Tag Archives: Switzerland

Interview with Madame Rime, Vlado’s secretary in Leopoldville, 1961

This is the full interview of Monique Cégel (now Madame Rime) sent to me in May 2020 by Maurin Picard, journalist and author of “Ils Ont Tue Monsieur H”; a portion of this interview was published here back in September 2020, “Vlado and the Mercenaries: Operation Rum Punch“, but I feel the whole interview deserves attention.

You can hear more interviews with Madame Rime about her experiences in the Congo working for the United Nations, with journalist David Glaser, reporter at GeneveMonde.ch.

Many thanks to Madame Rime, and to Maurin Picard for this interview and supporting the Hammarskjold investigation, and to David Glaser for promoting this blog and the life of Vlado Fabry – merci beaucoup to all who have contributed to this site!

Interview with Monique Rime Cégel

3 May 2020

Switzerland

Summary

– Monique Cégel, 83, was Vladimir Fabry’s secretary in Leopoldville in 1961

– She worked at the Hotel Le Royal between December 1960 and January 1962

– She knew Alice Lalande and Harold Julien very well

– She was working extra hours on 17 September 1961

– She typed Dag Hammarskjöld’s last message to Paul Henri Spaak, requesting Belgium to stop « van Riessenghem »

– She remembers there were serious doubts about UN communications being intercepted

– Vladimir Fabry did most of the research regarding Katanga mercenaries during the summer of 1961

– She remembers Dag Hammarskjöld’s collaborators tried to deter him from flying unescorted

– She does not think Sture Linnér was intended to fly along, as he had to stay in Leopoldville to liaise and work proper transmissions

– She flew to Ndola with Mahmoud Khiary on 19 September 1961 to type the ceasefire agreement with Moise Tshombe

– She saw the crash site right above her plane window prior to landing and was horrified 

– She recalls smoldering debris and the « long line » of burnt forest

– She found a very hostile atmosphere in Northern Rhodesia

– She met a very disdainful Lord Alport

– She was not allowed to join Mahmoud Khiary at the hospital to visit Harold Julien

* * *

I was Vladimir Fabry’s secretary, at the Hotel Le Royal, Leopoldville (Congo).

I worked there for the UN mission in Congo from December 1960 to January 1962, as secretary detached from the Atomic Agency (IAEA) in Vienna.

I kept working for the UN in Geneva until 1976, mostly through freelancing contracts. Then my husband and I moved to the city of Bulle.

I met my husband in 1961 in Congo! 

He was a representative for major Swiss companies of the time, including Schindler and Vega, and was selling chemical products to the university of Lovanium. 

I became a Swiss citizen, after getting married with him. 

I was French (and I still am), and was born in Paris.

* Sunday 17 September 1961

At the Hotel Le Royal, we had an office adjacent to the one occupied by Sture Linnér.

On the day Dag Hammarskjöld took off from Leopoldville, that Sunday, I was not supposed to work. 

But, as Fabry’s secretary, and since he only worked with me, they sent some military staff in a Jeep to pick me up and bring me back to Le Royal. 

They found me sitting at a cafe terrace, since I believe they always kept an eye on us for safety. 

I went back to my office and worked all afternoon, until the plane departed.

* Vladimir Fabry

That day, when I arrived at my office, Vladimir Fabry immediately requested to dictate some telegrams. I spent the whole afternoon doing that: typing messages, then bringing them to the « Chiffre » for them to be coded accordingly with the recipient’s identity. 

By the time I was finished, they were getting ready to leave for the airport.

Before leaving, Vladimir Fabry was so thrilled. 

Happy as a kid who was just offered a new toy. 

Albeit a very reserved character, he was practically jumping on his feet. 

He came into my office and said excitingly: 

« Monique, I am leaving with the Secretary-General! I am trusting you with my car keys! » 

He had to be very happy, for he would never have done such a thing otherwise. 

His car was an official UN vehicle. 

He told me I could use all the time during his absence. 

God knows Leopoldville is a very large town, with great distances between the various locations.

I used the car until, of course, I handed it back to the UN, since Fabry never returned.

I remember seeing their cars leaving Le Royal in convoy.

I went through these events with an innocent mind as I could only partially grasp what was going.

I would mostly type messages dictated by Fabry, messages that were generally meant for New York.

The last message I typed from them was dictated by M. Hammarskjöld himself. The recipient was Paul-Henri Spaak. 

