All language subtitles for Sorstalansag (Fateless) Engl

a true story

I didn't go to school today.

Well, if only to ask my teacher
to let me go home

I gave him father's letter

in which he asked for it
referring to family reasons.

He asked what the reason was.

I told him father had been
called up for forced labor.

He left it at that.

I went straight to our shop.

Father said he'd be waiting there.

Hello, my friend.

That's a fine decoration
you've got there.

You won't have to wear it for long,
this outrage will be over soon.

Did your teacher let you go?

Yes. I said you'd been called up
for forced labor.

- And?
- He let me go.

So, that's the warehouse
settled, Mr. Sütő.

Things go smoothly between
old acquaintances, Mr. Köves.

Maybe we should get
rid of everything

before the authorities lay
their hands on the whole outfit.

Prices have never been
this high!

I'll leave it to you.
I know I can trust you.

Well then... it'd be best

to hand over the goods right away.

Goods?

Of course, the goods!

I should give you a receipt.

Oh, come on, Mr. Sütő...

We don't need anything
like that.

I know you trust me, Mr. Köves,

but there's a proper way
to do things.

Isn't that right, Mrs. Köves?

Anyway we'll be
in constant touch.

To do the accounts
if nothing else.

We are counting on your help
and experience.

Just as we have these past years.

Goodbye and good luck.

All I can say is, Mr. Köves...

I'll see you very soon.

I hope so too.

One thing less to worry about.

Shouldn't we have taken
the receipt?

There's no point when even
the lawful authorities rob us.

Did you call the jewelry "goods"
for my sake?

I know what's in that box.

It's secret, understand?

Hello, yes, it's me.

I'm sorry, I can't let you
see him today.

I'd like him to be with me
on this last day...

... before I leave home.

You're 14 and a half now.

I know your father can count on you
to behave properly on this sad day.

Your mother's on the line.

No, I can't. It's his last day.
You heard.

Of course, Monday. Right.

I won't be needing these any more.

- Are you hungry?
- Terribly.

You've hardly taken any.

I can't eat a thing.

You mustn't despair.

I'll miss you.

You'll be on your own.

But I won't.

We'll take care of each other
till you come home.

- Won't we, Gyurka?
- Yes.

Just go on. Eat.

I'm not hungry.

- Hello.
- Hello.

Don't! Stupid!

What about last night,
during the air-raid?

When we went back in the attic?
And heard the bombs?

I was just scared.
And you took advantage.

Are you angry?

Can you come this afternoon?
For a game of cards.

- Yeah. Oh, no I can't.
- Why?

My father's been called up
for forced labor.

Aha. And tomorrow?

Let's make it the day after.
Maybe.

Oh, how dreadful it all is.

What has the world come to?

- My son.
- Oh, mother, do sit down.

- Are you going away?
- That's quite crowded.

- What's happening?
- I'll tell you.

- Yes...
- That's right. There.

Yes... but over there...

Nothing's happening.
We're not eating yet.

Secret negotiations are under way.

I can't tell you more than that.

This is completely
reliable information.

Just as reliable
as your racing tips

which I regularly lose on.

Before Vili opened his betting shop,
he was one of the best

stock exchange correspondents.

The Germans realize their situation
at the front is hopeless.

They're using us Budapest Jews

to squeeze concessions
out of the Allies.

And the mass executions in Poland?

That's different!
Poland isn't Hungary.

- And the ghettos in the countryside?
- A sensational bluff!

To raise the stakes.

So I shouldn't even bother
to report to the labor camp?

Perhaps it's a bluff too.

Well, no...
I wouldn't advise that

But I'm sure you'll be home soon.

We're being used as part of a huge
blackmail at the moment.

The negotiations
will soon bear fruit.

If I were as sure of my tips
as I am of that,

I wouldn't be the pauper I am!

- I'd like to talk to you.
- Of course. A bit later.

I'd like a little talk with you.

- Your father's leaving tomorrow.
- I know.

I'm sure you also know
that your carefree

childhood days are over.

You too are part
of the common Jewish fate now.

You know what that Jewish fate means?

Well, the yellow star,
for instance.

And much else besides.

Thousands of years of relentless
persecution, which we must bear

- with patience and resignation.
- Why?

Because God inflicted it on us
for our sins,

and only from Him
can we expect mercy.

- Have you prayed for your Father?
- No.

