Forty years ago as a young tool and die apprentice, I ate my lunch in the lunchroom off of the men's locker room upstairs above the tool room. The only other person that ever ate up there was old Joe. Joe was mid 60's, Hungarian immigrant from the 50's, and never learned English very well.

Joe was different sort and had a very ... well .. let's say haunted look about him. Eyes were always extremely wide open, scanning, almost scared looking. Medium stature, extremely large feet, baggy green work pant's. The way he walked was different also. Like he was walking through tall grass, each step of his big feet seemed very deliberate, while he stared through you with his wild eyed gaze. His unruly blondish/grey hair kinda' made him look like the wolf man to me.

We ate together for months before we ever started talking. He'd giggle a little as he watched me trying to kill the urinal gnats that buzzed around, but never said much. He had so much trouble communicating I think he just chose not to. One day he turns to me and says.."You apprentice, smart guy. Is good" Kinda' broke these ice and we tried to talk more. It was really hard for me to understand him but I got better.

After about a year of this, one day, out of the blue, Joe has something to say and he' very wound up. He checks out the locker room, the restroom stalls, the hallway outside. He comes back in and tells my a story that almost brought him to tears. Most of the East Europeans I've met are both passionate and animated when talking. Joe gave me a big dose of both.

It all took place in Hungary in the 50's and the Russians showed up. It wasn't clear what lead to it but it ended up with a Russian soldier with a rifle, bayonet attached chasing Joe down an alley. Joe showed how he knocked the rifle out of the way and how he stabbed up with his knife. Now he's holding his head with both hands, shaking it, howling things at the ceiling I can't understand, nearly in tears....And I'm asking myself..why me? I think Joe was always haunted by this and didn't have anyone that would try hard enough to understand him so he could talk about it.

Well...here's another Joe story. A little bit funny..maybe?

In 1969 my pal Randy was a newly minted,early 20's union steward. One day he and Joe are paged to the office. Once there, the boss informs Joe that the other employee in the office had bumped him off his job. Joe stared coldly at the floor, his world had just collapsed. The boss tells, "Joe, this guy is taking your job". Joe slowly fishes in his pocket for something, a pocket knife. He gets it out, slowly opens it like he's going to trim a hang nail. He then, quickly puts it into an ice pick grip and lunges at the other employee screaming "Son of beech take my job"! Randy quickly restrains him and tries to explain the bumping procedure to him. "Joe he takes your job and you can take some one else's job". Joe's screaming again "No, no, I not son of beech"

It all worked out in the end....

That incident probably took place during the ill-fated Hungarian uprising in 1956.

I'm surprised that you didn't join the dots there, although the uprising probably had a lot more resonance over here in yUK/Western Europe, where there were crowds of Hungarian refugees for a couple of years. I went to school with five of the kids in my class alone.

quote:

Originally posted by tacfoley:
That incident probably took place during the ill-fated Hungarian uprising in 1956.

Original poster wrote: "In 1969 my pal Randy was a newly minted,early 20's union steward. One day he and Joe are paged to the office."

quote:

Originally posted by V-Tail:

quote:

Originally posted by tacfoley:
That incident probably took place during the ill-fated Hungarian uprising in 1956.

Original poster wrote: "In 1969 my pal Randy was a newly minted,early 20's union steward. One day he and Joe are paged to the office."

I think Tac is referring to the first story prior to Joe coming to the states.

My high school girlfriend was the daughter of a couple who escaped from Hungary in 1956. She was born in Vienna, Austria. Really nice people.

quote:

Originally posted by Black92LX:

quote:

Originally posted by V-Tail:

quote:

Originally posted by tacfoley:
That incident probably took place during the ill-fated Hungarian uprising in 1956.

Original poster wrote: "In 1969 my pal Randy was a newly minted,early 20's union steward. One day he and Joe are paged to the office."

I think Tac is referring to the first story prior to Joe coming to the states.

Story line #1 - Quote - 'It all took place in Hungary in the 50's and the Russians showed up.'

I think that more significant to the story isn't when the original killing took place, but the fact that Joe is quick to draw the knife and willing to kill again when he perceives a threat to his job. He might be haunted, but perhaps his original incident wasn't so defensive, and the attack on the employee was his response to a threat to a job. Remorseful, maybe, but still willing to do the same with little provocation.

The original poster says it all worked out. What happened?