(nota: the Belgian Foreign Minister) 

But I cannot remember its content (nota: requesting Belgian assistance to put an end to the criminal deeds of a mercenary pilot named « van Riessenghem »). 

I was so intimidated that I must have skipped two or three words he dictated. 

I had never met Hammarskjöld and I was so young then (nota : she was 24).

I saw Dag Hammarskjöld every day between 13 and 17 September 1961, since he occupied Sture Linnér’s office.

Can you recall Hammarskjöld’s state of mind?

I remember he was not very agreeable. He seemed really sad, not at all in a communicative mood. « You do this, this has to be done ». We were in the midst of a serious crisis with Katanga, obviously.

* Were there long sleepless nights at Le Royal?

I did not spend those ones with them, but I had a similar experience during the previous months. When you are assigned to someone high ranking, you did not count your days and your nights. With all the crises we went through, there were many sleepless nights at Le Royal.

* Harold Julien

I knew Harold Julien very well, as he was the Chief Security Officer in Leopoldville. Being M. Fabry’s secretary, I was granted the use of a car. 

This in turn created some serious trouble, because we were taken hostage with a Swiss colleague of mine by Mobutu’s troops for 24 hours. The time was around end January or early February 1961. 

They had spotted my car, I believe, due to the UN flags on it, and surrounded our house with two small armoured cars. There were rumors that the UN was bent on disarming the Congolese National Army. And we had been poorly inspired to move in a house across the street from Mobutu’s barracks along the river – a magnificent location, it was indeed. 

Then the witchhunt began against all UN staff. 

This is the only time in my life I was really scared.

I called the French embassy asking for their help, as I was a French citizen. Their answer was very … kind: « you work for the UN, hence you are no longer considered as a French citizen for us. There is nothing we can do for you ».

Since my colleague was Swiss, she called the Swiss embassy and they immediately answered. « Yes of course, we will come and rescue you ».

They arranged for a motorized convoy of Swiss people, with friends and colleagues of my future husband, led by the Red Cross delegate M. Olivet, who was killed another day.

(nota: Georges Olivet, 34, was killed in an ambulance on 12 December 1961, amidst heavy fighting in Elisabethville, Katanga)

They parlayed with Mobutu’s soldiers, who pretty quickly removed their blockade and let us go free. 

* Saturday 16 September, Lord Lansdowne meets Dag Hammarskjöld. Did you get word of a stormy exchange?

No, I do not remember that gentleman. 

I did not hear anything, although I was there that day and was working in the nearby room. If there had been loud voices, a shouting match, 

I would have heard something. 

But it does not mean it did not take place, as my memory could be failing me.

There were indeed many high ranking visitors in Sture Linnér’s office, and I did not always necessarily get a look at them.

* Did Dag Hammarskjöld’s collaborators try to deter him from flying unescorted?

That is true, since I remember I heard about it. 

They did try to deter him. 

There were rumors that they were « waiting » for him in Katanga. There were Tshombe’s two Fougas. 

(nota: in September 1961, the UN still believed two remaining Fouga were operational, as there was actually only one left, « 93 », the other one bing grounded awaiting spare parts)

When we heard about the crash, we immediately thought: « Tshombe’s Fougas did it ».

Personnally, I just could not imagine such a thing: who would want to shoot down the UN Secretary General? 

I really thought this was just an accident, at least until after I left Congo early 1962. 

If I had known … I was so scared in the air. I could never have boarded a plane. 

But since I had no clue of what happened, I departed very easily when told to, without any further stress.

* Was Sture Linnér supposed to join the mission and fly along with Dag Hammarskjöld, as he later commented?

I was not at Ndjili airport but I would be surprised if he was intending to fly with them. It was logical for him to stay in Leo and liaise. That would be surprising if true.

Alice Lalande, she had to be part of the travelling party, since she was in charge of sensitive equipments, these Enigma machines. Besides, the Secretary-General needed an assistant like her. In her daily job, Alice was handing over paperwork to all the secretaries. She was a perfectly bilingual Canadian.

* Did Dag Hammarskjöld know that UN communications were intercepted?

I do not know, but it was a serious question for everyone in Leopoldville. 

I had worked for weeks with Vladimir Fabry on the issue of the « frightfuls », these mercenaries.

