Set in an area once known as Europe’s "powder keg," Gyuszika Promises Kept, the true story of Julius Tomsits, covers the period from the Hapsburg Empire through the Hungarian Monarchy, German occupation, and Russian domination, until the Hungarian Uprising and Mr. Tomsit’s escape to the West in 1956.

But Gyuszika Promises Kept is more than a story of a life. It is a testament to the bond between mother and son, forged by an irascible father, and to the selfless giving and the unquestioning faith, which instill the values of self-worth and responsibility. These are the qualities that sustain Julius Tomsits as he struggled to endure the ordeal of German occupation, the horror of combat, the austerity of Russian imprisonment and hard labor as a miner, and the following repressive life in communist-dominated Hungary. It is a true story of love and hate, told with humor and passion and documentary directness. It is most of all a gift – a thanksgiving – and as such, has universal appeal.

The story has been divided into five sections of three chapters each. Sausages and Turós contains Chapters 1 through 3 and covers the optimistic early years (1921-1944) of Julius’ Hungarian childhood, schooling at art and culinary schools, and first position as chef. The bond between Julius and his mother is firmly established and the religious nature of his upbringing, highlighted, as well as his less than happy relationship with his father, who suffered from alcoholism. The section likewise documents his talents as an artist and chef, talents that were to serve him well in the coming struggle.

Pork Cracklings, Goulash and Grass, Chapters 4 through 6, deals with Julius’ experience in combat during World War II and his subsequent capture by the Russians (1944-1945). As a cook in the Hungarian Army, Julius was assigned as cook to a recognizance unit focused on a border dispute with Romania. When the Germans occupied Hungary, the Russians entered the battle and drove the Hungarians and Julius across their own homeland, surrounding them in Budapest. Under Russian siege the Hungarian Army and populace teetered on starvation. Once captured by Russian snipers and stripped of ID for execution, Julius escaped in darkness across the snowy landscape to the Hungarian line, only to be taken captive by the Russians once again during the failed Hungarian attempt to break the siege of Budapest.

Bread and Broth, Chapters 7 through 8, detail Julius’ life in Russian P.O.W. Camp #2, located in a Russian mining district, near Brianka (1945-1948). In this section, Julius details his transport to the P.O.W. camp and the harshness of the living and working conditions. Assigned to labor as a cutter in the local coal mine, he works with a pick and dynamite in cramped "stalls" with clearances as low as 36 inches, hampered by poisonous gas, hip-deep water, darkness, cold, and the threat of explosion. At one of the highest points of tension, he tells of his two-day ordeal trapped within the mine after an explosion and of his subsequent rescue. In camp on a daily basis, the captives are served bread doctored with sawdust, and ever-thinner broth. They learn to be survivors, secreting coal lumps within their clothing to heat their barracks, scavenging greens and herbs along the roadside during the five-mile walk to the mine, and picking rotted potatoes from their captor’s garbage. Constantly intimidated, they are hauled out to view a German prisoner whose face has been beaten beyond recognition as an example of what treatment awaits escapees. Julius, always a sickly child, now endures tremendous hardships, suffering from dysentery, boils, and other maladies, which reduce him to a mere eighty pounds. He is sent to lighter labor, working with others in an organized pillaging of the countryside for materials to sustain the camp.

Freedom Cake, Chapters 10 through 12, tell of Julius’ release from the P.O.W. camp and his transition to civilian life in communist dominated Hungary (1948-1956). When the roll is called for release of prisoners, only five prisoners remain standing in the prison yard. Julius is one of them. Depressed and feeling alone, he is transferred to the camp hospital, where he cooks for the patients and camp officers. In order to have his case reviewed, Julius concocts a cake, termed "freedom cake," for the P.O.’s birthday. As a result of the review, he is released. Returning to communist dominated Hungary, Julius is initially elated to be reunited with his family, but the old hostility between father and son soon emerges, and Julius, still suffering war/captive trauma, is sent to work at a tuberculosis hospital. There his fortune changes, and he meets, courts, and marries Irene, a nurse. Together, they gain work at a beautiful hotel, now a sanitarium, known as Blue Pinnacle. A daughter, Marianna, is born. Everything seems to be going well for them. Then trouble rears its head in the form of Balázs, an old school mate of Julius’ and now manager of a hotel for Hungarian dignitaries run by the Hungarian Secret Police (AVH). He commandeers Julius’ services. Difficulties arise when Julius takes over the duties of temporary manager during the Hungarian Uprising. After the failure of the coup, Balázs is returned to power. Envious of the favor shown Julius, he provokes a fight. Julius’ fate is sealed. He is beaten by police and put under house arrest. After hiding with his family in a hospital where Irene works as a nurse, they hitch a ride in the back of a produce truck to Papa, where the Hungarian underground secrets them abound a train for the Austrian border.

In the final section, Bananas and Tomato Soup, Chapters 13, 14 and Epilogue, Julius and his family escape to the West (1956-1966). Forced to jump from the train into a cornfield as it nears a checkpoint, Julius and his family dodge bullets and fight hunger and fatigue before taking shelter in a farmhouse for the night. There they meet others headed for the border and set out together under cover of darkness in below-zero weather. Along the way, they discover the bodies of other Hungarians who have been executed, and at the border’s edge are fired upon by Russian military stationed at watchtowers. Taking shelter in a ditch at the edge of a clearing, Julius and his family are rescued by the Austrians and delivered to a Red Cross Camp at Salzburg. Through Julius’ services as a translator, they gain the help of the Catholic Relief Services, which support their transportation to the West. The section documents the family’s trials as immigrants in Rochester, New York, and Julius’ triumph as Executive Chef, TV culinary host, and owner of the Avon Inn. The loss of the family inn and home to fire, provoke reflection, and Julius returns to the teachings of his mother:

"In spite of everything, our childhood lessons endure. And the teachings of my mother come to me in the writing of this book as an open expression of thankfulness to my adopted country.

