Hungarian Revolution of 1956

Whewww…

That was close.

I have never felt so tense and agitated in my entire life…no joke.

Everything can be summed up into two words…

Hungarian REVOLUTION (1956)

(Sigh…) The year 1953 stirred up quite a bit of excitement in my native Hungary. Joseph Stalin had just passed away and the Soviet grip began to wither in both domestic and foreign affairs. Thus, many satellite nations realized the opportunity of autonomy from Soviet dominance. Eventually, and inevitably, Hungary began its own process for liberalization, beginning with the reform-minded Imry Nagy.

Yet, being a supporter of communism throughout my former years, I decided it was best for Hungary to continue its regime under Soviet influence. Not to mention, a successful Hungarian revolution could create further catastrophe and kindle a new enemy in the great Soviet Union. Anyways, I decided my best interest was to inform the Soviet Embassy at Budapest of Nagy’s motive for Hungarian independence and the ever-growing interest of liberalization found in the hearts of the Hungarian youth.

And you know what? It worked.

I remember it vividly too. It was dawn, November 4^th, 1956. Soviet tanks under the command of the Red army quickly inhabited the city of Budapest and crushed the ill-minded idea of Hungarian autonomy. I, seated on one of the Soviet tanks, arrived into my capital city with my head held high and my motives clear. Soviet influence was to remain, and communism was to live and prosper. But like always, that came at a price, a price paid by the liberal minded students and workers who could no longer withstand Soviet domination. And to their credit, they stood before me, holding any weapon they could carry and any array of hope for their desired liberty with their revised Hungarian flag, that of which contained a whopping whole in the middle that used to be the emblem of communism; the hammer and sickle. More importantly, they held their ground, fully knowing that defeat was bound to happen.

The day ended with roughly 4000 Hungarian casualties and the echoing cry of “Help! Help! Help!” over the radio broadcast. And you know what? Help never came (I assumed that the Americans didn’t want to aggravate their conflict with the U.S.S.R.) and the uprising was ultimately crushed.

As for Nagy, he fled. His short-lived attempt for freedom lasted only…wait for it…THREE DAYS. Yeah, that’s right...three days. Anyhow, I replaced him as the new prime minister and thus, in my eyes, formally began my political career in the Hungarian hierarchy.