids we were not taken to shelters, but the Russian partisans assured us that the Soviet fliers had instructions not to bomb this neighborhood. Almost every day we were escorted for a short walk in the prison yard. During one of these promenades we managed to meet the former head of the information section of the General Staff. He explained with expert knowledge the factors involved in our case and concluded: "Boys, most probably all of us will be shot before long". His matter of fact prediction was something of a shock for us, but gradually we got used to the idea. The daily executions in the prison yard created the necessary atmosphere.

Since Budapest was threatened by encirclement, around November 20 we were suddenly put into buses and taken to western Hungary. One bus took the civilian prisoners, the other the army officers. We had Prime Minister Kallay with us on our bus. Because of his presence we were accompanied by SS guards, in addition to the Hungarian gendarmes and soldiers. During a stop we were able to exchange a few words with General Lajos Veress, commander-in-chief of the Second Hungarian Army. I asked him how, with a whole army under his command, the Germans had been able to arrest him. Veress replied that his own chief of staff had betrayed him to the Germans who had sent a huge armoured unit to escort him to Budapest. He posed the question as to whether we should attack our guards and disarm them. However, the

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futility of such a plan was obvious. Even if we had succeeded, the problem remained of what to do and where to go. Hungary appeared to be in a state of dissolution, and it was difficult to see any goal that justified fighting against our own countrymen.

Our destination was the concentration camp of Sopron-Kohida, a well-known prison. Our group, however, was soon returned to Budapest, since our indictments had been prepared and the advance of the Red Army temporarily stalled.

A new group of political prisoners filled the military jail in Budapest. The members of the committee of liberation, under the leadership of the Smallholder, Endre Bajcsy-Zsilinszky and General Janos Kiss, had been arrested and imprisoned. They were tortured for weeks, and their leaders were later sentenced to death and executed. In comparison with this important plot aiming at the overthrow of Szalasi by force, our case became much less interesting a fact which we welcomed. In the early period of our captivity, the foreign minister asked for daily reports about our hearings. By the end of November we became figures of the past, and were overshadowed by recent plots directed against the Arrow Cross regime. Nonetheless the atmosphere was gloomy. Tortures were commonly used by the Arrow Cross investigators in cases not yet before the military prosecutors. Fortunately, our case was in its last stage and our military prosecutor observed legal formalities and showed understanding toward us. During interrogations he did everything but suggest the best lines for our defense. Yet our position was still not very reassuring, because the court martial consisted of one professional military judge and four Nazi-minded officers selected by the Szalasi regime. Thus our fate depended upon many imponderables and, under martial law, death sentences could be, and actually were, rendered for almost anything. Our counsel sought to reassure us, suggesting that we would not get more than ten to fifteen years at hard labor. In those days this was consolation of a sort. Our only problem was to survive the coming weeks, and we did not think in terms of years.

The fury of the Nazis, as they sensed the inevitableness of their doom, was unrestrained. When being taken to hear our indictment, I saw the corpse of a fellow prisoner, who had been tortured to death, carried by in the corridor. At least sixteen prisoners, many of whom were simple peasants and workers who had deserted from the army, were executed daily. Just below our windows the rifles of the firing squad rattled day and night. Not knowing when our turn might come, we prepared ourselves for the worst. It was reassuring to see the quiet and determined attitude of my fellow prisoners. In the face of death one discovers much strength in the human soul.

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We witnessed many human tragedies. The former minister of defense and his wife who was visiting him in the prison committed suicide. A shy-looking young newspaperman made the return trip to SopronKohida with us. He had served in the army and was accused of having drafted an anti-Szalasi poster. Experts could not identify his handwriting, but a witness testified against him. He was court martialed on the day we were transported from Budapest to Sopron-Kohida, but the sentence was not handed down. We discussed his case during our journey, but none of us expected a fatal outcome. When we returned to Budapest he was put into the same prison room with us. The next morning he was escorted to a routine hearing. We never saw him again. A death sentence was imposed and he was executed immediately.