It worried me that I didn't understand
what we were saying to God.

I think I mixed up the words a bit.

But by the end of the prayer
I felt

we had managed to do something
for father.

My name's Steiner.

Good evening, gentlemen.

Mr. Steiner and Mr. Fleischmann,
our neighbors.

Please don't get up,
we've come to say goodbye.

Every evening we review the war,

of which I'll be a part
from tomorrow.

Just keep your chin down, old boy,
and never lose your despair!

Don't worry, we'll take care of
your wife and Gyurka.

Carry on with your meal.

No, it's pork!

That's all I could get
on the black market.

Believe me...

Things will change radically soon.

May the Almighty help us

to be able to sit round
the family table again soon

in love, peace and health!

It's late, Gyurka.

I don't want to wake you at dawn.

I may come back one day.

Till then...
Iook after each other.

Your mother may try to take advantage
that I'm not with you.

She may try to lure you away.

But you know where you belong.

Your stepmother made a home for
you, whereas your mother left us.

You must stand by her.

I'll write to you,

and you write too, Gyurka.

Son!

His hug came unexpectedly.

I don't know whether that
was what made me cry,

or simply exhaustion,

or maybe it was because ever since
my stepmother hinted at it,

I had been preparing myself

that at a certain moment
you were expected to cry.

I'm glad
it happened the way it did,

and I felt father was pleased too.

After that he sent me to bed.

I was pretty tired by then,

but I thought that at least we were
sending him off to labor camp

with the memory of a fine day.

There's a war on...

I'm alone...

I miss you.

You know it was father's
decision, not mine.

But it is about you now.

Do you love me?

Of course I do.

Then why do you insist on
staying with that woman?

I don't insist on it, but...

One can't prove love by words.

- I don't think you really love me.
- That's not true.

It's your argument
your's and father's.

And I can't go against father now,

when he's in a labor camp.

Go now.

The curfew'll be in force soon.

It doesn't apply to me.
I've got a pass.

So, you're starting tomorrow.

I'm so glad he's got a pass.

You're right, dear.

I hear of nothing but raids,
people disappearing.

Stop being a prophet of doom!

It's no good sticking your head
in the sand either.

And what does our friend
write about?

What they allow him.

That he's healthy.

he can cope with the work,
the treatment is humane.

But what's he saying
between the lines?

As long as the letters come
regularly there's no problem.

At least he writes.

And how are you going to get
to work?

With the local train, I suppose?

You'll mislead the boy.

He must take the bus.

So, train or bus?

- Train.
- Bus.

The bus stops right by
the entrance to the oil plant.

If you listen to him
you'll have a long walk.

- Train!
- Bus!

God knows everything,
but Steiner knows better. Train!

Bus!

- Train!
- Bus!

We were just talking about you.
What exactly do you do there?

I mix mortar and pass bricks.

Oh, bricklaying.

Well, who would have thought it?

- Are you hungry?
- Fairly.

I'll be going then.

How can I thank you, Mr. Sütő.

Don't mention it, Mrs. Köves.

A promise is a promise.

And do tell your husband
he can always count on me.

Oh, yes.

I've read about the new laws.

Disgraceful.

What's this?

A small gift.

I can't accept it, Mr. Sütő.

Don't treat me like a stranger,
Mrs. Köves.

D'you think I should have
refused it?

I'm going to Annamária's
to play cards.

- You haven't eaten yet.
- When I get back.

Anything wrong? No cards?

I've got a headache.

The yellow star made it ache.

She's been on about it
all afternoon.

- What?
- That people hate her.

I said I wouldn't care if they hated
me if I could see the sense in it!

I don't understand a thing.

- So people don't hate you?
- Who would hate me?

- Everyone.
- But why?

Because of this!

Oh, that? Well, they may hate me...

But I don't think it's me
they hate.

Not me personally,
just in general.

They hate in general?

In general, yes.

Not you, not me,
but... the idea of a Jew.

Great. Because I for one
don't really know what that is.

- What what is?
- Being a Jew.

- Everyone knows that!
- It's a religion.

But I'm interested in
what it means.

All I know is, It's a difference,
separating us from other people.

As if you were the one to decide
on the difference

and not the thing you're wearing.

I don't wear
the difference here,

it's inside me.

But I don't know whether
to be proud it or ashamed.

Then what's the point of wearing
this rotten yellow star?

There's no point,

no point...

No point...

