I decided it was time to adopt the identity of a Christian boy. This would allow me to move around the city safely until the Russians liberated us.
I had maintained a good relationship with a gentile classmate named Joseph Kovacs. He had been a sympathetic friend who had proven on several occasions to have a friendly attitude, free of prejudice. Early on, he had said that if things got very bad for Jews, he would do anything to help me out.
So one day in June, 1944, I walked over to his house and knocked on the door. Once he got over the initial shock of seeing me, I asked him if I could use his baptism and birth certificates. Without hesitation, Joseph agreed to help me out.
A few days later, he brought me an envelope containing the documents. We agreed that it would be best not to meet again until the war was over and at that point, we would celebrate our survival. We exchanged best wishes and parted ways.
I never did see Joseph again. I looked him up after the war, but didn’t find him or ever find out what happened to him and his family.