I made dozens of photocopies from these documents that had been somehow collected and that had to do with these mercenaries. Vladimir Fabry worked a great deal on this issue. We did an extensive research on these documents. I am sorry that I did not have enough political awareness, to show an interest in the content of these documents.

* Monday 18 September 1961

Personnally, I did not get word of the crash when I arrived at the office on the next day. The other secretaries were doing a funny face, which was a bit intriguing. I made it late to the office due my long working hours on Sunday. I thought there was a dreadful atmosphere, but nobody told me anything. They did not dare tell me what had happened, probably because I was working so closely with M. Fabry. I only found out the same evening when I came home and my future husband told me: « did you hear what happened to Hammarskjöld ? »

The crash site

When Mahmoud Khiary took off for Ndola, I came along. 

(nota: on Tuesday 19 September 1961, in order to negotiate a ceasefire with Moïse Tshombé, as it was theoretically the case for Dag Hammarskjöld two days earlier)

I boarded the plane with him. If I had known the crash was foul play, I would never have come along with Khiary. This was so sudden, that I did not have the time to bring any equipment, not even a typing machine, as Alice Lalande had done.

We departed for Ndola. Prior to landing, while flying low over the forest, we managed to see the crash site from up close 

(nota: the whole area was forested back then)

This memory will stay with me forever. 

We spotted the wreckage, these scattered debris of an aircraft, what was left of it. This long line of burnt forest. It was terrible. I am still emotional about it, as I speak. I happened to realize the people I knew so well were only charred remains by now. 

Alice Lalande, to begin with, who was basically my boss. 

The security officers, such as Harold Julien.

I remember Alice’s dress with the flowery design. It sent cold shivers down my spine when I realized the plane had crashed and burnt that way. I though My God, she must have burnt so quickly. It was terrifying.

* Ndola, 19 September 1961

When we arrived in Ndola, there was this man, Lord Alport, welcoming us – so to say – at the airport. He was very cold. An extremely disagreeable character, very full of himself and every inch a British aristocrat. Still he invited our delegation for lunch in his home. I was just a secretary sitting at the end of the table with the security officers, but I found him disdainful towards us .

(nota : Khiary was not particularly welcome, since Tshombe had notified Linnér he agreed to negotiate a ceasefire with anyone but Khiary, whom he deemed responsible for launching Operation Morthor on 13 September 1961 – which is at least partially true) 

Our mission was not very welcome. 

Then we headed for the actual ceasefire negotiations with Moïse Tshombe, but I did not directly take part in the negotiations. The British mission there lent me a typing machine, whose keyboards had none of the French accents, which made my task very dfficult. I did however type all the ceasefire documents.

We stayed two or three days in Ndola.

Mahmoud Khiary and the delegation visited Harold Julien in the hospital. I was not allowed to join them.

1961 was a terrible year in my life. Annus horribilis, as the Queen Mother would say. 

There was my being taken hostage, then Hammarskjöld’s crash, then the murder of 13 Italian air crew.

(nota: massacred by the crowd who mistook them with Belgian paratroopers in Kindu on 11 or 12 November 1961) 

One of them was 25 and a very good friend of mine.

He had been at my wedding two weeks before, on 28 October 1961, along with Sture Linnér’s wife, whom I called Madame Linnér, of course, and also Jacques Poujoulat.

This day of September 1961, this Sunday the 17th. In my old age, I still cannot fathom what unfolded that day. It is still with me. It will stay with me until my last breath.

Reintroducing “Vlado”

Vlado in Egypt

My name is Tara Burgett, I am an independent researcher and archivist, and the author of this blog dedicated to Vladimir “Vlado” Fabry. My husband, Victor, is the nephew of Vlado, the only child of Vlado’s sister, Olinka. When Olinka passed away in 2009, we discovered a trove of papers and photos stuffed in old suitcases in the house in New York; recognizing their importance, we packed them up and brought them to Washington state, and since then I have made it my mission to share the family story with the world.

Vlado and sister Olinka with his Buick and Bambi hood ornament
Vlado and Olinka in Switzerland

When I first began my blog in 2013, the only information I could find on the internet about Vlado, other than the details of the plane crash in Ndola with Dag Hammarskjold, was a memoriam to one of Vlado’s girlfriends, Mary Sheila Dean Marshall; written by her son Chris Marshall. Here is the paragraph mentioning Vlado that made me laugh out loud:

“Sheila considered her time in New York to be some of the happiest days of her life. She roomed with her dearest friend, a gorgeous Czechoslovakian socialite named Desa Pavlu. The two of them must have left a trail of broken hearts throughout Manhattan. Sheila had a proposal of marriage from a young man named Arthur Gilkey. She declined, and shortly thereafter, he perished while ascending K2. Sheila was also courted by a chap named Vladimir “Vlado” Fabry. Vlado died with Dag Hammerskjold[sic] in The Congo[sic]. It seems that Vlado may have been connected with the CIA. Sheila said she could never see herself marrying Vlado because of his “very round bottom”.”