Attention!
Those with yellow stars get off!

Anyone with a yellow star?

- Anyone with a yellow star?
- Yes.

Get off then.

- I'm war labor.
- Right. Get off.

You can come!

- Didn't he accept it?
- No.

- What happened to you lot?
- He didn't accept ours either.

Back behind the embankment.
Off you go! Hurry! One-two!

That's it.

Anyone with a yellow star get off.

Come here!

- Hey, kids, Rozi's here!
- Where? Really?

Did you show your passes?

We have to be at the Schell
Refinery by seven.

- Well, you'll be late today.
- Why?

Because I'm going to arrest you.

Back behind the embankment!

Get down! At the double!
One-two! Get down!

There, there! That's it!
Lie down! Lie down!

- Why's he arresting us?
- I reckon he's just fooling around.

So what if we're late?
We get off work.

What the devil am I
going to do with you lot?

Sorry, but I can't help you there.

Ask him!

But when are you
going to let us go?

Wish I knew myself.

Wait a minute, I'll be back soon.

Yes, Yes! But what shall we do?
What shall I say?

He's phoning.

- Can you hear?
- Not if you jabber.

The foreman must be wondering.

It's not our fault.
The cop will explain it all.

We've got
to wait for further orders.

You look like educated boys.

For instance... d'you know
the game Blind Man's Bum?

- Who was it?
- Moskovics.

No.

Good morning, Foreman.

So it's true.
I hear you took them off the bus.

These boys have been
assigned to work for me.

- I know, I've seen their passes.
- Then let them go immediately!

You think I'm keeping them here
for fun? I've got orders.

These boys are in my care.

What shall I tell their mothers
if they don't go home?

This is an ID check.
Their papers are in order.

They'll be going home.
Understand?

Can't you see they're just kids?

Have you no sense of responsibility
as a policeman?

Another word,
and I'll lock you up with them.

Show me your papers!

Stuff the papers!

Well now...

Carry on.

Good old foreman.
He showed him!

- Who wants to play jacks?
- How d'you play?

You grab a handful of stones,
throw them up

and the one who catches
the most wins.

Look!

I'm expected
at a board meeting today.

I'm essential
to aircraft production.

You'll carry on tomorrow.

I heard you phoning.
Could I possibly make a call?

I'm sorry,
it's for official use only.

Incredible.

You're somebody, aren't you?

What'll happen to us?

Don't worry. Things'll be
cleared up sooner or later.

He's just an ordinary policeman.

I wanted to visit
my sick mother...

It took me three days
to get the permission.

But today I had to go
to the office first...

I wanted to visit
my sick mother.

It took three days
to get the pass.

Here it is.

Expires at two o'clock
this afternoon.

But I had to go somewhere on business
first and there was a queue.

By the time I was through I only
had two and a half hours left...

To leave or not to leave...

I left!

Because mummy was expecting me.

But if I'd just missed
the midday bus...

Five minutes,
and I wouldn't be here.

Five minutes.

- Still not interested?
- No. Here.

T ha nks

Well, my orders have come.

Just a simple ID check.
Line up outside!

Come on! Get a move on! In line!

Come on! Get moving!

No stargazing. Move!

Faster!

Jews!

There'll be an investigation
into your affairs tomorrow!

Don't have any hopes that you can
hide your ill-gotten gains

or your black market goods!

Now herd this whole Jewish
mob where they belong -

into the stables!

Get a move on! Move along!
Faster!

Stinking Jews!

We saw you signaling
to the British planes

with candles.
We'll blast you all to bits!

Will it drop or won't it?
That was the question.

I just had to recognize
the pittance of the stake

so that I too could enjoy the game.

I was beginning to grasp
the simple secret of my universe,

I could be killed
anywhere, any time.

Next.

Got your papers?

Empty your pockets!

The watch too.

Go on.

That's my penknife.

You haven't looked at my pass.

- Your what?
- My pass.

One way or another
sooner or later

everyone from this brick works
will be relocated to Germany.

Those who volunteer now
will travel 60 to a carriage.

Later there'll be 80,
and later still even more.

So, volunteer now, right?

I'm afraid we're short of trains.

- Will families stay together?
- Yes, families stay together.

- The luggage?
- Yes, luggage too, everything.

We have to get tomorrow's
transport ready.

It's best if we sort it out
among ourselves...

Shall we go?

