When the Lilacs Bloom Again
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Just as the procedure was finished, the sirens sounded indicating an impending air attack. As doctors and nurses rushed patients down to the basement of the building, my doctor appeared from the surgery room and told Mother that he was done with the procedure except for closing and bandaging my head. "There is a chance that the hospital will get hit. Do you want me to finish the job or do you want to take her to the basement and let a nurse close and wrap her head?" The doctor was already being summoned to attend to another emergency. Without giving it a second thought, Mother chose to have me moved to the safety of the basement below. In the dimly lit basement my mother held a lantern to my head so the nurse could see to close the wound and bandage my head. Carefully holding me in her arms, Mother looked down at my still body and was thankful that I was unconscious; the ear-piercing sound of the sirens always did frighten me. The roar of the American bombers shook the earth, causing part of the ceiling to crumble, amidst the deafening sound of stone and glass collapsing. Lights hanging from the basement ceiling swung back and forth, then suddenly went out. One section of the basement ceiling collapsed, and in the darkness people were stumbling and falling as they shoved each other to get away from the falling debris. Most of them were screaming, others cried, some called out to God and the saints to save them. *** Several rows of men were lined up side by side and marched to a large pit ablaze with a raging fire, with flames leaping out of the pit with each gust of wind. As the men approached the pit, they were ordered to throw their identification papers, military training records, birth and wedding certificates, photographs and keepsakes of their loved ones into the flaming pit. The most painful part of this destruction of personal possessions was the relinquishing of their precious old photos and letters which had sustained them for three years on the Russian front. Half way through the search a guard discovered a photo. One of the prisoners had slipped a small photo of his wife under the cuff of his shirt sleeve, hoping that it might go unnoticed. When the Russian guard located the hidden picture, he held it up and waived it above his head until he had everyone's attention. Without another word, he backed the soldier up to the fiery pit and riddled his legs with bullets until he toppled over backwards into the flames. The next man in line tried to prevent the soldier's fall into the pit by reaching out to him, but, he was quickly stopped by another guard who shot him and then shoved him into the pit. The prisoners stood there motionless as they listened to the two men's agonizing screams. They watched in silence as the fire slowly seared away the victims clothing and eventually their skin and flesh. *** The screams of women and girls shattered the darkness night after night; Theresia's mother was afraid to stay in her house. Nightly rapes of relatives and neighbors became commonplace. Spurred by terror, Theresia and her mother hid in a cellar with a group of neighbors. Moments later, the hiding place was discovered and a young neighbor woman was dragged away. *** Once while on deck, I was surprised by a storm that raised havoc much quicker than expected. Just before loudspeaker warnings were announced, skies turned a metallic gray color and the wind churned and whipped the ocean violently. As wind speeds increased dramatically, gusts became so fierce I was pinned to the railing. Afraid to relinquish my grip on the sturdy rail, I tried to inch myself closer to the stairwell which thankfully was only a few feet away from me. Water was gushing over the deck's surface. As icy water drenched my legs, I became frightened and yelled for help. The sound of the raging waters and the wind was deafening. How could anyone hear me, if I could hardly hear my own voice?
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About the Book
When the Lilacs Bloom Again, a true story of WWII European life is full of suspense, horror, and romance; disease and threat of starvation were our constant companions for five long years. Despair and abuse of spirit were the legacy of the daily threats of bombings, rape and beatings. The title is a quote from my father’s October 30, 1942 letter, which ended: "If God wills, we shall see each other soon. Perhaps when the lilacs bloom again." Following deportation from Hungary, our quest for permanency and peace continued. The curtain of darkness gradually lifts as the challenges of my coming of age in a vastly different country begin. "A courageous memoir and a bold testament to the resiliency of the human spirit. Kathe Bryant has put flesh on the tattered pages of history and has proven once again the inevitable triumph of love over hate." Philip Gulley, Quaker Pastor, author. "When the Lilacs Bloom Again" is a true story so full of drama, danger and courage, it reads like fiction. Torture, rape and murder are part of her story as well as innocence, romance and faith. The story tells of spiritual tenacity and gritty determination which war itself could not defeat. Tom Mullen, Emeritus Professor: Earlham College; author. "Kathe Bryant's story chilled my bones by bringing war into a human perspective. Kathe calmly leads the reader through the horrifying course of events that ended with her family's emigration under Quaker sponsorship. Many of the facts are so gruesome, the sensitive reader really doesn't want to know... Kathe's book reminds us of the child behind the victim's face. Do not forget me... Cynthia Stanley-Russell, attorney & author.
About the Author
About the Author Kathe Bryant was born in war-torn Europe in 1940. While her father fought in the war first wearing a Hungarian, then a German and eventually a Russian uniform, five years passed. During this time her mother and her family struggled to avoid starvation, suffering the terror and helplessness of bombings, rapes and torture by Russian soldiers occupying the area. After the war, Kathe and her family were deported from Hungary to Germany and eventually emigratedimmigrated to the United States in 1956. Bryant states: "An oral rendition of my past never seemed enough; committing it to print was at once traumatic and healing." 