Hungary is an interesting place. While I didn’t get to see much of it when I was there two years ago (Budapest only), it is interesting to know some of its history.

I was at the end of a river cruise, had a few extra days scheduled there. We were shopping and in one of the smaller shops in the city. I asked the clerk behind the counter whether they preferred English or German as a way to talk to the locals and shopkeepers like herself. My German is fair, so I was comfortable either way.

She replied that they preferred English.

As I understand it, during WW2 Hungary changed sides. Before 1944 they were allied with Germany. In ‘44 they decided to make peace with the Allies as we know the term (France, England, USA, etc.) The Germans obviously saw this as changing sides.
So, what this meant militarily was that the Americans, British, etc. bombed & attacked Hungary early in the war and then Germany attacked Hungary later in the war. It was a lose/lose situation. After the war, because it appeared EVERYBODY attacked them, they came out not liking anybody.
In my experience, two years ago in the shop, it seems they dislike us a little less than they dislike the Germans. IE, they prefer English over German.

I can assure you that the Hungarians liked the UK an awful lot more than Germany back in 1956.

https://www.britishpathe.com/v...ngland-aka-hungarian

Over 200,000 Hungarians left their homeland forever.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/...n_Revolution_of_1956

I knew two refugees from Hungary. One was in school, I really had no idea at that time what she and her mother went through except she was a loner in school. She would have been about four at the time of the revolution.

Second one, this was a lot later in life. She worked for me as a counterperson. She too was about my age and she told me of some of the challenges to her and her mother too, yes another separated family. We spoke many times even though her memories of the revolution were very spotty. I never asked her what happened to her father as I figured she would tell me if she was so inclined.

Though she did tell me that when she and her mother arrived they were "adopted" by a family in the Holland Michigan area. It was through a Dutch Reformed Church there, that were her early memories.

Over the years I have lost contact with both of them.

I knew two refugees that actually walked out of Hungary

Tibor Juhasz and his wife

it took them almost 8 months of hiding and moving house to house

we got our first two pups thanks to Tibor

quote:

Originally posted by tacfoley:
That incident probably took place during the ill-fated Hungarian uprising in 1956.

I'm surprised that you didn't join the dots there, although the uprising probably had a lot more resonance over here in yUK/Western Europe, where there were crowds of Hungarian refugees for a couple of years. I went to school with five of the kids in my class alone.

I was in the army in '55, and served with a few Hungarians who had participated in the uprising. They all had touching stories to tell, once they got to know you. One of them ended up in the bed next to mine in the Landstuhl army hospital.

My great grandparents lived in Hungary during the German occupation and fled when the Soviets invaded. It took them two years to make it to the US, and they were no fans of any authoritarian figures. So much so that my grandfather referred to all law enforcement officers as “gestapo,” sometimes to their faces. That made our family road trips interesting.

My 82 year old step-father is a Hungarian refugee. He was the last one to leave. He has some epic stories from when the Germans occupied them. Then the Russians, and finally the Red Chinese came in.

He's been shot and has killed during the revolution. He's scared the crap out of Nikita Khrushchev while working in a foundry. Kicked out of the house at the age of 13 because his mother couldn't feed him. The stuff he did to feed himself. His escape from Hungary to Austria and finally to the US.

Almost dying on the plane over when they hit a storm and lost all engines and almost crashed into the ocean. The pilot was able to get one engine running and they flew at 500 feet to land in Canada.

His travels from New York to Stockton California with a few bucks and the clothes on his back, and speaking a handful of english.

He has lived a very remarkable life. We have documented some of it, but I would like to do a documentary on his life.

Once I took two soldiers to Arlington and the Tomb of the Unknowns. They had asked to see the changing of the guard.

When we arrived, the President Of Hungary was about to start a formal wreath laying. We were the only people in uniform that weren’t part of the ceremony. A woman came up and asked to talk to us.
She was Hungarian, had participated in the 1956 revolt and had escaped when the Russians invaded. She had left with two friends but was the only one to make it out.

When the band played the Hungarian national anthem, she lost it. It was the first time she’d heard the anthem since her nation had been freed. She thanked us for serving the nation that had given her a home.

I work with a lot of immigrants from all over the world. All jumped through the proper hoops to get here. All are extremely fine people. None were ever in a caravan......Go figure how all these folks ended up in a stamping factory in northern Indiana... I have the utmost respect for them and their individual struggles. I doubt that I'm a strong enough person to go through the trials they have.