... rather than have gendarmes
shove you into the wagons.

Anything's better than
these rotten gendarmes!

I'm joining you young ones
to cheer myself up a bit.

Are you volunteering?

- We're not sure yet.
- Nor am I.

Will it be better there?

What d'you suggest?

Get healed yourself first.
You've still got a black eye.

They accused me of profiteering.

Yet I told them I wanted to take
medicines to my sick mother.

Five minutes changed everything.

The Germans are a cultured race.

The camps in Poland
are culture itself...

Don't spread rumors, please.

You know as much as I do -
nothing.

Rumors!

I've heard nothing but rumors
about the Germans so far,

- and they were all true.
- So you're not going?

Could you tell me exactly why not?

What is it you know?
What are the rumors?

Could you put me on the list.

- Name, please.
- István Goz.

D'you hear that? He's signed up,
and he's... some big shot.

He was talking to a German officer.
I saw him with my own eyes.

A real German officer?

He's got pluck.

I went up to him.

I wanted to talk to
someone in authority.

- And did he speak to you?
- Why ask, you saw him!

I'm an engineer.
I speak perfect German.

I told him my work had been made
morally and physically impossible.

I'm not seeking advantages
or privileges,

but I'm an expert in my field
and I'd like to work...

And? What did he say?

He didn't make any big promises.

But he said Germany was
in need of experts like myself.

And what's the guarantee?

The difference between the objective
words of a high-ranking German officer

and this mob who can't even grasp
what's in their own interest.

And my judgment of character.

Without hope you are lost.

And you can draw hope
only from faith.

The time of His victory shall come,

and all those who have
forgotten His power

will be one in repentance

and call out to him
from the dust...

One can survive three to four days.

But you mustn't eat.

Especially not meat
and spicy things.

What if you're hungry?

You can choose - hunger or thirst.

It depends how long
the journey is.

Water!

People!
You've reached the Hungarian border.

The last time
you'll hear Hungarian,

and I'm speaking to you
man to man.

If anyone has any money, valuables
or anything else,

hand it over to me now.

You won't need any valuables
where you're going.

The Germans'll take it from you
anything you've hidden.

Surely you'd rather leave things
in Hungarian hands?

You're Hungarians too after all.

Son of a bitch!

Water. We should get him
to give us water...

All right.

Give us water in exchange.

Water?

It's forbidden officially. But
I'll steal some from the well...

How much?

Depends what you give.

You'll soon see what you get,
you won't be disappointed.

Why make an effort for you
when it may not even be worth it?

Give me something first.

Give us
two buckets of water first.

Do I get something or not?

Stinking Jews!

Still want to turn the most
sacred things into business!

You're even taking your last
pennies to the Germans.

Well die of thirst then!

Die of thirst!
Die of thirst!

I keep thinking of what that
gendarme said four days ago.

What did he say?

That we won't need anything
where we're going...

Where are we going?

- Can you see anything?
- A station building. I think.

- Any name on it?
- Yes. A-usch-witz-Bir-ke-nau...

Does anyone know where...

- What did you say?
- Auschwitz-Birkenau.

I've never heard of the place.

And you're a geography teacher!

I could follow the route
through Slovakia,

we were going
in a north easterly direction.

I'd say we're in Poland now.

But the Germans have renamed
all the places here.

Clever dicks, they've been trying
to work it out for four days now.

Wake up! We may have arrived.

Sixteen! Sixteen!

- We're sixteen.
- I know.

You're sixteen too, Moskovics.

How old are you?

- Sixteen.
- Sixteen... work...

How old are you?

Sixteen.

Hello, Köves.
We made it! Great!

I'm not surprised. There were
gas chambers back home too.

Rubbish!

I didn't know there were gas chambers,
but I always had a feeling.

I knew they were hiding the truth.

We're all gonna die.

We're not. This is Auschwitz.
Extermination camp.

But they said we'd be taken
to an Arbeitslager,

... a labor camp.
That's different.

Poor Moskovics...

He may have been small...
he wore glasses... he was Jewish...

but I liked him...

We should have studied
nothing but Auschwitz.

They taught us: "Dear boy,

when you grow up
you'll go to Auschwitz,

they'll stuff you in a gas
chamber and burn you nicely. "

I've heard they're
very kind to them to the end,

surrounding them
with care and affection.

And the place where
they suffocate them

is in a pretty garden
with grass, trees and flowers...

