Bitter Blade

The triumph and tragedy of Attila Petschauer
Photos: Yad Vashem Archives, Hungarian National Archives, Library of Congress, Netherlands Olympics Team Archives, DMS Archives, IOC Library, United States Holocaust Museum Collection, MTI/Attila Kovács, Richard Markowitz, Judaica.hu
They were the pride of Hungary, and they took equal pride in their national identity. The Jewish athletes who represented Hungary in the Olympic Games brought medals and glory to their homeland, to which they pledged total and unquestioning loyalty. But when Hitler’s war overturned their country, Hungary’s Jewish Olympians were persecuted along with their Jewish brethren, and no medal could spare them from their cruel fate.
For nearly 80 years, various versions of this tragic tale have echoed through history — in articles, books and even by Hollywood — yet the full story remained elusive. Now, after an exhaustive search through Hungarian newspapers, government archives and memoir literature, the complete narrative can finally be shared - a story of glory and heartbreak, where golden dreams were shattered by murderous hate.
1928, The Schermzaal, Amsterdam
The rhythmic clang of steel on steel sliced through the air as two young men circled each other on the gleaming parquet floor. Their movements were a mesmerizing dance: advance, retreat, feint, riposte. Suddenly, with cobra-like speed, one of them lunged forward. His opponent parried desperately, but it was too late. The blade found its mark.
“Touché!” cried the referee. “Match to Petschauer!”
Attila Petschauer lowered his sabre and removed his mask, his fair, boyish face flushed with exertion and triumph. At just 24 years old, he was already being hailed as one of the finest fencers Hungary had ever produced. As he shook hands with his vanquished opponent, Petschauer allowed himself a small smile. The 1928 Amsterdam Olympics were just months away, and he was confident that he would do very well.
Little did he know that his greatest triumphs — and most horrific trials — still lay ahead. For Attila Petschauer was more than just a sporting prodigy. He was a red-blooded Hungarian, a patriot to his core. And at the same time, he was a proud Jew.
A “Paradise” For Jews
IN the storied annals of Olympic history, few communities can boast a legacy as impressive — and ultimately as tragic — as the Jews of Hungary. Between 1896 and 1964, Hungarian Jewish athletes captured an astounding 48 Olympic gold medals — more than double the number won by American Jews in the same period.
Their success was a reflection of the unique position of Jews in Hungarian society in the 19th and early 20th centuries. Unlike much of Eastern Europe, where Jews faced rabid anti-Semitism and segregation, Hungary was widely seen as a haven of tolerance and opportunity.
“If there is anywhere in Europe that is a paradise for Jews, it is in Hungary,” proclaimed a 1914 article in New York’s Forward newspaper: “Hungary is the only country in the world that does not know what anti-Semitism is, and the Hungarian people is unique within European civilization. Nowhere in the world do Jews love the country where they live as much as they do in Hungary — both young and old are patriots.”
This sense of belonging permeated every aspect of Hungarian Jewish life. Even religious families gave their children secular — or even Christian — names. When Fülöp (Phillip) Petschauer and his wife Júlia Ilana (née Weisz) welcomed their only son in 1904, they named him Attila — after the fearsome Attila the Hun, who had conquered much of Europe from his base in the Carpathian Basin. It was a name that implied martial prowess and Hungarian pride — a name fit for a champion.
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