May 30, 1944
My little Diary, everyone says that we will remain in Hungary, that they gather the Jews from the entire country somewhere around the Balaton region for work. But I don't believe it. It must be terrible in the freight car and now nobody is saying any longer that they are taking us, but rather that they are "deporting" us. I have not heard this word so far and Agi says to uncle Bela: Bela, don't you understand, they are deporting us!

A gendarme is walking up and down in front of the house. Yesterday, he was in the Rhedey Park, because that is from where the Jews are being deported. Not from the real train station, as here the town's people can't see them - says grandfather. Much do the town's people care. If the Aryans didn't want it, they could have stopped our ghettoization. But they were rather enjoying it and even now they don't care what will happen to us. This gendarme, whom uncle Bela calls a friendly gendarme, because he never yells at us and doesn't address women in the familiar form, came in the backyard and told us that he will live the police force, because it is inhuman what he has witnessed in the Rhedey Park.

They forced 80 people in freight cars and they gave them altogether only one bucket of drinking water. But it is still more awful that they are sealing the cars with padlocks. People will surely suffocate in this terrible heat! The gendarme said he truly didn't understand these Jews. Not even the children cried. They were all like sleepwalkers. They got into those cars stiff, without a word.The friendly gendarme didn't sleep all night, while other times, he said he is fast asleep as soon as he puts his head down. This was such a horrific view, he related, that even he could not sleep. Even though he is a gendarme!

Now Agi and uncle Bela whispered something about us remaining behind in a typhus hospital. Supposedly, we will say that uncle Bela has contacted typhoid fever. This is possible, because he had it earlier while in the Ukraine. I don't know, I trust mostly nothing, I can only think of Marta and I am afraid that the same thing will happen to us as it did to her, even though everyone says that we are not going to Poland, but only to Balaton.

Yet, my little Diary, I don't want to die, I still want to live, even if it means that only I remain behind from this entire district. I would wait for the end of the war in a cellar, or in the attic, or any hole, I would, my little Diary, I would even allow that cross-eyed gendarme who took the flour from us to kiss me, only not to be killed, only to be left alive! 

I now see that the friendly gendarme let Mariska in, I can't write any further, my little Diary, I'm crying with tears and I am in a hurry to see Mariska ..