On December 2, 1944, I stood before a court martial, accused of treason. At the trial I stated in my defense that Hungary had been a battlefield for many wars in past centuries and, by our actions, we had only tried to save the country from a repetition of this tragic fate. Moreover, I pointed out that we knew, from a report of the Hungarian Minister to Germany, of Japanese mediation and German peace overtures, and we had attempted similar parleys. Before the trial our military prosecutor encouraged us to emphasize this motive for our action. After a trial lasting five hours, the court martial acquitted us. An additional factor in our acquittal probably was the proximity of the Red Army, for the court was comprised of officers fearful of the approaching Russians. Following our release I feigned colitis and took refuge in a hospital. A few days later the Nazis were again searching for us, with even more serious charges. We were designated as the representatives of the Hungarian diplomats abroad who had denounced the new Hungarian regime and had already been sentenced to death in absentia. Each time a door opened I had the feeling that they had come to get me.

After the complete encirclement of the city by the Red Army, I went home to spend the long ordeal of the siege with my family, in the basement of our apartment house. More than a hundred persons were crowded in the small basement with us. The siege lasted seven weeks. Conditions were most precarious; there was no water, gas, or electricity. The house was about 800 feet from the Russian lines, so we lived in the midst of the actual fighting. Human nature is very elastic, and after the first few days of the siege nobody paid much attention when the building was hit by mortar shells or bullets. However, the house was hit twice by thousand pound Russian bombs, but fortunately neither bomb exploded. Other huge bombs exploded about twenty feet from the house, and on these frightful occasions the earth was shaken and the

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building moved like a ship on a stormy sea. On such occasions we thought that this meant the end of our suffering.

Several times a day I had to climb upstairs to our apartment on the fourth floor to get articles needed for our daily existence. One of my duties was to prepare candles, which offered at least some light in the darkness of the shelter. Remembering the adventures of Robinson Crusoe, I used shoe laces as wicks and collected all the fats and oils I could find. The wind, snow, and bullets whistled through the apartments, long since without doors and window panes. The house was truly a ghostly castle, inhabited by a few scarcely living shadows. Since no one was prepared for such a long siege, food supplies were soon exhausted. Old people, incapable of enduring the hardships, died. It was difficult to dig their graves in the deeply frozen courtyards. Yet the frost was not without its uses. It prevented the development of epidemics when elementary hygienic rules could not be observed.

People were starving. When horses were killed in the streets, the news spread quickly, and the population of the neighboring houses assailed the frozen bodies with all kinds of knives and axes. We had horse meat twice. This was a delicacy compared with our usual diet of beans, sauerkraut, and potatoes.

At least once a day I had to go to the next street to fetch water from an improvised well. One never knew whether or not he would return from such an expedition, since there was continual fighting in the area. We often found dead and wounded civilians around the well. We knew that Russian occupation was inevitable, and were waiting in the hope that it would bring an end to the Nazi terror and the senseless destruction.

The blatant Nazi propaganda had so often turned out to be untrue that we did not want to believe the widely publicized stories about Russian atrocities. Unfortunately, this time the Nazis told a great amount of truth. The siege was followed by general looting, robbery, and wholesale rape committed by the "liberators". The frightened population regarded the first misdeeds of the invading Russians as the cruel consequences of long and bloody fighting. Later the people became desperate, but were helpless. There was no remedy or protection against Russian action. Yet in the midst of these outrages it was good to see occasional signs of human solidarity. Some Russian soldiers gave bread and candy to starving children.

My first direct contact and "negotiation" with the Russians occurred in a rather peculiar way. One day a Russian captain came to see me and courteously explained that they knew about my resistance to the Nazis and would like to talk over with me the problems of Russian-Hungarian cooperation. Consequently, I had to spend the following

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two days at Russian Headquarters. The Russian officers, however, were exclusively concerned with the names and whereabouts of former Nazi spies and collaborators. I vainly explained to them that I worked in the political division of the Foreign Ministry, being in charge of the preparation of the Hungarian case for the Peace Conference, and knew nothing about spies. Having first been in jail, and then, for the last few months, in a shelter, I could have no knowledge about the behavior and whereabouts of the suspected persons. But the Russians were convinced that I knew much more and was simply reluctant to tell it. The second day their attitude became more threatening, and finally they handed me a register from the cultural section of the Foreign Ministry, containing a list of students who had received scholarships to carry on studies in foreign countries. I was supposed to disclose the spying assignments of these students. I tried in vain to explain to my interrogators that the students were sent abroad to make certain special studies in such fields as chemistry, modern languages, and so on. But by this time they had grown angry, and excitedly told me that nobody could be sent abroad without a spying assignment and that I should cease talking such nonsense. At this moment I had the same feeling that I had experienced before the Nazi interrogators, who could not believe the simple truth but were rather pleased and impressed by fantastic stories. So I explained that these fellows might, after all, have been spies, but if so, their assignment had been given them by the Ministry of Defense and the Foreign Ministry knew nothing about it. This explanation partially satisfied them and I got away with a promise that I would try to find out the names and whereabouts of Nazi spies and collaborators. Fortunately this Russian Headquarters soon moved away and I was not molested by them again.

