On the Trail of the Innocent
About the Creator
I’m nineteen years old and currently living in Budapest, Hungary. I love criminal law but at the same time, I adore art and creativity. If I’m not busy with schoolwork you can find me either creating some form of art or preparing for a competition.
My family’s most precious treasure is an 86-year-old diary written by my uncle’s Jewish grandpa, Manó Pollák. He recorded the events happening to him and his family between June and September of 1940. During this time Manó Pollák was dragged away from his wife and underage children to take part in forced labor. This diary deeply connects with the events of the
20th century, as it describes everything firsthand.
Unfortunately, I did not have the chance to meet Manó Pollák, but I still had the opportunity to connect with him by reading his diary entries countless times. He recorded everything he could, the daily happenings in the labor camp, and his own personal emotional struggles. Below are passages from his diary:
Prology
“My dear Reader!
Even though this diary was written for my own remembrance, I would like to allow my good friends to read it.
When you hold this little diary in your hands, feel the soul and world of a Hungarian Jewish person as you read through the lines.
Manó Pollák.”
1940. July 27th
“3rd Company Attention! At ease! Close up by sections!
The Officers’ Group and I make a different group together.
After 12 AM we sat on a bus packed like sardines in a can and we travelled 13.5 kilometers to Terebes Fejérpatak. After the tiring journey, we got accommodated. Since drafting this was my first time sleeping in a bed. This is a big honor after so much suffering. I ordered some soup and I ate the remaining small amount of meat prepared by my dear wife and then I went to sleep.”
1940. August 8th
“I don’t know what but something wrenches my heart, tears are filling my eyes, my soul is trapped by anxiety but it’s not homesickness. I don’t feel the burning pain of ostracism even if they say anything else. Everything points to the fact that we got interned but I don’t feel ashamed.
They should be ashamed not us, so many old veterans with so many resplendent decorations can’t be ashamed in the hours of deep humiliation.
But it hurts, I’m so sick in my soul, my body, but I don’t lose hope and I wait for a new life in a more beautiful and better Hungary.
[struck through] Amen.”
And lastly, the ending of the last diary entry:
“[…] May the good Lord give strength to the misguided who only saw the bad in the Jewish. The good and virtues were turned by them so they could enjoy their own selfish interests. So be it!
Amen!
Riptinec, 1940. September 20th
Manó Pollák.”