I was only a little annoyed that someone was using the words of one dead person to slag off another dead person, because it was just too funny to read about Vlado’s “very round bottom” on the internet. What did bother me though, was the statement from Mr. Marshall, that “Vlado may have been connected with the CIA”; which was just his opinion, when in fact, his father, Sheila’s husband Mike Marshall, was a CIA operative from 1952-1967.

The more time I spent reading and translating the letters and documents, the more I realized how important it was that I speak up for Vlado and his family. The Fabry family were the targets of intentional and malicious slander, in revenge for their fierce resistance to both Nazi and communist invasions of Czechoslovakia, and sharing their archive has been my way of setting the record straight.

Vlado and his mother Olga Fabry – Maminka – Geneva, 17 April 1948

Vlado studied Law and Political Science at Comenius University in Bratislava, following in the footsteps of his father, Pavel Fabry, who was also a lawyer. Before joining the United Nations Legal Department in 1946, Vlado served as Personal Secretary to the Minister of Commerce in Prague. Vlado and his father were both very romantic and unconventional characters, who loved music, poetry, travel, and all kinds of adventure; they were not afraid to stand up for their beliefs, even in the face of danger and threats of death.

Vlado hugging his father good-bye at Prague airport, June 1946
Vlado and Pavel in Switzerland

After the communist coup d’etat in 1948, the whole family were forced to flee Czechoslovakia, and lived as political refugees in Switzerland. Vlado was often on the move, working for the UN in many countries, including New Zealand, Indonesia, Ghana, Egypt, and Congo, but he would stay with his parents in Geneva whenever he was on leave, at 14 Chemin Thury. 

Vlado and Maminka in Switzerland
Vlado with his parents, Geneva, Switzerland, 14 Chemin Thury
Breakfast in Geneva, 14 Chemin Thury
Vlado at work, Geneva, Switzerland, 14 Chemin Thury

Vlado was loved by many of his colleagues at the UN, for his kindness and hospitality, and for his enthusiasm for skiing, mountain climbing, as well as his intellect and charm.

Vlado in Geneva

I could say more about his personality, but I feel the letters Vlado left behind, and the letters of his friends and family who knew him, say it best. He was an example of courage that anyone who knew him tried to follow, and is an inspiration to me, personally.

Condolence letter from Mary Sheila Dean Marshall
Last photo of Vlado and Dag Hammarskjold, from Daily Express, included in letter from Mary Sheila Dean Marshall
Condolence letter from Cynthia Knuth
Condolence letter from Zeno F. Marcella
Condolence letter from John A. Olver
Condolence letter from Bernard T. Twight
Condolence letter from Marty and Don Davies
Friends of Vlado, in Geneva, Marty and Don Davies
Condolence letter from Constantin A. Stavropoulos
Condolence letter from “Dody”
Condolence letter from Lucy T. Briggs, daughter of Ambassador Ellis O. Briggs, who served in the Foreign Service – she is the friend that gave Vlado “Bambi” – which you can see Vlado attaching to the hood ornament of his Buick, in the header photo of this blog.
Condolence letter from Monique Cegel (now Madame Rime), Vlado’s personal secretary in former Leopoldville, now Kinshasa, room 632 Le Royal
Tribute to Vlado from Elspeth Young

Letter from Ivan S. Kerno, 18 December 1946

My husband Victor is the nephew of Vlado Fabry, the only child of Vlado’s sister Olinka. When Olinka passed away in 2009, we discovered a trove of papers and photos stuffed in old suitcases in the house in New York; we packed them up and brought them to Washington state, and since then I have made it my mission to share the family story with the world. The photo above shows one of these suitcases, which was originally owned by Ivan S. Kerno – Slovak lawyer and family friend, who was Assistant to Secretary-General Trygve Lie and was head of the United Nations Legal Department. We have many letters from Ivan Kerno, but here is one from Garden City, Long Island, New York, from 1946, the year Vlado joined the Legal Department of the United Nations; addressed to Vlado’s father, Pavel Fabry, in Bratislava, Czechoslovakia, to our family home that is still illegally occupied by the Russian Federation, since the coup d’etat of 1948.