A few days later our apartment house received a summons from the Russian military police that all men of military age should appear the next day at 6:00 A.M. with their personal documents. At headquarters they would get a certificate which would assure them free movement in town. The reason for the early hour was to enable everybody to get to his job in time. The procedure, according to the Russians, would not take more than five minutes. The whole thing seemed strange to me and aroused my suspicions. I decided not to go.

In the morning I left the house with the other men, and asked them to give the Russians the message that I had to see the Russian Commandant in Pest that same morning and therefore would have to present my documents another time. Actually I went to see friends living on the bank of the Danube. There I met two girls who were rowing champions. The day before they had found a derelict light boat on the Danube and had hidden it in their own apartment. Although crossing the river was

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strictly forbidden by the Russians, the girls offered to take me, along with two other persons, to Pest in the boat. This was the only way to cross the river, since all bridges had been blown up by the retreating Germans. At this time of the year, because of the floating ice, it was doubly hazardous. We lifted the boat to our shoulders and headed for the river, but as we approached the river bank we noticed four Russian soldiers, apparently under the command of a civilian.

The latter shouted at me in a fluent but hardly understandable Hungarian: "Who are you?"

"I am an official of the Hungarian Foreign Ministry and was asked by the Russian Commandant in Pest to go to see him", I replied. "These girls will take me over to the other side of the river."

The stranger snarled at me, "Where is the Hungarian Foreign Ministry? Where is such a country as Hungary? All these are of the past. A new world is here, don't you know this?"

"Of course I know very well that a new and better world will be established after the ordeals of war", I answered. "The Atlantic Charter accepted by Stalin, Roosevelt. and Churchill is a guarantee of that."

We continued our strange conversation in this vein, amidst the ruins of a ghost city. In the meantime the girls had disappeared into their house with the boat. When the Russians began to look for them I gave them wrong directions and returned to my friend's house. We waited there for an hour until everything was clear. Then we tried the crossing again. This time there were no Russians in sight, but now we would see whether a boat built for three lightly clad sportsmen could carry five persons in heavy winter clothes. As we stepped in, the boat settled lower and lower in the water, until the icy water reached to within inches of the gunwales. But the boat did not sink, and slowly and precariously we made our way across the Danube to Pest on the further shore.

The old Foreign Ministry in Buda had been completely destroyed, and a new office had been established in Pest. Exactly where it was I did not know, but finally in an old apartment building without doors or window panes, I located the new office. There I met a few colleagues who told me about a new national government at Debrecen. I was amazed to hear the following message from the new foreign minister, Janos Gyongyosi: "The officials of the Foreign Ministry should not go to Buda [the part of town where I lived] because they might be deported by the Russians and in this case the Hungarian authorities could not help at all."

Thus my original skeptical outlook soon changed to deep suspicion. Moreover, I understood that experiences with the Russians in Pest were

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the same as in Buda, if not worse. The popular feeling was well expressed by an inscription scrawled in huge letters on the wall of a public building in Pest: "Hitler is brown; Stalin is red; both are the same gangsters."

On my return later in the day, I had to wait two hours in a snowstorm on the bank of the Danube. Because of the Russian patrols, the girls could not risk the crossing at the agreed time. When I finally arrived at home in Buda in the evening, entirely exhausted, I learned that none of those who had gone to Russian Headquarters in the morning for the five minute interview had returned. We found out later that they were first taken to a concentration camp. Then, three or four months later, those who had survived the starvation ration and other hardships in the camp were sent as prisoners of war to the Soviet Union.⁴

That evening, after the excursion to Pest, I had a high fever. The next morning my wife, accompanied by my father, went to the Russian military police to explain that I was ill and could not report with my documents for a couple of days.