"America,
I thank you for giving me and my family a home,
when we had no home,

For helping me to regain my confidence and self-esteem,
when I had lost them.

"But most of all . . .
I thank you for the greatest gift of all . . .
Freedom."

The story carries an introduction by the editor, and is documented by footnotes, maps, and glossary. Historic photographs and drawings are available as illustrations.

Julius’ story has universal appeal as the story of "everyman," caught up in forces beyond his control, swept along by vagaries of war, prison life, and unstable government. It is also the story of the bond between mother and son which provided the love and faith which enabled Julius’ survival. The title, Gyuszika, means "little Julius," and is the affectionate name used by his mother. Catholic readers, history buffs, militarists, and those interested in the plight of refugees are likely purchasers of this exciting book, which contains material worthy of film.

I first met Julius in the early 1900’s when he began to consider writing his autobiography. He had something to say, and it had been waiting a long time. Above all he was focused. My first impression oh him was of a squarely built man, not tall, but strong looking. His hands spoke of hard labor. He was impeccable in dress and looked youthful in his crew-neck sweater and neatly combed white hair. His wife Irene accompanied him.

Julius told me his story with passion, acting out portions of it, stopping only occasionally to ask if he were expressing himself poorly in English. When he was finished, he asked, "Do you think I have a book that people will read?"

"Yes," was the only answer I could give. I provided him with a few tips in format and hints in marketing. Within a year he was back with a neatly handwritten manuscript of approximately two-hundred pages. Would I work with him in making it into a book?

I undertook the task thinking that it would be a labor but found it not so. The material fell easily into chapters and with each chapter I found myself eager to read on.

The title of the book, Gyuszika, or little Julius, is Tomsits boyhood name. Poor health in harsh surroundings, including an abusive father, helped to foster a strong bond between Julius and his mother Anna Renner Tomsits. When doctors had given up hope for Julius’ survival, she nursed him back to health and was his bulwark against all harm. The love, faith and sense of self worth she instilled in him, helped Julius to endure and survive combat, prison camp and life in communist held Hungary.

When, during the short-lived Hungarian Uprising of 1956, he became the alternate manager of a former AVH (secret police) hotel by employee acclamation, his fate was sealed. When the communists suppressed the uprising, Julius became the target of abuse by his reinstated communist superior Balázs, his beating by police and clandestine escape to Austria then to the United States, with his family, wife Irene and daughter Marianna, is a remarkable triumph.

In the United States, with hard work and assertiveness, the Tomsits prospered. A son, Julius, was born. Later, in the 1960’s, Julius, now an award-winning executive chef and TV-show host, was asked to prepare a reception for the then Vice President Hubert Humphrey, the crowning moment of his career. The Tomsits family went on to be proprietors of a small hotel in New York State until their retirement to Florida.

True to the teachings of his mother, it was Julius’ wish to give something in return – a kind of thanks giving, as well as a testament to freedom. Gyuszika, Promises Kept was born.

-Shirley L. Wagner

We were afraid to react. Talking or communicating in Hungarian was forbidden. We just walked and walked, making eye contact with someone in the crowd now and then, and expressing our sadness with a look. So far, we had been walking or staggering along without food and water. We lost strength rapidly. Some couldn’t take it and fell to the ground. These people were picked up by Russian guards, taken to the side of the road and shot in the head. (Oh, God! Why couldn’t you stop these horrid executions.) Each time someone was shot, the Russians burst into brutal, guffawing laughter. They seemed to act out of pure evil. Each time someone fell, the ritual was repeated. Some fellows died instantly. They were the lucky ones. Others slowly bled to death. If anyone of us offered protest, he was butted with a gunstock.

I began to feel weak and grew frightened that I would soon be one of those taken to the side of the road. But God was there for me. I felt wobbly and began to stumble. My comrades on both sides grabbed my arms and helped me, almost carrying me to our next stop.

We stopped at churches, school yards and other public areas. We had been walking for about a week when we cane to Kiskunfeleghyáza and stopped at a school. It was a sunny day. The grass had started to turn green again. I remember very clearly lying down in the grass to rest. Every bone in my body ached. As I was lying there the full weight of our predicament began to weigh down upon me. We had lost our freedom!

Slowly a conversation began among the captives.

"I’m hungry."

"Me, too. Are they going to feed us?"

"I think so. I heard they were cooking in the courtyard."

As we talked about food, I felt a strong spasm in my stomach. Those pains had come repeatedly in the last few days. Now they were stronger. I felt a pounding in my head around my eyes. I looked up to see t hose around me picking and eating the green grass.

One said, "Julius, all my life I have loved spinach."

"But this is grass," I said.

"Never mind," he said. "It stops the pain in my stomach."

I began picking and eating grass also. First, I sampled it and then ate more and more. Of course, it didn’t taste or look like one of my professionally prepared meals, but it did work. And the pain stopped! Then, for a few minutes, the world seemed much nicer. Even the sun was warmer.

Something seemed to be happening in the courtyard. A Russian commander with a high, loud voice started ordering the prisoners to come forward, pointing and motioning to them.

"Da! Da! Igi suda!"

"Yes! Yes!" he was saying. "You! Come here!"

Kettles had been placed in the middle of the yard. Prisoners were carrying buckets of water and sacks of something in them. I whispered to my friend, "Do you see what I see? I think they are going to cook for us!"

My friend, who was very pessimistic about the Russians, laughed. "You must be joking. You know what they are going to do? They are going to fix something for the guards, and we will get only the smell of it."