Letters from Vlado in New York, 1946

Here are two letters in Slovak from Vlado in New York, written in July and August of 1946, shortly after his arrival in the States. At this time, the United Nations Headquarters were located in Lake Success, NY, in the Sperry Gyroscope Company factory. The first letter, written to his sister Olinka in Lausanne, Switzerland, is on onion skin paper and is not getting any younger; it is hard to decipher because Vlado wrote on both sides of the paper, but, for those determined to know what he was up to and wrote, it is not impossible to translate! Ďakujem for the help!

Vlado at Rockefeller Center Rooftop, NYC, 18 July 1946

Good Bye, Czechoslovakia!

In June 1946, Vlado Fabry left his position as Personal Secretary to the Minister of the Interior in Prague, to join the Secretariat of the United Nations in New York. He packed his bags, said farewell to his friends and family, and said good bye forever to Czechoslovakia. The following photos are from Prague, showing Vlado at an undated political gathering, and his departure in June at the airport on a Swissair flight to Zurich.

Vlado Fabry, Prague, circa 1946

An Urgent Message to the Slovak Resistance from Grandma

Maminka, 1948-49

For the past 6 days, I have been translating the 1956 testimony of Grandma Fabry from German to English, which was not easy since I am not fluent in German. The urgency of war has pushed me to act quickly. I want everyone in Slovakia to know what our Grandmother went through when the Russian communist leaders stole our family home in Bratislava in the coup of 1948. She resisted with all her might against both Nazis and communist oppressors for years, she did not give in.

My husband Victor and I have already donated the family home in Bratislava as a national gift to the people of Slovakia, and I have demanded no more accommodation for Putin and his mafia, but I will repeat myself for the third time. I am calling on the President of Slovakia, Zuzana Caputova, and Slovak Prime Minister, Edvard Heger, to expel all diplomats from the Russian embassy immediately! Take heed of Grandma Fabry’s story, the cruelty she endured, do not delay to stop Putin! Stand united with Ukraine and fight back!!

Affidavit of Olga Fabry nee Palka from Bratislava, Slovakia, currently political refugee in Geneva, 14 Chemin Thury in Switzerland.

Curriculum Vitae I. Before the Persecution

I come from an old industrial family, I was born in Liptovsky Svaty Mikulas, Slovakia on November 18, 1895, so I am 62 years old. All of my ancestors made a major contribution to the economic development of Slovakia, at that time still within the framework of the Austrian monarchy. My Grandfather, Peter Palka, was one of the founders of financial development in Slovakia, organizing the first savings banks and laying the foundations of the largest pre-war Slovak bank. My father, Viktor Palka, continued this tradition and his life’s work includes the development of the Slovak paper industry. My ancestors played an important role in public and church life, and my father’s bequests for charitable purposes were also noteworthy. I was the only child in this family, and therefore my parents tried to place the greatest value on my upbringing.

After completing secondary school, I was sent to one of the best higher institute for girls of the then Austro-Hungarian monarchy in Vienna, in the Graben, for further academic training, and I completed these studies in Vienna. My parents tradition and this first class education gave me the future direction for my C.V.

In 1919, I met the then High Commissioner of Slovakia, Dr. Pavel Fabry, and got married. There are two children from this marriage. The son, Dr. Jur. Vladimir, currently Legal Advisor to the Secretary-General of the United Nations, and the daughter, Olga, currently a librarian at the United Nations in Geneva.

Following the tradition and education described above, I devoted myself to social activities with deep understanding and zeal. In particular, concern for working girls, who had to work outside of their parent’s home, has become my life goal. The World Organization of the Young Women’s Christian Association, the Y.W.C.A., was my example. With the help and advice of this organization, I co-founded the Slovak Y.W.C.A. First I served on the select committee and later as President. Or course, this was an honorary position without salary and without any income. I kept this position until I was expelled from Bratislava by the Nazi rulers. Under my presidency, several dormitories and catering kitchens were built, where the working girls, regardless of faith or nationality, were given accommodation and board or boarding for a very small fee, which did not even cover the management. Several hundred girls were carefully looked after every day. In addition to this activity, I was a board member of several social institutions. My own financial resources at that time allowed me to support these institutions financially. In fulfilling my family duties and the above mentioned social work, I was hit by the surprise attack on Slovakia by the Hitler regime.