"It does not matter, the MP will go to get him anyhow", was the brusque answer.

After this incident I decided to flee. I did not know that the Russians were not like the Germans. Their method of operation was vastly different. On the street where I lived they made no attempt to get the men who had not gone to headquarters themselves. Whereas we were accustomed to the methods of the uniformly applied German system, Russian procedure was a whimsically changing pattern.

I went to a friend who made arrangements to help me to cross the Danube again by boat the next morning. The same evening, however, three Russians came to the house and told him that, since he spoke Russian, he must go with them the next day as a translator. My friend gave me a huge Red Cross badge, and I was introduced as the president of the Red Cross in Buda. He explained to the Russians that I had promised to go to Pest to get milk for the children and that he must go with me in the morning. The Russians, apparently needing his services, replied cheerfully that all of us would go together in a truck over a Russian military bridge built outside the town. We made an appointment for 9:00 A.M.

The next morning, however, the Russians were not to be found. We searched around for them and at last we found themdead drunk. It took at least an hour before we succeeded in getting them into the truck. Finally, though the driver was still intoxicated, we miraculously arrived at Pest.

It was dangerous even to walk in the city, since the Russians continued to seize men on the streets. I felt ill and found it necessary to

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look for a room. By chance I went to see a friend of mine who invited me to stay with him. It was a strange household, but typical of those days. The host could hardly move. He had been shot in the left foot by the Germans while escaping through their lines. His brother-in-law, a very young man, had been shot in the lung. The boy had gone to the garden to fetch some fresh snow, which was used instead of water during the siege, and the German SS troops in the next house shot him simply for sport. A doctor living in the house took care of them. I had a high fever myself, and the doctor discovered that I had pneumonia, but fortunately he was able to procure some medicine.

I stayed in bed for ten days in a rather serious condition. Then, while still convalescing, I tried to hunt for a truck or train to take me to Debrecen, the chief town in northeastern Hungary, to join the new government. I obtained the necessary official papers and recommendations from the only government office in Pest. These papers, however, were of no great value, since the Red Army did not respect documents issued by Hungarian authorities. Trucks were operated by the Communist Party, and the drivers took no interest in official papers. They were willing to take passengers, but only for a huge tip which I was not able to afford. Three times a week there was an overcrowded train to Debrecen. By train the journey of about 120 miles took, at that time, from two to five days. It was necessary to change at least twice. On these occasions the men were often taken by the Russians and put to work for a couple of days. Then they were sometimes seized and taken as prisoners of war.

These prospects were not appealing, but I had to risk the journey since the situation in Pest was intolerable. Personal safety did not exist. Moreover, I was in rather bad shape after the pneumonia. I had lived for months chiefly on beans and potatoes, and was very weak. In Debrecen, where more food was available, I hoped to recover my strength and to be able to send food to my family. Finally, together with a friend, I succeeded in getting on a train. My friend spoke Russian, and, at that time, such ability was a great advantage. Of course the train consisted only of freight cars. Everybody had to stand, and people were pressed together like sardines. The warmth of human bodies made up for the lack of heat. For two days we travelled under these conditions, but after some narrow escapes from being taken prisoner, we eventually reached Debrecen. I had started the journey still weak from pneumonia, and arrived emaciated and completely exhausted.

In Debrecen I contacted Gyongyosi, the new foreign minister. I told him of the peace preparatory work done under the old regime. In the course of our conversations I reported that the bulk of the material

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had been deposited with the Hungarian Legation at Berne, while a smaller portion was hidden in Budapest. At this time the Foreign Minister showed little interest in the matter. His lack of interest was, in all probability, due to his mistrust of individuals who served under the old regime. To some extent, however, his apathy may have stemmed from a realization that to continue peace preparatory work in the face of the Russian occupation was futile.

This being the case, I did not make further efforts to see the new leaders of the country, but did my best to regain my physical strength. In April, 1945, I returned to Budapest. This time I travelled under decent conditions on a special government train which took the officials of the central authorities to the capital. I did not begin to go regularly to the Foreign Ministry until the end of May, when I had to assume new responsibilities.⁵

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DIPLOMACY IN A WHIRLPOOL