Buchenwald lies
on the top of a hilly region.

The air's clean.
You can see forests all around

and the red rooftops
of the village houses.

The baths are to the left.

They write your name in a big book
and you get a yellow triangle

and a wide strip of canvass.

There's a "U" in the triangle
to show you're Hungarian

and a number on the canvas strip.

Mine is 64921.

I was told to learn to say it
quickly and clearly in German:

Vier-und-sechzig, neun,
ein-und-zwanzig

because that's my answer
if anyone asks who I am.

Attention! Herr Capo asks
if there are any performers,

cultural groups or the like
who could entertain

while they organize the transport?

- The Kolmanns.
- The Kolmanns? The Kolmanns!

A piano!

Eisemann, Zágon:
"On a Moonlit Night. "

What does a girl dream

On a moonlit night

On a steed of pure white

It's a dream so sweet

But soon she must wake

And princes are scarce

So it's all a mistake

And yet such little clouds
are floating in the sky

While we can see them
our hopes won't pass us by

What does a girl dream

On a moonlit night

On a steed of pure white

There's nothing more exhausting
than the tiresome process

we have to go through every time
we get to a new camp.

After Auschwitz and Buchenwald
it was the same at Zeitz too.

I realized right away that
this was a small, poor,

you could say provincial
concentration camp.

Showers and crematoriums
were only in more important camps.

The sole point of the endless
counting and shoving

was to get everyone out
in front of their block.

I looked around for the other boys,

but I was surrounded by strangers.

Where're you from?

From Budapest.

Are you from Budapest?

Is the Grand Boulevard still there?
What about the Number 6 tram?

- And Nefelejcs Street?
- I haven't been there for ages.

Nor me. Not for four years.
It's my home.

One day I'll walk
those streets again!

How did you end up here?

I was taken off the bus.

- How d'you mean?
- I had to get off. The cops.

Cops?

- They sent you here?
- Course.

Don't you know
what's up at home?

My name's Bandi. Bandi Citrom.

I told you I spent four years doing
forced labor in the Ukraine.

- You didn't tell me.
- Well I am now.

What were you doing there?

Digging up land mines
like the other kikes.

How?

If we have time I'll show you.

You need a spade and a bit of wire.
And luck. Plenty of it.

And?

Fucking bastard!

- Did it hurt?
- Not a bit.

Wipe your nose.
Tip your head back.

Why you not quiet?
Bring us trouble...

- Don't answer him.
- Who's he?

- Not one of us.
- But he speaks Hungarian.

He's from Latvia.
Orthodox.

- That other dude has to be a faggot.
- What d'you mean?

Never mind.
Like a circus trainer.

And that cheap scent...

Where the hell does he get it?
Isn't he a prisoner?

No. He's one of the camp bosses.
Did you see his green triangle?

I did.

- That means he's a criminal.
- Isn't he a Jew?

Some faggot murderer
represents the law round here.

This is a concentration camp,
not a sanatorium.

Come on, come on!

Quickly! Line up!

Buck up, or we'll miss coffee.

Line up outside!
Next!

Higher!

Put it near the cauldron.
Can't you see?

Higher! Come on!

How many times have I told you
to hold your tin nearer.

Next!

Here you are.
Next! Quickly!

- I see, we've gotta unload it.
- Into four piles.

As they wish.

Ask Herr what's-his-name if we
can take off our coats and shirts.

Seems like a decent prick.

Want a caftan and fur hat?

Let's show 'em what the
lads from Budapest are made of!

- We're from the country.
- Same thing.

A good wash is vital.
In snow, ice, always.

Then you won't get scabby.

Always have a mouthful
of bread in your pocket.

Where from?
The previous day's ration.

Course it's not enough,
so ration it.

At breakfast, and don't
watch the others eating at lunch.

A mouthful, no more,
but it's a must.

For your self esteem, get it?
Know what self-esteem is?

It's as important as bread and soup.

Want to go home?

Want to walk the streets
of Budapest again?

Without self-esteem it won't work.

Look!

Look... The Smoker!

Where?

Still smoking.

No good, keen Hungarian.

Why not save strength?

Shoveling for these?

You're Jews too after all.

Wash your dick too,
that's where the lice live.

Come on and get dry!

That certain hour
between returning from the factory

and the night-time call.

A particular hour,
bustling and liberated,

which I waited for and loved
the most in the camp.