II. During the Persecution

My husband, who in his public activities was one of the most zealous advocates of the democratic creed, was of course a thorn in the side of the dictatorial rulers and, as was well known, he was the first Slovak to be arrested by the Nazi regime and, with some interruptions – due to serious illness and damage to health – was held for almost two years in concentration camps, deportations, confinement under police guard, etc. As a faithful wife, I had to bear these persecutions with double concern. With the changing arrests he was always dragged out of sleep at night, and I had to run around for days – even weeks – just to find out which prison or concentration camp he is in, or where he was deported again.

My mental anguish was indescribable and I was repeatedly subjected to hours long interrogations, often at night. The frequent house searches were always intentionally carried out at night. Until my health reserves were available to me, I endured all this nerve-wracking bullying with courage and self-sacrifice – but these constant debilitating shocks meant that I often suffered nervous breakdowns after inhumane interrogations and examinations, and only the self-sacrificing care of the board of the University clinic, of Prof. Dr. Derer and his colleagues, was able to prevent the worst. After the severe attacks I suffered, I had to stay in bed for days – even weeks – and endure the regime’s repeated harassment. In this state, exhausted by mental suffering, I was then struck by the direct personal persecution of the Nazi rulers.

As I stated in the first part of my C.V., I was President of the Y.W.C.A. Institutions that provided housing and board for the working girls. These houses and kitchens were modernly furnished for both accommodation and catering for a capacity of more than a thousand girls a day, and the Nazi rulers wanted to get hold of them for their Nazi “educational center”. As President, I resisted with all my might – supported by the public and the hundreds of working girls who enjoyed the benefits of our institutions – to make these social houses available to the devastating anti-social activity of Nazis. I was, for this reason, subjected to several harsh investigations in the Ministry of the Interior, and even at the institutions night searches were carried out, to unearth any material against the institution, but without any success. I stayed strong.

The accounts were then blocked under impossible charges, whereupon I, together with my husband, provided the necessary financial resources, and the girls also helped with the collection. Naturally I have the resentment of those in power, not just on my husband, but directly concentrated on me. I was threatened with stricter measures, but true to my commitments I made with the working girls, I did not back down. That is why those in power were just waiting for a suitable opportunity to carry out their threats against me.

The Nazi envoy Killinger in Bratislava instructed the government to immediately “rent” our villa on Haffnerova in Bratislava for his personal use. My husband, who was previously transferred from the concentration camp to the clinic just to be cared for at home, but under constant police surveillance (the policemen were in the hall of the villa day and night), let the government know that he will never, under any conditions, rent our villa to Ambassador Killinger – whose deeds he knew well. The police and the Gestapo broke into the villa that same evening.

First they searched the house for hours and, upon presentation of an expulsion order, formally kicked us out of the villa under inhumane conditions. We were only allowed to take one dress and one pair of underwear with us, and when my daughter, who was 11 years old at the time, was crying and demanding her school books and school work, she was pushed away and shouted down. At midnight, in the pouring rain, we were led to the train station like criminals, and my husband and son were taken away to the confinement location with additional police escort and again guarded with police.

I suffered a severe nervous breakdown and was taken to relatives with my daughter. The villa was sealed, but every night a Gestapo detachment came in to inspect the villa – whereby some items of value always disappeared. When I recovered from the nervous breakdown, I was immediately expelled from the city and confined in a village near Piestany, then on to Martin and again to Mikulas, under constant police surveillance. The public was so outraged by this action, that the envoy Killinger did not immediately “rent” the villa. But those in power had achieved their goal regarding the Y.W.C.A. Under the pretext that I was expelled and cannot exercise the office of President, a provisional management was set up with the aim of liquifying the institution. When the institution was liquified as such, the buildings, kitchens, etc., were simply confiscated as unclaimed property, and assigned to the Nazis reformatory with all the valuable furnishings.

However, the persecution measures against me continued to be physical. I was suddenly ordered back to Bratislava from the place of confinement with the instruction to wait in front of the door of the villa, until I received further instructions. I waited there under the supervision of a Gestapo policeman in the bitter cold from morning to night. Tired from the night’s journey, I could not even stand on my feet in my weakened condition, and when our gardener offered me a chair from the garden shed, he was shouted down by the Gestapo police officers. I was ordered back the next day to the front door of the villa, but received no instruction until evening. This was repeated for some days. In the severe December cold, my feet became frostbitten and I contracted muscle and vein inflammation, so that the doctors stepped in energetically and I had to be transferred into medical care.