Incidentally,
it was also supper time.

Hello, is that you?

Who else's here
from the brick works?

- Which block are you in?
- Here, in five.

Pity. I'm in six.

We got scattered.

We're all scattered.

Know what this "U" stands for?

Course. Ungarn. Hungarian.

You're wrong. Unschuldig.
Innocent.

Innocent.

No, pal, we'll divide it up
after the soup.

I won't let you gobble
tomorrow's ration.

But we'll never be cowards...

You always sing that.

That was our song in the Ukraine.

And if a comrade falls,

We'll send a message home

That come what may
We'll always be loyal

To our dear homeland

- What's wrong with that?
- Nothing.

It always reminds me of
that gendarme I told you about.

Who said we too were Hungarians
after all.

And so we are.

I'll soon walk down
Nefelejcs Street again.

I won't start till you get in line.
Come on, line up! Rabble!

He was the most sought-after
lawyer at home. It's beyond me...

Carrot soup.

I like it best too.

Quite thick.

Look! A whole chunk of meat!

This is when the street-lights
of Budapest come on.

Remember
the Schmoll shoe-polish ad?

Schmoll... what?

A lit-up plane circled over
the Oktogon every evening.

It's gone long ago,
cos of the black-out.

You always say silly things.

The black-out will end soon.

This is when girls
set out on their dates.

High-heels tapping.

I'll walk down
Nefelejcs Street again...

Nefelejcs Street...

Not a great goal, but who cares?
It's a goal.

A street, or a woman,

a library...
long winter afternoons...

before we light the lamps.

Things I can't imagine any more...

- It's Friday.
- Which Friday? What's the date?

They bear the eternal Jewish fate.

Nothing makes any difference to them:
they're here on Earth temporarily.

But they persevere
because they've got an aim.

Everyone needs some
life-giving obsession.

Something to keep their hope alive.

But I've got nothing.
No goals.

Oh yes I have...

Yes, I have.
I've got to take my sons home.

Soup for sale.

How much?

Whole tin carrot soup.

I bet someone's in hiding again.

Or dead.

Or they're asleep somewhere,
and we've been here since dawn.

What's the price?

Just hold out a bit longer, son.

It'll soon be over.

- Half ration bread and the margarine.
- What's that?

Soup for sale.

We go to the latrines enough
without your soup!

Did you buy some?

It'll get soaked and be worse
than nothing - like a wet sponge.

It keeps me warm.

We should get our bread
before parade.

- One third ration today.
- Get it for the three of us.

Pretty Boy.

Pretty Boy.

For sale.

Potatoes from last night.
I give salt.

- How much?
- Evening soup.

You don't eat soup.

Today matzo soup.
We can eat that.

- No one knows what we get.
- I know.

Half portion soup.

And the margarine.

You jerk! I'm a Jew just like you.

Di bist ka jid,
di bist a shégets. You no Jew.

- Then why am I here?
- How I know that?

Give it here!

- Bloody Jew!
- Makes it no cheaper.

Give it to me!

- What d'you want? Piss off!
- It's my price.

Did you buy from him?
Did you buy something?

Come on, get in line!

We'll be here till dawn.

Three Riga Jews.
Should be success.

Perfect speak German.
Map, everything.

The Almighty not want it.

At least someone tried.

Have you lost your mind?

Any idea what's happening
around you?

Yes. No supper tonight.

Where're you going?
How long since you washed?

You've let yourself go completely.
You've got lice, you're scabby.

Who asked you to boss me around?
Fuck off, you git!

D'you want to die here?
Don't you want to go home?

- I'm cold.
- I asked something!

- I'm cold.
- Listen.

Listen to me. I asked whether
you want to go home.

- Home, understand? Home!
- I'm cold.

You crazy?
They'll beat your brains in.

- Don't be daft.
- You bring trouble!

Disperse!

- Get up! Supper soon.
- We can't leave him here.

- Why don't you get up?
- I can't.

- Of course you can!
- It hurts!

- What hurts?
- My knee.

Come, let's fold our hands.

Put him down there.

Supper!

Supper!

Next.

Come on, come on!
Let it go!

Let it go, understand?

Come on. You'll get it back.

I have to open it up and clean it.

It'll hurt.
But I promise to be quick.

Are you hungry?

Terribly.

I protest!
I've a right to a separate bed.

- Ask the doctor!
- We're full of patients.

- Move over!
- I protest!

I protest!

Can't you give us another rug?

I protest!
It's my right!

Lie on your side,
it gives us more room.

Don't you understand?

Got any water?

Water? I could do with some too.

- Cigarettes?
- None.

Coffee! Coffee!

Can't you see he's asleep?
Give me his tin.

Soup!

He can't have slept for two days!

He is dead.

I'll go and get someone.

Thank you.

I protest!

I protest!

I pro-test!

Carrot soup.

Carrot soup.

György Köves.

György Köves.

Do you speak Hungarian?

Yes, I do.

Where're you from?

Budapest.

When did you arrive?

In November.

Do we get food here?

Thank you.

Come on, come on!

Buck up! Come on!

Stop!

Fresh air will make you feel better.

Back home we'll build
a new country.

Come on, line up in threes.

Start marching!
One, two, three four...

Standing on guard
on the walls of Madrid

Facing the gunshots
come what may

Standing on guard
for the dreams of its people

Ready to withstand
the wildest siege

Once more.
One, two, three, four...

Standing on guard
on the walls of Madrid...

Come on!

Hold out a bit longer!

From tomorrow we've been
promised some sort of transport.

This school has been assigned
to us for the night.

Tomorrow we'll reach Dresden.

From there we can get a train
to Bratislava.

We'll see how we go from there
to Budapest. Come on! Inside!

Your shirt, you wretch!
Why don't you take off your shirt?

He never takes off his shirt!

Take off your shirt, you jerk!

- I didn't do anything!
- He's got the SS mark.

D'you hear? Here's the mark!

What's going on?
What's all this shouting?

I noticed
he never took off his shirt.

Here's the SS tattoo under his arm.

It was guard duty...

That's enough, stop!

I didn't do anything,
I just want to go home.

You wormed your way among us
to avoid being taken prisoner?

- I didn't hurt anyone.
- Did you join the SS in Hungary?

I only did guard duty.
I swear I didn't hurt anyone!

Anyone know him?

No one. He could've been in one
of the smaller camp like Ohrdruf.

Hardly anyone was left alive in there.

I saw my brother shot dead
by a shit like this!

Enough! No lynching here.

Four of you will take him
to the Soviet command.

They'll get the truth out of him.

Tie him up, so he doesn't get away!
You, you, you and you!

My leg hurts.

Yes, of course... Then you.

No, not that...

Dresden.

I came here once.

You can't imagine
what a town this was.

One of Germany's finest
and richest cities.

They asked for it,
the Herrenvolk.

Now they're groveling.

That's what they wanted.

That's what they got.
They deserve it.

I feel now for the first time
the meaning of the word victory.

Are you sorry for them?

They weren't sorry for you
when they shoved you in the camp.

- Am I right?
- Yes.

There you are. You're free.
You're alive.

Try to be happy with life -
and victory.

Have you seen him?

Have you seen my husband? Sure?

Sorry, no.

A 43-year-old man.
With black curly hair.

Always smiling.

Sorry, I haven't seen him.

- And you?
- Sorry.

I'd like to ask you
something else if I may.

- Yes?
- Did you see the gas chambers?

We wouldn't be speaking now if I had.

Did they really exist?

It depends.
They definitely did in Auschwitz.

But I've come from Buchenwald.

- From where?
- Buchenwald.

- From Buchenwald.
- Yes.

So you heard about
the gas chambers,

but you didn't see them
with your own eyes, right?

Right.

Thank you,
that's all I wanted to know.

Come on! Come closer!
Quickly!

We'll gather here! Get off the
train, come on! Gather round me!

Looking for someone?

Yes.

- Who?
- Bandi Citrom.

He's not at home.

Not home at the moment or...

Not at all.

- Who's that?
- Where are you?

I was looking for Bandi Citrom.

He's not at home.

Come back later.

In a few days.
Maybe.

Wait!
Wait!

Tickets, please!

- Ticket!
- I haven't got one.

- Then get one.
- I haven't any money.

- You can't travel without a ticket!
- My leg hurts.

- I'm sorry, I didn't make the law.
- Enough of that, give me a ticket!

- Thank you.
- Don't thank me!

Some people
should be ashamed of themselves!

Come from Germany, my boy?

Yes.

- Concentration camp?
- Naturally.

- Which one?
- Buchenwald.

I've heard of it.
Another one of hell's circles...