Then a Gestapo officer appeared and told me that if I rented the villa immediately, I will be given all the things from the villa, except for the furniture, and I can return to Bratislava. But I had to stand by my husband’s decision. I was threatened with more severe “measures” besides confinement. The outrage against the envoy [Killinger] was so great on the part of the population, that he was transferred to Yugoslavia[Romania – T.B.], because his “Femegerichte”[?] were found out in Bratislava. After his departure I was informed that I can return to Bratislava, however, my husband continued to be confined with our son.

How cynically they wanted to increase my mental and physical suffering, I have to mention that the Minister of the Interior, when he left me standing for days in front of the villa, gave a radio speech in which he made the most humiliating spot about me personally, saying, among other things:

“If you want to see a little repeat of the wailing of the Jews at the Wailing Wall of Jerusalem, go to the front of the Fabry villa on Haffnerova, there you will see a woman, one of the most stubborn opponents of the National Socialist Order, leaning against the wall of the villa, crying, lamenting.”

Yes, they even directed mobs in front of the villa who laughed at me!

Of course I did not cry, although the cold during the hours brought tears to my eyes. I could not look forward to returning to the villa.

The repeated arrests of my husband, his inhumane persecution, plus my persecution, the constant humiliation, seizure of assets, the political trials against my husband, fines of Millions, etc., and this with all humiliating accompanying circumstances, my nerves and my whole state of health were so badly damaged by the public scorn, that I was ordered by specialists to the sanatorium in the Tatra mountains. After long weeks there was a temporary improvement.

But the cup of torment was not yet fully exhausted, when I heard the news that my husband was sentenced to death for providing assistance to the people to be deported, and for thwarting the deportation of the residents of the district. In the radio broadcasts, our whole family was subjected to the basest abuse, and finally I had to escape from the threat of arrest and danger to my life, on the coldest night of March 1944, to a remote forest village, spending hours wading in snowdrifts between two moving fronts. It is only thanks to the compassionate care of the villagers that I stayed alive. Perhaps the later news that my husband was freed by the resistance movement during the changing battles for the town of Mikulas, and taken to a safe hiding place, gave me back my life back. I had to learn quite apathetically with the same news that the Gestapo, after the death sentence, confiscated all of our mobile assets onto several trucks and were taken away. All valuables deposited in the bank safes and precious jewelry collected from generations. After the front had been moved, I was again transferred to the sanatorium in the Tatras for weeks of care.

III. After the Persecution

Both our home in Mikulas, as well as the villa, were badly damaged by bombardments and plundered by the retreating troops. The reaction of the four hard years had changed my state of health more and more intensively. I went to Switzerland to be with my daughter who was studying in Lausanne at the time, but already in Zurich I had to be taken care of by Prof. Dr. Frey.

After returning[to Bratislava], I had to watch as the Bolshevik tendency is gaining ground in seven-league boots. The fight against the danger was hopeless because of the incomprehensible attitude of the West. The violent coup organized by [Valerian] Zorin succeeded and the Iron Curtain rolled down. I managed to make another trip for the Y.W.C.A. Headquarters meeting in Geneva, where I met my son. The events in Czechoslovakia had persuaded me not to return, all the more so since my health had deteriorated so much that I had to be taken care of by Prof. Dr. Saloz in Geneva. After weeks, the care had to be extended again, for which the Swiss authorities offered me a helping hand.

So then I got the news that my husband was thrown back into prison by the communist rulers. As we were later told, at the request of the then Secretary-General of the Hungarian Communist Party, the notorious [Matyas] Rakosi. It was revenge for my husband’s actions in 1919, when he fought against communism as High Commissioner, when the Bolshevik detachments broke into Slovakia. After 7 difficult months in prison, my husband managed to escape from the communist prison, in January 1949, and to get to Switzerland. Since then we live in Switzerland.

Since I entered Switzerland with only a small suitcase, and my husband fled in only a dress [Pavel Fabry disguised himself in a nun’s dress to escape. T.B], and everything from our home was confiscated, we have remained completely penniless, and relied only on the help of our son.