- Where did they drag you off from?
- Budapest.

You must have suffered
many dreadful things.

Depends what you call dreadful.

I'm sure you were starved
and maybe beaten too...

- Naturally. - Why do you
keep saying "naturally, "

when it's not the slightest
bit natural?

- It is in concentration camp.
- That's true, but...

a concentration camp itself
is not natural.

The main thing is it's over,
you survived!

What do you feel now
you're home again...

in the town that you left behind?

Hatred.

We've got nothing.

What d'you want?

- Excuse me, but I live here.
- You?

You must have mistaken
the number! This is our flat!

Gyurka!
Gyurka!

- Come in, my boy!
- Look at that!

I rang the bell,
but someone else came to the door.

What's happened?

- Come on in!
- Come in.

- He's back!
- When? Tell us about it!

Come in quickly, son!

- When did you arrive?
- Let's see you!

I rang and someone else
came to the door.

Aren't you hungry?

You used to love bread and dripping
with onion rings...

Sit down, over there.

That's it.

My father?

Is he dead?

He didn't suffer long...

His friends brought the news
from a German camp...

But it's in Austrian territory.

- What was it called?
- Damn...

- Mauthausen.
- Mauthausen! That's it!

Mauthausen.

D'you know anything
about my mother?

Of course. She's well.

She survived.
She's fine.

She came by a week
looking for you.

And my stepmother?

Well, she got married...
But who to?

- Somebody Kovács I think.
- Not Kovács, more like Futó...

- Come off it!
- Futó!

Sütő.

- Sütő!
- That's it. Of course!

She's got a lot to thank him for.

He saved the family assets.

He even hid her in the hard times.

- Maybe it was a bit hurried.
- Maybe...

Understandable, though.

Eat up, my boy.

Do you remember
when I sat here last?

You debated whether I should
take the bus or train to Auschwitz.

How could we know that your road
would lead to the hell of the camps.

The camps aren't hell.

What are they then?
I can only imagine them as hell.

- I can't imagine hell.
- I can't see what's the difference?

- Hell doesn't exist, but the camps do.
- Did. Luckily it's all over.

You're home again.

You should be
thinking about your future.

- My future?
- First and foremost.

Why?

- So that we can live.
- Live in freedom.

We can't start a new life
with that burden.

What about my old life?
That's mine too.

It's over. We were assigned
a different fate then.

But I accepted that fate.

- We all accepted it.
- We had no choice.

- But now we're free.
- We always were!

There was always enough time.

We waited a whole day
in the customs house.

In Auschwitz we waited
at least half an hour.

Things could always have turned out
differently from what they did -

in Auschwitz just as at home
when we bid my father farewell.

- But what else could we have done?
- I think you're tired.

You've had a long journey.

A very long one.

Your mother's waiting.
How happy she'll be!

Hurry home!
Make her happy!

- Come, Gyurka.
- Off you go!

Gyurka!

What do you look like?

Was it very dreadful?

Did you learn what it means
to be "a Jew"?

It doesn't matter any more.
It's over.

- Remember how you cried?
- Did I?

I tried to comfort you, but I had no
right because I was a Jew too.

Why, what are you now?

I don't know.
Maybe I don't even exist.

You're so strange.
You've changed.

- I died once.
- What do you mean?

I can't be angry any more.

To gather strength I stopped
for a minute in the square.

It was that certain hour

- even now,
even here I recognized it -

my favorite hour in the camp.

And I was filled with a sharp,
painful and helpless feeling:

I felt homesick...

Yes, in a certain sense life
there was cleaner and simpler.

Those who had saved me
came back to me.

For the first time I thought
of them with mild resentment,

a kind of affectionate grudge.

But let's not exaggerate.

I accept every argument for
the price of being able to live.

I looked around in that gentle,
dusky square,

at that storm-tossed street which
nonetheless held so much promise,

I felt the readiness
gather within me:

I would continue this uncontinuable
life of mine.

I remembered my mother had plans

for me to become an engineer,
or a doctor.

And that's what'll happen:

there's nothing
too unimaginable to endure.

And in my own way I already know that,

lying in wait for me
like some unavoidable trap,

is happiness.

Even beside the chimneys in the
pause between torments

there was something
similar to happiness.

People only ask about the horrors,

whereas I should talk about the
happiness of the camps next time,

if they ask.

If they ask at all.
And if I don't forget myself.